Huelgoat

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HUELGOAT**


Population 1,687

The forest, lake, running water and rocks make Huelgoat one of the finest sites** in inner Brittany which come under the aegis of the Parc naturel regional d’Armorique. Huelgoat is a favourite place for anglers (especially for carp and perch in the lake and trout in the river) and a good excursion centre; the Maison de la Faune sauvage , located in the former railway station at Scrignac 13km/8mi to the north-east, displays more than 70 specimens of stuffed animals to be found in the area.

The Town

The 16C church with a modern belfry stands near the main square in the town centre. Inside there are sculpted purlins and to the left of the chancel is a statue of St Yves, the patron saint of the parish, between a rich man and a pauper. Overlooking Huelgoat, the Renaissance Chapelle Notre-Dame-des-Cieux with its 18C bell tower, has curious painted low-relief sculptures depicting scenes from the life of the Virgin and the Passion around the chancel and the side altars. A pardon takes place on the first Sunday in August.

Where to stay

Hotel du Lac –  02 98 99 71 14 – closed Jan and Mon – 15 rooms, 45/52 € 6.10 €; restaurant 16/28 E. Despite its characterless facade, this renovated hotel is a good place to stop and at a very reasonable price. The rooms are clean and well furnished, and the restaurant offers a nice view of the lake. There is also a pizzeria-cum-steak house.

La Ferme de Porz Kloz – Tredudon-le-Moine, 29690 Berrien – 11 km/6.6mi north-west of Huelgoat via D 14, direction Berrien and then D 42 on the left – 02 98 99 61 65 closed end of Nov to Easter and Tue – reservation required – 7 rooms, Time seems to have stopped in this 17th century group of farms, which used to be part of the Relecq abbey. The rooms, decorated with family furniture, are particularly cosy. The reception area has some photographs on display depicting life in Brittany in the 19th century.

WALK

The rocks

Allow 1hr 30min on foot.

From rue de Berrien past the lake, follow the signposted path.

Chaos du Moulin – The path cuts through the rocks dominating the course of the River Argent. This pile of rounded granite rocks, surrounded by greenery, is very picturesque.

Grotte du Diable – To reach this, climb down an iron ladder. A brook babbles below.

Roche Tremblante – North bank. By leaning against this 100t block at a precise point, you can make it rock on its base.

An uphill path, known as Lovers’ Walk (Sentier des Amoureux), leads directly through the woods to Artus’ Cave and to Boars’ Pool (see The Forest below).

Allee Violette – A pleasant path in the woods along the left bank of the River Argent ends this ramble through the rocks.

To return to the centre of Huelgoat, turn right at Pont-Rouge onto the road from Carhaix and then take rue du Docteur-Jacq.

*The forest

Extending over 1 000ha/2 471 acres, the Forest of Huelgoat lies at the foot of the southern slope of the Monts d’Arrée mountain range. Its tortured topography consists of a series of hills divided by deep valleys. The forest features a great many different landscapes and colours; it also contains strange, picturesque sites which have inspired many traditional tales and legends. (Visitors can discover these sites with the help of signposts and car parks: see below).

Promenade du Fer a Cheval and Le Gouffre:

Allow 30min on foot. After Pont-Rouge, take the Horseshoe Walk on the right. This is a pleasant walk through the woods along the River Argent. Then return to the Carhaix road for 300/328yd. A stairway (39 steps) leads down to the chasm. The River Argent flowing from the Lac d’Huelgoat, falls into a deep cavity to reappear 150m/164yd further on. A path leads to a look-out point (15min there and back–difficult and no security ramp) commanding a view of the chasm. You can continue this walk through the woods by the river passing near the Mare aux Fees (Fairies’ Pool) and combining it with the Promenade du Canal.

Follow the signposts to the mine (La Mine), turn right at the bridge onto an unsurfaced road and at the former mine, continue along an uphill path to the right to the power station (usine electrique). A footbridge spans the canal and leads to the opposite bank.

Promenade du Canal – Allow 2hr on foot there and back on rue du Docteur-Jacq. This walk follows the bank of the upper canal. A reservoir and two canals were dug in the 19C to work the silver-bearing lead mines, already known to the Romans. The waters were used to wash the ore and drive a crusher. From the far end of the canal walk you may continue on to the chasm; this walk is described in the opposite direction, see below.

