Milford Track

Milford Track, 2014

24th December, 2104 (Tony)

Seasons Greetings and very best wishes for a Happy New Year to all! We do not usually compile a newsletter at this time of year but I thought it poignant to chronicle our recent trip to NZ (if only for our own records). It was a memorable return to places and to see people that significantly touched our lives. Forty years ago seemed like yesterday. Thanks to Myra and El and Jim for their hospitality. And a special thanks to Robert Gesink who has compiled a superb album of photographs. These can be found on:http://robertgesink.zenfolio.com/p189510552  (Password: grandad). Milford Track is unquestionably one of the “Finest Walks in the World”. If you are fit and healthy and it’s not already on your ‘bucket list’ it should be. In this SW corner of the South Island, where it rains more than 300 days a year and averages 12m (365 inches) per year at Milford Sound, we enjoyed five consecutive days of glorious sunshine and warm summer weather, something virtually unprecedented.

DAY 1: We set off from Queenstown by bus, Friday 12th December, 2014. Group 42 (the 42nd group for the season) comprised 30 Australians; 6 Americans; 4 Japanese; 2 Singaporeans; 2 Germans; 2 Kiwis and 4 wonderful guides. A total of 50 trampers. Our ‘lot’ — there at my invitation to walk the Milford Track in celebration of my 70th birthday — numbered 22. Sadly, Sally, due to her knee reconstruction two years ago, wisely opted not to walk as did Suellen and Grandchildren No’s 3,4,5,6,7. After a lunch stop at Te Anau we boarded a boat at Te Anau Downs and cruised to the head of Lake Te Anau, marvelling at the beautiful scenery — snow-capped mountains, rich beech forest and placid Mediterranean-blue water. A short walk later we all arrived at Glade House, our overnight accommodation lodge where we were all welcomed by the friendly hostee and allocated our bunk rooms. The Pritchett clan raced to the banks of the Clinton River, so clear there is nowhere for the trout to hide but they’ve no fear of being caught. Plenty have tried but failed to land one. We gathered near the swing bridge for a team photo and then the guides assembled the entire mob for a group photo before leading everyone up the hill into the forest for a nature study walk. I suspect this was more a surveillance survey on their part to identify anyone who may not be fit enough to undertake the main trek. We rested at the top of the walk near a beautiful stream canyoning down the mountainside. It took little enticement for the teenagers to take the plunge into the icy water and before long parents too were bravely demonstrating how to recover one’s breath after a momentary immersion. At age 69.362 years I elected to risk a ‘natural’ heart attack rather than attempting to induce one and remained firmly anchored to a boulder, in the sunshine. Back to Glade House for a cleansing hot shower, a cooling ale or two and a delicious three-course dinner.

DAY 2: Glade House to Pompolona Lodge is an easy amble of about 16km along a sell-defined path — you could push your walking-frame up most of it — through ancient Beech forest, the trees dripping with lichen. Along the way picture-postcard vistas of the river lure you to the bank to gaze in awe into the deep pools. The water is unbelievably clear, 100% pure. A detour into the Wetlands area leads over a timber walkway above tiny delicate plants of myriad hues and textures fighting for their place in the earth and resembling a coral reef abandoned by the sea. We all took a spell at Clinton Hut, built since our first traverse in 1984, the first overnight stop for ‘freedom’ walkers, before continuing to Hirere Falls Lunch Hut for a hearty lunch and well-earned break. After this point the track opens up into direct sunlight. Once again the teenagers led the way into the swimming hole at Prairie Lake, soon followed by many adults. Stumbling over a massive rockfall I missed my footing, overbalanced and was pivoted backwards over my pack. Apart from my wounded pride I only suffered a graze and bruising to my arm and broken sunglasses. Lucky. We reached the quiet comfort of Pompolona Lodge by mid-afternoon and refreshed after hot showers and change of clothes looked on, bemused, as the youth generation discovered that prior to the invention of washing machines clothes were washed by hand and then squeezed through a mangle, rinsed and then mangled again. They eagerly jostled to have a turn at operating the mangle! And removed from access to internet and mobile phone networks they delightfully indulged in jig-saw puzzles, card games, magic tricks and charades.  A competitive lot our family. A mischievous bunch of Keas kept everyone entertained with their raucous antics on the verandah balustrade and roof. The bar took a windfall from drinks sales and after another delicious dinner (beef, chicken, or vegetarian) we retired, replete, to bed. At 12:30am I looked out to an ink-black sky studded with millions more stars than normal, yet all the familiar constellations remained clearly identifiable, brighter than I’d ever seen.

