HEADING HOME

26TH September, 2015 (Tony)

France’s exceptionally hot summer ended on 31st August. We moored at a small timber quay at the tiny but very pretty village of Riaucourt where a shady shelter attached to an ancient pigeon loft, preserved for its uniqueness, provided picnic tables — a perfect setting for an evening barbecue. It was one of those beautiful evenings that will linger in our memories for years to come, temperature well into the 30’s. Next morning we were awakened by the heaviest rain we’ve ever encountered in France. The rain eased by about 10:30 am and we set off for Chaumont and although we have had many fine sunny days since, the temperature hasn’t risen above 25C. And now, with the equinox behind us there is a decided autumnal nip in the early morning air. Chaumont and Langres, a couple of days further up the Canal entre Champagne et Bourgogne are among our favourite towns to visit. Both occupy prominent hilltop positions with heavily fortified ramparts that are a joy to walk around and take in the panoramas over the countryside. They are both neat with many restored historic landmarks. Walking up to Chaumont isn’t so bad, but Langres always makes us sigh with gratitude that we have motorbikes to relieve the 3km plod up the steep road. The port at Langres is only two locks shy of the top pound and 4.8km tunnel at the summit of the canal, one of the highest elevations of all French waterways. The small village of Balesmes is nestled in a little valley directly above the tunnel. At the head of this valley the Marne springs from the limestone layers under the hill above and commences its long meander down through Champagne to the Seine just before Paris. We set off on Father’s Day morning on our motorbikes to find the source of the Marne. A clearly marked path leads through the forest from the carpark to a small crystal clear stream emanating from under an iron gate set in a concrete bunker that looks like a tomb or shrine. In fact it probably was a reconstructed shrine as the Romans were known to have worshiped at the source of most venerated rivers. Nearby is a cave where Sabinus, a grandson of Julius Caesar, hid for several years after leading a failed revolt against the local Roman authorities before being captured and taken back to Rome to suffer a grisly execution. We then headed back into Langres to enjoy a sumptuous lunch at a superb restaurant that would rate among the best we have experienced. We decided some time ago that we would rather eat out occasionally and well than suffer repasts that one could cook equally as well, or better, at home.

We stopped twice between Chaumont and Langres. First at Foulain which is completely insignificant except it is the closest port to Nogent. Last time we biked the 7km to this town, world renowned for its forges that have produced knives, scissors and surgical tools for several hundred years. The final 1.5km up the hill to the town nearly finished us so this time we took the motorbikes. We dropped into the Coutellerie Musée expecting to spend half-an-hour looking at a few ordinary objects but were totally blown away by the superb exhibition of hand-crafted pieces on display, such as a tiny pair of embroidery scissors with delicately carved ivory handles which took more than a month to make for Marie Antoinette. Even more fascinating was a film showing a craftsman belting away at a couple of lumps of red hot steel on a forge and magically producing a top-of-the-range pair of tailor’s scissors. Another film followed the production, by hand, of a bone-handled pocket knife complete with two blades and its range of accessory tools. Only a few craftsmen remain these days making such things in their home workshops. The whole industry of hand production is in limbo as it is nigh impossible to meet WPH&S standards. Even viewing the film, watching the cutting and sharpening of tools, fingers only millimetres away from saw blades and grindstones caused us to shudder. Nowadays the factories churn out titanium knee and hip joints and super special surgical tools and specialized items. Judging by the number of cars in the carparks a considerable number of workers are employed. Then, at a tiny place called Rolampont, we went for a bike ride (push bikes) and discovered another fascinating geological marvel — the source of the Tufière. Hidden deep in a forest is an amazing cascade of fossilized limestone outcrops covered in a unique moss (Tufa) that has trapped ponds of blue-coloured water. The moss takes in carbon gas emitted from decomposing Calcium Bi-carbonate in the ponds by way of photosynthesis, leaving calcium to precipitate in the moss and over thousands of years this forms the terraces and ponds. The overall effect is colourful and very pretty. We haven’t seen or known anything like this before. Authorities have taken care to carefully protect the site whilst providing defined pathways and viewing platforms for the public. The source of the stream that feeds the ponds is an artesian spring only a hundred metres or so further up the hill but the volume of water is far greater than the source of the Marne into which it flows after a journey of barely more than a kilometre. So we have now visited the sources of the Seine; the Saône; the Yonne; the Marne; and the Tufière.

From the tunnel down to the Saône is nowhere near as interesting as the ascent from Vitry le Francois to Langres, with few villages or stopping places, so we put in several long days in order to get to Auxonne to meet Russell and Katrina who had been on a hire boat in the south-west (Charentes) and were keen to look at boats for sale. We had planned to meet them at St Jean de Losne where a special weekend parade of boats on the market was taking place but we suggested they join us a day early and cruise with us on Sable down to St Jean de Losne. H2O had more than 50 boats of all types and sizes on display, all scrubbed and polished and there may have been several that drew their attention. It was a beautiful day and as we lunched on the top deck we were delighted to catch up with Roger and Ruth (Romany) and Dave and Carol (Inevitable), boating friends we hadn’t seen for several years. Russell and Katrina kindly took us out to dinner and we bade them farewell as they were due to catch an early morning train to Paris before heading home to Cairns. We returned to Sable to find an 80m River Cruise ship towering over her stern. Because of all the frenzy in port we decided to leave St Jean de Losne early next morning. We set off in glorious sunshine but by lunch time it was teeming. We were off the Saône and into the Canal du Centre by 4:40pm. The quay at Fragnes was fully taken up by hire boats and others but our favourite spot under the giant weeping willow in front of the school was vacant; only thing was they are still working on upgrading the embankment (after 2 years) so we had to hammer spikes into the grass bank —  easy after all the rain. Less than an hour later a much bigger pleasure craft than ours steamed past on full throttle and tore out all our spikes; ripped out the electrical cable and cast Sable adrift. Luckily we saw it was going to happen and I leaped ashore just in time to grab one of the ropes and very loudly hurled some aussie expletives at the offenders who couldn’t understand my outrage. Fortunately, this time school was closed so my verbage was not picked up by any French pupils, unlike the incident involving a bath mat lost overboard at the same spot a couple of years ago. We waited for a couple of days at Fragnes to welcome aboard Deb and Mark, then set off for Chagny.  We all took the train to Dijon to enjoy a sunny day wandering the city. Deb went on a shoe-shopping spree; we revisited the Musee des Beaux Arts to marvel at the fine ivory carvings around the tombs of the Ducs de Bourgogne and magnificent old paintings. Dijon is under constant renovation and looks better every time we go there. A wonderful city always abuzz with activity due the large student population. We returned to Chagny to sample a bottle of champagne before going out to dine at Pierre & Jean’s excellent restaurant which never disappoints.

