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.