Month: July 2018

July 28th I departed Raviers for Montbard, at 11 locks, one of the longest single stretches I undertook.  I shared most of the trip with a French family in a Nichols hire boat.  Leaving at 9 AM, I arrived in the lower pool at Montbard at 3 PM with a plan to stay several days.

At Montbard, there is a lock midway through town, resulting in an upper and lower pool.  The lower pool is much broader, with moorings on both the right and left bank.  Mooring on the left bank is via large iron rings on loops anchored in concrete pads.  As the rings tend to lie flat when unused, the mooring points can be hard to spot.

Having passed through the final lock into the lower pool approaching Montbard, I spied off to the left (the “right” bank, as I was headed upstream) a long rising bluff which, at the far high end had a stone tower rising high into the air, overlooking all.  I made a mental note to check it out.

The town has a number of large industries, and I was moored across the street from Valinox Nuclearie, a large facility manufacturing “stainless steel tubes and tubular products for nuclear power stations”.  Despite the large complex, there was little noticeable noise during the day and none at night.  The train station was on the far side of the complex, so there was also little noise from the trains.

There was a nearby grocer and boulangerie, though restaurants were a bit further away.  It was clear the heart of the original town was built on the hill rising up to the bluff I had spotted arriving.

By checking the map online, I was able to determine the top of the hill was the Parc du Buffon.   The write-up indicated the park had been built by the Comte de Buffon (1707-1788) .  It celebrated both Buffon and Louis Jean-Marie Daubenton (1716-1800), two famed naturalists, both from Montbard.  There is a museum at the top, in a tower built by Buffon.

Walking up the hill to the site, my first clue that this was more than your average park was that, as I walked up the single street to the top, walls rose up on both sides, eventually both above and below me.  I took a path off to the side, and realized there was a rampart wall downhill from me, as well as a rising wall above me.  The path I was one was a defensive level, with a drop of 20 to 40 feet below me, and a wall built into a cliff rising 40 to 70 feet above me.

Built into the wall in a narrow niche was an iron stair up to the higher level.

At the far end of this path was the cliff base of the tower I had seen from the canal.

I walked to the base of the tower, and found another stair rising up into the tower through a narrow stone doorway.  Climbing up, at the top I found myself at the doorway to the upper level, a large flat park, with walkways, statues and benches. In one corner was an old well, covered and unused.  Off to the side was a second, smaller tower, evidently the one Buffon built and which housed his study.

the view at the top: https://voyagesofdesormais.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/4EDDC334-4F90-4DBA-BF40-30F1D59AC068.mov

Off to the side was the Eglise St. Urse, a Catholic church.  The road leading to the park and church was lined on both sides by high walls, providing yet another area of significant defensive advantage against anyone trying to reach the summit.  The driving question for me at that point was simply why?  Why does a park built in the 1700s have this amazing set of defensive ramparts, built out of massive stone walls into the natural cliff?  Why does a park need an ancient looking well? Why does a park need an old walled road as an approach, especially one with weathered carved end stones looking much older than 300 to 400 years old?

Back on the boat, I was able to find the answers.  The ramparts and walls atop the hill were far older than the 1700s, and were part of the origins of Montbard.  The fact is that the hilltop was the location of a castle used by the Duke of Burgundy.  The stone walls and wooden structure was replaced with fortified stone walls and towers beginning in 1189, with the towers constructed in the 1200s.  The tallest tower, the Aubespin tower being the tallest, the one I had seen on the elevated point.  As a result of the Duke of Burgundy falling out of favor with King Louis XI, the fortress was controlled by the King beginning in 1477 and, by the 1700s, the castle was in ruins.

For me, the irony of this was stunning.  Here is a site with tiered, fierce stone and cliff fortifications of the kind that populate the mental visions of anyone reading about medieval castles.  The castle served as a home of the Dukes of Burgundy from before 1189 until 1477, when the Dukes retreated to the Palace in the heart of Digion.  Yet, despite this stunning history, the local presentation is focused on Buffon and his efforts in the 1700s.  Much like the case of the Fosse Dionne in Tonnerre, the more current history of the Park had completely eclipsed the earlier history of the origins of the site!

There was more to be seen and done in Montbard before I left to head back downstream, but I’ll leave this chapter here, and address the rest in my next piece.