Promenade du Clair-Ruisseau – Allow 1 hr 30min on foot there and back. From the car park after Pont-Rouge, take allée du Clair-Ruisseau. This path half way up the slope affords fine views of the rock-strewn stream bed. A stairway (25 steps) on the left leads down to the Mare aux Sangliers (Boars’ Pool) in a pretty setting of rocks shaped rather like boars’ heads, hence the name. Cross over the rustic bridge to allée de la Mare on the left.

After the great stairway (218 steps), which provides the quickest access to Camp d’Artus (Artus’ Camp), you can see up above, on the right, the entrance to Grotte d’Artus (Artus’ Cave).

Continue up the path which after 800m/0.5mi takes you to the camp. Boulders mark the entrance which was dominated by an artificial mound.

It is an important example of a Gallic fortified site, bordered by two enclosures. In spite of the encroaching vegetation, it is possible to go round the camp by a path (lkm/0.6mi) following the remaining second elliptical enclosure which is fairly well preserved.

Finistere

A Pleasure for the Palate
If you’re in North Finistère, try the terribly chic hotel restaurant of Le Temps de Vivre in Roscoff or, near Morlaix, the rustic stone hostel Auberge du Puits de Jeanne in Plouegat Moysan, serving traditional country fare such as the pork dish Kig ha Farz.

To the Northwest, the Hotel Pointe St Mathieu boasts exquisite dishes in a timeless picturesque setting while in Plomodiern, doorway to the Crozon Peninsula, sits l’Auberge des Glazik, a character gourmet stopover.

In Quimper, Ti Coz serves Michelin-standard dishes in a modest, blue-shuttered setting while at La Cigale Egaree, Quimperle, you can delight your palate in a peaceful, elegant environment.

French markets, Finistere style

If you’re keen on authentic French flavours, look no further than local weekly markets. Early birds will see housewives in tabards selecting the choicest fruit, youngsters jostling with wizened locals for the best baguettes and all ages bargaining for live crabs and shiny mackerel.

In the north, don’t miss the specialty pink onions of Roscoff on Wednesdays or the nearby spires of St Pol de Leon enlivened by Tuesday’s market: on Saturdays head for the sloping historic streets of St Renan or Morlaix whose unmissable arches oversee the hustle and bustle of traders renowned for hearty produce.

To the south, the gracious cathedral city of Quimper fills its streets with crafts clothes and specialties on Wednesdays, Fridays and weekends while the fortified town of Concarneau opens its square to eager market-goers on Mondays and Fridays.

Look for lobster and langoustines, mouth-watering groceries and local treats like Douarnenez’s speciality Kouign Amann butter cake. French markets are a feast for all the senses!

Brittany’s best crepes

Ideally teamed with cool Breton cider from earthenware drinking bowls, crêpes are the best Breton speciality and a creperie gourmande guarantees crisp-soft crepe perfection.

If you’re on the Ile de Batz near Roscoff, pause at La Cassonade with cheery service and coastal views: in Morlaix try l’Hermine – renowned for innovative fillings and good service – and further south. the Men Lann Du by Plomeur is ideally placed for lunchtime stopovers, offering a rustic family environment and crepes that are hard to beat!

CULTURE AND NATURE

Finistère has been spoilt. It has expansive sandy beaches tipped by turquoise waters stretching into blue horizons: it has fertile soil producing perfect ingredients for fine cuisine: it has a rich cultural and historical heritage that includes chateaux, fairies and mythical drowned cities.

Take Morlaix as a starting point, classed as ‘Land of Art and History’. Here, the famous viaducts dominate both town and happy harbour while winding alleyways lead up to ancient timber buildings and chapels hosting art exhibitions.

Quimper, with its restored twin-spire cathedral and bright ancient buildings offers modern shops and fabulously affordable museums (Try the Musee des Beaux-Arts and the HB Henriot Faience museum) while Concarneau’s majestic ramparts shelter streets of curious shops and inviting restaurants. Take the coast road heading west and discover Pont l’Abbe whose magnificent town hall and waterside setting provide a perfect shopping backdrop.

On a smaller scale, look for Petites Cités de Caractère which are not cities but villages with particular character. Locronan is perhaps most popular, the setting for many films with its open cobbled square and busy craftsmen, while Le Faou and Guerlesquin are also well-known (Le Faou for its church sculptures and 16th century architecture, Guerlesquin for its startling old prison in the town centre – not to he missed!).

