logo
How to have the perfect holiday on France's greatest coast

How to have the perfect holiday on France's greatest coast

Telegraph13-07-2025
Boasting a third of the entire French coastline, Brittany unfurls in a succession of sinuous estuaries and endless inlets. Between its family-fun beaches and fortified towns, you can always find a secluded stretch of shore, to hike across dramatic headlands or feast on oysters in tucked-away bays.
Brittany has always stood apart from the rest of France. History here goes back a long way; megalith builders were erecting pyramid-like monuments 7,000 years ago, and eerie menhirs still march across the moorlands. Later came the Celts, whose music and culture is celebrated in festivals like Lorient's Interceltic bonanza.
Highlights range from medieval cities like Saint-Malo and Dinan to pocket-sized resorts like Morgat and Erquy, arrayed around sumptuous beaches. And leave time for an island jaunt – head for Batz or Bréhat, minutes off-shore, or the Île de Sein, adrift in the mists of the Atlantic – or to venture into the time-forgotten forests inland.
For more Brittany inspiration, see our guides to the city's best hotels, restaurants, bars, things to do and beaches.
In this guide:
How to spend a day
How to spend a week
When to go
Where to stay
How to spend the perfect day in Brittany
Morning
Sailing into Saint-Malo from the UK as the day begins, with the ferry picking its way past myriad islets to nestle near the city walls, is a glorious experience. A short walk brings you into the old town.
Assuming you're staying overnight, leave bags at your hotel, then breakfast at whichever café the sun is currently striking. Now enjoy a leisurely half-hour circuit along the top of the ramparts, drinking in the views over the Channel, across the water, and back down into town, before stepping out onto the broad surrounding beach.
Next browse the old-town shops; on Tuesday or Friday you'll find a bustling street market too. For a quintessentially Breton lunch, try a crêpe at the Corps de Garde, then head to the quai de Dinan, at the southernmost point of the walls, to catch the river taxi to Dinard.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Revealed: How YouTubers are advising migrants on the best way to win charity visas into Britain for free
Revealed: How YouTubers are advising migrants on the best way to win charity visas into Britain for free

Daily Mail​

time38 minutes ago

  • Daily Mail​

Revealed: How YouTubers are advising migrants on the best way to win charity visas into Britain for free

YouTubers are coaching potential migrants on the best way to win free charity visas into Britain using a little-known scheme, it has been revealed. The Times reported that YouTube and TikTok videos from several content creators advised people wanting to enter the UK to seek out charity visas, and use them as 'leverage' to bring dependants into the UK. Charity visas are one type of permission that allowed people from outside the UK to come in and volunteer for up to 12 months. While migrants are unable to earn money on these visas, online influencers have said that they can still bring dependants to the UK who can work and earn money with the long-term aim of settling. One YouTuber who described himself as a 'lifestyle and relocation content creator', Kelvin Ossai, said in a video that was viewed 23,000 that dependants can work thanks to a 'catch' in the rules. He also pointed out that people on charity visas can get significant stipends, as well as money from other sources. The YouTuber said: 'Even if you're working for them for free, your employer can also give you stipends and pay for your transport. 'They can provide you free accommodation, give you stipends for feeding and all that but it will not be classed as a salary.' Another YouTuber, Tochi Esther, who has 180,000 subscribers to her channel, interviewed a woman who moved her family to the UK with a charity visa, who said: 'All these charities, they pay you [a] stipend for feeding and transportation. Some will provide you accommodation. 'Luckily for me as a volunteer working in the nursery, I was being paid as a volunteer. You still get paid as a volunteer, so I still get paid somehow. My husband can do any type of work … He works anywhere and as many hours as possible.' The government has a list of around 1,400 charities that sponsor visas, many of them being churches and other religious organisations. Ossai in the video: 'Most churches in the UK are charity organisations. Most of them have the license to sponsor you on a charity visa. Don't say I told you this.' While each applicant, including their partner and any dependants, have to pay a £3119 fee, along with a healthcare surcharge that is normally £1,035 and prove they have at least £1,270 in savings, YouTubers point out that this is far cheaper than other routes into the UK. A Home Office spokesperson said: 'Under our Plan for Change, our upcoming immigration white paper will set out a comprehensive plan to restore order to our broken immigration system, which includes cracking down on those who look to exploit our visa routes. 'We keep our visa and asylum systems under constant review to ensure they are not open to exploitation and where we detect trends which may undermine our immigration rules, we will not hesitate to take action.' It comes after the Daily Mail revealed that Brits have been fined an astonishing £30million in just a year and a half for accidentally ferrying illegal immigrants across the channel in their vehicles. Travellers have been slapped with thousands of pounds in fines under an obscure and highly controversial scheme designed to crack down on the waves of illegal migrants sneaking into the country. Drivers can be fined up to £10,000 for each illegal migrant found hiding in their vehicle when they return to the UK under the scheme - even if they were unaware of their existence. They can also be handed a £6,000 fine if they vehicle is not 'adequately secured' - even if no migrant is found. The penalties have been harshly criticised for punishing law-abiding citizens who report illegal migrants they discover and open themselves up for bumper fines. While those who don't report the illegal migrants, allowing them to freely leave their vehicles, avoid the prospect of a harsh penalty. The Daily Mail previously revealed that £25,662,299 in fines had been dished out by the home office under the Clandestine Entrant Civil Penalty Scheme between 1 January 2024 and March this year. By the end of June that figure had shot up to £30,983,102, with no further successful penalty appeals, figures obtained from a Freedom of Information request show. That comes despite criticism over the policy penalising right-minded citizens, with Sir Keir Starmer even forced to intervene in one case after significant public backlash. Although 6,825 fines have been imposed, just one person has been successful in getting their punishment rescinded since the beginning of last year. There have been 140 unsuccessful appeals.