It is impossible to pass by Santenay without making a bike ride into the Burgundy vineyards. This year’s harvest was virtually over, only the vines in the lowest clos still being picked. They are predicting a top vintage, the very hot summer restricting the juice in the grapes but intensifying the flavour. It is difficult to know and comprehend Burgundy wines unless one has deep pockets but we learn a little more every year and are becoming better at identifying good pinot-noir and particularly chardonnay at reasonable prices. Mark and Deb’s research is always invaluable too. We took care to moor Sable at St Léger sur Dheune at a spot guaranteed to get satellite TV signal to watch the opening game of the Rugby World Cup. A pre-dinner glass of champagne on a picnic table in the shade of trees just beginning to show a tinge of autumn colour set the tone before we adjourned indoors to watch the match. Next day we cruised to St Julien a very pretty port where, the following morning in a blanket of fog, we bade farewell to Mark and Deb. Up and through the final chain of eight locks to Montchanin at the summit of Canal du Centre. We biked around the lake that acts as a reservoir for the canal, the cause of early closure for last three years — no concerns this year after all the recent rain — and up into the nearby hills. This ride and a motorbike trip from Genelard into the countryside confirmed our view that this region affords some of the prettiest rural scenery in France; rolling dales of lush green pasture, neatly trimmed hedgerows, groves of tall trees, tiny hamlets, contented cattle.

What a pleasure it was to receive an overnight visit from our 1995 Rotary exchange student, Delphine and sons Florent, 5, and Julien, 3. They cruised with us from Genelard down to Paray le Monial, the boys excited to play the role of ship’s captain. Sadly, Francois was obliged to remain at their home in the Rhone-Alpes near Grenoble to oversee renovations that have dragged on long past the promised completion date. It was delightful to be reunited, albeit too briefly, and to catch up on her achievements. A final week of cruising and we should be back in Roanne. What a fabulous summer.

CHAMPAGNE TO BOURGONE

30th August, 2105 (Sally)

We felt sad in a way, leaving the Somme — it was such a pretty river with its region so steeped in bloody history of WW1.  But with September on its way we are definitely heading for home. The very first colour in the Virginia Creeper is the herald of coming Autumn and the sign for us to start thinking of beach walks, summer barbeques and lots of family and friendship catch-ups. We have enjoyed our visitors in the last month, sister Myra joined us at Pont L’Eveque, a little port at the junction of the Canal du Nord and the Canal L’Aisne à L’Oise and within walking distance of the train station at Noyon. We walked in to meet her expecting to catch a taxi home with her luggage. Typical French, the FOUR taxi’s we called were all unavailable. Sunday lunch or annual holiday — who would know? Not to worry, it’s a reasonable walk, Tony set off at his usual pace, with the suitcase, we two followed at more leisurely pace. From Anizy-Pinon we caught a train to the hill top town of Laon with its intact fortified walls and impressive cathedral, one of the earliest built in France. We made a two day deviation down the Aisne to Soissons where Myra left us. We were taken with Soissons in 2011 but this visit presented depressing evidence of France’s declining economy. Many shops were closed, few seemed to be attracting customers and the quayside was filthy, despite a kid’s beach playground set up for the summer holidays, so we returned to Bourge et Comin where we stopped for a few days.  A chance for us to take the motor bikes off and go for a ride up and along the Chemin des Dames. This is the high ground that was held for so long by the Germans in WW1. It was attacked repeatedly by the French and British as is obvious by the vast cemeteries that one passes. We had been here before and visited the Caverne du Dragon, the underground quarry that was a base, hospital and quarters for both armies at different stages of the war. This time we passed it by, drove to the very end to explore the village of Craonne. Pre-war this had been a thriving community, with a 47ha zoo owned by the Pommery Champagne house. It was in the wrong place to survive, today there is barely a sign of the original village, a variety of trees have been planted to cover the damage and a few kilometres away is a new village, same name but a shadow of its former self. Above the old village a huge timber tower has been built as a sort of memorial, a remarkable piece of architecture featuring big beams of laminated oak. The view from the top expands across a vast area of farm land all the way to Reims.

Our last stop before Reims was a chance to take the bikes for another spin. This time through Northern Champagne, all the wheat had been harvested early as a result of the hot dry summer and the grapes are now starting to ripen. Just need that rain to put some body in them. The villages here are pretty and well-kept but as it’s August, holiday time, there is no one around. About 10kms from home my bike spluttered to a stop, out of petrol. I settled under a tree prepared for a long wait while Tony went back to Sable and then attempted to find a service station; 15 minutes later he was back. In the midst of deserted villages he had found one kind man who not only spoke perfect English but had a motor bike at home and was able to give him 1.5l of the right mixture.