July 27th saw Desormais leaving Ancy-le-Franc at 9:30 in the morning bound for Ravieres.  A very nice (but apparently underutilized) port offering free power and water, this community offered a stop for services, as well as access to the neighboring community of Nuit, and the Chateau de Nuit.  Four locks and a relatively short cruise found Desormais neatly tiedup and me heading out to explore the town.

For me, in my first year of venturing the canals of France, this community most exemplifies the unique features and friendly people you can find across France.

The large port provides a very spacious area in which to tie up and have services.  Some of the town’s history seems tied to the limestone quarry on the outside of the village, still being actively operated by Rocamat.  Ravieres has recently lost some merchants (the boucherie and tabac, for example) but still offers a very nice Proximarche.  At the upstream end of the right bank lies a very friendly café, L’idylle.  And across the canal, about 1 km away via a tree lined road, stands the old walled community of Nuit.

My stop in this community taught me several important lessons.

My first stop after tying up was the restaurant L’Idylle for lunch.  The individual serving lunch was distinctive due to his dreadlocks, and I felt certain I’d seen him mingling in the crowd at the weekly concert gathering in Ancy-le-Franc (note: barges don’t travel far each day!).  He was friendly and helpful, the two of us conversing using my poor French and his spotty English. After a late lunch and some time on the boat, I set out walkingfor the neighboring community of Nuits, with a backpack in tow.

I had crossed the canal and was well towards Nuits when the afternoon rain shower

struck.  I’d already come past the few bridges crossing the L’Armancon, the river that supplies the Canal du Bourgogne in that region.  I’d seen swimmers gathered around the river (large stream at that point), and was dodging along under the windward parts of the street, sticking close to buildings to keep out of the light rain.  Ultimately, on the far edge of Nuits, I found the entrance to the Chateau de Nuits, arriving around 4 in the afternoon, wet and with backpack in hand.

The Chateau de Nuits was constructed beginning in 1560.  It was built with a defensive design, but meant to be incorporated into the walled city of Nuits as an extension of its defensive perimeter.  The property was occupied by the Nazis in WWII, and the caretaker who took my fee acknowledged some of the last

inscriptions in the one cell in the basement were carved by French Resistance members held captive there.

The most remarkable aspect of visiting this community was that the caretaker greeted me, took my fee, and, after a friendly chat,handing me a large skeleton key, directed me toward the lower door that would admit me to the basement level.  I had arrive recently drenched, with backpack in place, and this gentleman willingly handed me a key, a sheet describing the features of each room in differing languages, and set me on my way.  I had free access to this remarkable property for 45 minutes, exploring the furnishings, the efforts of prior owners to chart the natural environment, and other aspects of this remarkable (but underpublicized) property, all alone and with my backpack.  When done, I made my way out, we chatted some more, I returned his key and went on my way.  There was never a sign of concern or distrust, I was never asked to open my backpack upon leaving, he was simply happy to have me there to view the chateau.

The second adventure (and lesson) to this journey occurred as I returned to the boat.  As I walked back through Nuits, I explored some of the side streets.  This included some of the remaining walled gates to the city.

In one remarkable insight into the “interior” and private life of many French citizens, I found open gates to a back court of a home just meters from a historic gate to the city.  Images of the French SST, the Eiffel Tower all were represented just yards from a centuries old gate to the city.  These gates to interior courts or yards are

common in most towns, and the interiors are typically hidden.  From all I have read, the French are reserved in public, speaking quietly, even in restaurants.  I suspect it is this public reservation that leads to the sheltered interiors, and that appears to be where individuality is expressed whether through gardens, other pursuits or, in this case, art.

Finally, passing beyond the gates of old Nuits and following the banks of L’Armancon, I came face to face with the last lesson of the day.  As I walked toward the last, two lane bridge headed toward Reveries, I saw that my side of the bridge was lined with 10 to 12 young men, all whom had been swimming, drinking beer, and enjoying the cooling afternoon along L’Armencon.  Based upon my (US) cultural experience, I assumed the best I might encounter was being invisible as I passed.