Mon Dieu! No vin, no Gitanes. France has lost its va-va-voom
Mon Dieu! No vin, no Gitanes. France has lost its va-va-voom

Times

time2 hours ago

  • Times

Mon Dieu! No vin, no Gitanes. France has lost its va-va-voom

At a recent soirée thrown by parents at our sons' school in southwest France, our hosts served frozen canapés and wine from a box. Afterwards we were given a tour of the house, during which various high-value items were pointed out to us with enormous pride. A hot tub, a state-of-the-art toolbox, a convertible Mercedes. Don't get me wrong — the canapés and the wine were delicious. It was just … unexpected. For a country lauded for its cuisine and historically anti-consumerist in its outlook, it all seemed a bit off-brand. In 2019 my husband Dex and I left the UK with our one-year-old son and his baby brother in utero for a grand Gallic adventure. We'd been living in London for 12 years and, much as we loved the city, we felt unable to raise a family comfortably on the combined income of a freelance writer and an NGO employee. Bummed out by Brexit and hankering for a change of pace, we weren't quite ready to return to our native Ireland. I'd been desperate to live in France since I first visited Paris when I was 14 and decided my future would involve jotting down bon mots in pavement cafés and developing a daily viennoiserie habit without the accompanying weight gain. Luckily Dex is a fellow francophile and we settled on the Tarn region as the place to raise our young family. We bought a house an hour from Toulouse with a potager and four chickens, and a local shop that sold €7 bottles of wine made from vineyards less than a 30-minute drive away. There would be the demands of work and parenting to grapple with, yes, but there would also be boozy lunches, gastronomic delights at every turn and a sense of anything goes — after all, isn't freedom etc France's whole shtick? Of course, as is often the case with any major life change, adjusting to our new surroundings didn't come easily. Covid hit not long after we arrived, scuppering our plans to expand our social circle. And the French aren't big on mum and baby activities, so even when the world did get back to normal, it was hard to make new friends in the early days. I felt ancient as I was forced to reactivate my Facebook account to join local groups (you can't organise anything around here if you don't have one). A stray dog mauled one of the chickens, our neighbour kept calling us les Anglais in a menacing tone and the baby got sick and spent a week in hospital. • We can't survive as farmers under Labour — so we're moving to France Before long, the boys adjusted to their new set-up, picking up the language in no time. Dex and I continued to struggle with the basics. I was asking waiters for condoms instead of jam, complaining to doctors of a pain not in my neck but in my rear end. Still, at least I got to fulfil my yearning for the quintessential French life. I watched old men down espressos at bistro counters while, on neighbouring tables, students with suitably haunted expressions scribbled away in battered leather notebooks. I took the kids to the open-air market every Thursday and we filled our panier with peaches in summer, ceps in the autumn. Every August, we went to apéro concerts in vineyards and listened to gypsy jazz while patient mamis taught the boys to play boules. At about the same time, Carine Roitfield, the former editor of French Vogue, shared her morning health routine in an interview: 'espresso and cigarettes'. How chic! I thought. How debauched! How wonderfully French. I had found my spiritual homeland! Six years later, you can't move for the third-wave coffee shops specialising not in java, but in matcha — these green-tinged lattes bursting with nutrients are increasingly replacing the humble cup of joe. The latest trend in French cities is barley coffee, a more sustainable and additive-free alternative to decaf. A school mum frequently tried to rope me into hanging out with her at a juice bar. A few months ago I suggested skipping the kombucha in favour of midday wine. She hasn't reached out since. As for cigarettes, the accessory that once symbolised French insouciance, it's game over for nicotine lovers. When we first got here, everyone was lighting up outside the school gates. But new restrictions recently announced by the health minister Catherine Vautrin have outlawed smoking in virtually all outdoor public areas — beaches, parks, gardens, playgrounds, sports