A great 400+ mile ride in wonderful sunny weather through Brittany and Normandy – August 2025
Earlier this year
In June I completed my longest-ever bike ride — over 1,000 miles. It felt like a huge achievement, but after a few weeks back home, I found myself restless. Was that it? Could I really leave it there? The answer, of course, was no. I wanted another challenge, another cycling adventure! So in early August I packed up again, caught the ferry from Plymouth to Roscoff, and set out to cycle across northern France to Dieppe.
Author: Vic Ient
Thanks to Adrian Ient for editorial input
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Cycling Route note:
EuroVelo 4 (EV4), is the Central European EV Route. It is a 5,100 km long-distance cycle route stretching from Roscoff, France, to Kyiv, Ukraine!
429 miles – 8 days
In total, I covered 429 miles in eight days, averaging around 50 miles a day. The weather was on my side — sunny and settled throughout. The first part of the ride, across Brittany, was new to me and full of discoveries; the second, from St Malo onwards, felt like reuniting with old friends. There was comfort in the familiar cycle paths, but also excitement in the unknown stretches. Each morning I felt that mixture of anticipation and slight nervousness about what the day would bring — Would the roads be quiet? Would I make good progress? — and each evening brought the quiet satisfaction of having done it.
Here is my diary of the solo ride, Enjoy!
Route Sections
| Day | Location | Distance | Ascent |
| 1 | Roscoff | 60 | 584 |
| 2 | Locquirec | 102 | 1107 |
| 3 | Saint-Brieuc | 81 | 783 |
| 4 | Saint-Malo | 95 | 752 |
| 5 | Villedieu-les-Poêles-Rouffigny | 95 | 821 |
| 6 | Port-en-Bessin-Huppain | 83 | 459 |
| 7 | Deauville | 108 | 913 |
| 8 | Yvetot | 65 | 500 |
| Total | 691 km | 5919 m | |
| Miles | 429 miles | 19419 ft |
Roscoff
Roscoff was my first surprise. I’d expected just another busy port, but instead found a lovely old town with quays, cafés, and cobbled streets. Because it sits at the end of an isthmus, it’s free from through-traffic, and that makes all the difference: quiet, timeless, almost like stepping back. And by luck, I arrived on market day. The stalls, the chatter, the smell of food in the sunshine — it all lifted my spirits after the overnight ferry and gave me a cheerful start to the ride.
Locquirec
That afternoon I reached my friend Andrew’s place in Locquirec. He and I first met on the Camino in 2019, and it felt special to reconnect. Locquirec itself is stunning — a peninsula of beaches and pine-topped headlands with views that open endlessly to the sea. Sitting outside his cottage, looking out across the bay, I felt that calm that only comes when you’re both far from home and exactly where you want to be. It was the perfect way to ease into the journey.
Across Brittany
The next morning I headed east towards Saint-Brieuc. I followed the coast first, through inlets and long sandy bays, then stopped at Lannion. Another market day! The streets were buzzing, flowers spilled over bridges, and I found myself smiling at the simple pleasure of it all. I didn’t stay long — part of me always worries about time and distance — but it gave me energy.
By late afternoon I reached Saint-Brieuc. Bigger than I’d imagined, with an extended ride through the urban area but, as usual in large French towns, there were dedicated cycle paths. I found a good but inexpensive hotel with air conditioning (essential in this hot weather) near the elegant Belle Époque railway station. The staff were welcoming as they were everywhere else in France. I chatted to two English cyclists and somehow we got into a conversation about the Camino Santiago so I sent them a link to my blog about the two rides done covering the whole of the route through Spain.
Towards St Malo
Leaving Saint-Brieuc, I joined an old railway line that cut through woodland and valleys before reaching the sea again. The coast was breathtaking — wide, sandy stretches opening out to the horizon. At times I caught myself thinking, This is why I ride — the reward of these views after the effort of the climb.
I knew I could have followed the EuroVelo 4 route further along the coast, but I also knew it would take many more days than I had allocated for the trip. Reluctantly I turned inland. It was a long day, but strangely it passed quickly.
When I finally rolled into St Malo in the golden evening light, I felt both weary and elated. The harbour was alive with yachts and catamarans, crowds bustling in the old streets. I remember standing there, sweaty and tired, but completely caught up in the holiday atmosphere.
Mont-Saint-Michel
From St Malo I took the familiar cycle path towards Mont-Saint-Michel. Even though I didn’t go onto the mount this time, the sight of it rising from the bay never fails to stir me. There’s something otherworldly about it — a reminder of history, permanence, and scale, while you pedal along the coastal path at the edge of the bay.
Leaving the coast at historic 15thC bridge ‘Pont Pontaubault’, I followed the Voie de la Liberté inland. A straight, almost endless road, once busy with WWII convoys but now relatively quiet since the nearby motorway had been built. At times I found it monotonous, but also strangely comforting — one of those stretches where you simply keep turning the pedals and let the miles slide away.
That evening I reached Villedieu-les-Poêles. The town was lively, cafés and restaurants full, and I soon found myself enjoying a traditional french meal. After a long day alone on the road, sitting among people laughing and eating felt like a small victory.
To the Normandy Beaches
The next day I cycled via Saint-Lô, following the river Vire cycle path. The off-road riverside path was peaceful, and I relished the views of the surrounding countryside.
Later I turned north to Port-en-Bessin, a little fishing port I’ve always loved. Arriving there in the warm evening light, I walked around the harbour before dinner. Fresh oysters for a starter — a luxury I couldn’t resist, especially at French prices!