Reims is always a favourite stop, and no matter how many time we have visited there is always something we haven’t previously seen. This time I managed to find the Roman Crypt, now an exhibition space under the town square. The cathedral in Reims is always worth a visit and every time we marvel at the restoration work which is ongoing and never ending. This year the scaffolding has moved to the centre front so hopefully the full front façade will be revealed in all its glory next time we visit.

We learnt this time that during WW1 the cathedral suffered damage from 358 shells, and at one stage when the roof caught fire the gargoyles were flowing molten lead.  The photos of the damage are horrific but fortunately, the will to restore it was there, helped in no small part by a generous donation from the Rockerfellers in America.

At Reims we collected our next visitors, sister Fran and husband Lester. They had been on a tour of Gallipoli and had a few days to fill in before joining another boat cruise at Amsterdam. A chance for them to relax among the vines of Champagne as we took the very familiar route, Sillery, Conde sur Marne, Mareuil sur Ay and Epernay. Every village has a favourite much visited Champagne house and so nice that we are recognized at some of them. We noticed that paying for tastings has now become common, the payment deducted off the price if you buy. However that hasn’t started at the one Champagne house at Conde where I took Fran and Lester to buy a couple of bottles. Our hostess insisted we try a tasting and we were given a full glass of each of her three varieties. Fortunately it was a walk back to the boat. I would not have wanted to have been on my bike after that.

At Epernay we said goodbye to one lot of visitors and hullo to the next.  Suellen and her friend Jenny joined us for a week while we retraced our steps and champagne stops of the week before. Both keen cyclists, it was easy to put them off at the base of the hills and let them ride to Hautvillers, the home of Dom Perignon and find us later somewhere down the canal. Bouzy required two journeys.

At one spot on the canal we saw a lovely growth of blackberries, Sable was pulled to a halt and it was all hands on deck as we pruned off branches laden with fruit. The haul was two huge basins-full, and a hurried scrub down of the purple stained decks. I made blackberry chutney to have with duck brochettes, blackberry and peaches flavoured with Grand Marnier for desert, blackberries for breakfast and the last of the harvest went into an apple and blackberry almond tart. I can now look at the fruit going to waste on the sides of the canal with no regrets. 

As there is nothing happening in the vineyards before harvest most of the growers have taken the chance to have a break before the rush. Understandable, but disappointing for tourists. However the girls found enough stops to satisfy the tasting buds without getting into too much trouble on their credit cards. Not so with the shoe shops of Chalons en Champagne. After lunch in the square Tony and I went back to Sable while they had a last look around town. A baguette for dinner I said, three hours later they arrived home, laden with parcels, five pairs of shoe among other things and no baguette. They left the next day for a final night in Paris and the long trip home.

We have now left Chalons en Champagne and are on the delightfully named Canal Entre Champagne et Bourgogne. We are traveling up the Marne Valley, 73 locks to the summit at Langres, through a 4.8km tunnel and then another 43 down to the Saône. St Dizier is a lovely city that seems to remain robust and busy. As well as two huge factories that manufacture farm machinery and excavating equipment it is a base for the French Air Force. Fighter jets take-off and land from the aerodrome close to town and then practise dog-fight manoeuvrers overhead. How the locals can bear the constant screaming of their engines is a mystery. They are much noisier than any commercial planes. It’s a very pretty stretch of country and since we last came this way three years ago some of the towns have put in lovely facilities for cruising boats. At St Dizier there is a whole new quay which will be great when finished and the next little town had a brand new deck with power, water and picnic tables. We had it all to ourselves. We can only hope it attracts a few people to the town. At Joinville, once home to the Dukes of Guise, we could see where the magnificent Chateau stood overlooking the town. The walls on the way up remain but the chateau was completely destroyed in the Revolution. However the hunting lodge and lovely gardens that he built for his wife to appease her after she discovered he had a mistress, remain. We have arrived at Froncles, another port with excellent facilities, where yesterday it was over 30C — too hot to do anything but sit in the shade and read. Today we hope to take the motorbikes off and explore some of the beautiful countryside.

QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT

6th August, 2015 (Tony)

Our apologies if you were confused into thinking our last newsletter was a repeat of a previous one. We are still coming to grips with our new website. Hopefully, we’ve sorted our problems this time…

We returned from our wonderful fortnight in Ireland to find Sable safely moored in the delightful port where we had left her — Picquigny (love that name). Sally’s petunias were languishing from the extreme heat over the period of our absence and the batteries were dangerously low but a good dose of water for the petunias and a few hours running the generator not to mention loads of washing soon had everything back to normal. We have been so impressed by the Somme. It has a natural beauty that is unique, unbelievably tranquil, and surprisingly, very little traffic. Like most rivers in France the Somme emerges from an underground source. It meanders its way to the sea exploring every depression of its wide valley. At times it is half a kilometre wide, a narrow tree lined channel cutting its way through a myriad of marshes and vast ponds teeming with fish and water birds. Well, we assume it’s teeming with fish as there are literally thousands of fisherman’s huts hiding among the trees along its way. It must have presented a formidable barrier to the armies in WWI as there are few easy crossing points. Nevertheless the front penetrated south of the river during the German push to take Amiens and several of the critical turning points in the defence of France occurred at Le Hamel and Villers Bretonneux where Australian troops achieved significant victories. We motorbiked up to the Australian Memorial at Le Hamel to inspect the refurbished monument that replaced the failed black granite of the original, dedicated in 2005. Sadly, the new stone appears to be either also unsuitable or the subject of faulty workmanship as some pieces have fallen and the wall is fenced-off. More importantly though, on previous visits we were always puzzled by the information plaques depicting the course of Monash’s famous battle. This time, having a compass with us, we were able to deduce that the information plaques all face west, whist the north points on the plaques delude you into thinking you’re facing north where the Australian assault came from. By turning 90o it all becomes so much clearer to imagine the battle unfolding. How the designers of the memorial could have got such a basic point so wrong defies belief. Another visit to the main Australian Memorial at Villers Bretonneux, only a 4km bike ride from Corbie, was as moving and emotional as our first in 2008.