Still, my experience with French culture required that I acknowledge their presence with a simple “Bon Jour”.  The result startled me.  Every young man, without hesitation or forethought, turned, faced me, and responded with “Bon Jour, Monsieur”.   This was a response of instinct, of training that,even having been well raised in Virginia by my parents, I hadn’t anticipated from a group of young men, drinking beer in the sun, smoking and exchanging jokes and stories.  That moment changed my view of French culture, and informed my view of what I might expect elsewhere in France, all for the better.  It was a remarkable moment.  Community, civility and basic respect does continue to exist across the world, even though (and despite) my reservations about passing through a group of smoking, beer drinking young men.  On that day, they proved me to be the lesser individual, with my doubts and reservations.

The lessons of the day, however, were not over.

Returning to the boat and in acknowledgement of the heat, roof vents and other windows were open.  I had changed out of my damp clothes from my Nuits tour.  Dinner was ahead, and I looked forward to meeting my dreadlocked friend again.

Leaving the boat, I took a seat outside L’Idylle, and enjoyed the first course watching as dark clouds, a rarity up to that point, gathered off to the south.  Finally, with rising winds and some scattered rain drops, it became clear some retreat inside was warranted.  I move inside, the outside weather continued to deteriorate, and I found myself explaining, in my poor French, that the windows on my boat were open and I had to pay my bill and return to the boat.

I did so, dashed out the door and, spurred on with what seemed to be a lighting strike just feet off my posterior, raced home to close the boat and stop the deluge from flooding the boat. Needless to say, the boat was fine, while I was drenched.  The friendly understanding and haste in helping with my bill, despite my limited French, was still much appreciated.

This was the last of the lessons of Ravieres.  So, in summary, 1) don’t underestimate the gifts of small communities and the trust afforded strangers; 2) don’t judge young people (or communities) by anything other than their actions, and expect to be pleasantly surprised; 3) learn to appreciate how speciallysome strangers react in moments of urgency or need.  This was a great visit, a community with a history worth visiting, history all around ir, in the walls, gates and chateau in Nuits, the church in Ravieres, industry worth understanding in the stoneworks of Ravieres, and the embracing and respectful culture of rural France.

July 23, 2018  Desormais departs for one of the goals of the Canal du Bourgogne, some of the finest Chateaus in rural France.  Five locks before lunch and a short cruise later led to Tanlay, home of the Chateau de Tanlay.

The port provides accommodations on both the left and right banks, and the pizza restaurant on the upstream right bank is quite good.  I found the late afternoon service to be a bit grumpy, but dinners were fine.  There is a good boulangerie and some other basic services, but no local grocer.

The star of the community is the Chateau de Tanlay, complete with a moat and gated approach over the water.  Built in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries on the ruins of a thirteenth century chateau-fort, the property has remained in the family Marquis de Tanlay from 1705 to the present.  It is a remarkably chateau, both in

design and in furnishings.  The only room in which pictures are allowed was the long hall, with remarkable carvings lining the walls, the surprise being that, upon closer inspection, all of the sculptures are 2 dimensional paintings.  I can assure you, the artistry is so perfect that close inspection is required to actually see the 2 dimensional effects.

Leaving Tanlay on July 24th, the next stop was Liezennes.  A more modern town, most of the community here is uphill on the left bank side.  A nice small grocers is available, but the restaurant has moved further uphill to the far edge of town, quite a hike from the canal.  After exploring the town by bike, dinner was a more convenient meal on the boat that night.  A nice, free mooring, but not terribly exciting.

July 25th was the departure from Liezennes for Ancy-le-Franc and the famous chateau located there.  The trip didn’t take long, arriving around noon in the wider “port” area.  Unfortunately, after taking into account the area reserved for a hotel barge and the spaces taken up by obviously more permanent moorings (I say “obviously”, as some were half submerged!), it became clear the most reasonably available moorings were downstream on the left bank as one approached the port.  Fortunately, about 1 km downstream there is a widened part of the canal where one can turn about and head back to a bankside mooring.

Ancy-le-Franc is a remarkable town.  At one time a bustling center, it still retains some of that spirit.  The chateau entry sits about 1 km from the port, at the edge of the community.  Immediately adjacent is a large square, upon which sit a number of shops and restaurants.  Having arrived in time to have a late lunch, and enjoying the meal at one particular restaurant, I was inspired to make a reservation at the same restaurant for dinner that evening.  While reservations for dinner are always advisable in these small communities, I had not made it a practice to think that far ahead, and have no idea what inspired me to do this here.  Still, it proved providential.  The reservation done, and it being later in the afternoon, I wandered some and returned to the boat, with the intent of touring the Chateau the following day.

