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.