Haute Marne and Over the Top!

Week 53 — August 23rd - September 5th (Tony).

Brochures describe the canal up through Haute Marne as "the enchanting canal". And enchanting it certainly is. A number of bargees cautioned us that it is an uninteresting stretch, isolated and devoid of services and places to replenish supplies. Granted, it is a little isolated, for France, in that human habitation is sparse and villages are very small and more distantly spaced than elsewhere but the scenery is so tranquil and unspoiled. We reckon it is one of the nicest canals we have so far been on. Climbing up the Marne through seventy-five locks, all more than 3 m deep, the valley becomes narrower and more confined. Cattle graze in long, lush grass in pastures that cling to the lower slopes of the hillsides and across the valley floor while the hilltops are covered in dense forest. Trees, deciduous and conifer, line the canal and farm boundaries. The canal mostly hugs a contour part-way up the hillside, well above the river, thus giving an unimpeded view that, in our eyes, is 'heaven on a stick'.

We were particularly captivated by the ancient fortified towns of Chaumont and Langres. Both are situated on dominant promintories several kilometres away from the river so we were very thankful that we have motorbikes as they both warranted three day visits. And at both places we enjoyed clear skies and hot summer sunshine. Chaumont has a gorgeous, lively town centre and just out of town a massive viaduct built in the 1800's to carry the railway. Langres has very high ramparts which enfold the town and offer spectacular views over the surrounding region and are well worth the walk around. The old walls incorporate a gateway built by (or should I say for) the Romans in 20BC. In the town itself the houses are all incredibly old and adorably quaint. Most are in remarkable condition, though restoring such places must be a nightmare — a plumb-bob or spirit level wouldn't help much, only adding to the frustration. In order to earn a drink, I challenged Sally to join me in a climb to the top of the tower of the cathedral. As we entered the side porch beautiful organ music started up and we stepped into the nave to find ourselves onlookers to a huge wedding attended by no less than two hundred guests. As the door banged shut behind us the choir and congregation rose and burst into song for the first hymn. The lady curator standing sentinel inside the door was quite non-plussed by our intrusion and happily accepted our 2€ fee and guided us to the foot of the spiral staircase and we set off up the 220 tight winding steps, with the glorious choral symphony reverberating in our ears for at least another four or five verses. From the top we took in the marvellous views over the town and countryside before descending, again to organ accompaniment. But before we went off for our well deserved drinkies under shady parasoles at a delightful al fresco bar on the ramparts we joined what seemed like half the town assembled under the trees outside the cathedral to watch the newly married couple and fashionably dressed throng emerge through the 7 m high front doors. An hour later, thirst sated, we wandered back by the cathedral as a horse-drawn dray bearing a very old couple pulled up outside. After I jokingly suggested they may be the bride and groom for the next wedding we looked on, aghast, as family spent ten minutes or more assisting madam down from the wagon and into a wheelchair and to the resounding trumpet of the organ belting out "Here Comes the Bride" the happy couple began their cautious way up the aisle before the big doors were slammed shut by a zealous verger. I ungraciously presumed they were merely making legal what they intend to do with the farm when either or both of them go off to the rest home in the sky.

It's incredulous to realize that after rising upstream to more than 340 m above sea level, almost to the (underground) source of the Marne you then drift through a 4.8 km tunnel into the valley of the Vingeanne which is a tributary of the Saône. From this point the Marne flows down to join the Seine in Paris and thence to the North Sea; the Saône empties into the Rhone and then the Mediterranean. Immediately, one is struck by the contrast for here the valley is very wide, though just as fertile, with rambling undulations. Like the Barossa, it is difficult to define the area as a 'valley.' Nonetheless the canal drops sharply down to join the River Saône near Pontailler sur Saône. But instead of continuing south we couldn't resist the temptation to journey a day's travel upstream to spend the weekend at Gray another very old historic town on the Saône. We are bound to come this way again to get to Nancy or Toul but curiosity got the better of us. We're feeling rather like recalcitrant children reluctant to returm home from the playground 'cause we're having so much fun.

But, come Monday, we definitely have to turn around and head downstream back towards Roanne. And we are looking forward to a summer in Aus. Last Tuesday we cracked a bottle of champagne to celebrate the anniversary of our buying Sable. We've been here more than a year now, what a year!

Also last Tuesday kids throughout Europe went back to school to start a new year; which means most businesses are open again, buses and trains have reverted to normal timetables, and soon TV programs will resume their normal 'ratings' schedule, I hope. TV has been crap here for the past two months, apart from the Olympic Games coverage of course. Didn't Beijing do the games proud? I must look into mooring possibilities for Sable in the Thames for 2012...