That evening, I returned to the square outside the restaurant and the Chateau for my 8 PM dinner reservation.  I was surprised to find the square absolutely filled to the brim with tables, people, and a stage for performers.  The three restaurants were https://voyagesofdesormais.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/53F806ED-5A32-4047-B0D8-BD1FC4934BCD.movhustling to feed all their guests, and my reservation proved to earn me a table for one near the front entry to the restaurant.  The crowd was quite enjoyable, with those choosing to dance to the tunes the band provided being of all ages.  One elderly gentleman (saying something, given my age) was quite taken by the music, and entertained us all with his dancing, immersed in the music as he was.  The meal was excellent, the environment enchanting, and it proved a thoroughly diverting evening, surrounded by tables of people enjoying the evening and conversing in both French and English.

The following morning brought another clear, beautiful day (yet increasingly hot, as the trend had been, with not a raincloud in sight).  I puttered on the boat, taking care of a few things, thenheaded in to tour the Chateau.

The Chateau of d’Ancy-le-Franc was built on the site of a 12thcentury fort, with construction beginning in 1544.  The chateau is in remarkable condition, and the design reflects a passion for symmetry.  The exterior of roughly equal sides is

reflected in an interior courtyard of equal symmetry.  The gravel in the courtyard on the day I visited reflected the disciplined raking of the gravel one might expect of a Japanese Zen garden.  While more limited in furnishings than the Chateau de Tanlay, the Chateau still boasted remarkable spaces, and the array of copper pots displayed

in the kitchen is enough to stir any Chef’s envy.  The discipline of symmetry of design extends to the exterior gardens, where the flowers are planted with equal discipline.  Overall, an amazing structure.

I filled in the day with some shopping, a meal on the boat, and some reflective time.  The goal was to head upstream to Montbard, a stop just prior to the final climb to the heights of the Canal du Bourgogne, before moving back downstream to Mignennes, where Evans Marine would become Desormais’ winter resting spot.  But more adventures certainly lay ahead.

Deep in a cleft in the steep, rocky hillside topped by the Eglise Saint-Pierre lies the Fosse Dione, a large karst spring.  “Karst Spring” is a term for a spring that represents the end of a large underground river system, typically with a very large discharge.  In the case of the Fosse Dione, this spring has an immense capacity, and is deep enough at its mouth (initially 32 meters) that cave divers have dived the cave.

Ironically, much of the local information focuses on the wash house (or laverie) built around it in 1758.  Little is made of the spring itself, which is believed to be the reason that this area has been occupied as far back as it has.  The presence of this abundant source of pure flowing water certainly explains the choice of the area as an administrative center, the Oppidum of Tomodurum, by the Romans, and explains signs of occupationwell back into the Bronze Age.

The water flows up out of the spring, over a lip in the surrounding wall, and down through a narrow, steep natural course between houses and out to the Armencon.  Houses cling to the hillside above it, and a narrow street enters on one side of the cleft, loops over the spring, and back out the other side.

The flow from the spring varies, and was quite low when I visited, reflecting the drought at the time.  Still, as you view the pictures, try to imagine the situation one spring in January 1910, when the water flow was so great that the water level in the cleft was two feet above the level of the spring retaining wall!!

In addition to being a natural and historical marvel, it also reflects some of the historical understatement I found from time to time after this, and which I encountered again when I reached Montbard.

July 22nd started for me with a loud BANG, as the boat shuddered and shifted.  I’d slept in a bit and was startled awake, my first thought being “The boat has been HIT!”.  Charging out of bed and into the wheelhouse, I immediately noted there was nothing near me.  The port was calm, and I was both confused and puzzled.

Getting dressed, I went out to check the boat.  It took a few moments, but I finally determined the issue.  The DBA guide had warned the downstream end of the quay could be shallow at times.  I had been fine the night before, but morning had come, the canal opened at 9 AM, and two sets of boats immediately locked downstream out of the port, obviously cycling the downstream lock twice.  That served to let enough water out of the pound between the two locks (that served as the port) to dropthe water level.  The bang and shudder was Desormais’ stern end settling and then shifting on the bottom.  I was stuck!

