Canal du Centre

22nd October, 2009 (Tony)

The Canal du Centre has many delightful stopping places. As well as being a pleasant port, Fragnes has a popular restaurant run by a young couple who spent a number of years in Scotland before returning to France to set up their own business. The restaurant's decor is bright and refreshingly modern and the food is exquisite but the most compelling attraction is to engage the chef and the waitress/maitre'd in conversation. Listening to husband and wife speaking English with French-Scottish accents is most amusing. On the Saturday there was not a spare chair for either lunch or dinner but for Sunday lunch they had nary a booking. "C'est la vie," says she. Who would want to be a restaurateur? From Fragnes we went for a spin on the motorbikes up into the hills and vales of Côte Chalonnaise. Pretty country and apart from getting lost it was a rewarding journey for I discovered the most palatable Pinot-Noir I've yet tasted — a Mercurey, a tiny appellation near Givry. Reasonable too. Nonetheless my favourite French wine remains Gigondas, a syrah, grenache blend from a tiny appellation in the Rhône Valley not far from Chateauneuf du Pape.

Santenay, of course, is surrounded by fine Burgundy vineyards and thus a trip into the countryside and surrounding hills is an absolute must. We were joined there by Peter, a friend of grandson Sam, taking a year's break before starting university in Sydney next February and bravely cycling, on his own, a veritable Tour de France. He had already completed a four month circumnavigation of UK. We all took advantage of a glorious sunny day to venture far into the landscape, Peter on his bike, us on motorbikes. We took different routes but explored similar features: a mountain top panorama, a stop in the picturesque village of Nolay, a picnic in the country, a visit to the magnificent chateau la Rochepot, and a meander through vineyards to Mersault and back to Santenay, about sixty kilometres. Peter normally rides more than 100 km each day so to him it was a 'day off.' He accompanied us next day on the cruise down to St Leger sur Dheune where another favourite restaurant beckoned for dinner. Le Petit Kir is owned by an English woman. Some years ago she backpacked to Australia and has been to more places than most Aussies. Returning to Europe she was working as a stewardess on a hotel barge when it passed through St Leger and she spied a derelict building in the town centre, right beside the canal. She immediately imagined the possibilities, jumped ship, and after overcoming the almost insurmountable red tape over planning permission, food and liquor licensing, and local authority regulations, not to mention the animosity of the locals, she eventually established a stylish restaurant and hired a chef to prepare dishes that really would be difficult to emulate at home. Nowadays that's our benchmark. We're so over restaurants where the food, whilst good, is no better than Sally can cook. One positive however has been Sarkozy's stimulus to overcome the GFC by reducing the (GST) tax on restaurant and café meals from the normal 19.6% to 5.5%. It has certainly kept the patronage of restaurants and cafés up, whereas many shops seem deserted.

Génelard has a nice port and a superb museum dedicated to all things relating to the demarcation line that split France during the occupation in WWII. A very sombre and thought provoking place that brings to light many dark deeds perpetrated by the Nazis and numerous brave measures undertaken by resistance fighters as well as highlighting the struggles of citizens whose everyday existence was thrown into turmoil by the slash of a line across the map of France. A two hour visit cannot do it justice but is as much as one can absorb.

Montceau les Mines and Paray le Monial are also fascinating towns. Every stopping place on this canal is worth more than a cursory overnight rest. Truth is, once you've realised you are on the way home you just feel you want to get there. At Paray, we woke in the morning to the first frost. That's enough to make you want to get the hell out of here. And just like that, the indian-summer ended and suddenly it is autumn, practically winter. Surprisingly, the trees have yet to flush into striking autumn colours. Compared to photos taken at the same time last year the trees are still very green. That hasn't prevented the wind, howling down from somewhere near the North Pole, from stripping many of their leaves. For the past week we have barely ventured outdoors except for essential shopping. Other friends of Sam, Ariane and Sophie, both from Sydney and like Peter have deferred for a year the start of their university courses to travel extensively around Europe, came aboard at Paray and cruised with us for several days to Roanne. For three nights we played Mexican Train and cards almost 'til midnight. They left on Saturday morning at 6am with a heavy frost on the ground to walk to the station to catch a train to Lyon, thence Nice, Barcelona and London before departing for Aus in mid-November. As it was Sally's turn to fetch the bread and croissants she walked with them as far as the centre of town. She was none to pleased, especially knowing I had cuddled back into bed as soon as I had bade the girls farewell.

