Cruising Home

26th October, 2010 (Tony)

Well, there you go, another fantastic season cruising the waterways of France almost over. We arrived back in Roanne just over a week ago, freezing and pleased to be moored-up in the port. We have been cruising for thirty weeks, covered 1,832 km, passed through 487 locks and (by rough estimation) consumed 135 litres of wine; over the course of 111 days that she moved Sableclocked up 387 engine hours and consumed 1,500 litres of diesel. Now I don't feel so bad about the wine... In addition, we ranged more than 2,000 km on our motorbikes; and (again a rough estimation) about 400 km on pushbikes. We entertained 21 visitors but cannot account for the number of sensational meals we shared; nor the number of chateaux and places of historic interest we have seen. All in all, it has been a wonderful summer. The weather has been incredibly pleasant, for the most part, and we have accumulated boundless fond memories — most of which are recorded among the more than 2,000 photos taken along the way.

For our last few weeks of cruising we deliberately lingered for as long as possible at each stop and tried to limit the number of kilometres between stopovers to less than twenty. Corres les Barres is a lovely port with good facilities and within easy biking distance of Nevers, across the Loire. Nevers of course has a port of its own but it's up a tedious deviation that is inclined to be shallow, plus the port is usually full at this time of year with boats already moored up for winter. But it is a town always worth a visit although we were disappointed to find the whole place virtually deserted on the Sunday when we decided to go into town for lunch. The place beside the river where we enjoyed a magic Easter Sunday lunch two years ago has been converted into a Japanese restaurant. We are not averse to Japanese food, quite the opposite in fact, but we were hankering for authentic French cuisine for what we imagined would be one of our last dining-out experiences before returning home. So we trundled into the city centre to discover, too late to retrace our steps, the only other place that appeared to be open was American — steaks with fries. We chose a salad... We also made several interesting sorties on motorbikes into the surrounding countryside — to places we had never been before. Someone has taken on a mammoth undertaking to restore an old abbey at Fontmorigny. Unfortunately, or on second thoughts perhaps it was fortunate, it was closed the day we visited. On our way back we came across a stunning chateau where they were selling fresh apples — all kinds, straight off the trees. We filled our motorbike holds. Yum.

At Guétin there is a massive double lock that lifts you more than 9m and you emerge into a pont-canal across the Allier, half as long but no less intriguing than the famous pont-canal at Briare. After that the canal wends its way up the Loire valley, a long way from the river, for more than twenty kilometres before the next lock. Sally seized the opportunity to get the bike off and pedal along the tow path in gorgeous summer sunshine. Sable and I caught up with her three hours later at the next lock. At Décize we went for bike ride, our last for the year, across the Loire and up the tow path beside the Canal du Nivernais. We stopped at Gannay and would have stayed there for several nights but the following morning we woke to find a dense fog blanketing the whole countryside and 5oC. The fog lifted by late morning but returned every night for a week whilst the temperature never rose above 10oC. Our boiler keeps Sable very cosy and warm but our enthusiasm for cruising quickly waned in such conditions. We resisted the urge to make a bee-line for home and maintained our intended itinerary but with single overnight stops — Beaulon, Pierrefitte, La Croix Rouge, Chambilly. We rarely ventured outside the boat except to fetch essential supplies or negotiate locks. Since arriving in Roanne the weather has improved slightly but we're pleased to be soon heading for Australia's warmer climate. A walk on the beach and a dip in the surf sounds like excellent therapy.

It is school holidays in Germany and we are delighted to have Nicole staying aboard for a few days, her second visit this year. She is enjoying her exchange year in Witten and appears to have been thoroughly spoilt by the kindness of her host families and others. She will return to the Gold Coast, reluctantly, mid-January. France may appear to be in turmoil at the moment with a number of trade unions, abetted by wayward high school kids, protesting the Sarkozy government's intention to raise the retirement age to 62. The mindset of the French can sometimes be difficult to fathom. (Where do they think the money for their pensions is going to come from? And apart from France what other society actually endorses "How to stage a protest" in their education curriculum?) Common sense, and the majority, will ultimately prevail but the curtailment of fuel supplies is begining to cause severe inconvenience in some towns. We have fingers crossed that our train to Paris/CDG next week will not be disrupted. I especially selected November 2 because the 1st is an important Saint-day and public holiday and I trust the workers would not choose to strike or upset the solemnity of such event. Thankfully, they are probably not interested in the Melbourne Cup! They have already given notice that there will be protest marches nation-wide on November 6. I hope we will be home by then!

That's it for 2010. Unfortunately the 2011 Tour de France does not venture close to any navigable waterways. Although nothing has been finalised our thoughts are to return to France in April and meander northwards, crossing into Belgium and perhaps wintering Sable in Holland in order to be close to the tulip fields the following Spring. We wish everyone a very joyous festive season and prosperous new year.

Sancerre

6th October, 2010 (Sally)

It is autumn, the trees are flaunting shades of yellow and gold, with flames of brilliant red where the Virginia creeper has climbed through the branches or crawled over a building. No more frosts as yet so the leaves are hanging on but everywhere is the patter of falling nuts. Chestnuts, acorns and walnuts litter the roads and tow paths. I have collected three times as many as I have in previous years as people are too busy with the grape harvest to bother with a few nuts. Now I am collecting recipes to make sure they are all used. A crop of crab apples at one stop were also too tempting to leave; they have been made into jars of spiced crab apples to go with a roast of guinea fowl or chicken.

Our other harvest gathering has been among the vineyards of Sancerre. We arrived there a week ago expecting to see all the grapes harvested but were surprised, pleasantly so, to see it had only just begun. Unusually late but still a good year according to the growers. We've had some lovely sunny clear days so have taken advantage of them to take our motorbikes and head up into the vineyards and see it all happening up close. Almost all the local picking is done by machines which doesn't quite have the same romantic feel of the basket and the horse drawn dray, but with 5,000 ha to be picked it would be a mighty task to do it the old way. We did see two groups of hand pickers, then watched a machine pick a whole row in less than five minutes. If you want to watch the traditional harvest one needs to be in Champagne or Burgundy.

Sancerre is a delightful town, an original fortified village sitting high above the Loire. Like most places in France it has had its share of bloody history. They chose the wrong religion back in the times of the Huegunots and the king sent 7,000 soldiers to lay seige to the town. After 277 days, they were virtually starved out of their stronghold, all the fortifications were demolished and they paid a very hefty fine but they at least kept their heads. Today it is a charming stop on the Wine Route with a host of good restaurants and some lovely walks and vistas.

We went from there to Chavignol, to revisit Henri Bourgoise's caves. We had been there and sampled their wines in 2008. Chavignol is a very small village that has twenty wine makers so very little happens in Chavignol that isn't directly connected to the grape — this is the region for France's best sauvignon blanc wines. There was a TV interview taking place as we went into the tasting room and we heard enough to understand that they were discussing the virtues of New Zealand, or more particularly Marlborough wines. It wasn't long before we had a conversation going with Henri himself who owns a vineyard in Marlborough as well as several throughout the region here. He asked us our connection and when we said we came from Christchurch he grabbed the bar and did a very good imitation of being rocked by an earthquake.

As well as wine this area is well known for Crottin de Chavignol, the goats cheese that seems to be made at every farm house along this stretch of the Loire. Try as I might it is not a flavour that I can tolerate, too many memories of smelly old goats from my childhood on a farm. It features in many of the dishes in the restaurants. I decide every year I will give it one more chance, but then I reckon there are at least 300 other French cheeses yet to be sampled so why bother. I have a guide book to Cheese onboard and I do try to buy the local cheese as we travel through the various areas. However my tasting notes leave many pages unmarked, one would need to be in France a lifetime to sample all the different varieties.