venues, school entrances and bus stops. I must confess that, being a non-smoker and a mother, I welcome this even if it does go against my imagined French ideal. And it's no bad thing that tobacco use is declining among young people, with the most recent data revealing that 16 per cent of 17-year-olds smoked daily in 2022, down from 25 per cent six years prior. My father, however, a lifelong smoker, is less enamoured with the latest regulation. On his last trip out to us, he was admonished outside a supermarket by an elderly woman. Mon dieu! • 'We'd be £500k better off if we hadn't moved to France' Total wine consumption, spanning reds, whites and rosés, is down more than 80 per cent in France since 1945, while red wine is facing an 'existential' decline as Gen Z explores alcohol-free options. We went to a concert a few weeks ago, our rosé-filled plastic cups and parents-on-day-release vibe sticking out amid a sea of water bottles and smug sobriety. The demise of wine drinking might have something to do with the love of fast food over here. France is the largest European market for McDonald's, while I've been shocked to discover that kids' menus are typically chicken nuggets and chips, served with a sugary drink. As for children's birthday parties, my insistence on providing at least one low-sugar option, a token attempt at something resembling one of your five a day, is a frequent source of amusement among French friends. And while tourists may love the weekly markets, the preferred destination for most we know here is a cavernous hypermarket in an out-of-town strip mall, accessible only by SUV (forget your charmingly battered Renaults — thanks to the joys of long-term rental, every car that pulls up outside the school gates is a gleaming, polluting beast.) At the same time that some are falling for fast food culture, others are going mad for American-style fitness culture and wellness. Three new gyms have opened near me in the past year and everyone has a fitness tracker. Plant-based eating still hasn't quite caught on here — I recently ordered a 'vegan' burger that came with goat's cheese. Although in Paris it is becoming more fashionable: the celebrated chef Alain Passard recently became the first three-Michelin-star chef in France to stop serving meat, fish, dairy products and eggs at his restaurant L'Arpege. So maybe it is a matter of time. • The Brits moving to France to become winemakers Meanwhile, the time-honoured tradition of sunbathing in the buff is under threat. This summer several resorts across the country have banned bare-chested men and women in bikini tops from town centres. In Le Sables d'Olonne, on the west coast, anyone refusing to put on a T-shirt risks a €150 fine. Even on the carefree Côte d'Azur, tourists flocking to the beaches of Nice, Cannes and Saint-Tropez in the hope of sunning their lesser exposed parts are being warned to cover up. This has been particularly hard for some of our French male friends who, it must be said, enjoy a bit of pectoral exposure. Perhaps the most surprising shift in French society in recent years is the public's increasing interest in the domestic arrangements of its leaders. As a rule, the French don't do prurience. Unlike their British counterparts, French politicians have historically enjoyed private lives that remain private. Everyone in media circles knew François Mitterrand had a child by his mistress, but his open secret was never revealed to the wider public while he was alive. 'Le Slap' has changed everything. When Brigitte Macron delivered a blow to the side of her husband's face in May, the incident, as expected, made headlines around the world. But in France too it dominated the social discourse, with speculation rife on what prompted Brigitte to lash out. La discrétion is no longer a given in French politics. (To be fair, it might well be a Macron thing. The French I know loathe the guy. The neighbour who calls us les Anglais? She literally spat when another neighbour uttered his name.) So that's modern France in a nutshell. Tops are in, private lives out. We wouldn't live anywhere else, though. Because for all the recent changes, we love it here. French society is hard to penetrate but once you're in, you're well looked after. The same applies to social groups. We've made some great friends. The boys are getting a good education, the countryside is stunning and did I mention it's €7 for a decent bottle of wine? The French youth might be cutting back but we aren't.

