It’s become a bit of a tradition for my sister and me to take a trip together once a year. Over the years, we’ve explored corners of Germany we’d never seen, travelled through Japan and Croatia, and—last summer—set off on a road trip along the northern coast of France. That part of France had been on my list for ages and with my rusty school French just about holding up, we set off to explore storybook towns, dramatic coastlines and sleepy harbours, stopping whenever something caught our eye.
We wandered through cobbled streets, dipped our toes into the Atlantic and let ourselves be surprised by just how much beauty fits into one stretch of coastline.
Dinan
We started in Dinan and it was the perfect welcome to Brittany. Half-timbered houses with flowers spilling from windowsills, crooked lanes that seemed to twist into the past and a peaceful riverside walk that felt like something out of a painting. We took our time here—no big sights to tick off, just slow wandering and crêpes in the sunshine. It felt like a place that hadn’t rushed in years.
Saint-Malo
I’d been wanting to come here ever since reading All the Light We Cannot See —a novel set during World War II, where much of the story unfolds in the walled city during the German occupation. Walking through those same streets, with the sea on one side and solid stone walls all around, gave the place a different weight.
Most of the old town was destroyed during the war and had to be painstakingly rebuilt. Knowing that made it even more impressive—how seamlessly it’s been restored, how proud it still stands. We walked the ramparts as the tide came in, sea air sharp and fresh and just took it all in.
Mont Saint-Michel
This place had been on my list forever and it was even more impressive in real life. That moment when it appears in the distance—rising out of the bay like it’s floating—was one of those wow-moments. We booked a night nearby so we could see it without the busloads of day-trippers, first at dusk and then again early in the morning. It was quiet, glowing and absolutely worth it.
The island has been a place of pilgrimage for over a thousand years, with the abbey perched right at the top like a crown. It’s been everything from a fortress to a prison, but somehow it’s still standing—dramatic and a little mysterious.
Bayeux
Bayeux was such a lovely surprise. It’s elegant and calm, with cobbled streets, little cafés and a cathedral that dominates the skyline. We visited the famous Bayeux Tapestry (no photos allowed) — 70 metres of intricate embroidery telling the story of William the Conqueror and the Norman invasion of England in 1066. It’s incredible that something so old has survived so well.
The whole town feels like it’s been gently preserved rather than over-polished.
The landing beaches
The D-Day beaches were something else entirely. They stretch for around 80 km along the Normandy coast and even now, 80 years later, there are still tanks, bunkers and remnants scattered throughout the landscape. I hadn’t expected to see quite so much still in place. You could easily spend days, if not weeks, exploring the area properly. There’s so much to take in and it stays with you.
We visited the American cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer, set high on a bluff overlooking the sea, where thousands of white crosses stand in perfect rows. A peaceful but powerful place.
We also stopped at the German military mausoleum at Mont d’Huisnes—very different in feeling, with dark stone galleries encircling the remains of over 11,000 German soldiers. It’s the only German mausoleum in France and has a quiet, heavy atmosphere of its own.
And it wasn’t just American, British and Canadian troops who landed here. Australian, Belgian, Czech, Dutch, French, Greek, New Zealand, Norwegian, Rhodesian and Polish forces all took part in the Allied effort. The Allies used over 5,000 ships and landing craft to land more than 150,000 troops on five beaches in Normandy on 6 June 1944 alone. Standing there it was impossible not to feel the weight of it all.
Honfleur
Our last stop was Honfleur. I’d seen photos of the harbour before, but it was even better in person—busy but relaxed, with tall houses lining the water and boats gently shifting in place. We wandered the old streets, found a spot for galettes and cider and just enjoyed the slower pace.
From Honfleur, we did a short trip up the coast to see the cliffs near Étretat. The views were worth the detour—steep white rock faces, dramatic arches and walking paths that opened up to the sea. It was the perfect way to round off the trip, with a last bit of fresh air and open space before heading home.
Looking back
What I loved most about this trip was the mix of it all—harbours and hilltops, quiet towns and weighty history, long walks and unplanned stops. Northern France surprised me in the best way. Even though we visited at the height of summer, most places weren’t overly busy (apart from Mont Saint-Michel & Étretat) and each place had its own pace, its own stories.
We didn’t rush. We just took it all in—one coffee, one cider, one baguette with camembert, one view, one winding road at a time. I’d go back in a heartbeat.
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