We have also spent a few days at Belleville sur Loire, a village which lives up to its name providing a lovely grassed quay with free water and electricity. The quay is less than a kilometre away from the very prominant nuclear power station so we used the opportunity to do the visitors tour of the extensive and informative visitor's centre. As one would expect there was a huge emphasis on safety. However, the local paper has since had a headline of the strike by the safety offiicers at Belleville. Just one of the many strikes in France at the moment as the Government tries to suggest that the retirement age may have to be raised by two years — to 62. I wonder who will win this one. France is almost totally dependent on nuclear energy with over fifty reactors around the country. They make sure the neighbouring towns are well looked after by providing new schools, sporting facilities and swimming pools and in this case providing employment to 600 people. No small feat in rural France.

From the 21st Century to the 13th. We went the next day to revisit Guédelon, where they are building a castle using the same techniques, plans and building tools that would have been used in 1229. What a project. It is in an old quarry set in an oak forest and all materials are coming off the site: stone [60,000 tons], clay for tiles, sand, water, and wood. Thirty-five full time employees assisted by numerous volunteers, dressed in smocks, with handmade tools are doing everything the original way. As well as the castle they have built a village complete with pigs, sheep, [original breeds] a rope maker, basket maker, weaving house, tile making shed with kiln and a forge. We were fascinated to watch the squirrel cages which are used to raise all the building materials to the appropriate heights. They look a bit like the wheels you see in a pet mouse's cage, but on a grander scale. We observed one in action where one man walking inside took a load of stone from ground level up two floors. One has to admire the attention to detail and aspects of historical research. It is providing a great way for everyone to learn and appreciate the work that went into all the structures we see in our travels. Good to see bus loads of school kids there too, what a great experience for them. One wonders what will become of it when it is finished as the main attraction is definitely in the construction process. Once completed it will become another chateau in a land of chateaux all competing for the tourist dollar. At one place we went to we were informed that France has 40,000 sites which are classified historical monuments, of which 20,000 are in private hands, so as one can imagine you need to have some good marketing advantages to get the feet through the doors, or the monies in the till. It is not enough to have a chateau or a castle, one needs to have a museum of some variety and we have seen some interesting and very different displays — fishing museum, hunting, art of course, and gardens as well as summer spectaculars and sound-and-light shows.

Our last stop was at La Charité, an old, very old, Cluny site on the pilgrim route to Santiego de Compostela. It was consecrated in 1159, and much of the original still stands as the present town church even though a good portion was destroyed during the revolution. When you see the building techniques that were used, it makes the finished building even more remarkable. Just another great memory from a year so full of them.

The Loire

22nd September, 2010 (Tony)

A glorious day for a bike ride, alongside the broad, sparkling Loire rippling smoothly over gravelly shoals. The strains of silence were deafening, shattered occaisionally by waterfowl or pheasant taking flight, alarmed by our sudden presence. We dared not speak for fear of disturbing the peace. We have pictures of the beautiful scenery, but how can you record such profane absence of sound? A wind sock flaccidly watching over a grassy aerodrome; at a nuclear power plant two giant condensors belching steam high into the air, visible for twenty kilometres; a sky devoid of anything but blue; fields we could smell yet yielding no noise whatsoever. We would have heard horses chewing, but they chose not to; mice scurrying about in the cornfields would have been audible, but there were none. Eerie. Unique... and sixty-five years to discover. We covered almost forty kilometres, much of it along the EuroVelo Route (we've mentioned it before) a dedicated cycle-way that will eventually extend from Nantes to Budapest — 3,500 km. Some of the time we followed the ancient canal. It was here, because of the Loire's dangerous reaches, that engineers conceived the first canal with locks in France. Henry IV deployed 12,000 men and got them started in 1597 on a canal to link the Loire to the Seine. The French thought they invented the first lock until, only recently, it was discovered that the Chinese had built some in the first millennia AD. The canal was completed in 1642, the same year that Abel Tasman discovered New Zealand. It served for over two hundred years before the current chain of locks and the remarkable pont canal across the Loire were commissioned in the late 1800's. I should be pleased if something I built lasted fifty years!

It is autumn now. I know this because the other morning when I mopped the top of Sable before casting off I swept up a pile of ice. Today is the equinox and the grape harvest has not yet begun in earnest; and whilst the leaves are still clinging to the trees it's clear they are relinquishing their desire to draw sap. We are currently in Briare, a popular and very pretty port, where we've elected to stay for four days to explore the nearby region. The tall trees next to our mooring would be delightful in high summer but at the moment they screen all sun from the boat until after two o'clock. And completely block our satellite television reception. It is two weeks since we left the Seine and we have cruised very slowly to get this far, rarely traveling more than fifteen kilometres at a time and often spending more than a night in every port.

The Canal du Loing is very pretty. Lots of hotel-barges ply this gentle waterway sometimes making it difficult for us to find a mooring. Moret sur Loing would have to rate among the most picturesque villages in France. We have a large picture on our wall at Mooloolaba to attest to this fact. Whilst having lunch at a picnic table beside the canal we were surprised to be overtaken by Karen and Barry from Eleanor, the boat moored behind us at Roanne. They weren't on Eleanor, they were cuising with their friends, Rob and Janina who live, when they're at home, in North Carolina but also have a villa in Umbria where they grow grapes and olives. They are part-owners of a barge and have been coming to France for ten or twelve years to cruise for a month or so each summer. What a life! We had a couple of pleasant evenings with them. Barry and Karen had to return to Roanne before heading to Umbria to help Rob and Janina with the olive picking, something they do every year. Nemours is lovely too. One of our days there was particularly wet — the first for a long time — thus an opportunity to catch up on some routine maintenance e.g. getting out the Karcher (high-pressure water-blaster) and giving the grey water tank a thorough flush-out. There are several pump-out stations on this canal — almost as many as in all the rest of France. We would only eat fish in France if they were taken from the Loire, or the ocean. Don't ask me to explain... From Souppes we rode our bikes up to Chateau Landon a quaint town with a dominating church in the middle of a large plateau yet perched on the edge of a rocky precipice — like a mini Rocamadour. The Tour de France passed through here in July on its way to Montargis. Our next port-of-call was Cepoy. A bike ride revealed some attractive parklands and water sports playgrounds on the outskirts of Montargis. One really has to get off the boat as often as possible to appreciate the way the locals live.

Montargis is a gorgeous town disected by little canals lined with flower boxes and bridged with tiny arched passerelles too narrow for vehicles to cross. All chocolate box pretty — an apt description given that the town boasts several irresistible chocolatiers. I haven't bought chocolates this year so far but weakened in Montargis.

Montbouy, Chatillon-Coligny, Rogny-les Sept Ecluses and Ouzouer sur Trezée are small towns along the way that have provided lovely quays and facilities for boatees. We stopped at all of them and enjoyed walking around the centres and exploring what they have to offer. From Rogny the Canal de Briare climbs quickly up through six (once seven) deep locks to a large open summit dotted with sizable lakes that feed the canal; then it drops just as quickly down to the Trezée river and into the Loire valley. From Briare it is upstream for us now all the way to Roanne, about three hundred kilometres. It's another three hundred kilometres from Roanne to the source of the Loire, France's longest river.

From Ouzouer we took our motorbikes over the hills to Gien for a day's excursion. Gien was ninety percent obliterated in a German bombing raid in June 1940 in an attempt to wipeout the French army fleeing south across the bridge over the Loire, just prior to their surrender. Rebuilding did not commence until 1947 by which time someone must have said, "To hell with the expense, let's do it right." They adopted a romantic architectural style that emulates the old chateau with lots of round towers, turret roofs, dormers and arches. The red brick is a giveaway but the overall affect is pleasing to the eye. It would be a nice city to live in. And yesterday we took the motorbikes over the river and discovered more beautiful countryside and pretty villages in an area that to the French is so ordinary it barely rates a mention. I guess most of France is like that. That's what makes it so unique... and appealing.