DAY 3: An early start; a big breakfast. The leaders were away by 7:30 striding up the rising track to Mintaro Hut (next stop for the independent walkers) past tranquil Lake Mintaro and the serious uphill climb began. Zigzagging up the steep incline one couldn’t help but notice the subtle yet significant changes in the flora — from dense beech forest to mountain bush to alpine heaths and scrub, then tussock. The beautiful Mt Cook Lily shone in full bloom clearly making its presence known. By 10:30am virtually the entire group was atop the Mackinnon Pass, 1,154m above sea level, basking in glorious sunshine and revelling in the spectacular views — south down the Clinton Canyon; north across the Arthur Valley and the mountains beyond; east and west to the close proximity of the snow-capped peaks either side of the divide. Photos, hundreds of photo opportunities, for days like this on top of the pass are rare. Again, the hardy few couldn’t resist a dip in the barely-thawed mountain tarn. Respect, not to mention admiration, was paid to Quintin Mackinnon at his memorial cairn. Lunch was taken among the tussocks outside the shelter hut. Boys will be boys and as soon as they had scoffed their lunch the teens set off to climb up to a permanent snow drift in the shade of Mt Balloon soaring a further 700m above them. They achieved their goal, barely visible to us below, dismayed to find that a snowball fight was out of the question — it was frozen solid! And so to the descent… straightforward enough for the first kilometre or so but the deviation down the emergency track (obligatory due to avalanche risk on the main track) was a nightmare. Big drops down big boulders, down hazardous inclines was hell on knees. Someone, not one of ours, turned an ankle. Willem our lead guide, 19yrs old, bound his ankle and took his pack. I will be forever grateful that I took the guides’ advice and hired a pair of poles, something I have never felt the need of before. As it was I suffered but without them I may not have made it to the end. A series of timber staircases and walkways has been built alongside Roaring Burn. Looking down over this cascading stream and into the crystal clear deep pools was too much of a temptation for anyone who thinks water is for bathing, regardless of temperature. There was much gasping and clutching of body parts and swift exit by those who dove in. No one said they didn’t enjoy it but they wouldn’t admit to being idiots either so who knows where the truth lies. The luxury of Quintin Lodge was reached with great relief. Most of the party discarded their packs and headed up the track to view the Sutherland Falls, fifth highest in the world at 580m. A triple leap, the fall would be highest were it a single drop. In the Lodge’s lounge the air conditioning couldn’t counter the ferocity of the sun’s rays until it eventually slid behind a mountain top about 6:30pm, still 4 hours before sunset. Some fine NZ wines and a superb pepper-steak wrapped up a magnificent day’s exercise.

DAY 4: A belly-filling breakfast, too much for someone I won’t name, overcame any thoughts about the daunting walk ahead — 21 km on wobbly knees. Guide Willem did a fine job taping up my right knee and I steadfastly set off with everyone else at 7:30am. Although it is the longest day’s walk on the Track the gradient is gentle and the track well formed. Rainfall is prolific this side of the divide and there is more diversity to the flora with ferns and mosses in abundance. We spotted huge trout and eels in the river and the path winds around a cliff overlooking pretty Lake Ada. Morning tea at Boatshed and lunch beside the river at Giants Gate Falls afforded ample rest times. The foolhardy still couldn’t recall how cold the water was (it must numb the brain) and were leaping into the river in gay abandon. Judging by the look on their faces they would have leapt out again just as quick but the boulders from which they leapt were not amenable to such aerial acrobatics. The final trudge to Sandfly Point left one feeling both triumphant but also a little sad that the end was nigh. We all clambered aboard “Anita Bay” to be ferried across Milford Sound, cameras readied. And it didn’t disappoint: Mitre Peak loomed high in all its glory while astern, a dolphin frolicked in the wake of the boat. Our accommodation in Milford Lodge was luxurious and following more excellent NZ wines and dinner (French Lamb roast; or grilled cod) we gathered in the Lounge to receive our Certificates of Achievement and thank our beguiling guides. More, much more, NZ wine induced a night’s deep sleep.