I finally got some relief late morning as the upstream lock cycled several times.  I had moored where I did as I was late into the port the day before.  With boats now moving and the stern raised a bit, I was able to move the boat up the quay to a deeper spot, resolved to avoid bottoming

Tonnerre is large community that climbs up a steep hillside.  At the top of the hill is the Eglise Saint-Pierre (Church of St. Peter) constructed in the 9th century and extensively rebuilt following a fire in 1556.  There is historical evidence the area was already settled in the late Bronze Age, and was also the location of a Roman administrative center in the Roman Gaul period.  Much of the reason for settlement in this location is the Fosse Dionne, a large karst spring that will be covered separately.

The view from the church:  6A346059-FCD0-42E7-B729-51111C84226C

The Armencon flows through the lower portion of the town, and bridges over it connect the heart of Tonnerre with the port area on the canal.

In addition to the Eglise Saint-Pierre, on the way up the hill there is the Eglise Notre-Dame de Tonnerre.  Built in the 12thCentury, this church was heavily damaged in WW II but is still used for services.

One other building of historical note is a massive structure, the Hotel-Dieu Notre-Dame des Fontenilles, or the Old Hospital.  Founded in 1293, it was the first and largest hospital in Medieval France.  It could treat up to 40 patients at a time.  (Note:  Hotel-Dieu is the term given to any Medieval hospital, of which there are a number of note in France, including the hospital in Beaune, which Suzanne and I visited in September, 2016)

Friday, July 20th I left Saint Florentin.  It was rainy in the morning, which lifted mid-morning, with my departure around 10:30 AM.  I had a two-day journey to the next large town, Tonnerre.  The best option for mooring the night before reaching Tonnerre was a small rural mooring, Flogny.  The DBA guide and navigation books indicated it was an older, crumbling quay, but I arrived to find it had definitely been renovated with a new steel wall and gravel bank.  There were no services(power/water), but a short walk into town provided access to a boulangerie, a boucherie, and a tabac.

Both days took me through beautiful countryside.  Lunch on the 20th was as I was moored bankside across from a tree lined road bordering beautiful rolling fields.

Bank side lunch stop:  C058C18B-B21D-46D6-9BA1-5FC44BB2542C

The evening stay at Flogny was eerily quiet.  I found myself awake in the middle of the night with absolutely no noise.  I actually got up and looked about.  Walking forward (I was using the aft bedroom) into the kitchen/living area, I was surprised and puzzled to hear the sound of running fluids.  It took me a moment to realize I was listening to the sound of the coolant circulating in the small refrigerator.  When was the last time you were somewhere so quiet the loud noise you heard was your refrigerator!?

Saturday took me through more open fields and beautiful scenes, finally arriving at Tonnerre.  The port area was located between two locks that were close together, with me mooring at the downstream end of the quay. That set of circumstances would give rise to my abrupt wakening the next morning.

As described already, our first outing to Saint Florentin had us arriving late, after a long and somewhat stressful journey.  Upon arrival, and with the help of the Captainiere, we raced off by cab to a hardware store to buy an electric fan, and then immediately returned to the boat, seeing only glimpses of the town out the window.  Now I had scheduled a full day to relax and explore.

The approach from the canal crossed two branches of the Armance River, each crossed by bridges with ornate ornamental ironwork and baskets of flowers.

Despite the beautiful flowers there and on a hillside, where the flowers colored the regional flag below a castle tower, the town didn’t see as vibrant as others I had visited.

The town sits high on a hill, with lots of steps taking you up to the heart of the city.  The highest point was a large church which, unfortunately, was not open to be toured, nor was there about its history.  Still, it sat high and majestic over the city.

Behind it a bit was the center of town, marked by a fountain square and a nearby café.  Narrow streets and alleys would through the town center.

Unlike most towns I’d seen, Saint Florentin seemed dominated by hair salons!  I saw two boulangeries, only one small grocers, and several Tabacs.

Other than a somewhat sketchy looking pizza place, there were only two restaurants of note in town, both appearing more formal than I really wanted to experience as a party of one.   The Marie was an impressive structure, and there were other businesses in town, but the large supermache had opened on the outskirts of town, and that (as it almost always does) seemed to have drained some of the energy from the town proper.

There was plenty of structures of obvious historical interest around.  There was a long market building, what appeared to be a religious retreat being rehabbed, and other interesting features.  I was able to peek through one open gate and see that there were still impressive estates lining the top of the hill, each with impressive views over the river and canal below.

