It was the middle of the week. We had finished yet another changeover for our holiday rental the previous day. Feeling a little tired, we decided that a quick exploration would be just the ticket to revive our spirits. The other day I had seen a short video online about a town which looked kind of interesting. Winding streets. Centuries-old architecture. A history reaching back for centuries. Definitely our kind of place. The ville of Moncontour has attained the coveted designations of being a Petite Cité de Caractère, as well as one of Les Plus Beaux Villages de France. Not bad, we thought.

It seems that there was a settlement at Moncontour as early as the 7th century. The later medieval town developed on top of a narrow, rocky escarpment situated at the confluence of two small rivers. Its purpose was to guard the western approaches to Lamballe, then the capital of the area known as Penthièvre. The ville was encircled with strong stone ramparts and round towers, clinging to the steep slopes that tumble down to the waters below.

Although the town expanded through the centuries, it appears to have changed little since the 17th and 18th centuries. In the past, it thrived on the weaving of linen and hemp cloth, exporting these goods through the ports of St. Malo and Lorient to Spain and the Indies. By the 1790’s, the town boasted more than 2,000 inhabitants. But a slow decline over the ensuing two centuries reduced the population significantly. By 2021, only 745 people made Moncontour their home.

From Fougères, we drove an hour-and-a-half westward to Moncontour. It sits about 24 kilometers south of Saint-Brieuc in pretty countryside, surrounded by rocky hills and steep-sided vales. One enters by climbing up the ramp-like approach that mounts the side of the escarpment. Once on top, you are surrounded by lovely old buildings. Once regal and proud to display their proprietor’s success, many of the ancient homes now bear a patina of diminished fortune and a want of population to support them. For the visitor, it presents a charming age and is pleasantly evocative of the past centuries. However, I am not so sure it is as reassuring to those who live there.

Moncontour is not a town for shopping. There are precious few shops, though we did pass by a fine-looking bookshop. If you are looking for something sweet to take home (or eat in the street if you can’t wait), then the patisserie on Rue Notre Dame is quite good. We bought a rather delectable slice of chocolate torte there and, quite proud of our restraint, managed to wait until we got home to eat it.

The real show in this lovely little town is the ambiance. We simply let ourselves wander down the quiet lanes, admiring the many stone and half-timbered buildings which line them. A good number of the homes and shops are well-kept, lovingly maintained and restored. But many others, sadly, stand empty, a bit worn down and sagging as the accumulating years threaten to melt them away. Fine examples ranging from the 14th through the 18th century await any lucky wanderer who cares to appreciate the art and skill of those past artisans.

Possibly the star of the panoply is the church. L’Église St. Mathurin proudly anchors the center of town, a broad square affords a pleasing view of the church’s west front and its bell tower projecting skyward. The building’s constituent parts cover the early 16th to 18th centuries and somehow with age have combined into a harmonious assemblage. We were dazzled by the several 16th century stained glass windows still intact and seemingly as fresh as the day they were made.

By the time we arrived in Moncontour, we were feeling quite hungry. And, thankfully, it was right at the beginning of the sacred two-hour lunchtime which our fellow French citizens observe with meticulous regularity. In fact, lunchtime might just possibly be the only event about which they are so precise. Excepting, perhaps, the Tour de France.

Not intending to miss out, the two of us cast our keen eyes about the town, searching for our next meal. As you might imagine might be the case in such a small town, the choice was limited. Luckily for us, Cherie thought we should try a little place just up the street on Rue de l’Union: les Remparts. Unassuming in the extreme, the place was almost entirely full. We were shown to one of the last open tables by what turned out to be the sole owner/chef/bartender/server/and dishwasher. This man did it all, and he was nothing short of a phenomenon. We counted 7 tables and 18 diners, six of whom were a group of hungry construction workers. Despite a surprisingly extensive menu plus daily specials, he took orders, poured drinks, cooked, served meals and took payment – all in the time you would expect of at least three or four normal human beings working flat out. Moreover, the food was quite good and well-presented. Needless to say we were well impressed. It was a performance worthy of a Nobel Prize. Do give this restaurant a try if you visit.

We had a fine time in Moncontour. Relaxed, eminently picturesque, it’s one of those many places in France where you feel really fortunate to be a traveler. We’re glad we came and thankful that towns like this exist.