The lower reaches of the Somme, from Picquigny to the mouth at St Valery, we did before heading off to Ireland. St Valery is a very picturesque village overlooking a vast tidal estuary. In the weekend prior to our arrival they held the annual mud racing festival which attract thousands of mudlarks whose main intention is to become as plastered in mud and slime as possible, leaving the actual completion of the crossing in the fastest time to a small bunch of competitive enthusiasts. I’m glad we weren’t there. At the end of the Somme there is a huge sea lock which we had intended to use to get out into the estuary to moor in the marina for several days. The lock can only be used during a brief window of opportunity about two hours before high tide. Getting out would have been ok but the tide chart to return a couple of days later was incompatible with working hours so we remained in the river rafted to another barge. Unfortunately some selfish boatees moor to the quay for weeks at a time meaning it is always full and difficult to find a mooring there. Local enthusiasts have lovingly restored an old steam train that plies its way around the estuary marshes. We boarded a packed train that began on the esplanade in the centre of St Valery and journeyed round to Le Crotoy on the opposite shore. We enjoyed a delicious lunch of moules and frites (sea trout for Sally) followed by a promenade along the waterfront before catching the train back to St Valery. A hugely popular tourist attraction.

Most of the towns and villages in the Somme region were destroyed during WWI, none more so than Abbeville where only the cathedral survived, although badly damaged. We had originally planned to be in Abbeville on the day it hosted a stage start in the Tour de France. This didn’t work with our schedule to go to Ireland and, anyway, the quay there is only long enough for three or four boats so it may not have been possible. The city was destroyed again in 1940. It was rebuilt in haste without consideration for architectural merit. We thus retraced our steps back to Picquigny to leave for Ireland.

Amiens is a lovely city. The cathedral is one of the biggest in Europe, dominating the landscape except for a folly of a sky-scraper tower slapped up in the 50’s opposite the train station. It is a pleasant city for pedestrians and has a network of small canals bedecked with lively restaurants. It would bea fabulous stop for bargees except the pontoon for mooring in the centre of town is directly opposite an English Pub where noisy, drunken revellers notoriously exit the premises at 3am every morning and wander across to the quayside to urinate on the boats, sometimes casting them adrift just for the fun of it. I was awakened at 3am by a couple of girls jumping down onto the quay and squatting outside our bedroom window. The VNF warns one not to moor there in the weekends when it is apparently even worse.

Cappy is a perfect stopping place to catch up on some maintenance — such as varnishing the exterior of the wheelhouse, mast and timber hatches — a long grassy bank and lots of shady trees. The village however is symptomatic of France’s economic woes; the boulangerie has closed, replaced for a brief period by a bread vending machine but even that is now disbanded; the boucher and coiffeur long gone. There may have been a pharmacie still struggling, I can’t recall. Everywhere French rural life is in decay with rarely a soul to be seen. And behold, today on a lamp post someone had tied a poster that read: ”L’Etat veut tuer nos Villages.” [The State wants to kill our villages.] The big supermarket chains have won the consumers but at what cost to the cultural character of rural France? Even Péronne lacked the busy charm that it should have. It has a fantastic Historial de la Grande Guerre which is well worth a visit, especially the new wing set up by the Australian Government to honour the actions on the Western Front where Aussie diggers featured. We took our motorbikes off to ride 16km to Ham situated on a section of the Somme Canal that, sadly, has been closed to barge traffic for years. We were astounded at the size and industrial scale of the place, much bigger than Péronne and evidently was once a very pretty and lively town. In our eyes it seemed to have arranged the funeral but missed its own cremation. We strolled the nicely paved main street and counted sixteen empty shops and businesses. It was hot, very hot, and we were keen to stop for a drink, anywhere, but there was not one bar or café that looked inviting enough. We returned to Sable moored to side of the canal in the middle of nowhere and toasted the farmer across the way frantically cranking up his combine harvester in a huge paddock of wheat vainly hoping to reap the lot ahead of the inevitable evening thunder storm. He failed. We retired to bed with all the windows open. I rose early next morning and straight away encountered a mouse. It would be difficult to tell who was more astonished, me or the mouse who presumably was seeking shelter from the storm, the harvester, or just curious. In case you’re wondering, I dropped a book which miraculously trapped him by his tail and I swiftly tossed him back out the window, instantly regretting that I hadn’t tossed him into the bed with Sally. Fortunately, I live to tell this tale!

It has been a hot, dry summer. Most of the harvest is safely in, which accounts for the sudden increase in commercial traffic we’re now encountering. Lawns and grass verges are parched, something we’ve seldom seen before in France. Water restrictions must be in place as gardens are wilting with not a hose in sight. We are concerned that this prolonged drought may force the early closure of the Canal du Centre. We’ll have to decide in a few days whether to risk choosing that route back to Roanne, or returning via the Canal Lateral a la Loire. Either way, Champagne lies enroute so we’re looking forward to replenishing stocks of bubbly and welcoming more guests aboard.