DAY 5: The dawn of another perfect day revealed Mitre Peak perfectly mirrored in the quiet waters of Milford Sound with a blue sky devoid of any cloud. A one and a half hour cruise on Milford Sound took us out to the entrance almost into the Tasman Sea, past stunning mountain scenes, waterfalls and seal colonies. All too soon we were on the bus, back to Queenstown through Homer Tunnel and more spectacular Fiordland landscapes. We reunited with friends and loved ones who had sojourned in Queenstown while we tramped the Track and at 7:30pm sat down to a sumptuous banquet at “Botswana Butchery” a highly recommended restaurant on the lakefront. It matters little that we were there for my 70th birthday. The fact that everyone had enjoyed such a fabulous time together; and stood up and said so made me feel very proud and happy indeed. Thank you, all twenty-nine of you! I hope you all go back and do it again… perhaps 2024?

Almost Home

11 August, 2014 (Sally)

We left Champagne three weeks ago, slowly and reluctantly. It certainly is a part of France that we have become familiar with and one that we have no trouble coming back to. After a couple of weeks of unsettled weather when the family was with us the sun came out and we stopped and enjoyed an extra day or so at the little village of Damery. Vineyards on either side and a selection of champagne houses in the village that would take a week or two to visit. We managed two on a Sunday stroll, with only a back pack and on foot we are no match for the serious buyers and sure enough at our second tasting we met the same Belgian family that were here last time, very smart cars with copious boots to fill, we left them settling in for the extended tasting and buying session. We added our couple of bottles to the backpack.

At Dolmans we visited again the French Memorial to the Great War, this is one of three national memorials in France and as always a sobering remembrance of the cost in young lives wasted and the huge material cost to the country. Next stop Chateau Thierry, always a pleasant stop and our last chance for a champagne tasting. Tony was having a hair cut and the lady hairdresser insisted he must visit her brother who had a vineyard in the nearby village and was one of only forty fully-organic producers of champagne. Well why not, so off we went for a lovely ride through hills and amused her brother when we arrived on our two little motors. What is interesting is the size or lack thereof of some of the properties. This particular one was only 4.5 ha yet he managed a very comfortable living from that; and one in Dormans was even smaller at 3ha, a far cry from the large Moets and Bollingers that seem to own or buy up huge areas of grapes.

At Charly we had a funny experience with some fishermen. Negotiating past their long rods and lines is one of the hazards of the waterways and sure enough when we arrived at this little mooring a group of lads had taken over most of the quay with tents, campfires etc. Next morning we saw a huge commercial barge approaching and next minute it had swept all their rods in front of him. Shouts and quite a few words we haven't heard before issued forth but next thing the commercial had stopped, backed up and lines were rescued. All seemed sweet as the barge then rafted off us, using the bollards on Sable to secure himself. I went off for bread and Tony explained to the bargee that we would be leaving in 30 mins so he could move into our space. At which he said he was here to stay and didn't care what we wanted to do, then the boys got involved and more heated words were exchanged but everyone calmed down and it was all resolved by the time I returned. Our language skills and vocabulary do get a workout at times like these.

Our last stop on the Marne was at the delightful village of Lagny. This is our third time there and every time the water and electricity is not working so the mooring is free. One wonders if it has ever worked. All too soon we left the peaceful stretches of the Marne into the more commercial area and were soon on the outskirts of Paris. Through the junction of the Marne and Seine and under the first bridges on our way into the city. The river is the main transport route of gravel, sand and all building materials into Paris so you find yourself competing with enormous barges carrying huge amounts of material. However as long as you give them right of way, and who wouldn't, it all works fine. We moored in the port of Arsenal, under the Bastille monument and set off to enjoy a few days in Paris. First stop the Cluny Musée where the one thing I wanted to see, "The Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries is now exhibited in its new rooms. They lived up to and surpassed all expectations, six wonderful tapestries is such detail and colours so fresh and clear. From there it was a short walk to a cafe on the left bank and time for a refreshing drink. We settled down opposite one of the fresh seafood stands with its wonderful display of oysters, prawns and crabs, all on beds of ice. I watched several people stop to take photos and after half an hour decided an entree of oysters and champagne on the deck of Sable would be nice start to our evening in Paris. The order was taken, then the decision over which oysters, I chose Normandy. Ouvert? Of course. A large polystyrene hub cap, filled with ice, 6 oysters nestled amomg same, 4 large quartered lemons the whole wrapped in a huge plastic bag and tied with two contrasting monogrammed ribbons. I now had a parcel weighing a couple of kilos to manhandle home on the Metro! Hilarious, expensive, but enjoyable and where else but Paris would your fishmonger have monogrammed ribbon.

