A Pilgrimage to Mont Saint Michel: A Journey of Faith and Endurance


The hot summer sun beat down as I embarked on a journey that had been brewing in my mind. Mont St. Michel was not only a quest to escape the sweltering Vendée heat but also a spiritual endeavour to connect with the divine in a magnificent setting.

A Return to Childhood Memories

The journey began at my home in the picturesque Vendée region, where I set out on a 220-kilometer trip to Mont Saint Michel. It was a return to a place I had visited as a wide-eyed boy, eager to explore its mysteries. However, this time, my mission was twofold: to capture the awe-inspiring beauty of this monument through my camera lens and, most importantly, to offer my prayers to the Almighty.

The Road Less Travelled

The road to Mont St. Michel took me through Nantes and Rennes, where I made stops at local bakeries to purchase food for the journey. As I stocked up on provisions, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my first visit to this iconic place some forty years ago. Speaking with my parents, who recalled our family visit, added a nostalgic layer to this pilgrimage.

Physical Challenges and the Power of Will

One of the significant challenges I faced during this pilgrimage was my battle with arthritis, a persistent companion that had become an unwelcome part of my life. Walking with the aid of a cane, I knew that this journey would not be without its pains. However, I had learned a valuable lesson during my time in the Army: the mind can command the body to persevere beyond its perceived limits. Armed with this knowledge, I pressed on, determined to conquer the physical difficulties that lay ahead.

Prayers in Motion

My journey was more than a physical voyage; it was a spiritual quest. Along the way, I offered up my sufferings to God, a testament to my unwavering faith. The act of praying while traversing the miles was a reminder of the power of faith, even in the face of adversity.

A Divine Encounter at Mont St. Michel

Finally, I reached the awe-inspiring Mont St. Michel. Its grandeur and the spiritual aura surrounding it took my breath away. I knew I was in the presence of something sacred. It was here that my pilgrimage took on its most profound meaning.

A Moment of Grace

Before the Blessed Sacrament, I knelt in prayer. As I poured out my heart to the Lord, I couldn’t help but notice the passers-by who seemed oblivious to the divine presence. In that moment, I offered a prayer that God might reveal Himself to them in some way. And then, as if in answer to my prayer, two individuals genuflected before the Blessed Sacrament. It was a poignant reminder that God’s presence is not always apparent, but it is real and powerful. The simple act of acknowledgment by those two individuals filled me with hope and gratitude.

A Pilgrimage Worth Every Step

As the day wore on and I made my way back home, I couldn’t help but feel tired. The physical exertions of navigating the ups and downs of Mont Saint Michel had taken their toll. However, it was a good tired, a sense of accomplishment and fulfilment that can only be gained through a meaningful journey.

Looking Ahead

Reflecting on my pilgrimage, I realize that while the physical challenges were significant, they were far outweighed by the spiritual rewards. My journey was a testament to the power of faith and the determination of the human spirit. If I were to undertake this pilgrimage again, I would not go alone. Having someone to share the driving and the walks would undoubtedly make the journey more manageable. In the end, my pilgrimage to Mont Saint Michel left a lasting mark on me. It was a journey of faith, endurance, and prayer, a testament to the power of the human spirit and the divine presence that guides our paths.

Bretagne – a story of sea and stones


It has been a quiet week in Saint Hilaire… But it was a pleasant weekend in Brittany.  Some may accuse the Bretons of being way too preoccupied with being Bretons, similar to the Cornish in Cornwall, or the Welsh in Wales, when they can manage to forget about getting cuddly with sheep.  In that previous paragraph, I just irritated 6.9 million people.  That’s not bad for a single paragraph.

Say what you will about the Breton people, they do do a great line in standing stones, or standing lines of standing stones, especially near Carnac.  This gets me topq where my in-laws live, which is not far from Carnac.  It was the first afternoon of our stay, and I didn’t want to irritate my mother-in-law by just existing, breathing, and so on.  I seized the chance to go out with my camera and shoot some photos.  It’s one of the reasons I look forward to these visits.  It’s truly about getting away from everything and simply soaking in the scenery.