IRELAND

17th July, 2015 (Sally]

“If you ever go across the sea to Ireland…” and every other Irish song from our childhood seemed to come to mind as we wandered around this beautiful country. We certainly had lots of preconceived ideas, stone walls, whitewashed cottages and friendly folk and they were all met and surpassed. Many times over. Our journey started in Dublin. Myra had found a two bedroom apartment in Fishamble Street, Temple Bar so we were within walking distance of all the sights and happenings in the city. The apartment was attached to the George Fredrick Handel Hotel and the site of the original concert hall where the Messiah had its first public performance in 1742. What a night that must have been for the English gentry, so many were expected to attend that ladies were asked to not wear hoops and the gentlemen had to leave their swords behind. Fancy wearing your sword to a musical soiree.

Dublin is a fun city, full of young folks as it was the start of holidays, all there for a good time in the numerous pubs. However we were impressed at how well behaved they were. Saw quite few living on the streets, unemployment is still high but they seem to be coming back from the GFC and the bailout they accepted from the EU five years ago.  We saw a lot of Dublin from the Hop on Hop off bus, always a good way to get the feel of a city, stopping at Trinity College to view the Book of Kells and the ancient library. Trinity was the site of a monastery before Henry V111 had his little spat with the Pope and it was made a University by Elizabeth 1. Forty three acres in the centre of Dublin with an impressive list of alumni including Jonathon Swift, G.B. Shaw, and James Joyce to name a few. The Book of Kells, an illustrated manuscript of the Gospels is well displayed with numerous large panels describing the artistic skill that went into the making of it. The Library was equally as impressive, the long room is enormous and houses 20,000 of their oldest books, while tucked away in another eight buildings are the 3 million or so other volumes they own. Since 1880 the library has been allowed to claim a copy of every book published in Ireland and Britain. Surely they don’t claim them all, Mills and Boone would look decidedly out of place in such surroundings. .  

We left Dublin by car and drove directly west to Connemara, a picturesque but wild and inhospitable area. Stoney fields ruins of small holdings and houses. No one could have made a living in these parts but obviously people tried or were forced to. Now all National Park with walking tracks and pony trails. It was here we joined the WAW, Wild Atlantic Way, a coastal route that stretches 2,600kms from Donegal in the North to Cork in the south. Just outside the little town of Clifden we paused to visit a spot in the wild expanse of peat bog, the site of Marconi’s Transatlantic Radio Station and within 500m of that is a memorial to Brown and Alcock who crash landed here in 1919 becoming the first men to fly across the Atlantic.  Both sites are marked with small memorials, visited more by the sheep than the usual travellers. The road continues along the coast with views of the Aran Islands and a stunning vista over Galway Bay and into the town of Galway. The hotel we had booked had been flooded the night before when the boiler burst so was looking very sad and forlorn when we eventually found it. However the janitor kindly gave us very Irish instructions to the alternative they had booked on our behalf. Brand new, opened only week and still having a few teething problems, but the staff were lovely and we enjoyed chatting to them and learning a bit more about the country. Seamus, our waiter had obviously been told to stand with one hand behind his back, and there was no way he was going to go against the instructions. We thought serving the wine might induce the arm out but no, the bottle was presented in the cooler, top on and “There you are Sir, you can open your own wine.” One was reminded of the one armed waiter in Robin’s Nest, or is that showing my age, again…

On the way from Dublin we had passed many new housing estates, it was only later we learned that these were the aftermath and cause of the great financial collapse that Ireland has been through and they now have 230,000 vacant homes that were built with the easy credit that was literally thrown at developers. I could not get my head around that figure of 230,000 and that is with a population of just over 4 million. A lot of the houses are in areas with no transport, schools, or commercial services nearby so can’t even be used for social housing. Needless to say there is not much building going on at the moment. In fact several houses we saw are half finished and will probably stay that way. The result 5 years ago was Ireland took a €90Billion bail out and nationalised the banks, it appears that it was the right course as they now have the highest growth in the EU, or say they have, but youth unemployment is still over 9%.

We continued from Galway along the WAW which follows the Dingle Peninsular and The Ring of Kerry, dramatic coastal scenery, cute multi-coloured shops in the villages and not a scrap of litter or rubbish anywhere to be seen. Fines for littering are €1300 and for dumping rubbish €3,000 which explains the clean green countryside. Our greatest delight was the people we met, so friendly and forthcoming, everyone had a story to tell and all were amateur historians so we got a firsthand report of the Irish rebellion, troubles and recent history. We all came away with a much greater understanding and sympathy for the desire and fight for Home Rule.

The lovely town of Killarney was submerged under parked cars, the Munster finals of Irish Football was on and with no parking at the stadium the roads to and from the town were lined. We came back through town after the game and the main street had become an enormous outdoor pub, they were celebrating a draw so the whole procedure will be repeated again in a fortnight. We inched our way through the crowd, all very good natured and well behaved. In fact we saw no sign of rowdy behaviour or drunkenness in the whole two weeks. The pubs we stayed in were quiet, but we did go to bed before the Irish music started so perhaps they got a bit livelier later.

At Muckross house we took a ‘jaunty cart’ ride through the gardens, the driver was a real character, he had spent his last holiday in NZ and Australia so was full of stories from his time there. Biggest regret was going with not enough money, “Fancy having a holiday when you can’t afford to drink” he said. “I’ll never do that again.” Then he mentioned a pub in Wagga Wagga, he remembered the pub and “By Golly, I think they will remember me.”

We stopped briefly at Cork, long enough for me to buy a new pair of boat shoes. Eight years wear has seen the present pair gaping at the toes, then onto Cobh which is the port of Cork. A huge harbour which was the final port of departure for the Titanic but also the closest point to where the Lusitania was torpedoed and sunk. Most of the survivors and the bodies were brought ashore here and there is a large memorial to the boat in the main street.