It was the first day of French holiday madness so Paris was full of school groups, family outings and very hot and bothered looking tourists. We avoided all the usual sights and took the metro to the Bois de Boulogne, hired Paris bikes and cycled through acres of unspoilt woodland. In the process we got ourselves totally lost and came out the opposite side where we were only one stop from the end of the metro line. We did see a couple of people walking and some with their dogs but it was almost impossible to believe we were in the middle of such a busy city. We then took the metro back to the left bank, hired bikes again and cycled right through the busiest parts to get back home. Such a contrast. The next day we walked again and chose another less popular one. From the port one follows the old railway viaduct where a selection of very eclectric artisan shops have taken space inside the brick arches. We peered through the windows at high fashion, lovely glass work, iron work and some fascinating timber furniture. It seemed that no one wanted walk-in customers. I would think their work was for very high end interior decorators but wonderful to see. The walk back was on top of the 600m viaduct which is now a lovely garden with lots of seats to sit and enjoy the flowers and the views. So many special places in Paris to be discovered.

From Paris we turned up the Seine and once again shared the water with the commercial barges. So many and so huge. As we went into one lock we were told to move forward as 4 more barges were coming in and sure enough we suddenly were dwarfed by this enourmous amount of shipping. Its such a bonus for Paris to have all that heavy material coming into the city by barge. It would be impossible to do it by truck. Three days on the Seine and we turned into the much more peaceful Canal de Loing which rises up from the Seine valley and down into the Loire. This is a delightful piece of canal, we are moving quite quickly but have already decided we will come back this way next year so have made several notes of things to do then. At Montargis, we stopped to collect our last vistors of the year. Lorraine and her friend Shirley-Ann were with us in Holland for a few days a couple of years ago and joined us again after travelling around for 3 months. This was their time to relax and unwind before the long trip home but as they had a car and we were so close to the Loire Valley we did take a day trip to one of the most famous chateaux, Chambord, the hunting lodge of Francois 1. I had last seen it in 1991 when it was being restored and you could only visit the outside, what a difference today. You can visit the inside, watch an equestrian display, eat at a dozen restaurants, hire a bike, boat or pedicab to get around the grounds and buy souvenirs from the gift shop or a number of other retail outlets. What a change to see such commercial enterprise and they were doing very well with it. From there we went to the pretty little town of Blois where the heavens opened. It was lunch time so we found a restaurant and changed our plans to venture further afield.

The two must-see sights on this canal are the historic seven ecluses, built in 1490's, that are now preserved beside the more modern ones; and of course the Briare aquaduct that spans the river Loire. We managed to take them to both of those before putting them on a train back to Montargis where they left their car. Now we are on the last leg back to home base. It will take us two weeks to do that then its clean-up time before the packing and winterising and that long flight home.

Champagne & Cyclists

21 July, 2014 (Tony)

Our plans to enter Nancy via the vastly shorter embranchment from Richardménil were thwarted by an over-officious VNF éclusier who declared there was not enough water in the canal. We took him at his word and made the instant decision to take the long way around, down the Moselle and through Toul. Two full days instead of half a day. We later learned that two other skippers, one of whom was a personal friend of the chief of the VNF had the shortcut opened for them immediately after he phoned his friend. After our lovely sojourn in Nancy we returned down the embranchment and there was no sign of lack of water; in fact it was overflowing. C'est la vie! We have visited Nancy several times before, but not in a boat which provides a whole new aspect to the city. It is much larger and more attractive than we had previously imagined. First task after mooring up in the marina in the heart of town was to take Sally's motorbike up to the Honda dealer in Laxou in the hope of obtaining a new muffler. The local clown at Roanne had welded a crack in the muffler and his ineffective handiwork lasted barely a week. The motorbike now sounded like a dirt-bike at a motorcross rally. Alas, M. Honda searched the internet and there was not a muffler anywhere in France for an old bike such as ours. Oh well I was in Laxou (later to feature in the Tour de France as the riders screamed down into Nancy for the finish of Stage 7) a suburb high above the city with spectacular views over Lorraine countryside. I became so hopelessly lost it took me almost an hour to find my way, with help from strangers, back to the boat. Gray, Suellen, Elsie and Joey arrived next morning. One afternoon Gray observed a man welding on a boat permanently moored in the port. With a 20€ note and cheerful gesticulations he elicited the help of the owner and the boilermaker magically produced a MIG welder and in no time carried out as fine a repair as one has ever seen on the old muffler. Sally can now ride her quiet 50cc Honda without drawing any more attention than the normal astonished gasps on seeing a seventy year old granny on a motorbike.