The following day I pressed on along the coast through Arromanches-les-Bains where there had been a major D Day landing in 1944 and then on to Pegasus Bridge. Standing on the bridge, now a memorial, I paused. I thought about the soldiers who had fought here, about how different my journey was, free and unthreatened, and I felt humbled.
By evening I reached Deauville. Once the haunt of Belle Époque Parisians, it was still buzzing with life. Families and friends filled every café, the air was warm, and I wandered through the streets and by the harbour with that contented feeling of being both outsider and participant.
Crossing the Seine
The crossing of the Seine was the toughest test of the trip. My plan had been to take the small ferry near the Pont de Tancarville, but when I arrived, hot and tired, I learned it was closed for a month. My heart sank. The alternative was the bridge itself, and I hesitated.
The Pont de Tancarville is long, high, and windswept. The cycle path was so narrow I had to push my bike the whole way. At times the gusts of winds as giant lorries past close by made me fearful. I muttered to myself, What on earth am I doing here? On the far side, things only got worse: slip roads and roundabouts barred to cyclists, no obvious way forward. For a moment, I thought of giving up. But eventually I found a small side road climbing into the chalk hills. It was steep and tiring, but it set me back on track.
When I finally reached Yvetot at 9pm, exhausted, the relief was overwhelming. I dumped my bags in the hotel and went straight out for dinner. Sitting outside in the town square with food, drink, and the warm evening air around me, I felt the day’s tension lift. That meal tasted better than any I can remember.
To Dieppe
The final day was gentler, a gift after the struggles of the day before. I rode through a quiet river valley, enjoying the peace, until I reached Quiberville-sur-Mer, one of my favourite villages. I had hoped to eat at the Hôtel de la Plage, but it was closed. Instead, I found a bustling café on the seafront, holidaymakers all around me, and tucked into Normandy sausages, chips, and cider. Simple food, but in that moment, it was perfect.
From there I rode on to Dieppe, arriving in time for the evening ferry. The Channel was calm, the air was warm, and as the coastline slipped away, I felt both tired and proud. Another journey completed, another set of doubts turned into memories.
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Meeting an old friend
The first thing I did when I came up with the idea of doing this solo cycle ride, was to contact somebody I’d previously met on the cycle ride along the Camino Santiago in 2019. Andrew was walking a section of the Camino with his partner and I had spent a very pleasant evening at dinner with them at a hotel on the Camino route. Andrew and I got on extremely well. We saw eye-to-eye about world problems and about the European situation. I had kept in touch with him on and off over the years by email.
So I emailed Andrew to see if he was going to be in Brittany. He lives in Luxembourg, but has a cottage on the coast in Finistère in Brittany. He usually spends every summer there. I asked if I could pop in and see him. The upshot was he invited me to stay and we had a superb 24-hour get together. Wonderful!
As you will see from the photograph above Andrew lives in a beautiful area on the Finistère coast much like Cornwall.
Fellow cyclists
On the dockside at Plymouth I had met a couple, Toby and Serena , who were proposing to do some gentle cycling in Brittany along the Brest Canal. They were admiring my attire. They called me the ‘gentleman cyclist’. We got on very well whilst queuing up for the boat and when we landed early in the morning on that very sunny first day first thing most people did was to head for the nearest cafe and have breakfast. We bumped into each other the cafe and continued our lively chat. My route towards my friend’s house took me to a picturesque little village where I stopped for coffee. And there they were again! This is often the way with cycling. You meet fellow cyclist and fall into conversation with them. It is as though you belong to a club where your membership badge is your bicycle!
The train journey to Plymouth
This was a bit of an experiment because although I knew what the train journey was like down to Exeter. However, I didn’t know what sort of trains were available from Plymouth. I suppose I should have done my research. It’s very easy to take a fully assembled bike down to Exeter from my home town of Lewes. There is usually ample bike space on the train to Clapham Junction. On the South Western Railway lines to Exeter there is bike space, although there can be problems of limited space. However I was traveling mid-afternoon on a weekday so it wasn’t too much trouble.
The journey from Exeter to Plymouth was a different story! The high-speed GWR trains have only tiny bike spaces. Even if you could get your bike in over the top of massive amounts of luggage, the bike cubicle (for 2 bikes) was very small. Where I’d reserved my bike there was another bike already there and although there’s a hook for your front wheel next to the other bike it was impossible to fit in it. Luckily the train assistant was not going to make a fuss and since he couldn’t turf me off as there were no stops between Exeter and Plymouth my bike had to be wedged in alongside all the luggage.
I wouldn’t recommend this section of railway line unless you’ve got a very lightweight bike with very little luggage.
Helpful and interesting students
On the last leg of the journey, from Exeter to Plymouth, I met a bunch of young students, and they helped me onto the train with my bicycle. In fact, one of them, Fred, was very helpful and very chatty. He was part of a boisterous group (not rude or unpleasant). They were all going off to some gig near Penzance. They offered me a Red Bull vodka, and I had to gracefully turn them down. Fred, who helped me onboard the train, was a very interesting young man. His father has moved back to the USA. They had been living in Bavaria and still have a house there. He recommended going cycling there, which is a thought. The other person I met on the train was Alexander, who was also German. He’s undertaking a degree in marine biology with Exeter University. We had a really interesting discussion. I felt very positive after talking to him.
At Plymouth I cycled through the town and got myself some fish and chips overlooking the bay (starving). Then onto the port, where in the queue, I met Toby and Serena.
Vic Ient 
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