Since mooring up in Roanne we have been caught up in a continuous round of socialising, meeting new arrivals and greeting old acquaintances, wining and dining, as one does... A final week to check that everything is secure and ready for winter. We are looking forward to getting on the plane and flying back into the arms of family and friends in Australia, measuring up our grandchildren and catching up on their many and varied exploits; and walking barefoot in the sand along our beautiful beach.

This will be our last epistle until we return in April to resume our adventures. Where we'll go next year has yet to be determined but as the Tour de France, 2010, passes through Champagne there's a very strong likelihood that we'll be there to see it; and to enjoy more of that delicious nectar that the region so prolifically  produces. Sally and I extend our best wishes to you and your loved ones for a joyous Christmas and a happy and healthy 2010.

Canal des Voges

May, 29th 2009 (Sally).

Well here we are 300km north of St Jean de Losne, at the town of Epinal in the area of Lorraine. Our departure from the dry dock at St Jean was not quite as quick as the proverbial champagne cork, but as speedy as one can be at 8kph in a fifty tonne boat. The interest in the workings of a dry dock had paled significantly after four days of inactivity, firstly in waiting for the workmen to return to work and then for one other boat to be finished so as soon as we were out on Tuesday morning it was non-stop north. The Saône travels from the Voges 400kms to meet the Rhône at Lyon and it was the upper reaches that we were on. It is often called the prettiest river in France and we can see why. With a gentle, meandering course it drops very slowly — only 59 metres in the whole of its navigable reach — and is a fisherman's paradise with many people either sitting in boats or in quiet little spots on the banks. A favourite dish of the region is Pochouse, a river fish stew. I tried it at one riverside restaurant, very tasty but lots of bones. The larger towns of Auxonne and Gray were soon left behind and we found ourselves calling at much smaller villages. Ray sur Saône, just a small deviation from the main river was a picture book mooring. Manicured lawns to the water, freshly painted houses, flower boxes all in bloom and all crowned by a well maintained castle. We walked the village, climbed to the castle to enjoy the spectacular view then dined at Chez Yvette, the local restaurant. The meal was très ordinaire. Oh well, you can't expect perfection all the time. For the first time ever we could not find a boulangerie, shock, horror, a situation we thought was unheard of in France but as we proceeded further into the sparsly populated area it was more and more common.

We had one more stop before we reached Port le Saône where we had arranged to meet our good friends Margaret and Peter James who were travelling by car from Germany. They were with us last year after the Somme and had a week of cruising on a very industrial canal so it was a delight to introduce them to the unspoilt scenery of this area. Because of their car we had to do a few hop-steps of catching the car up with the boat but fortunately the tow path was all sealed and Tony did a few miles by bike while we either waited for him or took control of Sable and met him further up. At Corre, a tiny town where the river Saône finally becomes unnavigable and where we transferred to the Canal des Vosges he found of all things in such a small village, a bike shop. 10 or 15 kms a day on the old rattler must have been enough to persuade him it was time to upgrade so now we have a third bike which handles much easier than the old one.

The Canal de Vosges is an interesting waterway, built between 1874 and 1882 after France had lost possession of Alsace Lorraine as they did not want to go through enemy territory. It gave good access to the industrial regions of Toul and Nancy and in its prime carried three million tonnes of freight. One is still able to see the evidence of industry, villages with names like La Manufacture and Forges les Bains but sadly the industry is all gone and all that remains are large derelict buildings and old water mills leaving the waterways for the benefit of the few pleasure craft owners, like ourselves. The villages are slowly dying with shops mentioned in our guide books no longer there and many empty houses. The most obvious was Fontenoy le Chateau. In 1840 there was an embroidery industry there that employed five hundred people. They supplied the Royal houses of Europe and the East but that is long gone and the town is reduced to one small grocer, rows of empty shops and an embroidery museum which unfortunately was closed. So sad as it all sits among the most beautiful stretches of waterways. One cruises in solitude through pristine forests of firs, birches and oaks with only the sound of birdsong and the very occasional passing boat.

Our first night with our friends we moored on a jetty belonging to a riverside resturant and after promising to return for Sunday lunch took off to explore nearby Vesoul, reported to be a town of historic interest. The town was franticly busy, people everywhere and it was only after great difficultly we found a car park and discovered the big attraction was the annual Vide Grenier. The whole block was taken up with private stalls selling their junk, old clothes, old shoes videos, books etc. We returned to the river for a delicious lunch then proceeded upriver to another small village to find it also full of people. Crowds everywhere and as we walked into town it was obvious we were in the middle of another Vide Grenier. Once again stalls full of junk, but this was country junk, old horse harness and tools mainly, and it was certainly attracting the crowds. One would wonder where they all came from as the village itself consisted of only twenty houses.