These stones have been standing for around 7000 years, so they must be getting exhausted.  Some have just given up on life and collapsed, or have they had too many parties and consumed too much alcohol?  Anyway, when I was travelling around the grounds of these lines of standing stones, or stones standing in lines, I observed a lady with dowsing rods sitting on one of the stones.  There’s nowt as funny as folk, as my father once stated…  Then the first lady’s companion came up and tried to hug the rocks.  Now, I’ve seen some unusual things in my life, as has the majority of Hull’s population, since it’s never dull in ‘Ull.

But this not only took the biscuit, but it almost took the tea as well!  They said that the Druids had placed the stones there to make the soil more fertile, and that each stone had its unique set of qualities.  I tried not to laugh as I thought about how fertile their imagination was.  After all, they were completely serious.  I know nothing about old stones, whether standing or not, but I patiently listened to them.

I explained how we had once been to Stonehenge and how there was something about the place that was less than ordinary, and how we had seen people kissing the ground and having moments.  They told me that of course this was because of the energy.  You must ask the stone for permission to use its qualities first then sit on it.  And were I to do this I would feel something.  The only thing I felt was a sore bottom!

Wait a minute! He mentioned the Sea, not simply stones. We want to see the marine pics!!! If you’re good and well behaved I might include them in an upcoming post. I can assure you that they are ready. I’ll be highlighting Ettel’s Boat Cemetery. Be patient already!

Clisson


Have you ever come across the articles named “The 10 Prettiest Villages in France,” “The 10 Prettiest Villages in Yorkshire,” “The 10 Prettiest Villages in Northumberland,” or “Some Other Dream Spot in This Beautiful World?”  No? The one closest to us, is about 15 kilometres away and not in the south of France, which I believe to be completely overrated. Like most contenders for this type of little town, there is a bustling market every Friday morning (which is actually pretty wonderful, if not a touch on the pricier side), a park that hugs the river and lets you unwind while taking in the gentle sound of the water.  A castle stands watch over the entire town.  Meandering streets wonder up and down hills as do the locals.  It is in wine producing country surrounded by vineyards who would be more than happy to flog you some wine…

Yes, it is one of “those” places, Dear Reader, but it is still beautiful. Clisson is also aware of this. Of course, I’m simply jealous because I don’t live there but wish I did.

In this series of photographs, I also chose to maintain the film-like appearance of my digital photography. It appears that summer is rapidly approaching. The days are already warmer and sunnier, but are not yet unbearably hot. And such weather is simply God’s way of encouraging you to go have a refreshing pint!

A Breath of Fresh Air


It’s 15h31 on a Monday afternoon, and I’m laying in my bed writing this whilst listening to Bach played on the guitar. Molly is sleeping (and snoring) next to my bed and has just had a belly rub. I was out this morning with the Fuji X100F, driving around the countryside. Why wasn’t I at work, I hear you say, Dear Reader. Because I’m on holiday for the week. The weather has been dismal and verging on English! But today, the sun was, and is still, out. It was lovely just being in the countryside, just soaking up the sun and being at peace with the world. Even if I wished to I can’t handle drama or conflict at the moment, so it’s a self-preservation thing.

If you follow me on Instagram could be forgiven for thinking that I only deal in Black and White Photography, which appears to be my natural niche, but over here I have the freedom missing from the ‘Gram, and don’t have to worry about staying on brand or faffing about thinking about the infamous algorithm, which is the “baddie” that everyone loves to hate. A little like our French Président!

I’m not watching as much YouTube as I used to and am thinking about going back to it, for instruction, inspiration, and as a resource for a way of advancing along my photographic journey. I’ve been getting back into using the X100F in a big way too. Lightweight, and gets the job done, and continues to be slightly less conspicuous when on the street. But I think I’m becoming guilty of rehashing the famous review of the camera that I wrote last year.

One of the reasons for getting the X100F was the film simulations. At the time, I was moving from film back to digital and remember loving the results people were able to achieve. Those desaturated colours, warm tones, and a feeling of timelessness. I think I have mentioned Fuji X Weekly, and their recipes that one can use to get a feeling of various film stocks. You can tell me what you think looking at the photos below.

