For centuries, pilgrims young and old have traversed seas and roads to reach the coast of Normandy. They seek the location where Archangel Michel once appeared, the church built under his command through the bishop of the hill town of Avranches. At the point where the bays of Normandy and Brittany merge rose a behemoth fortress on a lone island, tethered by a single bridge. Confused glances pass between all who visit for this Benedictine Abby of austere brick and stone slabs appears mythical, a mere mirage through the mist across the sea.

Walking closer, you first notice imposing ramparts added as fortifications against the English. Once inside, the streets are narrow and steep, defying all laws of gravity. Archangel Michel crowned in gold atop the church steeple is your beacon. With a 1000-years to its name, each chamber has a story. Sky high pillars of stone and glass impress with bold and dark lines of the Romanesque and Gothic eras. The Marvel leaves all who enter gaping at the ceiling in awe, struck dumb by the sheer proportions. The moment you stepped into Mont Saint Michel, you’ve walked away from reality as we know it and entered a different realm of impossible beauty.