However, few visitors realize that Roscoff is a charming historic town hoarding enviable stonework and scariest restaurants, an ancient ossuary and a discovery trail that will share hidden secrets, or that the sleepy mediaeval village of Pont Croix has a spire that inspired a whole architectural trend, twin cobbled streets sloping to the river and a tree-lined square which is quintessentially French.

No Finistère visit would be complete without a trip to the beautiful riverside Pont Aven, steeped in artistic heritage and still boasting contemporary exhibitions. Home of great art and also of wonderful butter biscuits!

Castles and cairns

Following the discovery trails of historic towns, choose one of the many manors and chateaux. Chateau de Kerjean hosts exhibitions within its rimmed walls and carved parapets while the startling pink fairytale castle of Trevarez offers beautiful landscaped gardens and a photogenic setting.

To experience even further back in history head east of Morlaix to the Cairn de Barnenez, an ancient burial mound constructed from loose stone: or hunt down the prehistoric burial chambers (allees couvrtes) and standing stones (dolmens) that are sprinkled throughout rural Finistère.

Hiking, biking and wide open spaces

Off-season, Finistère’s natural beauty comes to the fore, making it an ideal destination for nature-lovers. The area is threaded with grandes and petites randonees (GR=hikes, PR = easier walks) as well as biking trails and coastal paths.

If moorlands and wild heather are your preference, journey to the heart of the Mons d’Arree and national park where the viewpoint Rochers de Cragou reveals sweeping valleys, mountainside chapels and winking lakes.

For waterside wandering, try the Nantes Brest canal, the breathtaking Baie de Morlaix and the Kerrema dunes near Plouescat. For a glimpse of the dramatic granite rocks and crashing waves, head west to Pointe du Raz and Pointe du Van with the Baie des Trépassés in between, then relax at the many picturesque fishing ports.




http://www.finisterebrittany.com/

Monteverdi Vespers

History here

WEDNESDAY 19th MAY 2010


St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin

PRESENTED BY THE CULWICK CHORAL SOCIETY


Colette Boushell (soprano)

Sinead Campbell-Wallace (soprano)

Alison Browner (alto)

John Elwes (tenor)

Benjamin Hulett (tenor)

Nigel Williams (bass)

Jeffrey Ledwidge (bass)

and Orchestra

Bernie Sherlock (conductor)

The Children's Book by AS Byatt

The moral seriousness of AS Byatt's fiction derives much from her concept of responsibility; and responsibility, for her, is most importantly the business of marshalling and applying one's intellect to every area of one's life. Her new novel, a staggeringly detailed and charged re-creation of the period between the end of the 19th century and the first world war, overflows with people attempting to define their responsibilities, whether to fulfil them or to evade them; with those in pursuit of enlightenment or seeking to manipulate it; and with some simply attempting to unearth who they are and what they should do to survive.

For Philip Warren, the boy whose discovery in the store-rooms of the South Kensington Museum (now the V&A) opens the book, survival is a matter of making good his escape from life in the Potteries and finding, somehow, a way of unravelling and realising his semi-articulated desire to "make something". His hideaway uncovered, he is brought before Major Prosper Cain, the special keeper of precious metals, and Olive Wellwood, a "successful authoress of magical tales" who is visiting Cain for research purposes. Enquiring about the starved boy's background, Olive suggests, "You wanted to make something of your life, of yourself ... That's natural."

We are clear, immediately, that Philip's sense of what "a life" might constitute is different from Olive's, though their backgrounds are similar: Olive, together with her sister Violet, has also fled an upbringing of unrelieved poverty and traumatic loss. By marrying Humphry Wellwood, a banker by trade though not by inclination, she has created a life of plenitude, productivity and no little luxury; by harnessing her memories of the mining community in which she grew up and linking them with her instinctive feel for fairy stories and folk-tales, she has also created an independent life for herself. But over the course of several hundred pages, Byatt demonstrates that creativity means entirely different things to Philip and to Olive, and has entirely different effects on those around them.

