Roanne

Week 9-10 — October 23rd to November 1st (Sally)

Did I say Autumn was slow in coming to France? Winter is coming in at the gallop. Our first night after leaving Nevers we woke to a frost that had left a thin sheet of ice all over the boat AND made the ropes that I handle frozen stiff. An extra hour in port helped with some of the thaw and we made an early stop at Décize where we had turned into the Canal du Nivernais just over a month before. It is a pretty town mentioned by Julius Ceaser so has an interesting history. We cycled into and around the town, exploring the ramparts, cobbled streets and the various river banks. We didn't anchor in town as there was an enourmous canoe/kyak festival on and we felt that chugging through the centre of that with our Australian flag flying would do little for inter-country relations.

From the next morning we were on our way over familiar ground retracing our steps from the first week. We felt a little like the last swallow to head south as there were almost no other boats on the canals but the scenery while not new was just as interesting and picturesque.

We bypassed the entrance to Roanne to spend a night at Digoin, an interesting town with a rich history as a river port on the Loire. In its heyday 700 barges a year would tie up to its quays either bringing spices, cloth and manufactured goods up from Nantes or taking coal, stone, tin and gravel downstream. The voyage downstream could be done in ten days, the return would take sometimes several months and would have been frightfully dangerous. All that was replaced by the Canal when it opened and now of course by road and rail. The Loire is the longest river in France, begining in  the mountains 300 km south of Roanne and flowing more than 1,000 km to the Atlantic at St Nazaire. Our day in Digoin extended to two when we woke to a cold raw day that had us scurrying for an extra layer of clothes. We wandered down to the Office of Tourism and she suggested a nice walk around the parkland to view the varied trees and plant life. EXCUSE ME... We turned the other way and found a shop that sold fluffy slippers.

Two more days on the water cruising gently up the Canal de Roanne à Digoin, both feeling quite sad that our first cruising adventure was over and yet relieved that we were home in Port Roanne. Now moored to the quai we were overwhelmed by the welcome. We hadn't been here an hour before we were whisked off to happy hour at the local harbourside bar. About thirty boat people there and we are struggling to keep track of names, nationalities and boats. I have started a book to aid the memory and so far am onto our second page. Roanne is a very popular port for wintering and, like golf clubs years ago, has a waitng list of people trying to get in. We are here only because months ago Bob and Bea had begged our neighbours to allow them to raft-up to their barge. Christian and Charlotte are Swiss, about the same age as us I guess, and a lovely couple. Christian was formerly a Minister of Finance for Switzerland. They have elected to be harbourside, so we are moored to the quai and they are rafted-up outside Sable.

There will be up to 100 boats in port when the last few arrive Americans, Brits, Dutch and a couple of Swiss, Kiwis and Australians. We are definitely the new chums as most of the people we meet have been on their boats for years, some are on their second or third and more than a few have no other home. The community has a lot of social functions, we played boules on the shore on Sunday afternoon, all went to a barbeque Tuesday and Wednesday we attended French lessons in the Maison du Port. As well as that we have signed-up at a local gym to work off a few calories and intend to spend some time exploring the town and countryside before we head to Spain in about three weeks.

Thursday, November 1st is a public holiday. It is All Saints Day, a day for remembering departed relations and everywhere there are chrysanthemums for sale, enormous pots with perfect flowers in every colour imaginable bursting out of the doors of florists and in roadside stalls. One never gives chrysanthemums as a gift as they are the flower for the dead.