In our last three days we saw three of the most memorable sights, the first at New Ross which among other attractions is the Kennedy Home and his visit there during his presidency is noted with a life size statue, but pride of place in a very nondescript premises is an amazing work of art. The Ros Tapestries were conceived in 1998 and consist of 15 large tapestries measuring 6ft by 4ft all hand worked by 150 volunteer needlewomen. They tell the story of the Norman English arrival in Ireland in 1207 and at this stage are nearly complete with only two panels still being worked on. Fascinating and even Tony was blown away.

The next day having visited Kildare and Killarney we went to the National Irish Horse Stud, another sight not to be missed. The Japanese Garden is stunning and the grounds with all the stallions in their paddocks was interesting. Like anything Irish there has to be a story behind it, this one was a fairly eccentric gambler come adventurer who made good in the late 1800,s bought the property, developed the stud then in 1915 gifted the whole place to the state. His belief was that the star sign a horse was born under had a huge impact on its ability and any foal born under the wrong sign was immediately marked to be sold. In spite of the unconventional breeding ideas he was successful. Certainly successful enough to gift away a property worth many millions of Euros.

Last day we spent at Powerscourt gardens, only a few kilometres from Dublin and rated by National Geographic as the third best garden in the world. Forty seven acres of immaculate grounds, owned and run by the Slazenger family, of tennis racquet and other sporting goods fame. Really lovely and a super way to spend our last day in Ireland. We flew out that night back to France and a taxi to Sable who looked a little forlorn and neglected after a fortnight of very hot weather.

Now it’s back to our much more relaxed way of sightseeing in France as we wend our way back up the Somme. We’ve decided that it is time to list Sable for sale, so if you know anyone looking for a beautiful boat in France, tell them to contact us or to see the details: www.apolloduck.com barges/luxemotor.             

BLOOMING IN PICARDIE

15TH June, 2015 (Tony)

There’s a certain relaxed pleasure in cruising waterways you’ve previously explored. The familiarity of places and sights to see as well as the comfort of knowing where to find good mooring stops. We’re presently retracing our voyage of 2008 to the Western Front. In a few days we’ll be on the Somme, a river we’ve not been down before although we toured the region extensively in our car to visit many WWI battlefields and memorials. Sometimes familiarity is not such a good thing. At Chatillon-Coligny we decided to walk up through the town for a couple of kilometres to shop at the huge supermarket we’d been to before. We didn’t really need anything, just thought the exercise would be good. A stupid idea. Firstly because we forgot it was Whit Monday, another of the many religious festivals that are a public holiday in France, and so the shop was closed; and secondly, because Sally somehow wrenched her knee and it has pained her ever since.

The Canal de Briare was delightful, easy leisurely days, gorgeous weather and very few other boats. Well I suppose you only need one to create a crisis. As we ventured across the pound at the top of the canal we approached a narrow bridge and could see a small hire boat coming towards us. There are three rules which apply to such a situation: (1) whoever gets there first has right-of-way; (2) downstream traffic has priority; (3) might is right. We had all three of the above in our favour but he thought he was driving his BMW and hit the throttle. When he finally decided it may be better to hold back, or remembered that it wasn’t his boat, he thrust back on the throttle and immediately lost all control, doing a u-turn in the middle of the canal only 30m in front of Sable. A collision was unavoidable but I was impressed with how quickly Sable, in full-reverse throttle, almost stopped in time. His boat suffered a minor nudge amidships that barely left a mark. I think his underwear caught the brunt of the damage. Hopefully he is now a wiser and more cautionary pilot.

At Montargis — we love that town — we picked up Rotary friends, Lea and Pauline. They spent several restful hassle-free days with us after arriving from a hectic trip around Turkey. We spent a couple of nights moored to the side of the Canal du Loing in the middle of nowhere disturbed only by the songs of the birds and their own shrieks as they rediscovered the art (it wasn’t skill) of bicycling. We arrived at St Moret, one of the most picturesque villages to be found anywhere, where they took us to dinner at a very lovely restaurant overlooking the river. Next morning, the Capitaine kindly offered to drive them to the train station to journey to Paris for the remainder of their holiday. After another night in St Moret, we were on the Seine, downstream to Paris. A stop at Samois sur Seine is more-or-less obligatory, it is such a pretty village. And every stay at Samois warrants a visit to Fontainbleau so off with the motorbikes, a ride to the chateau and a walk around the enormous gardens filled-in a perfect afternoon.

On phoning the Port de l’Arsenal we were flabbergasted to learn that the port was full — no vacancies for two weeks! Every boat in France must be moored up in Paris as there are very few on the Seine. Well, ok, we’ll just mosey through Paris and moor where we can. The Seine twists and turns its way through more than 60km in Paris and there are very few suitable quays for a boat the size of Sable. We found a perfect spot upstream of the confluence with the Marne where we put up the awning and enjoyed as perfect an evening as Paris can provide, dining on the top deck until well after sunset (9:30pm). The wash from passing commercial barges was constant but not concerning. Next day, the hottest of the year, 38C, saw us leisurely cruise under the bridges of Paris, past the Eiffel Tower, around the Bois de Boulogne wherein at Roland Garros the semi-finals of the French Open were under way, through the big lock at Suresnes and past La Defense. We planned to enter the Canal St Denis and spend the night moored beside the canal, but it was so hot and about 2:30pm when we saw a good quay with a grassy bank we halted, pleased to be done for the day. We retired to bed at 9:30pm and fell asleep almost instantly only to be awakened an hour later by bright lights and the throb of a big engine. We looked out and couldn’t believe our eyes — mooring up to a couple of commercial pylons beside us was a 120m river cruise ship! It couldn’t have fitted on our quay anyway but it did make Sable look tiny. Next morning I chatted to the friendly captain and some of his crew. They apologised for hemming us in. They have as much difficulty as anyone finding mooring places. He told me there are twenty similar ships cruising the Seine from Paris to Le Havre and return. They normally spend two nights in Paris but their 83 passengers (maximum 122 @ 7,000€/13 days) were loaded onto busses to go sight-seeing in Paris that morning as there was no mooring available for them in the city.  They were due to leave 9pm that night. The crew filled eight huge rubbish bins with the ship’s garbage, and ours, and then kindly relinquished the stern hawser to allow Sable to sneak out behind. We continued down to Reuil-Malmaison where Josephine established a glorious chateau that Napoleon apparently hated. The town is modern, thriving and has to be one of the most likeable places to live. We had a memorable lunch across the river at a restaurant made famous by Renoir, it was here he painted his masterpiece, Luncheon of the Boating Party. The whole area was a favourite of the Impressionists and one can follow their trail all the way up the Val d’Oise culminating at Auviers where Van Gogh spent his final six weeks and is buried there alongside his brother Theo. Our final day on the Seine took us to Andresy at the confluence of the Oise. Otherwise forgettable, Andresy at least provided a crude quay to moor to, sheltered from the surge of the massive commercial barges plying the Seine, night and day.

