Mont St Michel

It’s not often you see the Mont St Michel without hoards of tourists, so it was lovely to arrive on a grey January day to find virtually no one else there.

I usually have a love hate relationship with the Mont. I love the grandiose setting, the scale and beauty of the bay. The knowledge that out there are dangerous quick sands and a killer tide. I can imagine the medieval pilgrims braving the dangers to accomplish their spiritual journey. I love the monastic buildings especially the gothic complex of buildings called the Merveille ( the marvel). I love that those buildings are not only functional but are symbolic of medieval life and philosophy. I love the fact that these monasteries were great centres of learning. I love that here beautiful illuminated manuscripts were created and stored in magnificent libraries.

However, I hate arriving to find a hundred coaches in the car park. I hate having to fight my way onto the shuttle buses that ferry people to and from the Mont. I hate battling my way up past the tacky souvenir shops and greasy smelling snack bars through inconsiderate crowds blocking the way. I hate the way the ghosts of the past are banished by the monster crowds of the present.

Imagine my joy, then, to find that on this January day there was not a single coach and there were only a handful of cars in the car park.

The new bridge built at such expense to allow the tide to circulate and to make the island appear as it would have been centuries ago is usually packed with people. Today, however, nobody was there and for the first time I was able to appreciate how well this structure blends into the landscape. How it is almost invisible and how beautiful the Mont St Michel is without the causeway and the car parks that used to surround it.

The climb up the narrow main street and along the ramparts built to defend the Mont from attack during the Hundred Years’ War was delightful. With no crowds and most of the shops closed, it was possible to appreciate the beautiful timber framed houses, the winding stairways and higgledy- piggledy roofs.

There were no queues for tickets and once inside the echoes of the past rang through the stone passages and stairways and the great medieval halls. It was magical.

The cloister was a haven of tranquility. It was as if I were seeing the delicate Purbeck stone pillars, unobscured by crowds of selfie seekers, the intricate carvings and the views of the bay for the first time.

The ghosts of the past surrounded me and drew me in and accompanied me on a tour of the buildings. Into the Romanesque nave of the abbey church and the light filled gothic choir. Back through the cloister and into the exquisite 13 century refectory with its mystical light. Down the dimly lit staircase to the bas relief of Bishop Aubert’s dream where the Arc Angel Michael commands him to build a sanctuary on the Mont. Down, again, into the great gothic halls, the scriptorium and the hall probably used for entertaining noble guests. All empty, all full of the echoes of the past. Up and along and moving back in time, back into the 11th century part of the abbey with its dimly lit passages some of them enticingly closed off and locked. What secrets lie undiscovered down there? Then back into the thirteenth century, back into la Merveille. Only this time down a level where alms would have been distributed to the poor. Then out into the gardens and onto the ramparts to be confronted once again by the majesty of the bay.

This was a wonderful visit. Next time I’m here struggling with the crowds, I’ll remember this day and remind myself how much I love this place.

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