Chateaux and Cities

8th September, 2010 (Sally)

Before we left the Aisne river we took a short cycle ride through the Royal hunting forest of Compiegne to the Armistice Clearing where a replica railway carriage provides a small museum of the signing of the armistice on 11th November, 1918. The newspapers of the day make interesting reading, and also of interest is that Hitler insisted that the French surrender in 1940 was signed in the same carriage. He then had the original carriage shipped to Berlin for exhibition where it was ultimately destroyed in a RAF bombing raid. From there it was only a short distance to the junction of the Oise river and a turn south to start our journey back to Roanne. It was very obvious that we were on a main transport route, a constant flow of huge barges — wheat going north to Belgium and northern France; and gravel, sand and other building products flowing into Paris. All building materials have to travel into Paris by barge and when one considers that some of those barges carry the equivalent of 100 trucks one can appreciate what an advantage that is to the already busy streets of the city.

Compiegne, our first stop, is a delightful town, the main square dominated by a towering Hotel de Ville dripping with decorations. It is also where Joan of Arc was captured and handed over to the English but it is most famous for its royal chateau. The Chateau was the traditional stop for Kings on their way to be crowned at Reims, and today is a wonderful example of the extravagance of French royalty. Of course there are myriad stories that could be told, it was here that Marie Antoinette met her husband for the first time, it was also here that Napoleon III spent a lot of time, but the one that caught my eye was that when Tsar Nicholas II came to visit in 1901 the Palace was refurnished with ninety two railway wagons of furniture including a library of 3,000 books. One would hope that he had time to read at least one of them. The chateau park is open to the public, a delightful place to stroll, with long arcades of trees, statues and colourful herbaceous borders.

Our next stop was the very ordinary town of Creil where we took advantage of its proximity to Chantilly. A picnic lunch, a short motorbike ride, and we were driving into the chateau grounds literally open mouthed with wonder. Chantilly is the horse racing capital of France, and set in the grounds of the park is the race course, the lovely chateau floating in a lake which forms part of the extensive gardens and the most extravagant stables one could ever hope to see. One can visit chateau, musee, stables and gardens but we defy anyone to do it all in one trip. We elected to spend the time in the gardens, a vista of lakes and fountains designed by Le Notre, that made even Louis XIV jealous and then watched a horse riding exhibition in the stables. These were built by the Duke of Conde who had the foresight to know he was going to be reincarnated as a horse and he wanted fitting accommodation. The stables are virtually a castle for horses with indoor riding arenas, fountains, statues and stalls to hold 250 horses and 500 dogs.

We continued on down the Val d'Oise which was renowned as a favourite haunt of the Impressionists. The small village of Auvers is a shrine to Van Gogh who spent the last ten weeks of his life there. In those ten weeks he painted seventy pictures including the famous Eglise d'Auvers; and many of the spots he painted are celebrated with a picture of his work. He is also buried in the town cemetery beside his brother Theo. It was also a good spot to wait for my sister Myra to join us for five days as we cruised upstream under the bridges of Paris and into the familiar Port de l'Arsenal. Five days in Paris, a chance to see a few more of the things we haven't seen: the Panthéon, how many times have we been outside and not gone in; Rodin's Musée with his wonderful collection of statues; L'Opera, a masterpiece of gilt and opulance; Musee d'Armée at Les Invalides; and another trip for Tony and a first for me to the Maritime Musée. Paris was still busy with tourists, too many in the queue for the Eiffel Tower so we climbed the 280 steps of the Arc de Triomphe again and discovered the lift (for Tony S) only on the way down. So much to see in Paris, will we ever think we have seen enough? A chance also to meet up with a very expectant Delphine and Francois. Is it really sixteen years since she was a Rotary exchange student in Australia? And to say goodbye to Myra and welcome aboard Nancy and Tony Stenton for their second visit to us. Monday morning saw the two Tonys leaving port to meet up with a serviceman to give Sable's boiler its annual checkover, while the two ladies went off for a last day in Paris before catching them up by train, then back on the busy Seine upstream to Melun. One day left before the Stentons carried on to Germany, so once again the two ladies took off to explore. A short bus trip and we were in Fontainebleau, another chateau of extravagance and opulance set in gardens open free of charge to the public. They don't show you all 1,900 rooms, thank goodness, but what you do see is well worth the visit.

The one chateau that has long been on my wish list is Vaux-le-Vicomte, a short cycle ride from Melun. It was certainly worth the wait, as it is simply magnificent. Built by Nicolas Fouquet, Louis XIV's Minister of Finance, it is said to be the epitome of French elegance and has been the feature of many films. The picture-perfect gardens, all eighty-three acres of them, are a joy of terraces, lakes and fountains and a two huge beds of sculptured box hedges modelled on a turkish carpet. How many gardeners, we could not even hazard a guess. Ironically the breathtaking beauty of the place caused the downfall of its owner, for after its completion in 1661, Fouquet threw a lavish house warming party for the king and his court, with Indian elephants, Italian fireworks and the first performance of a comedy by Molière. Instead of being impressed the so called Sun King was furious, he hated being upstaged, so a mere three weeks later he had Fouquet arrested and charged with having embezzled public money to build his grand home. While his former finance minister languished in prison, the king stole his talented designers and architects and commisioned the mother of all palaces, Versailles. Even today the brochures on Vaux le Vicomte ask the question, "Guilty or Innocent?" but cynics among us would have to wonder how any mere mortal would have honestly found the werewithal to finance such a grandiose project. After Melun we made one more stop on the Seine at Samois, still within commuting distance to Paris, and obviously so from the price of real estate and the size and expense of the cars. We spent the weekend there and used the time to take a couple of motorbike rides through the Forest of Fontainebleau visiting little villages with such interesting names as Bois le Roi and Barbizon, before finally leaving the Seine and finding ourselves once more back doing what we like best — cruising the small canals and the even smaller locks. First signs of Autumn with tinges of red on the virginia creeper and walnuts looking almost ready to harvest. Still a few weeks of cruising to go but our thoughts, like our boat, are turning towards home.

Along the Ainse

9th August, 2010 (Tony)

The grain harvest is mostly gathered in and the farmers in their giant tractors are flatout tilling the land in preparation for planting next year's crop. Peasant farmers no longer exist in France. There's not a fence to be seen anywhere in this part of the country, just a continuous carpet of vast fields of wheat, barley, sugar beet, corn, or sunflowers. Grain growers in Australia and NZ couldn't hold a bushel to the yield that each hectare delivers here. And every farmer seems to own a range of enormous equipment — probably worth more than NSW Railways, and earning more besides. France is the world's second biggest agricultural producer, exceeded only by the United States. France exports two-thirds as much as the US, a country fifteen times larger. Yet no landscape is devoid of trees. Forests occupy almost every piece of land that hasn't been converted to farms. France can proudly lay claim to having one of the best forestry conservation programs in Europe.

We have finally wrenched ourselves out of Champagne though not without making a few more sorties on motorbike into the region's northern-most vineyards and villages. We have probably explored ninety percent of Champagne's widespread area. We have visited most of the seventeen Grand Cru villages as well as dozens of others, we can now identify the three varieties of grapes, and we understand where each of them is predominantly grown, and we know where a great many of the vignerons are situated. We just can't figure out which ones taste best! We'll obviously have to keep trying until we get it right — we have a cupboard-full to keep us going until our next passing. Thanks to an excellent book that Debbie and Mark kindly gave us we can at least consult the opinion of an expert, Richard Juhlin, a Swede, who has ranked most of the producers in his Champagne Guide. This bloke knows his nose — he once correctly identified forty-three out of fifty champagnes in a blind tasting in Paris. It was a real pleasure to bike up to St Thierry and rediscover one of the prettiest villages in all Champagne and to introduce ourselves to the owners of a B&B where we stayed in 1999. At that time they were 'relatively new' producers of champagne. We had a nice chat, followed by an obligatory tasting and headed back, 8 km, toSable with a carton of their bubbly on the back carrier of our bikes. We have become quite adept at transporting things — a box of begonia plants strapped to our motorbike carriers survived a 12 km ride and are now flowering profusely in place of the petunias which Sally bought before we left Roanne.