Still, I found it to be less than I expected, something that once must have been quite a vibrant center for the area that now may have its best days behind it.

I wandered the city late morning, and took a second walk through it later in the afternoon.  At the end, I dined aboard Desormais and enjoyed the evening in the very pleasant port area.  Exploring is always interesting, just not always as rewarding as you might hope.

 

 

After a night of “recovery” from my mishaps on the way to Migennes, it was time to take on the Burgundy Canal.  Suzanne and I had tried the first section as our first outing with Desormais and found it to be a very weedy journey.  As a result, we only went south to Saint Florentin as the first leg and then turned back.  Setting out on Wednesday July 17th for that same destination, it seemed to be easier going, though there was still plenty of vegetation to be seen, much of it floating on the top of the water.

The trip from Migennes to Saint Florentin doesn’t climb very much, so there are long stretches of canal between the locks (ecluses).  The canal is also often deep in the trees and heavily shaded, even over-grown on the side in places.  Perhaps because of this seclusion, there seems to be a great deal of wildlife to be seen – all sorts of fish, birds, and different types of swimming mammals (not certain what type!).

A heavily treed section:  0120ECA7-7787-479C-AADA-21E7FBB7AE8C

Coming out of one lock, I was surprised to find the answer to the diminished weed problem – I found a 3-man mowing crew.  They were literally mowing the bottom of the canal and removing the weeds!  One manned the floating mower, and odd contraption with a vicious looking moving blade (much like that used for cutting hay) that lowed into the water at the bow.

Behind it came a much larger conveyor barge, skimming the cut weeds out of the water and into a hold.  Finally, there was a smaller boat doing cleanup, scooting around with a tined scoop that could be lowered, raised and dumped.

He was responsible for catching

the errant clumps that got away from the conveyor barge.

The trip was relatively easy this time, though I was going upstream and had to adjust again to reaching up to secure my lines on bollards in the locks.

The scenery around the canal begins to open up a bit as one approaches St. Florentin.  The last lock is actually a normal lock that raises you into a short section of viaduct.  The viaduct serves to carry the canal over the Armanace River, which feeds the canal, and

into the larger port area at St. Florentin.

On our first visit, we found the Captainiere to be quite helpful.  Mooring isn’t cheap, but the port office is modern and offers some supplies, and the port is being expanded and modernized.As I entered the port, there was a carnival in full swing in the park beside the canal.  As we really hadn’t seen much of the town on our fist visit, I thought I’d stay two nights and look around some.

Monday July 16th arrived as a bright and clear morning, and it was time to depart Auxerre.  The plan was a short trip to Gurgy for a Monday night mooring, then on to Migennes, after which I would try the Canal du Bourgogne (Burgundy Canal).

From Auxerre to Migennes, I would be on the Yonne, with it’s large commercial locks, much larger than the Freycinet locks on the older canals.  The Freycinet standard lock (38.5 meters long by 5.05 meters wide) exists on the older canals, such at the Nivernais and the Bourgogne.  To this point I had single handed the boat through the smaller locks.  Now I would be taking on the much wider and longer modern locks by myself for the first time.

I started out mid-morning, having already watched Milou and other boats depart.  The first few locks were handled without incident, and I spent lunch time (when the locks are closed) slowly moving towards the lock downstream from Moneteau.  I passed Milou and another boat moored along the bank upstream from the beautiful, flower adorned bridge at Moneteau.  By the time I reached the lock, Milou and another boat had

caught up.  Clearing that lock with Desormais in the lead, that lock being the last before Gurgy, we headed to our evening mooring.

The evening was quiet and pleasant.  Yet again, I have arrived at Gurgy when the very nice Restaurant de la Riviere was closed, but spent some very pleasant time socializing with the owners of Milou.  I had moored single handed and felt I was learning more about moving about alone on the larger river.

In the morning, we headed out.  I offered the lead to Milou but, with a comment about “age before beauty”, they waved me ahead.

The first stretch downriver from Gurgy is a very long canalized stretch off river, known as the Derivation de Gurgy.  Nearing the lock at the downstream end of that stretch, I saw that a boat was locking downstream already, so I floated in place upstream from the lock, allowing ample room for any boat that might be waiting on the other side to lock upstream.

