Month: August 2018

Over the next few days, as I packed and prepared the boat for winter at Evans Marine, I watched with some fascination as two massive commercial barges arrived, one moored to the quay with the other rafted to it, filling the space La Rebelle had vacated.  Shortly after their arrival, a large generator was delivered, followed by a motorized grain lift.  The following morning, on a gray windy day with the occasional drizzle falling, the trucks started arriving.  Some dropped their load into the lift, which carried the grain up an into the boat’s hold, while others (of unique design) dumped directly into the boat.

This process continued for a day and a half, the boats swapping places at one point.  With the wind blowing, the grain was being partially winnowed as it was loaded, as the chaff was being blown onto those of us moored downwind!  Desormais was covered in grain husks.

The departure of one of the barges was even more impressive to watch as it went through the lock.  The two-person team communicated via headsets, one at the helm and the other managing the massive mooring lines.  The barge was a true Freycinet barge, filling the lock side to side and with barely a few feet to spare at each end!

Friday morning, after quickly locking through, Desormais was moored at Evans, was quickly and efficiently lifted out, the hull power washed clean, and the boat set aside on a trailer.  I spent the rest of Friday and the weekend finishing prep for the winter, draining water from the system, etc..  I stayed in Auxerre, taking full advantage of the frequent trains to get back and forth to Migennes (approx. 5€ each way for a 25 minute ride) over the weekend as I continued work on the boat.

I had one last delightful visit with Ted and Charlotte of Ferrous in Auxerre on Saturday evening as they headed up the Nivernais, and one last stop at Evans on Monday morning, before heading to Paris and then onward to home.  My feelings were mixed as I left, happy to be headed to see family and friends again, but knowing I would miss the adventures I’d had and all the interesting and welcoming people I’d met.

As an odd final note, while corresponding with a partner/investor in a real estate property, I learned he was not in the US.  Upon further prodding, it turned out he was within four Metro stops of me in Paris.  After a few more exchanges, we agreed to get together for dinner, and had an enjoyable evening discussing a wide range of topics, including his recent success at redeveloping an amazing residential property in the Greek isles.

His job with an international financial organization takes him all over, but he confessed to me that I was one of the last people he would have anticipated running into in Paris.  The moral here, for me, is simply that life takes us all to unique and unexpected places over time, and we should always be prepared to be surprised about what connections that can lead to.

Upon reflection, this first year, this initial adventure would not have been possible without so many others.  Barging on the canals is not a solo sport, or one for couples alone.  It is a community one learns of post by post, lock by lock, adventure by adventure.  At the risk of being cliché, it is one that builds on so many others that have been down the canals ahead of us.  There are so many we have to thank for our adventures in 2018.

So, to that end, and with apologies for being vague to protect specific identities, thank you to so many.  Thank you to Brian and Mary, Tony and Heidi, Ken and Jean, Graham and Magali, Neville and Sandra, Simon and Philippe, Colin, Julie and Gaius, David and Lynn, Peter, Keith, Ted and Charlotte, Steve and Rosie, and so many others.  You all helped make this adventure so much more than a simple canal journey.  We hope to find each of you again in the future on or about the canals…

C’est fini.  Au revoir…..

Arriving at Saint-Florentin, I found the port packed with all sorts of boats.  I arrived on the tail end of a weekend long boat rally.

The point of the rally was to show support for Saint-Florentin and the Canal du Bourgogne.  Apparently, the French government plans to turn control and responsibility for the canals over to the respective Regions.  Bourgogne-Franche-Comte seems to be considering closing or severely curtailing use of the Canal.  This, despite the fact I saw a publication by the Region where the head of the region described the strategic vision of the region as being focused on jobs and ecotourism, highlighting the history and natural resources of the area.

It is hard to imagine what could replace boat traffic as a staple in the many small towns the Canal passes through.  As noted in my (upstream) earlier blog on Saint-Florentin, the port is being steadily improved and is under excellent management (as a private venture) in a community whose town center seems to be experiencing decline.

And, so, the boats came, from all over, in support of Saint-Florentin, the Canal du Bourgogne, and the unique resource of history, travel, and pure enjoyment the canals of France represent.  Thus, the weekend rally and the full port.

The Captainiere had made a point of asking boats about the departure times planned for the next morning and, consistent with my stated intent, I had cast off and was waiting for the arrival of the Eclusiers by 9:00 the next day.  Finally, at 9:20, three people showed up to operate the lock.  After conferring amongst themselves, they set about asking questions of me and one other boat, it still tied to shore.  It seemed the Eclusierswanted to conserve water and have two boats lock through, while the other (quite large) boat thought Desormais was too big to share a lock with them.

