For a Quebec traveller, Dieppe is no ordinary port-call. On August 19, 1942, thousands of Canadian soldiers landed on these pebbles under German fire; more than 900 left their lives there. The Norman town has never forgotten, nor has Canada. But Dieppe does not reduce to that tragic day: it is also a living fishing port, a cliff crowned by a castle-museum and one of France's oldest seaside resorts.

Reaching the Centre from the Terminal

Ships moor in the outer harbour, on the shore opposite the city centre. Count twenty to thirty minutes' walk along the basins to reach the city's heart, or a short shuttle or taxi ride. Walking has its charm: you run along the quays where trawlers land scallops and Channel fish, an activity that makes it a premier shellfish port in France.

Memory of August 19, 1942

Facing the sea, Canada Square recalls the bonds woven between Dieppe and New France: it was from here many ships departed toward the Saint Lawrence in the days of great crossings. A plaque there also honours the Canadian regiments of the 1942 raid, including the Fusiliers Mont-Royal. To understand Operation Jubilee, the Memorial of August 19, 1942 is housed in the old Italianate theatre from 1826: documents, objects and testimonies retrace the sacrifice of the soldiers, mostly Canadian, who fell on the region's beaches. The visit is sober, dignified, necessary. On the promenade, maple-leaf flags fly permanently.

The Castle-Museum and Its Ivories

West of the beach, perched on its cliff, the castle of flint and sandstone has watched over Dieppe's roofs since the fifteenth century. It houses the Dieppe Museum, renowned for Europe's most important collection of ivories: miniature ships, fans, crucifixes and portraits carved by Dieppe ivory-workers between the sixteenth and twentieth centuries, when the port traded with distant shores. The rooms also gather canvases by Boudin and Pissarro, seduced like so many painters by the Channel's changeable light. From the ramparts, the view spans slate roofs and the long beach.

Saint-Jacques and the Shopping Streets

Downtown, the Church of Saint-Jacques raises its fifteenth-century tower above a lively pedestrian quarter. A stop on the roads to Compostela, it unfolds fine Gothic repertoire, rose window included. Around it, the Grand Street lines fishmongers, cheese shops and cafés where you order sole à la dieppoise or a fisherman's stew. Saturday morning, the market invades the city centre: elected France's most beautiful market in 2020, it gathers Caux farmers, fish merchants and cider makers in an atmosphere of ordinary celebration.

Pebbles, Lawns and Waterfront

Remains to take time on the waterfront, a vast expanse of lawns between the city and the beach, heritage of nineteenth-century seaside bathing. Kites are at home there, children too. You walk on the pebbles to the water, watch the white cliffs frame the bay, understand why Impressionists set up their easels here.

Returning to the ship, you think back on these two stories the town holds together: that of ships that departed to populate the shores of the Saint Lawrence, that of soldiers who came from Canada to free it three centuries later. Between the two, a beach of grey pebbles that belongs to no one and belongs a little to us, too.