Back to the Côte Sauvage


Sometimes you just want to spend time alone, not because you hate other people, even if I sometimes find it difficult to love my fellow man.  People, or too many people, or people that are too intense just leave me shattered, and ready for an emotional breakdown.  My mother in law is one of those people.  She is the polar opposite of me.  She loves people, loves the gossip, can’t stand her first husband or any other of her ex’s, and her opinions on everything are the exact opposite of mine.  Could this be her calling in life?  Is she there just to make me question my own beliefs and reinforce them, or is she just a pain in the arse?  Possibly both…

Last weekend the idea was that we go up and see her.  At first, it was going to be my wife and son, but not my daughter, and then it became my wife and I without the children.  I must be a glutton for punishment.  Killian had been using my car as an extension of his room to store his crap in since he left the girlfriend.  I was getting sick of the whole thing and said if he didn’t get my car sorted then I wouldn’t be going either.  The little bugger got all the stuff in my car out, and so I had no choice.  Shit!

I have talked about the way I either need 10 pints worth of Heineken (other beers do exist) or Prozac to be able to deal with my mother-in-law.  And how this technique has evolved into being stone, cold, sober.  Not as fun but allows me to get in the car if things get too intense, escape, leave, and do some photography. 

As it was Sunday, I went off to mass at the local Benedictine monastery.  This is because I genuinely wanted to go to mass and fulfil my domincal obligations to keep the Sabbath holy.  It was also my Dad’s birthday, so I would be able to call and sing him Happy Birthday. 

No, I would not be back for lunch as I would be out doing some photography, and having some Ian time, to partake in my number one solitary pastime; photography of course, what else?  But don’t worry about me for lunch, I will look after myself….  On the Quiberon peninsular, they have what they refer to as the Côte Sauvage, or the Wild Coast.  Despite the high temperatures, we have to pinch ourselves to remind us that it actually autumn, and the end of October.  However, on this Wild Coast you were left in no doubt which season we were in despite the warmth.  Very slightly breezy, so I really did need my cane, and I found the white horses on the waves as they came crashing down on the shore against the rocks so beautiful.  You can really feel the power of the ocean as those waves come in.   It reminds you on how small you are, compared to God’s creation.

Despite the wildness of the coast, the ocean, and the waves, I managed to find my peace…

Hepple for Photos not Gin


Hepple. Even just saying it gives me a certain sensation of pleasure. Heh-pull. It just rolls of the tongue, and the pull sound at the end is tension that is let out and offers some relief. A bit like a fart, but less smelly. Amis de la poésie, bonsoir!

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Alnmouth but I like to get out into the country when I visit my parents. You drive into Alnwick, and then through the town past the TA base going up towards Rothbury and the on to Otterburn where the Army likes to play soldiers with live ammo and you are warned not to go onto the land otherwise you might go boom. Going boom is not a nice thing to do and should he avoided at all costs unless you really do want to go out with a bang.

You go past Cragside which as a family we have visited before, in the sun and the rain. It was one Summer and it was raining all bloody week and my mother said we should go out to Cragside and have fun going through the maze on the hills around the very stately home. It was a great idea, except for the fact that it had been raining like a cow taking a piss, and the whole place was waterlogged and we were all wearing crocs (other more suitable footwear from other brands do exist) and that other footwear would have been most welcome. We arrived back at my parents house soaked and a little pissed off. Oh the joys of family holidays during the British summer.

I digress. Je diverge, et parfois je dis bite!

Anyway, you go past Cragside and you will eventually end up at Hepple. I tend to go through the village and park up on the verge after the bridge. You can’t miss it, and if you do miss it the you are on the wrong road.

I have this stupid idea in my head that if I watch enough YouTube and try and learn ever more about photography from the various videos watched, and learn to leave my comfort zone and try new things, then I might discover something new and find out something that I might not even suspect possible. Yes it was one of those kinds of days… I should have known.

I was in the car with my camera and my father for this trip out. For some reason or other, fate had thrown us together and I had missed having sandwiches for lunch at parent’s house and still can’t remember how and why my father was in my car. Well, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to spend some quality time with one of my favourite people. So we had driven off to Hepple. I promise I will get to the end of this story. Maybe not straight away, but maybe by the end of this article.