Humphry and Olive's rambling farmhouse on the Kentish Weald, named Todefright, is a wonderfully achieved emblem of the particular slice of late 19th-century society Byatt wishes to show in all its precariously utopian varieties: swarming with children who are allowed to speak not only when spoken to, with rebels ranging from politely insistent Fabians to fugitive Russian anarchists, with unstable artists, with ideas and projects and determination. Its inhabitants pride themselves on their ability to speak their minds freely and to arrange their affairs according to progressive and humane values rather than in the service of unblinking Victorian stricture; Byatt is slyly comic on the extent to which these ideals are allied to the profusion of decorative earthenware plates and bountiful mid-summer parties. Beneath the house's surface, though, secrets multiply: infidelities that have made a mess of lines of paternity and maternity; expedient accommodations of truth and finance; lapses of thought or care for the consequences of one's actions. For Todefright's children, given terrifyingly partial glimpses into the adults' muddied affairs, the family home shifts from idyll to prison and back, their parents - or who they think their parents are - from beneficent protectors to child-like incompetents.

Olive's work stands at the centre of the novel, and extracts of it run throughout - the baby prince whose shadow is stolen from his crib, the girl who imprisons a group of miniature human beings in her dolls' house only to be imprisoned herself by another, larger child - thickening not only our sense of her subjectivity but also providing Byatt's imitative commentary on the children's literature of the time. JM Barrie, Edith Nesbit and Kenneth Grahame all appear on these pages, their attitudes towards children both as consumers of their fictions and as conduits for their interpretations of the world nimbly highlighted; and, in Olive, Byatt probes the motives and contours of the process of writing for children further. When Olive is pregnant once again, she seals herself away in her stories, partly out of financial necessity but also to shore up her individuality and to insulate herself from her unborn child, reflecting on her pleasure thus: "Blood flowed from heart to head, and into the happy fingertips, bypassing the greedy inner sleeper."

For each of the household's children, Olive has created a book, revealing her allegiances and, indeed, her actual biological connection by the differing amounts of time and creative energy she bestows. "The stories in the books were, in their nature, endless," we are told. "They were like segmented worms, with hooks and eyes to fit on to the next moving and coiling section. Every closure of plot had to contain a new beginning." Outstripping the others by far is Tom, Olive's eldest son, a boy who loathes the pretence of Peter Pan ("It's make-believe make-believe make-believe") and who decides to mimic an animal's non-attachment to the material world in order to protect himself. Eventually brought to grief by his mother's inability to separate him from his fictional alter ego, he is perhaps the novel's saddest and most significant casualty.

But casualties abound among the dizzyingly extensive cast of this novel, one that is powered by unexpected doublings, sudden appearances, disappearances and couplings, individual histories - and, for that matter, history itself - rapidly and uncompromisingly deployed. Mirroring the superficially orderly and harmonious Todefright is the ghastly Purchase House, the dilapidated home of Benedict Fludd, the master potter to whom Philip is apprenticed, a crazy makeshift household in which kilns explode and sexually explicit statues of children are kept in a locked cupboard. Here, the horrors of genius are writ large on the lives of Fludd's drugged-up wife, his traumatised daughters and angry son, his beleaguered and abused friends. Byatt's cleverness, in the dual figures of Olive and Fludd, is to keep the reader in thrall to their talents while showing the sinuous stealth of their neglect; and to underline that neither artist is left undamaged themselves.

It will probably never be said of Byatt's writing that she wears her learning lightly, and her lengthy disquisitions on the building blocks of her narrative both support and bloat the novel; her briskly delivered but expansive accounts of, among other things, the development of London's museums, of late Victorian banking crises, of pottery and puppetry and of the Arts and Crafts, Fabian and suffrage movements are never less than informative but sometimes a little less than compelling. A visit to the Exposition Universelle de Paris, in which electricity and machine guns are displayed alongside a Tyrolean Castle, and a later section in which the wonderfully drawn child-woman Dorothy travels to Germany to establish her parentage ("things got out of hand at a carnival", Humphry tells her), stay far longer and more suggestively in the mind because they are animated by characters with so much at stake.

But Byatt is brilliant on the gathering forces of England and Germany at the beginning of the 20th century, their contrasting attitudes towards the part that the land plays in the collective unconscious, their differing forms of nostalgia. That her novel closes with the first world war, with its arbitrary culling of so many of the characters whose "book" the novel purports to be, feels entirely appropriate. The war never feels like an inevitability, nor the numerous characters artificially inflated in order to provide soldiers for it; instead, it feels like the vast, traumatising shock that it was, its victims randomly alighted on, its effects making nothing, and yet everything, of what has gone before.