We are now on the Aisne, a gentle river that meanders east to west through a wide valley that saw some of the bitterest fighting in WW1. To the north is a high, thirty kilometre-long plateau known as the Chemin des Dames. The French suffered more than thirty thousand casualties in one battle in a futile attempt to drive the Germans back. For almost four years it was the scene of bitter confrontation. Pétain took over from Nivelle after he was sacked. In May 1918 the Germans made their big push, driving all the way down to Chateau Thierry, only forty kilometres from Paris. There, they encountered the Battle of Belleau Wood, referred to in our last newsletter, and with the help of Americans the French turned the Germans back and finally regained the plateau a few weeks before the armistice. We ventured into the Caverne du Dragon, a huge, dark, forbidding confusion of underground galleries and tunnels (previously a quarry) that throughout the war garrisoned troops, both German and French at various times. We are now in Soissons which was eighty percent destroyed in the war. There are war cemeteries everywhere in this valley. It is impossible to forget those terrible days in this region. Just west of here the British sector, with its colonies, held the line of defense through the Somme and Belgium. Of course, wars have been fought here for centuries. The present epoch is the longest period of peace this country has ever known.

Soissons was the first royal capital city in France. It is a nice city but will never be able to claim to be pretty because of the hotch-potch architecture resulting from the protracted restoration but the quayside is pleasant enough and the town is central to interesting sites within easy reach. On Sunday we took a train north to Laon, an ancient fortified city perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking an immense plain. As bad luck would have it the cable car that hoists one from the railway station to the main city a hundred metres above was closed for maintenance so we exercised our limbs and climbed up to the square for a well-earned lunch in front of the magnificent cathedral which soars a further forty metres into the sky. Laon was captured early in WW1 by the Germans who probably felt it wasn't worth defending when it came time to retreat so it was spared any damage. It wouldn't be a pleasant place to be, exposed to modern artillery so I guess they skitaddled out of there in WWII as soon as the pressure came on. A very picturesque town which could easily be walked but we opted for the comfort option of riding in the little tourist train. In hindsight walking may have been desirable compared to the jolting we got over the cobblestones. We returned to Soissons in time to attend an organ recital in the cathedral. The organist was from Finland and his reportoire included a piece he had composed and was accompanied by a violinist. All very pleasant.

Yesterday we took the motorbikes for a spin in the countryside and came across Forte de Conde. The fort was built in the eighteen hundreds as part of a chain of forts supposed to defend France from invasion. As far as we know it was never used in anger and the Germans occupied it as a hospital in WWI. It was later blown up and forgotten about until being rediscovered after WWII. The local village adopted it and have painstakingly restored a large part of it and opened it to the public. It was a fascinating place to visit and to visualise how such immense fortifications were manned and organised. One of the best we have seen. Another two days in the Aisne, then we meet the Oise, then into the Seine again and back to Paris...

Alone Again...

26th July, 2010 (Sally)

Monday morning and a grey day, our first for weeks, and a good chance to catch up on some long overdue writing. What a feast of visitors we have had, three of our children and six of our grandchildren, almost non-stop for the last five weeks. I am sure we can say that our lifestyle cruising the waterways of Europe has been given a big tick of approval by all. The message we got from everyone was, "We will be back" and Sable now sports new initials NTBS: ie Not to be Sold.

All the families achieved what they set out to do: Gray and Suellen to explore Paris and give the two youngest grandchildren a French experience; Miles and Louis wanted to see Nicole in Germany and also follow some of the Tour; and Deb and Mark with their two youngest sons were celebrating Mark's 50th with an energetic cycling stage of the Tour, some good fun-time with Edward and Mackenzie, and a nice relaxing week on Sable.

Our summer has been a delight, hot but not dramatically so. The three cousins, Louis, Ed and Mack spent a lot of time swimming in the Marne, and the lack of beds on Sable was no problem as they all slept on the deck under the awning. We looked a bit like a travelling gypsy caravan at times but it was all good fun. The markets and shops are a feast of summer fruits, peaches, apricots and nectarines all bursting with flavour. The problem is choice, so one ends up with some of each, and a race to eat them before they go past their best. We've had fun introducing the boys to different foods. Would you believe snails are a favourite. They were ordered in a restaurant just as an experiment then became a request when shopping. Mind you twenty croissants for 5€ was probably top of the pops for the three boys, Mack managing to eat seven in one day. There was also a feast of sport. No sooner had we recovered from the World Cup and all its ongoing dramas, the TV was broadcasting Le Tour at a very respectable hour. It has meant that we have spent more time than is desirable in front of the TV but the days are long enough that a couple of hours in the afternoon can be compensated for with daylight extending to 10pm.

The last three weeks have been a slow cruise back and forth on the Marne exploring the 58kms between Charly sur Marne and Epernay. It would be hard to find a prettier stretch of river, golden wheat fields in the foreground with harvest in full swing, vineyards gently rising behind, all trimmed and tidy as they wait for the final growth of the grapes and all the hills crowned with topknots of forest. The villages that extend a welcome stop for us are all dripping with flower baskets and provide one with the very best excuse to linger, as do the welcome signs outside almost every champagne grower's house. Yes we have tasted and bought. Sable has a distinct list to starboard, with the number of bottles on board and it would be fair to say that some days we were probably doing the same after sampling quite a few. As you do...

It is hard to believe that this delightful valley was the scene of such bitter fighting in WW1 but like most of France the reminders of battles past are never far away. Chateau Thierry has a carved post on the quay, one of ninety-seven that were erected in France to mark the front line of the German advance and it was here that they were turned back twice. In 1914 the French used aeroplanes for reconnaissance for the first time and on spotting a break in the German lines called up the reserve troops from Paris. This battle has gone down in history as the Taxi Cab battle as 6,000 troops were ferried to the front using every available taxi in Paris.

Again, in 1918 the Germans determined to take Paris and made another attempt to break through hoping to gain ground against inexperienced American troops. This bitter battle was fought at Belleau Wood and has the dubious honour of causing the most US casualities in one day until Guadalcanal in WW2. We visited the American cemetery where nearly 3,000 marble crosses stand in 45 acres of immaculate grounds with the actual battlefield of Belleau Wood rising behind it. It is all well preserved and even ninety years on one can still see the trenches and shell holes as well as several restored cannon and mortar pieces. A good history lesson for our boys, slightly more realistic one hopes than a computer or a video game.

Gray and Suellen left us at Chateau Thierry, but not before Miles had rejoined us after a trip to Germany to meet Nicole's host families and to bring her back for a few days with us. What a delightful young lady she is growing into, and what a host of experiences she is enjoying in her year as a Rotary exchange student. Her language skill improves every day, and every letter tells of a new experience, but she was also very pleased to have the chance to relax and enjoy family time with us all.

Epernay was our next stop, and from there we went to Reims by car to meet Deb, Mark and the two boys arriving from Paris by TGV. They had timed it well as it was also the finish of Stage 5 of the Tour de France so within hours of them stepping off a plane we were all lined up 1km from the finish line. What a spectacle, the usual caravan throwing mementos to the crowd, [we learnt later it comprises 150 vehicles and 15 million give-aways] press and media cars and bikes, then the flash of colour and movement as the riders dash past. It's an amazing spectacle and it's hard not to get caught up in the buzz. The next morning we lined up again in Epernay for the start of Stage 6, and for all those who were sure they saw us I'm sure you couldn't have. We had a prime spot at the foot of the Avenue de Champagne amongst the many many others.

My birthday the next day was celebrated over lunch, in Champagne, with a profusion of champagne, a tour of champagne cellars "Castellane" and a wander down the Avenue de Champagne at 10pm to watch a sound and light show honouring champagne and culminating with fireworks in front of the town hall. Hard to think where else one could do better. The following day, Deb, Mark and Miles left by car to follow several more stages of the Tour up in the French Alps climaxing with a bike ride up the Col de Madeline to join the thousands at the summit. Meanwhile we entertained the three boys with plenty of swimming, cruising and some motorbike riding when we could find a park that they could use. All good fun and a chance for us to do some of the Grandparent things we miss out on.