Parked up. Ready to shoot. Camera out. Lens on camera. And then I just jave to work the scene and try and get compositions and pictures together. Now one video suggested using a telephoto lens for landscape photography. I wasn’t sure about this but tried it anyway just in case. While I was out of the car taking photos my father would be quietly listening to car radio holding one of the lenses as I was doing my thing. Bless him. That man has the patience of a saint. Either that or he enjoyed seeing me doing my thing. It was sharing with him one of the ways I seem to spend a lot of time.

It’s moments like that, that will stick in my memory forever in a way that going to the kitchen to get salt for my wife will be forgotten once I arrive in the kitchen. Not that I don’t want to to get salt for my wife, I just seen to forget very quickly.

So I started of by using my wide-angle lens and the thought, why the hell not, I’ll get the 70-300mm out of the bag and see what I can do with it. A wide angled lens will give you a very wide angle of view and offer up some wonderful distortion. Hence the name wide angled lens. The originality of that name still blows my mind! A telephoto lens however will give you the impression that everything has been drawn in and the background seems to be just being the foreground. It compresses the view… However they still say telephoto lens and not compressor lens. Go figure.

In the photos from this outing I think you’ll be able to see which photos were taken with which pens and of you click on each photos you can see the type of lens used in the description.

It’s one of my happy places and one that I keep going back to. They must think it weird that every summer a French car pulls up and this fat dude gets out with a camera and starts taking photos then gets back into said French car and drives off with souvenirs in his head that will keep him going until he comes back. It was just brilliant being able to just take in the scenery and enjoy being there with my Dad. Definitely a keeper that memory. It was just happiness. Happiness is being out with your Dad taking pictures and just being two men in a car driving across the Northumbrian countryside. These little instances of happiness that just seem to carry you through. Thanks Dad.

A View from the Garden


Sometimes you know that you’re going to get a reasonable couple of shots. The conditions just fall into place. Sometimes you have to break away from your Guinness and your parents hoping that they will understand.

We were out in the garden having a drink before eating that evening. It was a Sunday evening, and the day had been wonderful, and there was me thinking that it couldn’t get any better. It could! I had my Canon 6D Mark II with the 16-35mm lens which is a favourite of mine. The previous day’s sea mist had made a comeback. Now fog always makes for some very atmospherical photography as you can see here.

This view is what decided my parents to buy this house all those years ago when they first moved further north from Newcastle. With various winters and storms, some trees have had to come down, but that view through those trees just brings peace to any beholder.

Enjoy and find your peace…

Alnmouth First Day of Photography


As promised, I said I would share photos from my trip to Northumberland post by post. No novels, just photos…

I have got my need for colour out of my system. Maybe. Possibly. Well, never say never, and all that. I wanted to share some timeless black and white photography.

It was my first morning of photography where I sneaked a visit to Scott’s of Alnmouth for elevenses. There was the sea mist that you saw in my article Sea Mist. And when it cleared, it was an amazingly sunny day.

Not necessarily the best of conditions for photography, but as a photographer, I try to adapt to the day’s conditions. Lots of contrast etc. It also avoids getting up the crack of dawn. Thank you Dawn.

Does this mean that I am lazy? Possibly. Do I care? Absolutely not. When on holiday, I commence my day with a cup of tea (or maybe even more than one) and toast. It’s possibly time for a cup of tea right now. As I age graciously, I appreciate these simple pleasures of life. I also still have some Yorkshire tea! You’re jealous now, aren’t you!!

