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.