Last week it has been just the four of us, a chance for Deb and Mark to have the relaxing part of their holiday. Late starts, a bit of cruising, cycling through villages and vineyards, some tasting and a few purchases before an afternoon nap and a dinner which involves at least a glass or two of champagne to inspire the chefs. Does all this sound like a lot of champagne? Mmmm! Probably right. Today is day 3, AFD. (Alcohol Free Day.) We have retraced our steps from Reims where we put them on the train to Paris and are now settled for a few days at Sillery, a very small village with a nice quiet port. But nevertheless, within sight and easy reach of some delightful champagne houses yet to be tested. (Tony apologises for not having updated the website for some weeks. He gets bleary-eyed after a glass or two of champagne and we're way over quota with internet use. He promises to update in a couple of days.)

Paris

25th June, 2010 (Tony)

It is impossible to tire of a city like Paris. There is just so much to do and see, especially when you have family on board to entertain. We arrived in the Port de l'Arsenal ten days ago and were delighted to be directed to raft-up alongside Imagine and to at last meet Tony and Cindy and their two children. They are on an eighteen month cruise through France, having chartered Imagine owned by Caroline who lives in Surfers Paradise and whom we met last year while we were home on the Gold Coast. Talk about an extraordinary series of coincidences... anyway it was a pleasure to meet them and we had numerous cheerful conversations with them over the course of a week.

Miles and Louis (13) were our first visitors to arrive and we quickly hired an extra bike and set off for a long ride up to La Villette to check out the port and also the Science Museum. What a fascinating place. One could easily spend several days and still not manage to absorb all of its various sections. Tired, but hungry, we headed back into the city at night to relive the dining experience we enjoyed so much, many years ago, at "Pied au Cochon" restaurant. Next morning Gray and Suellen and Elsie (11) and Joey (8 yesterday) arrived. A walk across the river to the Jardins des Plantes was succeeded by a stroll to the Pantheon and around the Latin Quarter. As luck would have it the church of St Etienne which Sally and Suellen were keen to see was shut for lunch, so Gray and I found ourselves ensconsed in an English pub to watch the final twenty minutes of the Wallabies v England rugby test. We ultimately wished we hadn't bothered; and the pommy fans were barely more impressed than we were.

Enough walking. Three more bikes were immediately hired. My credit card seemed to be the only one that was acceptable — how did my two sons contrive that mystery? So for the princely sum of 5€ per week for each bike I find myself responsible for four Velim cycles. What a great system and how easy it is to pedal all around Paris. And of course one can just abandon, change or pick up another bike anywhere around the city; which we did; frequently; while the three we own had to be chained up and reclaimed after every site visit.

There was a bitterly cold wind blowing the day we went up the Eiffel Tower but the view over Paris is spectacular. We would have lingered longer at the top but the wind and temperature determined otherwise so we adjourned to the park below to enjoy a picnic lunch before setting off to admire the Tuileries Gardens and its splendid statues and arcades of trees. One day the adults decided that too much biking and walking might be tiring for the kids. As Joey was riding pillion and Louis and Elsie didn't seem at all tired I suspect some adults may have been looking for an excuse to relieve their creaking joints. We all bundled into the Métro and boarded successive trains, as only Sally and I and Elsie were nimble enough to catch the one at the platform. We all regathered at la Défense and studied the Grande Arche before retiring to a vast shopping centre for a session of retail therapy followed by lunch. In the afternoon we clambered up to the top of the Arc de Triomphe and admired more spectacular views of Paris before strolling down the Champs Elyssée. The girls deviated to investigate the classy string of exclusive shops along Rue St Honoré, whilst the boys chose to take a bike and head back to the boat for a beer and to watch some World Cup soccer. As always, June 21st is celebrated throughout France with a music festival. Sally and I stayed in to look after the grandkids while their parents experienced a night out at a recommended restaurant and later, revelling with the crowds enjoying bands banging it out on most street corners until the wee small hours.

No visit to the "City of Love" by boat would be complete without a cruise down the Seine "under the bridges of Paris with me". To be different we decided to do a grand circle of the city by entering the tunnel at the north-eastern end of Port de l'Arsenal and going up the Canal de St Martin to la Villette and then turning into the Canal St Denis which takes one back down, past Stade France and back to the Seine. For boats going downstream this route saves about 25km of the huge sweeping bends the Seine follows out of town. For us however it meant a four hour journey to get back to the Eiffel Tower and the recognised bridges of mid-city Paris. But everyone enjoyed the day out and the late-evening vistas were stunning. It was 8:30pm when we gotSable back to her berth. Weary and hungry, the eight of us staggered into a welcoming restaurant at 10pm for a hearty meal.

The final day in Paris necessitated a visit to a museum. Gray, Suellen, Joey and I elected to bike to the Maritime Museum, at Trocadéro near the Eiffel Tower. Everyone else went to the Louvre. I learned about the existence of the Maritime Museum from Tony on Imagine. I have to say it was one of the most pleasurable museum visits ever made and I can't wait to take certain others there. The collection of model ships spanning four centuries is astounding. Perfectly to scale and exquisitely detailed most of the models were made before the actual ship in order to gauge the lines and sometimes merely to show to the king. The museum also includes hundreds of paintings, including many of famous sea battles and French ports that deserve a place in the Louvre. But best of all, it seemed as though there were only a dozen visitors in the whole place whereas the Louvre is every day packed with thousands of viewers, despite its enormous size, and queues to see anything are the norm.

We've now departed Paris and are slowly wending our way up the Marne towards Champagne. Each day for the past week has been sunny and hot and most evenings we have barbequed on the top deck waiting for the sun to set at around ten o'clock. Miles and Louis have left to visit Nicole in Germany but will return with her to join us in Epernay to see the Tour de France.

Au Revoir Bourgogne

7th June, 2010 (Sally)

Last night was our last on the Canal de Bourgogne; 188 locks and 242 Km have been travelled in the six weeks since we left St Jean de Losne. Today we go through the 189th and then turn right into the River Yonne which takes us on our final leg towards Paris. We stopped to spend the day here at Migennes and watch the ladies tennis final at the French Open rather than carry onto Joigny where three years ago we watched both the Wallabies and the All Blacks bundled out of the Rugby World Cup. It seemed like a bad omen to be there again when all our hopes were on the first Australian woman in thirty-seven years to be in the final, not that it made a lot of difference to the result but at least tomorrow we will enjoy Joigny.

Burgundy is a region with something for everyone and we have certainly enjoyed our time exploring it in depth. Part of the canal went past several large limestone quarries where the huge white blocks are still being carved out of the cliffs, then only a short distance later we were visiting one of the many chateaux built from these self same stones. It was becoming our ABC tour [Another Beautiful Chateau] as we visited Ancy le Franc one day and then Chateau de Tanlay the next. Both stunning examples of rennaisance architecture. The most interesting fact was the short time they took to build both these huge buildings. Chateau Tanlay was constructed in five years from 1642, but it probably helped that they employed 2,500 men on the job. The same chateau is still in private hands and the family use it regularly dividing their time between there and their Paris home.

But it hasn't all been chateaux, it wasn't too long before the vineyards of Chablis beckoned us and Mothers Day in France was a good chance to venture out to the village of Chablis. So old and picturesque with a bustling market in place. We manged to find a restaurant with table space for two (picture above), not easy on any Sunday, especially so on a celebration day. After lunch there was time for some sampling and we were lucky to find a cave with a very friendly young vintner. The same family has been making wine in Chablis for thirteen generations. We think they may have got it right by now. He had spent 1988 travelling around Australia and NZ, so between reminiscing we managed to sample four different wines and carry home a sample bottle, or two.