September


Hello Dear Reader.  I’m not talking about the song by Earth Wind and Fire, but the month.  At least it’s being an ear worm and I can hear you hear you singing it in your heads.  I’m talking about September, the month, the return.  We have accomplished our re-entry into our everyday lives, and the routine that was missing in August is back.  The days are slightly cooler and have become more agreeable.  Instead of 33°C, we are back down to 23°C.  The nights are slightly cooler too and we no longer need our fans on all night like we did in August. When it’s hot, some people are in their element.  I, however, am not one of those people.  When you’re cold, you can always put a jumper on, and have a cup of tea and go inside.  But as contradictory as I am, as one friend recently pointed out to me, I do enjoy sitting outside on a Summer’s eve having a beer or three…

I love the holidays that August is famous for, but the obligation to enjoy yourself every day during these days of relative freedom is a pain in the arse. I don’t want to be melancholic, but this forced enjoyment of a good time is too much for me.  Club Med would be a nightmare!  I like my routine back.  Back at work and happy to be there.  We still have our weekends and can still enjoy them.  The jumpers are still in storage, but you hear the word “mi-saison” as the announcer of a more bearable climate.  The French news has gone the rentrée clips to showing how our Dear President has not been as good at selling submarines as other countries that can offer different and possibly more desirable options…  The Voyages à Nantes is over, and we will look for those works of art that have become permanent.  You can see grapes in the supermarkets, and other more autumnal products.  Soon we’ll be talking about the wine harvest…  In the UK it will be words like “chilly” making their return to everyday usage.  The merits of a “nice cup of tea” which will warm you up will become an object of conversation once more.  Biscuits or cake?

My daughter was born in September and this week is her birthday.  She will be twelve going on thirty.  I think she should run for President, as she seems to know everything already.  Let her fix the country.  If people go on strike, she could always sulk in her room and go on her phone…  That’ll show them!  At least she takes the dog out for walks around the village.  As any doting gather, I think she’s brilliant and can be hilarious and despite hating and eye rolling at my dad jokes, she still seems to enjoy them.  She can also turn into a she-devil at any instant and I’m trying to work out whether this is traumatic for me or just making life a little more interesting than it once was.

Molly, I think I’ve introduced her to you, is now a deb at the grand old age of 10, and has made her grand entrance in the pub, where I can be found from time to time, enjoying a pint of overpriced Guinness.  Me, that is, not the dog.  That dog of ours is one clean living dog, or a total abstainer!  She attended a Saturday night at the pub, and was noticed and loved by everyone.  She received strokes galore, was made a fuss of, and even had a couple of chips as a treat from the chip shop down the road.  My major concern was that I would lose her, but my hand stayed firmly on the lead, and the only trouble was her getting tangled in chairs.  I was amazed by the reaction to her, and she might be allowed to come out with me more often.  She’ll keep her canine eye on me, making sure I don’t get into any trouble. It’s amazing how that mutt has worked her way into my heart and is a real doggie dog, and always seems happy to see me.  To be honest, she’s happy to see everyone, but she knows how to make you feel special, in a way that only a dog can.  Unfortunately she can, with time, and dirt on her, become a little stinky-poohs, and on Tuesday I came home and gave her her cuddle, discovered a dog that had been to doggie hairdressers and was now as soft as you wish, trimmed up, and smelling lovely.  Maybe not as pleasant as finding a banknote hidden away in your wallet, but not half bad anyway!

This is supposed to be a photography blog, or at least from time to time, so let me tell about where I am on the photographic plain.  I’m still there.  Last weekend was the Journées du Patrimoine.  I could have gone into Nantes with my camera, and visit all those places not usually open to the public and get some more “exclusive” photos, but went to Clisson instead.  I never got there.  I had the Mamiya and a couple of rolls of film with me.  Exploring some of the local villages near where I live, I even managed to go to the Château de la Preuille, a local castle that has been a favourite of mine since arriving in St Hilaire in 2001.  With Medium format film, you get 12 images with each film when shooting with the Mamiya C220, and the amount of detail that is captured on the negative is amazing.  The project was to take pictures locally and see what I could get, and the restriction of 24 shots was interesting too.  It obliges you to make that little extra effort when composing your images, as you don’t want to waste that special film.  If this article has photos, then it means that I have developed my film before Friday at 17h.  Otherwise, they’ll have to be added later on. UPDATE: It appears that you will have to wait for the photos of Château de la Preuille but they will be put on here. For the moment, you get a bit of Saint Hilaire.

I shall continue to revel in this comparatively cooler weather, with the sunshine, and not much rain forecast for the next ten days.  I look forward to seeing you in my next article.  Until then, be good, and if you can’t be good, then be careful!