We spent four days in Nancy. There is plenty to do and see in this lovely city. We ventured into Stanislas Square a number of times. The light show screened onto the buildings around three sides of the square at 10:45 pm (it doesn't get dark until then) was stunning. We were also impressed with their new tram system — 1.20€ adult fare; and much cheaper buying multi-tickets. There is only one steel track, in the centre, to guide the tram, normal rubber tyres are fitted to the wheels. When I think about the scale of work, not to mention the amount of concrete that was used to construct the Gold Coast's light rail system... how much expense could have been saved! Unfortunately the weather changed the moment our family arrived. It had been scorching hot through most of June but during their time with us there were showers almost every day. No one was deterred by a little damp weather but with World Cup soccer, Wimbledon, and Tour de France to watch on TV a fair amount of time was wittled away indoors in front of the box. It wasn't all Tv a sthe cards came out, Mexican train and more than a few games of scrabble on the Ipad, plus of course Elsie had bought her supply of reading material. her shoulder bag weighed in at 5.8kgs and then she discovered my kindle which has been read into the ground. Nonetheless we still enjoyed many drinks and delicious meals outside on the grass under shady trees. Our sympathies lie with the farmers who were quarter-way into harvesting their wheat and barley. Weeks later many crops have been flattened by rain and a lot are black with mildew.

We moved on to Toul where we had a great berth on the quay. Everyone enjoyed exploring this old city with its still-intact ramparts and fortifications. One day all, except me, took a train to Metz, another fascinating city rich in history and always worth visiting. We set off from Toul with the aim of reaching Chalons en Champagne to watch the Tour de France race through the town on their way from Epernay to Nancy on 11 July. It meant fairly full days cruising with lots of locks each day. Most of the time a couple of bikes were deployed to ease the boredom, or tension. The overnight stops in Bar le Duc and Vitry le Francois demanded more than a cursory look and we all had a wander around the towns to catch up on some shopping and to find spare parts for the bikes. Gray was kept busy throughout his stay mending punctures, replacing gears, adjusting brakes; and raising and lowering seats. And when not fixing bikes he busied himself with repairs and maintenance on Sable. We arrived in Chalons in time to arrange a night out at a beautiful restaurant to celebrate Sally's 70th birthday. We rafted alongside Kismet and got to meet a new couple, Brett and Ann. Brett has a fascinating job with World Food Program and regaled us with some interesting stories and conundrums faced by the UN. We shared a bottle of champagne with them on their beautiful old Tchalk before we went out for the evening. It poured with rain, but hey, champagne tastes great in any weather.

We all caught a train to Reims on the 10th to watch the finish of Stage 6 of the Tour. It was really just an excuse to revisit the place — we can't resist it. We found a good place to see the riders come round the last bend 1km from the finish. Elsie and Joey scored lots of goodies from the Caravanne as they passed. Without the Caravanne it wouldn't be worth waiting for the few fleeting seconds it takes for the riders to speed by but the ambience of being 'live' at such a momentous global event is something special. Next day we stood again at the side of the road in Chalons to see them race past. An even better haul of goodies as Joey waved our large Aussie flag and they responded with extra generosity. With the Tour 2014 over we set off into the gorgeous Champagne district with stops at Condé sur Marne, Mareuil sur Ay and Epernay. Excursions by bikes and motorbikes to Bouzy, Tours sur Marne, Ay, Haute Villers and Mutigny ensured stocks of bubbly were replenished and understandably lots of tastings were required prior to confirming purchases. We couldn't cruise past Vraux without taking the family to visit the Musée de l'Aviation 1939-45. This amazing museum to WWII aviation history is housed in a converted barn in the middle of a tiny village. The curators and collectors are a bunch of voluntary enthusiasts who spend their weekends cleaning and restoring wreckage and remnants of war planes found, and still being found, in the French countryside. Among the memorabilia is a display about a Lancaster bomber which crashed near Chalons, 17 December, 1944 — the day after I was born. Navigator on that fateful flight — all the crew survived and were repatriated — was our dear Rotarian friend Keith Robson. We wish you well, Keith.