We made a long excursion on our little motorbikes to Chatillon sur Seine, an interesting town which has played a major part in three wars. In 1814 it was the Congress of Chatillon that tried to reach agreement between Napoleon and the allies, in 1914 Commander in Chief Joffre directed the Battle of Marne from here and in 1944 it was the meeting place for the two French armies arriving from Normandy and Provence. Today there is little evidence of that part of its history. People come to Chatillon as we did to view the Treasures of Vix. In 1952 they discovered the grave of a Gaullish princess who was buried 2,500 years ago, The contents of the tomb are displayed in a new museum and include a complete reconstruction of the chamber, her solid gold torc (necklace for holding cloak in place) and the Vase of Vix which is part of a 'drinking set'. The bronze Grecian vase is intricately carved, or beaten rather, and measures 1.6 m high with a capacity of 1,100 litres. The workmanship is amazing, even more so when you realise it was made 650 BC. Also at Chatillon, a massive freshwater spring emerges from a grotto and feeds into the Seine. The true source of the Seine is a similar spring about 50 km upstream.

It hasn't all been sightseeing, there has still been pleasant cruising down leafy canals, many rides along towpaths on our push bikes and motorbike rides into the countryside high above the canal to enjoy the endless vista of wheat, barley and other crops rapidly coming into maturity. A patchwork of greens stretching to the horizon, there will be no shortage of flour for the bread, or rye for the beer, this year.

One of the last stops on the canal is Tonnerre, rather a grubby old town but worth the visit for the old Hotel Dieu. This is the hospital founded in 1294 by Margaret of Burgundy. It is huge, 110 metres long, 18.5 metres wide and the roof is 9 stories high. It is the oldest and largest of such buildings in France and deserves to be better known. It was already 150 years old when they used it as a model for the one in Beaune. The musee attached to it has fascinating collections of old manuscripts, such neat script from so long ago. The oldest was the original charter for the hospital and also the original will of Margaret, all more than 700 years old. The will instructed that she be buried in Tonnerre but wished her heart to be buried with her husband's body in Paris. In a codecil she had changed her mind and instructed the heart could stay in-situ and in Tonnerre. Interesting instructions for the lawyer.

From Flogny la Chapelle, our next stop, it was only a short ride out to Pontigny to visit the Cistercian Abbey founded in 1114. The same order that built Fontenay and although it lacks the wonderful garden setting of Fontenay the abbey church is impressive for its simplicity and sheer size. It is still the parish church for Pontigny but today they use only a side arm of the church. It would take the population of Dijon to fill the main nave. At our last mooring in Brienon we took a final motorbike ride down what was the original roman road, Via Agrippa, not a bend in it for several kilometers, through some lovely natural forest. Still plenty of timber milling happening but it seems to be much more sympathetic with no obvious clear felling. We passed logging trucks and piles of felled timber but one could hardly see where they had come from.

So it is farewell to Burgundy where we have been enthralled with levels of history and architecture, enjoyed their food and wines and loved the quiet tree lined reaches of the Canal de Bourgogne. And now down the Yonne and into the Seine to Paris.

Over the top

24th May, 2010 (Tony)

This past weekend our thoughts have been with Myra, Sally's sister, celebrating her 70th birthday at Akaroa surrounded by family from all over NZ and Australia. About sixty-five people gathered for the occasion, including eight siblings, two off-spring, nineteen nieces and nephews, six grandchildren and fourteen great nieces-nephews; plus spouses! What a celebration. Our family was well represented with all four making the journey along with partners and two grandchildren and to say we were sad not to be there is a gross understatement. Only a smattering of the entire Bisset clan were unable to attend. It goes without saying that they had a fantastic time, many cousins meeting for the first time in ages. No doubt there will be sore heads for the rest of the week. Many happy returns, Myra!

Finally, the cold snap that enveloped Europe for three weeks has gone and we are back in sunshine and clear skies; the bulls are loose and cows are smirking wistfully. Friends, Michael and Roz were destined to spend five days with us on Sable but several days before their expected arrival we discovered they were staying in a village only a few kilometres from our mooring. They kindly picked us up in their hire car and drove us around some amazing sites. This region has many ancient chateaux and historic attractions. We were fascinated by estates at St Aubine, Mont St Jean, Commarin, Semur and Fontenay. It is impossible not to admire, in awe, the builders. Even today, with cranes and modern equipment the task of assembling such structures would be enormous, not to mention the stone carving and architectural embellishments which nowadays would be impossible to emulate. The maticulously maintained gardens at the Abbaye de Fontenay were gorgeous — delightful topiary, neat borders and majestic trees. We also visited Flavigny a very old village perched on the top of a high hill where there was a natural underground source of pure water. Its abbey, built in the eleventh century was occupied by monks for seven hundred years until it was virtually destroyed in the aftermath of the French Revolution. The monks developed a method of sugar-coating the seed of the Anis plant, grown in Turkey, and a medicinal herb savoured by the Romans who previously occupied the territory. By preserving the tiny seed with a coating of syrup and rotating thousands of them in a barrel, not unlike a concrete mixer, thus evolved the aniseed ball. Flavigny was also the village chosen for the filming of Chocolat but there is not one shred of evidence to attest to the fact — not even a café or restaurant, let alone a chocolatier. Where is their entrepeneurial spirit? We were all dreadfully disappointed with Flavigny. It could, should, be a fantastic tourist attraction, but it is dead as a dodo. Furthermore, the day we drove there was Ascension Day, a public holiday in France so nothing was alive, much less open. At day's end we were pleased to retreat to Sable's cosy warmth and share a nice bottle of red, or two. However, a week later, when Michael and Roz were aboard and we stopped at a town reasonably close we took a taxi back up to Flavigny to visit the Anis factory, now a private enterprise manufacturing a tonne of aniseed balls/drops per day, in the restored abbey. I now hope to find a Jaffa factory...

Before joining us at Pouilly en Auxois, Michael and Roz made a trip to Vezelay and returned their hire car to Dijon whilst we tootled through the 3.4 km tunnel that marks the highest point on the Canal de Bourgogne. Seventy-six locks up from the Saðne; one hundred and fifteen down, to the river Yonne. They were tested — and passed with flying colours — when one day the lock-keepers (three of them mind you) required us to go down thirty-one locks because next day they had four boats to bring upstream and felt they were short-staffed! The following day, with only one lock-keeper, Sally and Roz walked between locks, all the while conjuring up haute-cuisine meals to cook, and soon became adept at opening and closing one side of the locks while Michael skilfully tossed the rope. By lunch time we were moored up in a lovely basin at Veneray-Les Laumes from where we flagged the taxi to Flavigny. After the factory tour and mandatory purchase of aniseed balls we called the taxi to collect us and were dropped off at Chateau Bussy-Rabutin, another eye-catching chateau situated in attractive, landscaped grounds. The interior is a gallery of art, with most of the walls bearing hundreds of portraits and landscapes painted directly onto the timber panels. A writer and an eccentric, Bussy-Rabutin added scathing remarks beneath the portraits which these days would rouse a flurry of lawyers pressing lawsuits for libel. I suspect he wasn't particularly wealthy anyhow. We walked down to a village and sat on the grass among the apple trees in someone's orchard and enjoyed a picnic lunch. Rather than call the taxi to pick us up a third time we bravely opted to walk the eight kilometres back to the boat — a bold decision that, in hindsight, I'm sure our guests would have given short shrift. But a veal steak on the barbecue and a delicious bottle, or two, of St Emillion Grand Cru that Michael snared at the supermarket for a remarkable 10.60€ soon cheered everyone up and if it wasn't Mexican Train, it was some card game that kept us going 'til late. The next day I returned to the supermarket on motorbike and bought the rest of the case!