The boat locking down departed, and we waited for the lock to cycle back.  And waited.  And waited.  Milou floated slightly behind Desormais, and another boat arrived to float and wait behind Milou.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of floating and slowly maneuvering the boat to stay in place, we saw the nose of a large commercial barge come around the bend and into the lock, moving upstream.  Because these commercial boats fill the locks and carry large loads when full, they move ever so slowly into and out of the locks.

Now, to help you understand what I was about to face for the first time, you need to understand something about boats on canals.  A boat displaces it’s weight in water, which is why it floats.  A 25-ton boat like Desormais, therefore, displaces 25 tons of water.  A much larger and heavier boat displaces much more.

When such a boat moves through a canal, it effectively leaves a “hole” behind it which has to be filled with water.  Given its forward movement, the water to fill that hole can only come from ahead of the boat, rushing to the rear.  For large boats, or boats moving faster than they should for their weight, the movement of the boat forward can drop the water level ahead of it.  The phenomenon is called “bottom effect”.

As this large, heavily loaded commercial barge made its way out of the lock and towards us, my inexperience left me a bit slow to start moving.  Additionally, I had drifted toward the bank on my starboard side.  When I did begin to accelerate forward, I found I wasn’t moving!  The water level had dropped to where my stern was resting gently on the bottom, holding me in place.  Meanwhile, the more experienced two boats behind me, knowing the risk, had also begun to move forward.  I had a large commercial barge moving steadily toward me, two boats coming up behind me, on a canal not much wider than two boats, and I was stuck!

Using the throttle to rev the engine forward I was lucky to finally begin moving forward.  Looking over my shoulder, I saw Milou just off my stern, and watched as they had to adjust their course.  Fortunately, I was able to pass the commercial barge, move toward the center of the canal, and then enter the lock without further mishap.  Just the same, I was chagrined at nearly causing a problem for multiple boats.

We made it through that lock and moved on.  The owners of Milou were headed toward a dinner reservation in Joigny, downstream from Migennes.  Feeling embarrassed by my poor performance with the commercial barge, I moved to the side and motioned for Milou to lead.  Unfortunately, my embarrassment for the day was not yet complete.

Further downstream, Milou led into a lock, Desormais coming in second, and a third boat, a hire boat, coming in behind.  A mild cross breeze was coming from the port side of the boat and, when I tried to lasso a lock bollard on the port side missed, due to a bad throw.  With the hire boat coming up behind me and the cross breeze blowing me to the starboard side of the lock, I had to recover quickly and tie to the starboard side of the lock.  In my haste, a port mooring rope continued to dangle in the water, and Milou’s captain was kind enough to warn me.  My scrambling, bumbling efforts in that lock served as a humbling experience, reminding me I still had much to learn.

Further downriver, I waved to Milou as they pulled off toward Joigny, made my way into the Migennes lock, and thankfully tied up there without further incident.  I know I owe Milou an apology but, as gracious as that couple is, think I might simply owe them a nice bottle of wine the next time our paths cross.

I also knew I still had much to learn about handling Desormais alone, and the Canal du Bourgogne, with it’s smaller locks, seemed like the opportunity I needed.

Arriving in Auxerre Tuesday July 10 meant I was arriving on the day of France’s World Cup Semi-final game, to be followed by a very certain Bastille Day celebration and a potential World Cup Final in the immediate future.   These were events I felt I’d been prepared for and had seen elsewhere, or so I thought.  My timeliving in Upper Arlington, Ohio, had somewhat convinced me two of the immutable forces in nature were the Ohio Buckeyes and the UA July 4th celebrations.  I wanted to see what big time sports and fireworks felt like in France.

To put it succinctly, it was all I had come to expect and much more.

The square outside the restaurant where I watched had al fresco dining set up with large TVs so all could watch.  The room I sat in had a beamed ceiling, with the main wooden beam at least 18” square.  It was a good thing I preferred the inside seating, as all outside seating was reserved.  Desormais was moored along the river, across the street from the square, not 100 yards from where I sat, and that was where it remained for the entire six nights I was there.

Sitting there, the first clue came during the semi-final game, when the French anthem began to play over the large screen TV.  The anthem was met with a full throated song by the crowd, not the muted “I think I know most of the words” anthem heard at most American sporting events.  This was spontaneous, and prideful, and loud.  And I’m observing this in a relatively small city (although major for its region) with a history dating back tobefore the 800’s, in buildings dating back to the 1600’s.  The enthusiasm and excitement about the contest we were about to see was abundantly clear.