At Epernay we bade farewell to Gray, Suellen and kids as they left to spend several days in Paris. The temperature immediately soared to +40C and we roasted, too hot to do anything except loll in the shade. We crept down to Damery to sample more champagne at caves within the village but ventures further afield were deemed out of the question. The harvesters are out again and huge loads of wheat are trundling past us into the silos and a few heavily laden commercial barges are also on the move. All is well; there will be bread in France. We are now on our way to Chateau Thierry and it is cooler so hopefully we'll get up into the hills before we leave Champagne.

Summertime & the Going is Easy

23 June, 2014 (Sally)

It has been a very leisurely three weeks as we retraced our voyage of five years ago, stopping more often and for longer periods as the weather has been superb and there has been no reason to move more quickly. The upper reaches of the Saône and then the Petite Saône are truly beautiful cruising waters, wooded banks on either side with magnificent stands of timber and a constant chorus of bird song. Why would one hurry? A few hire boat companies have bases along this stretch so we did at the beginning share the waterways with some but in all the time we only saw one commercial barge, loaded down with 150 tonnes of electrical machinery, making its ponderous way to Nancy.

The bikes have been in use. We did a couple of trips to different attractions, with varying degrees of success. The Roman baths and mosaics, a 7 km ride up and down a few hills, were closed for another religious holiday, and a similar ride to the famous glass works left us both underimpressed. However during this later ride we did see the first signs that the country was preparing for the Tour de France; posters advertising what day it is coming through and a few displays in the actual villages; old bikes painted red, white and blue surrounded by nice floral garden beds. We saw on the BBC last night the elaborate preparations in Yorkshire where it will start this year. Some interesting art work in the fields, and lovely dried willow figures on old bikes. All looked very interesting and enthusiastic. We will certainly follow it again this year, may get to Epernay for the start of the stage to Nancy on 11th July, if not will find a corner somewhere on the route where we can experience the flash of colour. After those exertions we thought it time to revert to the motor bikes so set off for a longer ride to discover the source of the Saône. Yes we found it, a dry stone culvert, suitably decorated with some ancient inscriptions but nary a drop to be seen. Hard to believe it becomes such a large river in only a short distance from there. However we were pleased to find at the site a genuine menhir, straight from the books of Asterix and Obelix.

At Corre the waterway becomes the Canal de Vosges, once a busy industrial waterway with so many reminders of its rich past. The abundance of natural materials, wood, water, iron and sand provided work for hundreds many years ago, one can see the forgotten factories and mills in every village. Sadly most of the industry has gone and the villages are dying too, vacant shops and houses for sale in every village. Goodness knows what chance they have of selling them. Now its mainstay is tourism as the thermal springs at Bain les Bains and natural beauty bring people in from all over. We passed the tin factory which once accounted for two thirds of France's tin production, a museum to starch (the potato crops were processed into starch). Think of all those ruffles and cuffs and in Fontenoy le Chateau now with a population of barely 600 there was a thriving embroidery business employing over 500 women and serving the Royal courts of France, Europe and even the Middle East. The glass factory we visited is the last survivor of many. It now concentrates on restaurant wares and glass bricks and tiles for building but we did watch the few glass blowers they still employ. The store had a selection of glass for sale, all very ornate and Art Nouveau. Certainly not to our tast but you had to admire the skill of the production. The 3km branch canal to Epinal has been closed due to lack of water and it is impossible to get into Epinal by boat. However, we couldn't be so close and not visit this lovely city so we biked in to re-acquaint ourselves with its attractive centre.