We cruised down to Montbard, a great town, and parked-up for four nights in its delightful port with wide inviting lawn and shady trees. TGV trains sped quietly through the gare just fifty metres away enroute to Paris, or Dijon and yonder. Fascinating... We were disturbed on Saturday morning by the noise of 1,000 homing pigeons being released behind our boat. They were freed from two huge trucks which brought them from a town in Germany, 316 km away. The driver reckoned most of the birds would be home in four hours. And across the road is a motorbike repair shop where a young lad obligingly cleaned out the carburetter on my Honda and soon had it running as sweet as it ever has. He agreed to do Sally's next day. So in the meantime, off we went, over hills and dales, through the stunning countryside, 60+ kms. We paused at Alésia and climbed to the top of the hill to admire a statue of Vercingetorix, the last Gallic chief, defeated by Julius Caesar. We then inspected the remains of the Roman settlement that was established after their conquest. I ran out of fuel 2km from home... I left Sally with my bike and took hers to fetch the jerry can. 1 km from home hers expired... walked back to Sable, fetched pushbike and jerry can; got Sally's motorbike going; returned to Sally; sent her home. My motorbike refused to start; pushed motorbike 2 km up and down steep hill through town to home; walked back half-way to collect pushbike; biked home; quenched thirst... The next morning my young friend had two motorbikes to service and one hour and 75€ later we had two motorbikes going like new ones. We tested them out on Sunday afternoon with another run in the country. What makes the Burgundy region so special is the preservation of natural forest on the tops of all the hills; as though someone once decreed that tree clearing was forbidden above a certain contour level. Drop-dead gorgeous crop and cattle farms extend through the valleys yet everywhere the skyline is accentuated by trees. Today is a public holiday in France, for Pentecost, the fourth day off this month. It is a scorcher, 30+C. Not long now and we'll be close to Chablis vineyards.

How Beautiful

10th May, 2010 (Sally)

April went out in a burst of Spring sunshine. The pansies and petunias on board are thriving, the herbs are a picture and every french family seems to be in their vegie garden. We spent the last few days of the month cruising on very familiar waterways, Verdun to Seurre where we always remember the first time we saw Sable, (is it really almost three years ago?), and then on to St Jean de Losne where no matter when we arrive we always meet up with someone we know. This time was no exception and it was drinks on board and a catch up on who was going where this year. A rally at Strasbourg is taking most people in the direction we went last year so we are pretty much on our own heading west. Time also for a quick train trip to Dijon to collect our latest visitor, Reg Skippen, one of the first friends we made in Australia nearly thirty years ago, and also the minister who officiated at Deb and Mark's wedding twenty-three years ago, now how old does that make us feel. Reg was arriving by train and we had exactly six minutes between arrival and departure on a different platform. Is there anywhere else in the world where one can be so sure of trains running on time that one can make that connection. Of course one has to be certain that the trains are not on strike again! The connection was made, and we welcomed him on board with a typical Aussie barbeque.

From St Jean it was up towards Dijon, familiar territory, our fifth time, but Dijon is a city I never tire of, cobbled streets, old timber-framed buildings and the magnificent buildings from the Dukes of Burgundy time. We managed to coincide with the May Day, (1st of May) holiday, so after a long meander around the town we met up with the inevitable parade. Drums, bands, whistles and plenty of placard waving supporters. The leaflets we had thrust into our hands were invitations to join the French Communist Party. Needless to say we didn't take up the offer. It seemed a better option to find one of the few restaurants open and settle for a leisurely lunch.

The next day we were farewelling Reg but there was time for a walk through the gardens and coffee while we waited for his train. Afterwards we did a huge walk to view another significant marble commissioned by the Dukes and finished the day with an organ recital in the Cathedral. From the cultural delights of Dijon to the pastoral serenity of the Canal de Bourgogne — what a contrast. The Vallee d'Ouche, the start of this canal, must be one of the most picturesque waterways we have been on. Small villages, old stone bridges and lovely forest and farmland. Our enjoyment of it was tempered a little by the coldest weather we have had for some time. The icy blasts from the Arctic which we traced on the weather map dropped our temperature to 5deg all day and sent us scurrying for winter woolies and thermal underwear. It meant of course that cycling the towpath and walking through villages was replaced with extolling the beauty of good central heating and cooking minestrone soup and other warming meals. One would think that even French fishermen would have found it too cold, but no it takes more than an Arctic wind to keep them away from their sport. On the very coldest day they were still out in their favourite spots.

We stopped one night at the small village of La Bussière site of an ancient abbey and a 12th century church. The Abbey is now a luxurious hotel set in beautiul grounds with a Michelin star resturant and the church is being restored at a cost of 850,000€. All this in a village that does not even have a shop. We stopped to pay our respects in the local cemetry at the graves of six young airmen who lost their lives in August 1943 when their bomber came down close to here. The tombstones are in pristine condition, and set among the old, old graves of the villagers. Three from the RAF, two New Zealanders, and one Australian, and the youngest only 19. A recent wreath on the grave shows that they are not forgotton by the local people.

At Pont D'Ouche where the Canal leaves the Vallee D'Ouche and turns north to follow up the Vandenesse river, we took our motor bikes and made up for the lack of exploring of the previous week. We had missed the gardens of Barbirey, 8 ha of walled garden and park, with a huge terraced vegetable garden all set out among trimmed box hedges, so that was my Mother's Day treat after the delights of the local Vide Grenier. Where does all that junk come from, and who is going to buy it? Pride of place this year was a stall where everything had come out of a recent flood. The antique motor bike could have been interesting for some young boys, that is once you got past the encrusted mud, but one would think that a dinner set that had been in the same flood would have had a better chance of finding a new home if it had seen some soap and water. You could hardly see the pattern for mud. Still, I suppose that is where one finds the bargains, if one is looking.

Once again we have been baffled by the excesses of service that are provided for us on these canals. The last three days we have been accompanied by not one, but two lock-keepers — middle-aged ladies, more than a little overweight, each on their own motorcycle. One blonde and one brunette, they bore more than a passing resemblence to the characters in "The Two Fat Ladies" even down to the inevitable cigarette. We were approaching one of the locks when they espied a huge patch of rhubarb. Out came a knife, the plant was reduced to nothing and I was looking for the lights and cameras. They didn't materialise, but I did manage with my basic french to score enough stalks to have a rhubarb crumble for dinner that night.

We have now nearly completed our climb to the summit. 60 locks and 80 kms since we left St Jean d L, today we will do the final 8 locks then the tunnel before we start the long descent on the other side. For the last two nights we have been moored at Vandenesse, within sight of the ancient walls of Chateauneuf. Where else do you see something built in 1459 described as new? This and the Chateau de Commarin are the start of the 'Route de Ducs de Bourgogne' seventeen notable sites that are all between us and Paris. What will go first, my interest in seeing them all or Tony's patience? I am betting on the latter.

Bound for Burgundy

25th April, 2010 (Tony)

Just when you think we're starting to get a handle on this planet, Mother Nature vents her fury and throws the whole world into unprecedented chaos. Not only millions of travellers had their flights disrupted; concerts, major sporting events, funerals, and even company AGMs have had to be rescheduled. Just as well volcanoes and earthquakes are unpredictable. Imagine the panic and tirade of human behaviour at its worst if Iceland has issued a pre-announcement that a volcano was about to blow. As it was, the way some people reacted was disgusting. I gather that what the airlines lost, rail services gained (nothwithstanding that SNCF train drivers have persevered with random strikes for nearly a month) for as we passed under the TGV line at Montchanin and entered a lock, in fifteen minutes, three large TGV trains sped past in quick succession en route to Lyon. Normally one cannot get on a TGV train without a reserved seat but the entry and luggage compartments have been crammed with extra passengers sitting on luggage or the floor. Clear blue skies without a single vapour trail to be seen are rare over France and even the silence without aircraft overhead was noticeable. There was haze in the atmosphere for several days, but no spectacular sunsets, or settlement of dust — at least that we observed. Then again, it hasn't rained. The tangerine sediment all over the boat several weeks ago really did come from Africa. It's not an uncommon occurrence apparently. Fine and dry as talcum powder until absorbed by rain drops, I guess it doen't have the abrasive properties of volcanic ash to harm airplane engines. Here's hoping the Eyjafjallajokull volvcano settles back into doleful slumber for another hundred years or so. Qantas may have 10,000 passengers awaiting flights; Air France has 75,000.

