At the Chateau de Bonabry in Hillion on the Cote d'Emeraude we were greeted by a small man who might have come straight from the pen of Marcel Pagnol. The warmth of his welcome was matched only by the informality of his dress. He wiped the mud off his horny hands, transferred some potatoes to his pocket and introduced himself as the Vicomte du Fou de Kerdaniel.
The chateau, which has been in the Kerdaniel family for five centuries, boasts a listed calvaire (a wayside cross) at its entrance, as well as private access to a beach. It is one of the most charming places I have ever stayed in. The rooms and garden were magnificent. The victomtesse (glamorous and impeccably dressed) was the soul of hospitality. When we admired a silver bowl of pale pink peonies with pale lilac sweetpeas, they were instantly transferred to our bedroom. The vicomte gave me a tour of the area in his ancient Renault 4, totally unconcerned that his dogs had eaten the passenger seat and I was sitting on springs and some demented-looking grey stuffing. He gave us information on all the best local restaurants and insisted on making our restaurant bookings. The victomtesse brought us tea and home-made biscuits, and refused any payment for these. The cost of all this was 400 Francs (or about £60) a night for two.
We found this treasure in a small brochure called Bienvenue au Chateau, published by the Comite Regional du Tourisme de Bretagne. To obtain a copy, you must first find one of the establishments listed therein, where your free copy awaits you. Oh, and once you have tracked down a copy, its back page informs you that it is available free by post.
The French have a curious attitude towards their beauty spots. Basically they'd like to keep them for themselves. Tourists get directed to places where other tourists go, Carnac, la Baule, - all nice enough places in themselves but the hotels are expensive and undistinguished. To find the real Brittany you have to get there first and then start looking.
The reward for true persistence is that once you have discovered the natives' favourite haunts you are considered an honorary Frenchman and eagerly introduced to even more exclusive (and inexpensive) hideaways.
Our next stop (from the same guide book) was the Manoir de Kergrech at Plougrescant near Treguier. Like Bonabry, it has private access to a beach - not particularly pretty, but good for a morning run - but the coast that runs over the top of this relatively unknown part of Brittany is spectacular and unspoilt. One evening we asked the proprietor of the manoir to recommend a place to eat. She suggested a small restaurant - difficult to find, she said, but worth it. "Is it good?" we asked. "Magnifique!" she said. Bound to be expensive, we thought, but on a glorious summer evening we doggedly followed the directions she gave us, down country lanes, into apparent cul-de-sacs. Every so often a faded sign would appear like a mirage with the name of the restaurant, but when the road forked, there was no reminder. We came to a full stop at little ports where rotting boats in beautiful colours rested under a brilliantly setting sun. At last we found the restaurant. It was a modest creperie. This came as a bit of a disappointment until we noticed the arrow directing us around the mimosahedged side of the premises. And there was a dining terrace which commanded a view of the entire coast. It was an eat-your-heart-out-Leonardo sort of coast and not a soul in sight. Dinner of mussels, Muscadet and crepes cost £15 for two. Magnifique!
My sister, when her children were young and money was short, sought out the less touristy parts of Brittany where good family houses were available to rent for as little as £50 a week. When she and her husband decided to buy a house in the area (20 miles from Rennes, with flights out of Dublin) their former landlord offered them a small property of his own for £15,000, in three instalments of £5,000 a year, interest free.
If this sounds too good to be true, it turned out to be even better. With the well-maintained stone semi came three acres of pasture running down to a river and a large stone barn which they are now converting into a second gite. Their former landlord still remains one of their firmest friends and puts his second car at their disposal when they fly to France.
To date, we've preferred the irresponsible option of renting. We've rented (through Brittany Ferries) a 17th-century stone house on the ancient cobbled Rue de Petit Fort in Dinan. The house was beautiful and very well-equipped, but why, we wondered, was ours the only house on the street with no geraniums in the window box? The simple answer is that it was English-owned. Brittany Ferries has a useful symbol in its gite guide to denote nationality of ownership. Our experience is that local ownership generally brings a more loving and personal standard of maintenance, and also tends to mean that the owners will be friendly with the neighbours, so the neighbours will be curious about (and helpful to) holiday tenants.
Since Breton weather is temperamental, it is worth seeking out seaside rentals that are available by the day. We tracked down a pet apartment in a small leisure port between Pont Aven and the picturesque bay of Port Manech. It was situated over a restaurant, was very prettily decorated and every window looked out to sea. It cost just 280 Francs a night. We bought fish from a stall in nearby Nevez and dined with the sea light flashing across the flowers and candles and the clink of glasses echoed by the clinking of the boats in the harbour.
Brittany was looking spectacularly beautiful, the small stone houses wrapped about in flashy abundance of blue hydrangeas and brilliant red geraniums. The sea was the colour of a Gitanes packet. On one morning we drove around the other side of the bay to Kerfany Les Pins where the water looked so inviting I jumped in in underwear. Nobody seemed to mind that I dripped a little as we ate a delicious low calorie lunch of oysters, crab and white wine on the terrace of a restaurant right on the beach.
Among the French secrets that tourists don't generally know is that there are a number of Michelin-starred restaurants where you can eat wonderfully well for around a tenner. At the elegant La Duchesse Anne in St Malo, the Michelin-listed prices are 200-350 Francs for meals, but lunchtime sees the unfairly-named menu rapide, which actually offers a very leisurely feast, usually of sole on the bone with salad or a beautiful boeuf bourguignon followed by raspberry or strawberry tarts, for 100 francs. At the exclusive Plage hotel at Ste Anne La Palud (repas 220-410 francs in the Michelin) there is also a special 100-Franc lunch, served on a terrace right on the beach.
Although we have visited Brittany almost every year for more than 20 years, each time we uncover more of its marvellous secrets. If you feel insecure about exploring new territory, just follow the French. If you come upon a hotel or restaurant that is not listed in any guide, but which boasts a queue of rather-battered voitures lining up for an early lunch, you can bet your baguette you have hit on one of Brittany's best-kept secrets.
Beloved Stranger, by Clare Boylan, Little Brown (hardback), will be published by Abacus in paperback in June