In one particularly secluded spot, we were enjoying a quiet breakfast when we heard the blast from a hot air balloon. We raced outside and watched in awe as dozens appeared and floated overhead. They came so close to the tree tops that it seemed they could hardly miss but all managed safely, waving at us as they passed on their way to a drop zone that must have been not too far away. We see balloons quite often on our travels, a wondrous way to see the countryside. We paused for a couple of nights in the top pound having climbed 46 locks, waiting for my sister, Erin to join us for couple of nights. Once again we are at the mercy of the French railways, another strike and she is in Paris and not sure if she can find a train. Yes finally there is a TGV to Nancy then a bus. What a drama, not the best introduction to our peaceful life. However all on board and we make the quick descent, 14 locks in a chain and into the Moselle. At the little village of Nomexy we walked across the Moselle to the village of Chatel sur Moselle where they have an ancient fortress, one of the largest in Europe, that is being excavated and restored. It was a forgotten site but restoration work started 40 years ago and now one can see the enormous extent of the buildings. Groups of volunteers work here and over the years have removed over 135,500 tonnes of rubble. You would wonder how a fortess as large as this could disappear. It is over a mile around the outside walls and once boasted 34 high towers. History shows that in 1670 Lous XIV ordered it destroyed and for two months a series of explosions reduced the towers and walls to rubble. The inhabitants were then forced to transport thousands of cartloads of soil to cover the remains. This is what has been dug out over the last 40 years disclosing rooms, glass windows, wells, stairs and even a wine press in their original condition. We were content to look from the outside but were captured by a very old gentleman immaculately dressed in a suit and tie who insisted on giving us a long dissertation, of which we understood a fraction, then he introduced us to his equally ancient wife who was delighted to give us the whole tour (in excellent English). Three levels up and down steep stone stairs, I'm sure she is due for serious hip replacements, but she was determined we would see it all. We suspect the old couple are genuine archaeologists who have been involved at the site for forty years. She was far too enthusiastic to be merely a guide. It always amazes us what one can find in such out of the way places.

We have just left the charming village of Charmes after laying up there for four nights. Always on the summer solstice, Saturday night was the Fête de Musique. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it all happened in the renovated village lavoir next to the port. From 6.00pm on we were entertained by the various talent acts of the village. It is not a large village and the talent pool is rather shallow. Rap is obviously the one that requires the least musical ability so we had more than enough of that. And last night we were obliged to endure a rendition, which judging by its lack of tune, was from the local school band. What they lacked in musical ability they made up for in enthusiasm. The long hot weather has turned the wheat feilds to gold and caused some shortages in the water levels of the canals. A stretch between two locks was almost bare yesterday so no boats went through. Presumably a lock-keeper must have left a gate open overnight. This morning we joined a queue of 9 boats all waiting for the lock to open and are now moored canalside in the middle of nowhere. Others can jostle for position at the locks. We will do what we do best. i.e. relax and enjoy the countryside.

Return to Bourgogne

12th May, 2014 (Sally)

Another term in France, and a totally different start to our season with evidence of an early Spring, some flowers past their peak, trees in full spring growth and the charolais cattle out of their winter sheds and grazing with their calves in the paddocks. We were only in port a couple of days, time enough to discard the winter coverings, stock the pantry and say Hello Goodbye to the few hardy folks who had wintered over. It seems they had an easy winter, lots of festivities, plenty of socialising and no snow or ice. Not good enough to tempt us to winter over, we like our sunshine and surf too much to stay. As always the first supermarket shopping expidition left us astounded. A trolley full of groceries, plus a back pack and two large bags to carry and the bill was only 129€. We staggered back to Sable trying to think how much that would cost at our local store. Especially the cheese. I bought four pieces of French cheese for less than 7€. Mind you the pleasure of the cost of living was slightly diminished on finding Tony's bike had been stolen from outside the shop while we were inside. A generous donation to someone less well off? Not sure about that, but he is back to the old green supermarket special until we find a good bike shop to buy the replacement.

We travelled quite quickly down our lovely Canal de Roanne. Is it thirteen times we have done that journey? Stopping only for me to do the usual quick trip into the outlet store at Emile Henri, in Marcigny. Definitely can not go past that stop — wonderful cookware at a fraction of the cost one pays at home. Well one doesn't buy it at home but a considerable amount has made it back in our suitcases. Next stop Paray le Monial, Tony was on a mission to go to a great shoe shop there. Yes he bought his shoes, even if the array to choose from was almost overwhelming. Could have bought more but when someone lives in boatshoes in one season and sandals the other there is not a lot of need for good shoes. Last time he bought a pair of shoes was 2007, in France.