To venture anywhere from Roanne means having to travel some distance along canals we have done before. But with all the time in the world, we have seized the opportunity to engage in the surrounding countryside and explore towns and villages beyond the reach of many bargees. First, get the motorbikes going. This proved a major frustration. Eventually I siphoned out the fuel tanks to discover more than ½-litre of filthy water resided at the bottom of each tank. Ruling out sabotage, I can only assume it was the accumulation of seven years condensation; or we bought the bottom of some petrol station's reservoir. Where were my motorbike-mechanic grandsons when I needed them? Finally got them running reasonably well although fine-tuning to the carburettors may still be required. Anyway, from Paray-le-Monial we rode to Charolles, a town we visited in September, 08. It deserves to be featured amongst the prettiest villages of France and offers panoramic vistas over beautiful Charolais countryside from the ramparts of the old walls above the town. From Génelard about a fifteen kilometre run took us to Guegnon whose only interest was the fact that it stars as a finish/start venue in this year's Tour de France. It will be interesting to see what the TV coverage of the Tour makes of Guegnon because we could not find anything worthwhile to warrant a visit to the place — and there's not too many French towns that are in that category.

At Montceau les Mines we walked for miles around the remnants of what was once one of the biggest open-cast coal mines in France, virtually in the centre of the city, now landscaped into lakes and green lawns and trees. Fascinating photograghs on marker boards at intervals around the place depicted scenes from 1752 when the coal was originally mined underground; in the mid-eighteen hundreds with the advent of mechanical diggers the mining converted to open-cast; with enforced labour it became a supplier to Germany under its occupation throughout WWII; and finally, struggling to remain viable with locomotives turning to diesel and power generation going nuclear, closed in 1977. At St Léger sur Dheune we cranked up the motorbikes and rode over the hills to Mercurey a quaint, ancient hamlet surrounded by vineyards that produce my favourite red burgundy. We chose a paddock at the end of a goat track overlooking the valley to sit among the vines and enjoy a picnic lunch and savour the ambience.

From Santenay we cycled, in shorts and tee-shirts, through tiny villages and vineyards on the lower slopes of the Côte de Beaune to Mersault, stopping occasionally to buy souvenirs from cellar doors of well-known vintners to stock the cupboard in readiness for family visitors in a couple of months time. Eight bottles in a backpack, twenty-five kilometre bike ride, not a bad workout! Everywhere workers were busily tending the vines, many replanting; or straining wires; or hammering-in stakes. We returned via the upper route through the Grand-Cru vineyards and were amazed to note the difference a few metres in elevation makes. The vines in the lower cloches were still in bud whereas on the upper slopes the buds had burst into leaf. Soon the whole region will be green with verdant growth. We never cease to be enraptured by the charm and beauty of the Bourgogne vineyards, whatever the season. We have just finished reading an intriguing book, Wine and War by Don & Petie Kladstrup that recounts tales of courageous and respected wine producing families who endeavoured to protect France's most precious wines from being pillaged by the Nazis.

We spent several nights at Fragnes, one of the nicest ports on the Canal du Centre. Chalons sur Saône is only five kilometres away but the port there refuses to accommodate boats longer than fifteen metres. It is a pleasant city, well worth a visit, so we biked into town (twice) for lunch and a wander around. There are some excellent restaurants in Chalons but we prefer the quayside restaurant at Fragnes where we've had memorable meals and are welcomed each time by the young couple who own it. Dinner on Friday night was no exception. Last night we dined there again with Patrick and Gill, bargees from Scotland whom we met a year ago at the same place. Carpaccio beef — raw and extremely finely sliced. Delicious. We sat outdoors tanning our limbs and enjoying a balmy evening until the sun dropped over the horizon right on nine o'clock. If this is spring, what's summer going to be like?

Today we exited the Canal du Centre and as we did last year cruised gently up the Saône to Verdun sur le Doubs proudly flying our big Aussie flag from the mast in honour of the ANZACs. Our visit here coincides with a marvellous plants/flower market in the square. Sally has gone off to buy petunias, and who knows what else... Next I'll be mowing lawn.

Spring is in the Air

9th April, 2010 (Sally)

Spring in France is always a special time, made even more so this year for the folks who wintered-over in Roanne as it was such a long cold winter. We arrived back at our second home to a countryside that was showing all the signs of the change of seasons. The first green growth on trees, daffodils, blossom, beds of full-flowering pansies and of course the major sign of spring in our area, dazzling white calves of the Charolais cattle.

This trip back was the first time we had come non-stop, and I mean Brisbane, Singapore, Paris then a train from the airport to Lyon and another to Roanne. Long and tiring but so nice to recover in the comfort and warmth on board Sable. We arrived midday to find a basic shop had been done for us by one of our friendly neighbours and in just a short time Tony had all systems up and running. By 6.30 we were able to collapse into our own bed and try and get the body clocks readjusted to northern time. The rest of the week was restocking the fridge, pantry and, yes, you have guessed, the wine racks.

Also time to get into the market and sample some of the delights of french food. Seven different cheeses in the fridge, boxes of strawberries and small melons from Spain and the first white asparagus just coming into season. Cold enough still for soup, so we have had our french onion soup; leek, bacon and potato; and very adventurously, french garlic soup [take 30 cloves of garlic] Mmmmmm... perhaps we may not try that one again. Boeuf bourguignon; Coq au Vin; Porc noisettes with prunes: I think I am trying to emmulate Julie and Julia and work my way through my favourite cookbook, "The Food of France." However the chapters on bread and patés I never even open, not when the shops are bursting with the best of both.

This year promises to be the year of the visitor, with several already booked and for our first time we actually left port with visitors aboard. Tony's sister and husband, Eleanor and Jim, have been touring Scotland and England so spent four days with us before carrying on to a tour of Italy. The respite between busy sightseeing was welcome and also a chance for them to experience our way of life. Jim was amazed at the comfort of Sable, and they enjoyed the peaceful vistas of the countryside as we cruised down the Roanne canal. The green of the paddocks, or should I say fields, provides a very picturesque background for the herds of cream Charolais cattle with their small white calves. We are in Charolais country here so one sees no other animals but these herds newly released from their winter shelters. The other striking image is the very large muck-heaps of winter bedding that is being emptied from the same sheds with the resulting odour. Well as they say, "Where there is muck there is money" and it is certainly true in this case. As a retired butcher Jim was impressed with the quality of the cattle; (you can take the man out of the butcher shop, but you can't take the butcher out of the man.) It is all very familiar country to us, our seventh trip along that same canal but still it has new delights and surprises. When we left port last year there was some consternation that this canal and several others may close as they were uneconomic and expensive to maintain. The various officials from Roanne and surrounding areas plus the bargees in port met and formed a 'Friends of the Canal' committee. It has been very effective, or perhaps it was just a ruse but we now find the canal is being maintained and at least two rallies are planned to take place in Roanne later this season. A relief for us as Roanne has become our home port and a very safe and comfortable place to leave our lovely Sable for the winter.

We spent a night at Digoin with El and Jim and eventually Paray le Monial where we put them on a bus back to Paris for their flight to Rome. Paray, where we have stayed several times, is a significant pilgrimage site in France, with a magnificent basilica and cloister gardens. The normally quiet town is host today to several busloads of tourists, or should I say pilgrims as the tours are all centered around the church buildings and we notice some of the parties are composed solely of priests and young priests in training.

As it is Spring, and in Spring one plants a garden, I have been busy resurrecting the flower pots and shopping for garden-mix and seedlings. We now have two troughs of pansies brightening our deck plus parsley, chives, tarragon, thyme and sage just waiting for the cook. So nice to have fresh herbs on board. Some bargees get very enthusiastic and last year we saw tomatoes and even a hydroponic setup that was planted with lettuce and other greens. Can't see the Captain entertaining that idea somehow. The skies over France, although seeming clear enough, must be laden once again with dust blown high up into the atmosphere from the Sahara Desert, for after two overnight showers Sable bears a film of brown mud! Imagine what one's washing-on-the-line would be like — certainly not rinsed clean. Perhaps that explains why one rarely sees clothes hung out to dry, especially overnight. Tony is busy scrubbing Sable as I write; not his favourite pastime.