Into the Oise, a much quieter river with tree-lined banks, still lots of commercials but hardly a pleasure boat to be seen. From Cergy we biked to the Axe Majeur and climbed the 210 steps to the top of the hill to take in the panoramic vista back to Paris. It is a relatively recent piece of architectural art based on the significance of 12 to mankind. (E.g. 12 hours of day; 12 hours of night; and other mathematical points). All a bit obtuse for us but we enjoyed the exercise; and the view. At Pontoise we discovered a new quay and fabulous facilities, built since our last visit. As a result we stayed a night and walked the town. The Musee to Pissaro was interesting if only for its underwhelming collection. Two by the master, a selection of some others and a few pieces of furniture. I suppose it would have been a bit too much to expect some great art in such a small town but then France can be full  of surprises and you can find wonderful sights where one least expects.  We should have stayed longer but we’re keen to get to Picardie. L’Isle Adam is another charming town that could easily have been created for a Disney movie set. There is a pontoon for only one boat. We weren’t surprised to find it vacant (where are all the other boatees?) so happily stopped there overnight and explored the town. Creil was merely an overnight stop, as was Compiegne. But Compiegne has a great chandlery and so replenishment of fuel and boat spare parts consumed a fair number of euros. The city is absolutely gorgeous. It also has a very famous chateau and grounds that once belonged to Napoleon III; and not far out of town is the railway carriage in which the armistice was signed to mark the end of WWI. Visits to these were detailed in a newsletter in 2008.

Yesterday, we followed a tandem commercial barge into a lock on the Oise. A mother swan with five cygnets and two other swans (presumably males) were already in the lock and did not seem at all perturbed by the intrusion of boats. In fact they probably use the lock just as we do to get upstream or downstream as they fancy. All of a sudden one of the swans took exception to the presence of the other close to his family. A most vicious fight broke out, their necks entwined, wings flapping as each attempted to bite the other. One escaped and tried to take flight but there wasn’t enough room for him to get airborne. The other pursued him into the back corner of the lock and clearly attempted to drown the poor fellow, holding his head under water for as long as he could, failing only because he had to come up for air too. Eventually with the lock now full the victim clambered into a chamber housing the hydraulic rams for the lock gates. The victor and his family nonchalantly exited the lock behind us. We only hope the loser escaped from his hiding place before the lock emptied again and the gates opened. The lock-keeper, who also witnessed the drama, would no doubt have checked on the bird’s well-being.

Finally, we have arrived at Peronne where we biked into town to revisit the fantastic war museum. Tomorrow we’ll be off the busy Canal du Nord and onto the quiet, peaceful Somme.

Visit our website: www.pritchetts.com.au   

Cruising for a Cruise

10th May, 2015 (Sally; Tony)

2015 and the first newsletter from Sable. Another year cruising, this will be our eighth, and still there are places to see and waterways to cruise. Plus a few friends and family still to visit and experience this way of life.

We travelled to Sable by a rather involved and extended route, instead of the normal 27 hour flight to Paris. We took a shorter flight to Dubai where we embarked on a three week cruise through the Suez Canal to Turkey. A different experience for us and one in which the jury is still out. We met many lovely people; and some weird ones too. But as far as we could tell we were the only ones on board experiencing their first ever cruise.

A quick tour of Dubai and a meal with a family friend before boarding the cruise boat Azamara Questthen on to the first stop, Muscat, Oman. We took a tour inland to the ancient capital of Nizwa visiting two of the old forts so saw a lot more of the country than the immediate port. It was then seven days at sea as we travelled past the coastline of Oman and Yemen into the Red Sea. Security was tight, the threat of pirates is taken very seriously, we had blackouts every night and several armed security guards were taken on board, a great bonus for them as their usual assignment is oil tankers with no four-course meals or discos every night.

At the entrance to the Canal was a flotilla of tankers and cargo ships all waiting to be allotted a position in the sequence of ships allowed to go through. This is partly determined by the amount one pays so obviously we were right up there with $$$ as we were only preceded by two boats, one being an American Navy vessel. Behind us as far as we could see were a line of vessels, 49 a day are allowed through (one way only). It accounts for 7.5% of the world’s sea trade.  It is 101 miles long and has been open since 1869. They are now building a second canal beside it for about half the distance so plenty of earth works and construction sights to see plus always the Egyptian army on watch. The new 43km section of canal will allow convoys to simultaneously enter the canal from each end and pass in the middle. At 5.00pm I watched a group of workers all getting on their motor bikes, time for home perhaps, but no they all made straight for the small mosque which had obviously been built for the workers. Had to think that it would be a difficult thing to see in our country, a group of Bikies heading for a place of worship. But then again how else could you describe their headquarters?

