Month: July 2018

Since leaving my rural mooring at Villers-sur-Yonne on 2 July, I’ve been moving en aval—downstream.  The locks are a different experience moving downstream.  You enter the lock sitting high, you can see all the bollards and reach them easily, you can even see beyond the lock, downstream.  As the water is released from the gate on the downsteam side, you gently lower into the lock with little noise and virtually no turbulence.  While your sight lines become more limited, you already know what awaits when the lock doors open, as you’ve seen it whilst sitting high up.

Contrast that with moving en en amont – upstream.   You enter the lock low, often with no view of what lies beyond.  You enter the relative darkness of the lock, surrounded by damp walls, and sometimes struggle to find mooring locations.  In the deepest of locks, you have to trust the eclusier to assist with placing your lines.  The upstream gates are then opened, and water surges into the lock, often with a degree of noise and varying degrees of turbulence.  In some locks, the rush of water can jostle you around, even threatening to sweep you into other boats, should you be sharing the lock.  Then, in the midst of this noise and turmoil, you rise to see whatever awaits.

It would be a wonderful and easy journey on the canals were all canals en eval, but obviously that’s not how canals work.  You have to endure the darkness, uncertainty and turbulence of en amont to be able to enjoy en aval – much like life.

I’m passing through towns that are now becoming familiar to me, as I visit them for the third time (including our 2016 hire boat trip).  Clamcey, Chatel-Censoir, Cravant, and Vincelles, with plans to push on today (10 July) to Auxerre.   Even in the short time since I passed headed upstream, the landscape has changed.  Fields of ripening grain have been harvested, an endless field of green is now an endless sea of yellow sunflowers.

Two days, one in Clamcey and one in Chatel-Censoir, are spent sitting out Mother Nature, choosing not to travel in thunderstorms or steady rain.

Moving en aval is a contemplative way to travel – peaceful and serene.

That may change as I arrive this evening in Auxerre for an extended stay.  You see, France is in the World Cup semi-final match tonight, Saturday is Bastille Day, and Sunday is the World Cup finals match.  It looks to be an en amont kind of a week!

I had thought I would travel up the Nivernais to our original starting point in 2016, the Le Boat base at Tannay/Cuzy, but ultimately changed my mind.

Locating yet another quiet rural mooring at Villers-sur-Yonne with free power and water, I decided this was a nice, shaded spot where I could turn

to the job of lacquering the wood on the boat, an annual maintenance requirement.  It had steadily gotten hotter during the days (though you still wanted/needed a comforter at 4 in the morning), and the Yonne at this point was a nearby cool creek, offering the possibility of a cooling dip.  I spent two days, painting, organizing

areas of the boat, learning more of what was stored in this nook or that cranny.

My confidence in my ability to handle Desormais, and my knowledge of how she handled, had steadily grown as I had travelled up the Nivernais, using familiar ground as a crutch.  Now it seemed time to consider heading to new experiences.  Traveling further up the Nivernais would quickly bring me to an area of sharper ascent, where locks came in rapid succession.  Having been forewarned about one section know as “the 16”, I chose to do my chores, rest for a few days in this bucolic setting, and the head back the way I’d come.  Downstream I went.

It’s the evening of Friday, June 29th, and for the upcoming third night, I’ll be moored in Clamcey.  In terms of the US, its not a town you would recognize by size, but is has a cathedral that traces its roots into the mid 800s, so there really isn’t a US comparison.  It’s one of the bigger cities on the Canal du Nivernais, and was our first stop on our journey in 2016.

It’s not the location that is exciting, although the port is quite nice.  One can find their way by bike to the local superstore, and there are great restaurants in reach.  The cathedral at the top of the hill is magnificent, and casts its historic pall over all the small cobbled streets that surround it.  Indeed, it is quite a town.

What I marvel at is the movements and interactions of the residents, which one can begin to discern after a day or two, when you see the residents living within this context, entirely unburdened with the history that surrounds them.  I watched a Father walk his mentally impaired daughter into the core of town in the late afternoon, and watched as the present community greeted them both.  The traditional kiss on both cheeks was offered to all, and they sat at the local Tabac as an equal neighbor.  This is an extended community, close knit and social.

The juxtaposition of history and current neighborhood realities is what is most impressive.  These are people who live within their community.  The fact that community encompasses structures that are hundreds of years old is of no consequence.  One simply has to sit and watch the interactions to see this is a community that changes slowly, greeting each other day to day in the pattern each family sets.

Perhaps it is this remarkable balance between the incredible and, to a degree, immutable environment, and the slowly evolving context of the local community, changing at times block by block, that is so engaging.  To be a witness to this, whilst slowly sipping a late afternoon beer, is a bit of voyeurism, but with the highest of standards.  It is the remarkable resilience of an intimate and supportive community that resounds most loudly. The simple act of watching modern life quietly play out in ancient surroundings will keep me coming back to Clamcey.