One could say, in the survivors' parade that forms the very final pages of The Children's Book, that Byatt provides us with glimmers of hope; connections are reforged, tiny instances of justice done, gestures towards continuity sketched. But this is a very dark novel, driven by an unsparing view of human nature and a clear-eyed analysis of the idea of human perfectibility. Despite some of its structural similarities to Byatt's earlier novel Possession, and its thematic links to the tetralogy that featured Frederica Potter, it reminded me most of Byatt's Little Black Book of Stories. In that collection and in this novel, Byatt reminds us in chilling fashion of the perils of artistic creation, and the duties of its exponents to find out the difference between what is real and what is not.


• Alex Clark is the editor of Granta

Shutter Island

Director: Martin Scorsese


Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Sir Ben Kingsley, Michelle Williams, Jackie Earle Haley

Details: US/138mins (15A)

Saturated in ambiguity from the very first frame, Martin Scorsese's fourth movie with Leonardo DiCaprio is an exercise in dense plotting, assembled with care and infinite panache by one of the best director's currently wielding a megaphone in anger. A mystery that really delves into the confines of the mind for answers, this may very well require multiple viewings to properly digest.

DiCaprio's compelling performance - complimented wonderfully by Sir Ben Kingsley and the always excellent Mark Ruffalo - is one that is wholly in sync with his director's mindset. From the anxious, layered ambience of the opening few frames, jolted by a moody, invasive score, and pretty much remaining that way for over two hours, your enjoyment of Shutter Island may still depend on whether or not you buy the payoff.

DiCaprio is US Marshall Teddy Daniels, who, along with Ruffalo's recently assigned partner is off to the mysterious Shutter Island - a home for the most dangerous criminally insane - to investigate the disappearance of Rachel Saldano, a patient who killed her children and seems to have now vanished. Teddy is only recently recovering from a tragedy in his own life; his wife died in a mysterious fire and continues to visit him in his dreams. But having spent too much time on the island, he begins to doubt his own sanity as he struggles to find anyone he can trust.

Exploring the troubled human psychosis is hardly new ground for Scorsese, but the material he's given here from Denis Lahane's novel presents that rare occasion when every single character feels like an important part of a particularly tricky puzzle. His casting in that respect is spot on; Ruffalo's obvious affability and Kingsley's ease veering from compassionate academic to someone seemingly harbouring Nazi's, really aides DiCaprio's committed lead performance.

The conclusion is either one you'll kick yourself for not figuring out, or get all smug for seeing it coming. Either way, your reaction to it will depend on if you'll want to revisit this production and see where you went wrong/right, or just write it off as hyperbolic pulp. I was firmly in the former camp, and I have an inkling most receptive film goers will be the same.

A top drawer director working with a top drawer cast, this is hugely entertaining stuff, once again showcasing the combined eclectic talents of the Scorsese/DiCaprio partnership

Swan Lake

A STAR-STUDDED audience was last night treated to an elaborate performance of Swan Lake by the Russian State Ballet and featuring Bolshoi dancers as the new Grand Canal Theatre opened its doors.

President Mary McAleese was the guest of honour at the first of seven sold-out shows in the €80 million theatre which is located in the heart of Dublin’s docklands.

“It’s been nine long, hard years but we think tonight it has been worth it,” said project developer Harry Crosbie.

U2 manager Paul McGuinness said the 2,000-seat theatre would bring shows that previously could not have come to Dublin and would transform the docklands area. “The current U2 tour wouldn’t fit but I am sure we will be on that stage sooner or later” he said.

Among the well-known faces from the world of film and music at the gala opening were director John Boorman, actor Brendan Gleeson, writer and director Rebecca Miller, singers Paul Brady and Christy Moore.

RTÉ broadcaster Gerry Ryan said the theatre was planned during the boom so opening “in the midst of end of world” was a “fantastic success story”. Fashion designer John Rocha said it was “a great day for Ireland”.

The new venture also got the seal of approval from entrepreneur Bill Cullen who said it was “fantastic”.

Many broadcasters also attended the event including Gay Byrne, Kathryn Thomas, Colette Fitzpatrick and Anne Doyle.

Also present was architect Daniel Libeskind who designed the theatre which has seven bars, a rooftop terrace, a full orchestra pit and excellent technical and backstage facilities.

Soloists from the Bolshoi ballet company also featured in last night’s performance which included between 15 and 20 changes of scene.

Some 120,000 tickets have been sold to date for a variety of performances including Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical Whistle Down The Wind.