The game was hard fought, with a roar of cheers, fireworks and smoke erupting outside when France scored.  The tension continued however, as Belgium continued to attack throughout the game.  At the end, France prevailed 1-0, assuring an evengreater turnout for the Finals game Sunday night.

The days leading up to Friday and Saturday passed peacefully, as I rested, wandered the city, and marveled at the other boats and barges whose owners had gathered for the Bastille Day fireworks on the river.  As the canals and locks would be closed for the holiday, it made sense to settle in someplace special for a day or two.

I had posted a question on the Dutch Barge Associations discussion page, regarding securing boat bumpers.  The following day, the owner of a beautiful Piper-built barge, Milou, knocked on the cabin door and said he’d be happy to show me how they had attached their bumpers, which I did take him up on.

As an aside here, from the first conversation I had on the first day of our first ever trip two years earlier, moored in Clamcey and speaking with the owner of Star of Destiny, I’ve seen over and over how helpful, friendly, and interesting the barge owner community is.  In the UK, when looking at potential boats, I met a couple who had lived full-time on boats for 25 years, 10 years in the UK and 15 years in Europe and finally, at ages I’ll be lucky to see, returning to life on land.  French, British, American, Australian, New Zealand, they come from all over.  And one of the more common questions, asked at different times and in different ways, was simply “how did you come to owning a barge in France?”.  Each of them had their stories, but there were common themes and observations that seemed best summed up by a couple I visited with in Migennes near the end of my journey this year.  They said they had decided, after speaking with those that enjoyed barging (and family members that didn’t!) that you were “either born French or you weren’t”.  They were Australian, but felt “born French”.  Perhaps I’m simply proof that some French blood made it to Scotland to my ancestors, because I understand what they feel.

By Friday July 12th, preparations for the evening’s fireworks show were in full swing.  A section between two bridges just upriver was location for the fireworks lauch, out an over the river.  As such, all boats on both sides of the river there had to be relocated.  I had been forewarned that boats might have to be tied two or three deep.  Somehow, I escaped that situation, and had an unimpeded view up the river to the night show.

The crowd gathered, families with young children, elderly couples, people of all ages and sorts, just like one might see at any 4th of July celebration.  The setting was

Fireworks video:

https://voyagesofdesormais.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/84E1E081-B24D-4C2F-BD7A-1BAC50B31233.mov

 

certainly different, and the view up the river stunning, but the obvious key was the French music accompanying the fireworks.  I was far enough away to all of the show, but close enough that the music drifted across the water to me at a level that made it just loud enough to be a bit magical.

Saturday was a day of calm, and Sunday brought more activity in the nearby square, as the restaurants expanded their outdoor seating in advance of the Finals match.  This time, even bigger TV screens were erected.  Knowing the drill for my favorite watching spot, I did reserve a seat, but inside again, where the TV was easy to see and the Leffe refills were close.

France and Croatia.  The World Cup Soccer Final.

By the latter part of the game, France held a safe lead.  There was still tension, but you could feel the celebration rising, like the increasing tension in stretching a spring.  And then it was over, France winning 4-2.

Celebration video:

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From about 8 in the evening until well after midnight, there was a steady stream of cars driving down the street slowly, filled with people waving flags, honking horns, in an unceasing stream of noise and celebration.  As each hour passed, the celebration diminished only slightly.  At a point, sometime after one in the morning, I decided to try to sleep.

Having dozed off, I was abruptly awoken by a Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump on the hull of the boat, followed by a SPLASH.  Jumping up and poking my head into the wheelhouse, I see a young man in his mid-teens climbing out of the river behind the boat.  Four of his friends are laughing and pointing.  Apparently, on a dare or as a celebratory statement, he had decided to shuck off his shoes and pants, for a dash across my boat, using it as a diving platform into the river.  No damage done but, as he eyed the boat and I could see he was considering another run, I rapped on the glass and offered a loud “NON”, and he and his friends slowly took their celebration further down the riverside.

Rising the next morning, a bit bleary eyed, it was time to move on.  In the early morning, there was still the occasional car horn tooting, to an often repeated rhythm.  I had been attracted to this slow barging pace to experience the culture and history in this moment.  The six days of July in Auxerre did not disappoint.