The climb from the Saône valley to the plateau above is steep, 34 locks in 50kms, all more than 3m deep, a good workout for the upper body, then a 11km stretch across the top before a ladder of 14 locks that takes one down to the Moselle and our pleasant mooring here in Epinal. We had driven here the day before to farewell Margaret and Peter and at the same time made a reservation at the port for Sable so when we were met by an officious looking lady off one of the boats who told us to moor to the far bank, Tony decided to ignore her and take the prime position opening onto the park. All settled in, power attached and the Capitain arrives, off the same boat, "I sent my wife" he says. Woops, slight mistake. Hurried apologies and all is forgiven and we are allowed to stay.

Monday, we made an epic journey back to Roanne and Lyon to finalise our certificates of residency. Left here at 5.00am by train to Nancy, another train to Lyon, change to Roanne then after collecting mail and our certificates a fourth train back to Lyon. Tuesday was a medical which pronounced us healthy enough to stay in France, for a fee that surely fixed all France's problems from the GFC, then another long train trip back to Epinal. About a 1,200 km round trip. Hopefully the effort was all worthwhile, no need for visas in future and we now have a seniors card which gives us a 50% discount on train travel. Lyon, as in our previous visit was a delight. No signs of financial crisis there, shops all full of wonderful fashion and plenty of well laden shoppers. Must be infectious as we came home loaded with several large shopping bags and the man of the boat was heard to mumble, "Get me out of this town before I spend more." Can you believe it?

Epinal, (pop 40,000) is a lovely city and has been a pleasant rest stop for almost a week, though not without its drama. One morning Tony noticed a strong smell of gas emanating from the front hatch and quickly discovered that the (British) gas regulator had literally fallen apart. A very likeable young gas-fitter turned up and soon located in town a regulator, which to all looks and purposes seemed identical to the old one. However he failed to notice that the pressure capacity of the new was less than half that of the old. Consequently, when we test-lit the stove the extreme pressure burst both the tap and the burner, as well as a joint underneath. While the lad dashed back to the bow to stem the flow, Tony was blowing out flames like a 64 year-old puffing out the candles on his birthday cake! Successfully, thank God. After a day's toil the young tradesman has replaced the regulator, fitted a new hob and fixed all the joints, sometimes working in the most excruciating confinement. Typically, there is 1mm difference between the size of copper tubing used in UK and Europe. As there are no manufactured components to marry the two he had to stretch and weld several joints. We expected a bill into four figures, but no, it was their fault so the brand new hob and more than eight hours labour were complimentary. Nice guy! We're thankful we still have a boat! Today we're heading to Charmes. Doesn't that sound pretty?

The Adventure Resumes

April, 12th 2009 (Tony).

There are few things as pleasurable as cruising along a canal through serene French countryside, the purring throb of a diesel engine beneath your feet, the sun shining through the open cabin doors. For four days since we left Roanne we have had perfect weather. From all accounts the winter in Europe was particularly cold — everyone says so. But now it is well and truly Spring, blossom everywhere and the trees bursting new green shoots which will shortly turn into fresh green leaves; and baby Charolais calves as white as snow. We arrived in Paris on a freezing day. Scarves and gloves were essential accessories, but that was it. Next day seemed like we were on a different planet and every day since has become noticeably warmer and more pleasant. Short sleeve shirts are now the usual garb and it may not be long before we're back into shorts again...

We had the best summer ever in Australia. Five months of glorious weather with barely a day that we didn't swim in the surf; and unforgetable times shared with family and friends. It was wonderful to find everyone healthy and happy. Some grandchildren had grown surprisingly taller — two are now taller than me, whilst others have grown decidedly more beautiful.

On the flight over I must confess we both felt that maybe we had achieved everything we had set out to discover in France and were we just reluctant to let go? But on arriving back in Roanne it seemed as if we had simply returned to a second home. Within an hour friends called to welcome us back and so began a resumption of socialising and catching up with other bargee's doings over the past months. Our neighbours, Christian and Charlotte, had kept a watchful eye on our boat and had obviously scrubbed it before we got back as it positively gleamed. They kindly invited us to dinner the first night. It was so nice not to have to worry about preparing a meal while we unpacked and restored the water supply and got all the pumps and systems operating again. Sable's boiler broke down before Christmas and Christian arranged to have the boat winterized in case the pipes froze, which in light of the cold that occurred they almost certainly would have. However, the central heating still functions but there is a fault with the hot water heating — thank goodness we have an electric back-up for hot water.

