An accidental visit to Honfleur in Normandy has lead Bob Barton to return on numerous boat voyages.

The first time I visited Honfleur was in 1994 when I took my three year old son on a camping holiday. We drove nearly 1500 miles in ten days, zig-zagging through France, via Paris and Disneyland, getting as far as Ronchamp (worth every mile) and going to all those places I had always meant to visit but thought I never had the time. We ended up in Normandy, doing a short tour of the D-Day landing beaches; it was 40 years after and there were veterans everywhere we went.

We stayed in Honfleur quite by accident simply because there was a municipal campsite near the centre of town. I hadn’t done any research and was completely surprised by the character and charm of the place. We had an early evening meal in a cafe overlooking the old harbour basin and, watching my son eat his first moule frites, I remember looking at the yachts and thinking ‘I’d like to do that’.

Compact and picturesque, Honfleur is built on a hillside overlooking the mouth of the Seine. Originally a fishing and trading port, it has matured into a bustling commercial and tourist town. I love Honfleur because it manages to achieve something that the French seem to do so easily, and yet in Britain we so often mess up: combining the old with the new, the functional with the beautiful, to create and develop wonderful towns and villages that we long for, and pay vast sums to enjoy.

The town’s attractions include a gallery with a renowned collection of Impressionist paintings – Honfleur was home to Boudin and Monet – with a number of excellent paintings of the period, especially of nineteenth century life in the town and on the nearby beaches of Trouville and Deauville.

In the middle of the market square sits the Sainte-Catherine church, constructed entirely in timber – in fact it is the largest wooden church in France. Clearly built by shipwrights and clad in timber shingles, the interior with its curved roof beams looks just like an upturned boat. Saturdays really bring the town to life. The food market flows through the cobbled streets, lapping at the doors of the smart art galleries.

Like every self-respecting French town, Honfleur has its own médiathèque. Within sight of the old port, a curved glass wall encloses the eighteenth century stone facade of the public library. The building seems to scream joyfully ‘modern – come in and learn’. The quality and juxtaposition of old and new is heartwarming. Just imagine trying to build something like this on a listed building in Weymouth or Hastings, and the incoherent blandness that would result.

For me the real jewels in this unassuming architectural crown are the sixteenth century timber-framed houses. But what is extraordinary is that they are six-, seven-, even eight-storeys high. Narrow and terraced, they climb like saplings shoulder to shoulder in a dark forest. Inside they are cramped, with narrow staircases and narrow rooms. But they are a joy, and a tribute to the boat builder’s craft.

I have returned a number of times since 1994, but by sailing boat. The journey across the Channel from the Solent, which usually takes around 20 hours, is always eventful. Sometimes the wind conspires to push us to Cherbourg, sometimes it keeps us in England, and sometimes there’s no wind at all and the engine has to get us there. But whatever the conditions my companions always sit up and take notice as we enter the mouth of the Seine. Approaching the Pont de Normandie, an 850 metre span cable-stayed tour de force, and along the three mile concrete river bank, the crew start to doubt if the port exists. Then we see the harbour master’s tower, and next to it the lock gates, recessed into the high embankment, the only evidence of place. We circle around outside the lock, waiting for the green lights and for the lock door to open.

Once inside the journey takes on a theatrical dimension with the town slowly being revealed as the lock waters rise. The gates open and we glide in, eventually arriving at our berth in the Vieux Bassin next to the cafe tables and timber-framed houses. Wind blown and tired, we sit on the boat, drink a beer, and absorb the atmosphere… bliss.

Bob Barton is founder in 1993 of Barton Engineers, whose current work includes projects at Cranfield University
AT175/February 07 p88.