Next day we bypassed our usual stop at Genelard and made it to , as we needed to be close to the TGV station to collect our first visitors for the year. May 1st is a public holiday, everything is closed, plenty of people on the street selling small bouquets of Lily of the Valley, a tradition on this day, and a chance for the locals to come out with a Vide Grenier which loosely translated means "empty your attic" and seriously one has never seen such a collection of unwanted rubbish. This was no exception, childrens clothes, toys, books, old videos, china and then a whole table of brass band instruments. Always good for a look. The following day, after lunch, we moored above the flight of seven locks at Montchanin and walked and biked to the local TGV station to meet good friends Barb and Peter Overell. They had come off a cruise at Venice, flown to Lyon then caught the train to join us. As the TGV station is in the middle of rural France with no other habitation in sight I think they were relieved to see our welcoming faces when they alighted.

What a delightful few days we had with them exploring one of our favourite stretches of the Canal du Centre. At Santenay we sampled our first Burgundy wines at the local Chateau and then stopped at Chagny only a few kilometres on for the local Sunday market. Quite an experience, stalls and people everywhere with an array of mouthwatering fresh fruit and vegetables plus meat, fish, bread etc. I had mentioned that we had once met an interesting couple of Dutch ladies at a similar market selling good Dutch cheese and how much we would like to see them again when lo, within 100 metres we came across their van. Well what a hoot. I don't know if they recognized us, but they claimed to and we suddenly had an impromtu concert going as everytime we said something in English one, sometimes both, burst into an appropriate song. We love your cheese, brought forth "All you need is Love". Please stop I said we only want cheese...."Stop in the name of Love". Have you got "Old Amsterdam" cheese roused a rendition of "Tulips in Amsterdam".... And so it went. Of course the more we laughed the more they sang, as they explained all the songs they hear are in English so when they hear English spoken they relate to songs. We had a ball, they loved the attention and as we left the crowd was waiting for more so sure it was good for business. Chagny is home to one of the best restaurants in France, Maison Lameloise. We always pause to peruse the menu and the prices displayed outside. It boasts three Michelin stars and the menu prices are to match. However just around the corner is the bistro of the same family and we chose to dine there that night. A very memorable meal, we shared two entrées between the four of us to leave room for dessert. Tony's chocolate lava cake which oozed molten chocolate was not to be missed. We staggered back to the boat replete.

On a Monday we took the train to Beaune, a lovely town to wander the streets and included a visit to the world famous old Hospital, built to cater for the poor in 1435 followed by a lighter lunch at a sidewalk cafe. From Chagny the canal turns south east, away from Burgundy vines and through fertile fields of wheat and golden rape.Everything grows so well, I'm sure french farmers do not know what a drought or bad season is. It's a gentle stretch down to the Saône with our last stop at the gorgeous little port of Fragnes. Once again a delightful stop and of course a nice restaurant for our last meal with our friends. We were joined for drinks beforehand by Pat and Jill, a Scots couple whom we met here some years ago and as they had a car they offered to take the visitors into Chalons the next morning to catch their train on the next leg of the journey. We relaxed, caught up with washing and ate very sparingly.

Now we are at St Jean de Losne, a prominent inland port of the waterways where the Burgundy canal meets the Saône. It is where most boats come to be serviced, there are several boatyards and chandlers here as well as various dry docks and slipways. Big boys heaven but not of great interest to ladies. Sable was dragged up the slipway this morning for an underneath scrub and paint and Sable's ten-year survey. It was scheduled for last year but with the closure of canals we missed our spot. This year we have made certain by being here a day early. Not the most aesthetic place to spend a week but we're high above the river with a commanding aspect over the boats moving up and down the Saône. Already half the bottom and port side have been water blasted clean. Amazing the growth of tiny shellfish clinging to the steel hull. It will be nice to have a fresh black finish again. Matt and Brooke arrive in about a week's time. It will be handy having a motorbike enthusiast aboard to get ours cranked up and going again.