Snow: one morning on the road from Saint-Brieuc to Dinan in freezing weather – Brittany

Sunday, December 11, 8:30 a.m.: it’s time for me to leave Saint-Brieuc to go to work at the Dinan editorial office. The timing is quite good, and I hope it will remain so: the day before, many Internet users called for caution, the Côtes-d’Armor being on “yellow alert” ice. The first observation is not long in coming: my car, parked in the city center, is frozen. So here I am defrosting the windshield, ice scraper in hand and engine running, for a good quarter of an hour. Goodbye timing. Steering wheel held firmly, GPS on, France Bleu Armorique on the radio for traffic: let’s go. Direction Dinan for 43 minutes, first taking the RN12. On the axis, not too much danger at first sight; but like yesterday, motorists drive with a good ten km / h less.

Two rooms, two atmospheres

Twenty minutes later, it’s “two rooms, two atmospheres. Hardly had I taken the ramp to Dinan, not far from Plestan, when I reduced my speed from 100 km/h to 60 km/h. The ice covers a good third of the road, and the vehicles that have taken it have all rolled in the same tracks. The day before, when I was already supposed to go there, it was here that the back of my car had driven off. It must be said that the RN176 is less frequented than the RN12; moreover a Sunday. The few cars present make me think of a sort of group of survivors, braving the cold. On the radio, negative temperatures are announced throughout the department. My thermometer reads -2°C. Encouraging.

The country roads, less traveled, still had a layer of snow and ice around 10:30 a.m., as here at a place called Le Bois Raffray, in Bourseul. (The Telegram/Quentin-Mathéo Pihour)

Everyone in single file

The longer the trip, the worse the traffic conditions seem to be. After Jugon, the road is suddenly covered in white. And again: everyone is slowing down. Except that this time, snow and icy areas cover three quarters of the lanes. Everyone in single file, maximum speed 60 km/h. For my part, I slow down. Speed ​​up a bit. Repeat it all. Attempts to closely follow in the footsteps of my predecessor. Overtaking is chilly. And we find ourselves, between motorists, spending almost a quarter of an hour instead of three minutes to connect Jugon to Plélan-le-Petit. Fortunately, the road is then almost defrosted to resume a normal rhythm. And leave time to admire the bleached landscapes a little, before disembarking at the editorial office, and starting a new day.

letelegramme Fr Trans

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