Tourism is not always to blame
Tourism is not always to blame

Times

time2 hours ago

  • Times

Tourism is not always to blame

Cities that want tourists to stay away, including Barcelona, should be careful what they wish for EMILIO MORENATTI/AP I t is the height of the summer holidays, and millions of tourists are now on their way to their favourite Spanish beaches or jostling through the narrow alleyways of Venice. In fact, rebounding vigorously from the slump during and after the Covid pandemic, tourism is at an all-time high: European countries hosted an estimated 756 million tourists last year, 46 million more than in 2023. The Greek island of Zakynthos drew 150 times more people than it has permanent ­residents. Little wonder that there has been a backlash: tourists are jeered and sprayed by water guns in Barcelona, Venice has introduced a daily tourist tax and cruise ships are increasingly ­unwelcome in the Canary Islands. Spain, the second most visited country in Europe (and the top one for British tourists), is ­experiencing particular overcrowding and ­hostility. The mayor of Barcelona has unveiled a €15 million plan to alleviate the congestion around the Sagrada Familia basilica, visited last year by 4.7 million people. He wants to regulate the proliferation of tourist shops, promote commercial ­diversity and enforce limits on bars. Apparently it is not working. Despite the 41 souvenir shops already crowding nearby streets, more are still being opened. Residents complain there is nowhere to buy bread and other staples. And young people find housing increasingly unaffordable, as landlords find it much more profitable to rent out properties to the thousands looking for Airbnb accommodation. These complaints — on the distortion of the housing market, the noise, traffic, drunkenness and loutish behaviour of many tourists (especially the British and Germans in Ibiza and other clubbing hotspots) — are being voiced increasingly stridently across Europe. Paris numbered more than 400,000 visitors per square kilometre in 2024, 20 times the local resident population. Central Athens and Copenhagen were also swamped. Amsterdam is now openly hostile to those coming to gawp at the red light district (and has tried to move the prostitutes to a distant designated venue). And tranquil Switzerland finds its slopes overcrowded in winter and Alpine summers ruined by cars and walkers. Take the train instead, it urges. The complaints are understandable. But tourism is not always to blame. A failure to build enough houses, poor traffic regulation, the refusal to see the environmental impact of huge cruise liners (especially in the Venice lagoon), profiteering by business monopolies — these all deflect blame and lay it on overtourism. The danger, however, is that overt hostility will be keenly felt by visitors, who may choose to take their holiday spending money elsewhere. Numbers will drop. The goose may not only stop laying golden eggs but will be cooked. Already some businesses in popular destinations are complaining that fewer people are coming after protests. Tourism is extraordinarily big business, not ­only in Europe but further afield: Thailand, New Zealand, Bali and the Gambia rely on visitors. On the whole, tourism does broaden most minds, though the risk of local exploitation is significant. But proper regulation is essential if it is not to ­increase xenophobia and prejudice. Countries such as Greece, helped back from the brink of bankruptcy by tourism, now find some heritage sites in danger. Responsible governments must treat their heritage, visitors and earnings responsibly.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store