Making the Most Out of Nothing

Few can tell you, aside from a handful of Matisse enthusiasts, where Éretat is on a map. But if you pull up the French town on a Google search you will see sheer white walls that dutifully stand against the thrashing English Channel and an arch of stone that has defiantly stood against the test of the sea. Now follow the arch up until you see the first patch of grass at the top of the cliff. That was my “hotel” for the night I spent in the French town that I believe every one of you reading must visit.
My friend Andrew was studying in Paris when I came to visit but had lost his debit card two days before I arrived, leaving him penniless. When he told me the news I thought our plans to visit Normandy were ruined. But between the two of us was just enough money to take a train to Fécamp if we hiked and slept on the cliff.
When we made it to Fécamp we stocked up on survival food, which for two chocoholics meant a jar of Nutella and seven bananas and hitched a ride with a local to reach the town by nightfall. Andrew and I spent the next couple hours talking to fishermen, who assured us that the only sane time to fish was obviously at 2 a.m., and walking along the beach of white stones that had surely once been a part of the monolithic walls that secured Étretat in a cove.
As the fishermen retreated home with their catches, Andrew and I climbed to the peak of the crag and lay in the grass to sleep. At this moment I’d like to encourage you to always book a hotel in advance. The bitter wind that swept up from the sea had us shivering as we ate our Nutella covered bananas, closed our eyes and tried to remember that we were in France in July and not on an arctic excursion.
In the morning we awoke to the warm reflection of the sun off the white walls that had protected the town from the whipping winds we had suffered. We spent the day on the beach and splurged on a bucket of Normandy mussels before beginning our hike back to Fécamp, following the white cliffs back until about 10 km in we found a sand beach and a stone jutting out into the water.
As we climbed on to the rock and allowed the water to sweep the sand off of our tired feet, our memory of the cold morning on top of the cliff drifted away in a moment and we stood and looked out past the beach at the pure white cliffs we had called home for just one night out of our entire lives.