So here we are on the Canal du Centre, making for Montchanin where I am hoping a boat mechanic can effect repairs to the boiler and get the hot water sytem running again. As it happens that is just the place we also need to be by 14th April to greet Kristy (No 1) and Cameron off the TGV from Paris. They are on a two-week flying visit to Europe via Dubai and have planned to spend a couple of nights with us and check out this cruising life. Although we have cruised every day since leaving Roanne it has been leisurely and hassle free boating through now-familiar countryside, stopping overnight at Melay, Digoin, Paray le Monial and Genelard — all beautiful towns with marvellous patisseries! Montchanin is the pound, or summit, of this canal. After climbing up through twenty seven locks from the Loire valley the canal then descends through thirty four locks down into the Saône. We have encountered very few other boats so far. It makes one feel slightly guilty that all these lock-keepers turn out for so little traffic. And by-the-way, apart from the shops in Paris seeming to be deserted there does not appear, to us, to be noticeable effects from the "GFC" on the 'local' economy. This year we weren't the first to leave port but there was quite a gathering at the lock to send us on our way. The port folk are an eclectic mixture but all are very friendly and caring.

For a country with so many churches, almost all Catholic, it is astonishing to find Easter is barely observed. Good Friday is business as usual for all shops and tradesmen though Monday is a public holiday. However the canals and locks still operate! Unlike Australasia where everyone is over hot-cross buns and chocolate Easter eggs long before the event, Europeans save for the real occasion. Any hint of Easter is kept under wraps until only a few days before when suddenly the chocolatiers go berserk with amazing displays of chocolate sculptures and animals, as well as eggs and stuffed bunnies, in their windows. The pièce de resistance was a display in Digoin which featured a full size eagle, wings outstretched defending its nest from a marauding snake, all constructed from chocolate and sucre. The Easter significance of the display escaped us but the execution of it was totally lifelike. Needless to say the queues of customers is huge and slow moving as everything is specially wrapped or packaged for gifts to family and friends. And everyone eats chocolate at Easter.

Forget all those tales about French tradesmen being inept and unreliable. Another myth busted. As no one was able to help us get in contact with someone to repair our drier, one day when I was on the way into town I passed a shop selling appliances and advertising that it also does dépanage (repairs). After explaining what we needed to the charming woman in the shop she promised that her husband would phone me later in the afternoon. I had barely got back to the boat and was in the throes of explaining to Sally what had transpired when there was a knock on the door — father and son had arrived and within twenty minutes had our machine fixed. Then, in the weekend, exasperated with our uncomfortable old mattress I got online and emailed a couple of companies for quotes on waterbeds. An outfit less than 35 km from Roanne responded on Sunday and delivered free, a new waterbed mattress before lunchtime on Monday. A trip to the bricolage to buy some timber for the frame etc followed by some basic carpentry and varnishing and by Tuesday evening we were sleeping soundly in a cosy warm waterbed. Just like home! Hey, it is home. And Sable doesn't mind the extra ballast in the least. The biggest pain was getting the old mattress to the dump. French déchetteries are amazing — incredibly clean and tidy and just about everything is recycled. A staff of four make sure everything goes in the correct bin and before you leave they offer you free bags of compost to take home! Our thanks to Jeff and Jane for the use of their car.

On the first Sunday after we arrived in Roanne the port held a Vide Grenier (garage sale) whereby anyone could set up a stall on the quayside to sell off their junk. A number of locals also took advantage of the opportunity to off-load stuff and the playground where we normally play boules on Sundays (picture) was full of trestles laden with trash. I can't believe the amount of crap that changed hands. Bits of old metal, broken tools, discarded furniture, used clothing, you name it... We sold an airconditioning unit we could never imagine using (Sable's previous owners bought it for their dog); our old barbeque; a massive suitcase; plus miscellaneous other junk. After it was all over we thought of dozens of other things we should also have put out. Next year... So the outcome of the sale was an excuse to immediately buy a decent barbeque. We now have a beaut little Webber gas bbq that I can't wait to initiate. Kristy, you're going to eat steak one night in France! With a nice bottle of Franch red, of course. After all, we are right on the border of Burgundy and Charolais. What could be sweeter?