First stop once through the canal was Haifa, Israel. We took a tour from there to Jerusalem. What an interesting day that was. Our guide was an American Jew until he was 40 then decided to move to Israel. Very informative, proud of his country and quite political in some of his comments. We now both feel so much better informed about Israel, a remarkable country bursting with skill and innovation. And having seen first-hand the territory of the West Bank (Palestine) the problem seems truly insurmountable. Jerusalem was interesting, we visited the most popular sights: Garden of Gethsemane, Wailing Wall, Mount of Olives and had lunch in a Kibbutz that featured heavily in the 6-day war where they held out against the Egyptian army before being relieved. From Haifa we also had a night’s entertainment in an old Roman Theatre where we listened to a concert of jazz and classical music and watched a troupe of young, very enthusiastic Israeli dancers. Lots of fun.

Next stop Cypress, where we wandered the town of Limmosol. We decided to have a typically Greek lunch and sitting at a cute café ordered a couple of dishes — calamari and mussels. Both delicious but when I asked if the mussels were local was a bit astonished to be told they came from NZ, fresh-frozen every week. So much for local flavours!

Kaz, [pronounced Cash] in Turkey was probably our favourite stop. Cute little fishing village, rapidly becoming a tourist destination as it has great diving spots. No quay so we were tendered off on the ship’s life boats, and managed a walk along the shore to a small Roman amphitheatre. There was a group of local young adults there involved in some energetic game in which if you scored a forfeit the whole team had to dash up the steps of the theatre, round the top and down the other side. It looked to be some traditional game but on asking found it was a team building session between two groups from the local drama school. A very pleasant way to pass an hour or so watching modern-day drama students playing in a 2000 year old theatre.

We passed through the Dardenelles at night so were unable to see the outline of the hills and landscape of Gallipoli Peninsular, which was a little disappointing, and arrived in Istanbul on April 24th. Of course the city was full of tour groups all heading for Anzac memorials and there were nine cruise ships in port. The centenary of the landings was featured prominently on TV; and in a balanced manner. For the Turks, it was a nation-building moment in their history too, especially as the successful defence of the peninsular was led by Mustafa Kemal, later to become, as Ataturk, the first president of the Republic and one of the greatest leaders of the 20th century. Portraits of Ataturk still adorn almost every public building. We avoided the crowds that day by retiring to a Turkish Bath House and having one of the experiences of a lifetime — a full Turkish bath and massage in surroundings that were originally built for the Sultan and his ladies. I’m sure we both lost a few layers of dead skin, it seemed to come off in rolls. If you are in Istanbul it is a must. That night was our last on the Quest. Next day we moved to a hotel and had another three nights there before flying to Lyon and on to Roanne. In Istanbul, we caught up with cousin, Paul and Pat who had attended the dawn service at Anzac Cove and enjoyed an authentic Turkish meal cooked in pottery jars which are ceremoniously decapitated at the table and emptied onto your plate. Istanbul is exciting, crowded and a giant shopping bazaar. We did manage to leave without buying a carpet, that in itself is a feat, but if we hadn’t been up to the limit in baggage I would have had to purchase some of the pottery bowls. Lovely colours and designs. Next time!!!

Sable had worn the winter well, it takes no time to get the boilers up and heating on. Nice to be in our own space again and after four days we were ready to leave. We’ve now been cruising a week, the country is looking wonderful, a mild winter and the spring growth is outstanding. Charolais cattle standing up to their bellies in buttercups, little calves almost lost among the pasture. And the wild flowers on the sides of the canal are in full flower. I have my herb garden planted, and in two days we collect our first visitors in what looks to be a busy year. At Decize we wandered into town and bought new bikes to replace the couple that were stolen last year on our last day in France. We’re looking forward to being mobile again and getting out into the countryside. Plus, we need the exercise!

Another week has passed, hopefully we will get this away tomorrow after a Skype call with one of the family IT experts. This week we have been joined by our first visitors for the year. Marion and Graham Jones belong to the same Rotary Club as Tony and have been on a cruise to Gallipoli then on to a Western Front Tour. All battlefields and cemeteries so a few days relaxing on Sable was exactly what was needed. We met them at Nevers, they had traversed most of Belgium and France in one day to get to us so a welcome glass of champagne was called for to revive and celebrate.  They soon settled into our slower way of life, there was copious patisseries, plenty of wine and lots of good laughs. Always a delight to share our way of life with others. Graham quickly found his way to the local boulangeries, where the order for two baguettes was supplemented with six patisseries. Our final day with them was near the famous wine village of Sancerre where we tasted and bought enough to keep us going for a while.

Since they left we have moved very slowly northwards, two nights at each stop and a chance to christen the new bikes with a 22km ride into Cosne-Cours sur Loire. First ride for a long time so some tender spots. There is plenty of inspiration to do more cycling as we are moored on the EuroVelo6 route which is a designated cycle trail from the Atlantic coast at Nantes all the way to the Black Sea; 3,365kms, across 10 countries and for most of its length it follows the Loire, Rhine and Danube. There has been several well laden groups of cyclists pass us obviously doing some if not all of the route. They do look a lot fitter than us.

Now we are moored at Belleville, the view from the window is two enormous cooling towers of the local Nuclear Power Station with a continuous plume of steam going skywards. No one worries, in fact they welcome it as the plant provides work for over 600 locals and all the villages around benefit with new buildings, schools and sports fields. We too are benefitting from their generosity as the port is beautifully maintained with picnic tables, electricity and water all for free. A good spot to do some work on Sable, we have been here two days and she now has a new carpet in the wheel house.  Tomorrow we move on, one more stop before we cross the Loire on the famous aquaduct at Briare, a local tourist spot, so sure to be plenty of folk watching and taking pictures.