First, you need to have a backup plan when the line to the new parking lot (which is about a mile away from the island's land bridge) extends down the highway at least two miles.
Second, if your backup plan takes you to the lovely Brittany towns nearby, then back to Mont San Michel just before sunset, you should know that that is just about the time the tide comes in "like a galloping horse", flooding the mud flats and the entrance you raced through just before the water. Now, you can say the tide will recede from the stone arched entrance before it's time to go, but we stayed until 11pm and the tide was still lapping through the main entrance like a thirsty dog.
The word "main" above is telling and you should assume there is at least one backup exit, so don't let the piles of garbage dissuade you from exploring service alleys which may lead to a door which may lead to the land bridge back to the parking lot. Also, just because a drunk was escorted to the flooded entrance by security (in the form of a well-dressed elderly man) five minutes after he fell out of a restaurant doorway into a menu board which crashed in front of you and your children, doesn't mean security expected him to use this exit.
As you stare at the flooded exit--dark water surging toward you like a scene from Titanic--the same drunk may brush against you, drooling, "I know another way out" --which doesn't sound any classier in drunken tones of French. Even though the man's nose is still bloody from the fall and his eye is winking at you like he thinks you're still available, doesn't mean he doesn't know what he's talking about. However, be prepared for your husband to declare that everyone will follow him through the exit and into the water as soon as sees the drunk invading your personal space. The fact that your husband can't swim, nor that he can't possibly know how deep the water is beyond the archway will fall on deaf ears because he knows all about General Custer and he will say so.
Now, if you're wondering what General Custer has to do with a family stranded with a friendly drunk on the wrong side of a flooded entrance to a medieval French city, so did we. Apparently, General Custer--annoyed by lengthy deliberations by his fellow soldiers during the Civil War regarding the depth of the river in front of them--rode into the middle of the stream and declared, "It's about this deep."
So, here we were, the only four people in a crowd of over a dozen who were silly enough to roll up our pants and wade through shin deep water in search of the flooded boardwalk connecting the main entrance to the land bridge. As an aside, I discovered that jumping through water makes one 50% less dry than just walking normally.
I have to admit the drunk man looked sad as we left him on the lit side of the wall, but as luck would have it, we saw him less than 10 minutes later when he emerged from the service entrance door leading directly to the land bridge--shoes and pant legs dry and himself smelling like alcohol instead of the dead fish smell coming from our shoes and socks.
I won't go into the sound of the eight squishy sneakers running for the parking lot shuttle bus which was farther away than its red lights appeared. I also won't go into how dark or windy the land bridge was, nor how the cold eventually worked its way from the wet to the dry area of our jeans as we waited for the next shuttle bus. The beauty of the city distracted us every few minutes from the discomfort and the kids' new nickname for their father--Custer--caused new waves of laughter each time it was mentioned. Additionally, the darkness of the causeway allowed the boy to test the importance of peeing downwind and our shuttle doors closed just before the drunk made his way on board. So, all in all, luck was on our side.
Before you think I've given short shrift to France's most spectacular medieval city, look at the below pictures. They should really do the talking.
(Below): The pre-flooded boardwalk to the main entrace.
(Below): The streets of Le Mont San Michel
(Below): Joan of Arc in Le Mont San Michel
(Below): The tide coming in.
(Above and Below): The tide racing in.
Author of: Letters to Salthill
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