Croissants, Cider, and Cliff Walks: Food & Fitness in France

One thing I haven’t really touched on yet in Encore Endeavours is health and wellbeing. Not in the finger-wagging, “no more puddings” sort of way, but in the everyday, keep-yourself-moving kind of way that makes retirement adventures all the more enjoyable.

At home, I like to keep a fitness plan: a gym class, a swim, a walk, yoga, even a light run (though, full disclosure, I only ever recycle the first three or four Couch to 5K sessions). Nothing too dramatic, but enough to feel well. The problem is, when travelling, that rhythm often disappears. The Monday yoga class doesn’t exist in the motorhome. My regular swim slot is replaced by a different coastline every day or so. If I let too many days slip by, I really miss it.

So, I’ve learned to take the pattern on the road. Or at least, try to.

The Motorhome Gym (Sort Of)

Yes, I pack a yoga mat, blocks, and hand weights. They travelled all through Northern France with us, snug and unused. They had an excellent holiday, watching me walk past them in search of croissants.

Instead, my “fitness” became the simple things: plunging into the sea before breakfast, long cliff walks, and the occasional jog (the short Couch to 5K variety that ends just as I start to sweat). And that turned out to be enough.

Food Worth Moving For

Which was lucky, because the food demanded movement.

At Les Plaisanciers in Saint Quay Portrieux, what looked like a plastic café by the marina revealed itself as buffet heaven: prawns, pâté, fish, steak, a carafe of wine, and the obligatory espresso. Definitely a “walk it off” sort of lunch.

Markets pulled me in too — the golden potatoes under the spit roasting chickens, the glistening fish, the cheeses demanding to be taken home. Somehow, baguette and camembert, pate and a variety of hams and sausage always found their way into the basket.

At Plouha we camped by the beach, feasted on mussels and chips, and swam before breakfast to make it all feel entirely justified.

Meals Worth the Miles

Some meals were memorable because of the miles that led to them. In Perros-Guirec, after an epic cliff walk, I ordered a fish soup so deep and delicious it felt medicinal. Served with cider in a cup, it made me wonder why life at home doesn’t come with such rewards.

One “lost in translation” order brought me ice cream with liqueur instead of what I thought I was asking for. No complaints — accidental fitness rewards might be my new philosophy.

And the culinary highlight? A smoky, rich fish stew in Lannion with giant prawns, bacon, and cider. It deserved a medal. I paired it first with white wine, then quickly switched to red. Always trust your instincts.

Reflection

So what does fitness look like in retirement travels? For me, it’s not about sticking rigidly to routines. It’s about adapting: swapping a yoga session for a swim, or a run for a cliff walk. It’s about carrying a yoga mat, even if it never gets unrolled, because the thought still counts.

The real lesson? Movement makes more room for joy — the meals, the markets, the accidental desserts, the cider in cups. I don’t move to cancel out calories. I move so I can enjoy them more fully.