Finally, the lock opened and I entered it and started to tie up.  A young woman indicated I needed to move all the way to the front, as the other boat had agreed to depart early.  I looked back to see a massive steel hulled cruiser, complete with a tall V-shaped hull, begin to head for the lock.  The final result was both boats fit in the lock (barely) but with their V-hull looming a bit over Desormais’ aft rail!

The large cruiser shared locks with Desormais until we reached Brienon-sur-Armangon at lunch time.  They stopped for lunch, while I proceeded to wait at the next lock for the afternoon opening, eventually (and happily!) proceeding on alone.

The last stretch of Canal du Bourgogne into Migennes is approximately 6 Km long and straight as an arrow.  As such, one spends the better part of an hour moving straight along the canal, the end far in the distance.  I found myself thinking of this as my “home stretch”, as my thoughts drifted back to all I had seen and all I had met along the way.  There were pangs of nostalgia for moments past, mixed with thoughts ahead to safely preparing Desormais for winter.  While not the most engaging of sections on the canal, those last kilometers were ideal for me as a time of reflection, a proper end to a great adventure.  For almost an hour, I had an effortless, slow journey down the canal, all the while my mind revisiting all I had seen and done.  It was a perfect last hour alone on the canals.

Migennes was awaiting, with one new twist as I pulled in.  Space in the middle of the quay had been reserved for two commercial barges, massive boats that tied up rafted together the next morning.

Yet before that space was filled, a boat that had been moored ahead of me in Saint-Florentin, La Rebelle, pulled in, having followed behind me down the canal. I helped them pull in and moor, meeting Steve and Rosie as they tied up.  After a bit of chatting, it was suggested we get together late afternoon for some beverages.  As I had noted the evening before, they seemed to carry an array of chairs and table on deck under a tarp, ready at a moment’s notice to host a party of any size.

When I commented on that later, they asked why I hadn’t joined them the night before.  That launched us into a conversation about life on the canals, and how one becomes drawn to this life (or not).  Steve was from Australia, where (I believe) he and Rosie had met, and they had family literally all over the world.  They had slowly been drawn to France, first while visiting relatives.  They had considered getting a place in Paris, until the realized the effort and investment required.  Eventually, they learned of barges and finally gravitated to buying La Rebelle, spending most of their time on it north of Paris.

What ensued was a great conversation on why people come to be captivated by a canal barge and life on the rivers and canals of France.  Steve and Rosie had eventually come to express their belief both simply and directly.  “You’re either born French or you’re not”, they told me.  Strangely, for my self-perspective as Bag Pipe loving Scottish descendant, I understood.  Whether it is, as I said in an early post, “the light”, or simply my addiction to history and Pain au Chocolat, I, too, have been captured by this life.  It afforded a different time, a different speed and perspective.  It meant you slowed down to where you weren’t simply living, but you were experiencing your life, slowly, purposefully and fully throughout each day.  The difference is well worth seeking.

All three of us agreed, there were many that would not agree with us, many that would not understand those sentiments.  But on the topic of “being French”, in that moment, we were in complete accord.

They also shared that their passion, their desire to support canal life, was what had led them to the rally in Saint-Florentin.  It was their first venture south of Paris, as they traditionally operated in far northern France.  They had not only embraced this life, but had become active advocates, and so had made the trip to the rally.

We parted ways that evening, and they left early the next day to head toward Paris and further north, returning home.  While I had a few days left wrapping things up, my journey had effectively ended, unpredictably, where it needed to.  With others who had been unknown to me previously, but who were now kindred spirits, friends who had discovered that they, like me, had been “born French” on a canal boat on the rivers and canals of France.

 

After a pleasant evening before with Charlotte and Ted, on August 3rd I departed for Tonnerre.  With only six locks to go, I was in Tonnerre by 1:30 PM, tied up behind an old converted sailing barge.  The real issue to be faced, or simply dealt with, was a forecast for extraordinarily high temperatures over the next few days.  It seemed to make sense to sit for a day or two.

The barge ahead of me was an example of some of the remarkable ways in which the old barges have been converted.  As a sailing barge, it had it’s mast lying down.  The original hold had been converted to living spaces, but without modifying the original covers to the hold.  Instead, weather permitting, they simply removed selective hold covers and opened the living space beneath it to the open sky.

A bike trip (and walking uphill return) to the large E Lecleric on the edge of town to stock up on groceries, fluids, and a replacement bike tire tube.  As an aside, the visits to the large grocery stores in France is an adventure, even for an American accustomed to the choices available at local US stores.  The array of fresh seafoods, vegetables, and different meats and sausages is remarkable.  One key is learning to pick out vegetables and fruits, then measure them at the scale locate there, guided by pictures, to generate a pricing label for your order.  In the seafood area, the wide and reasonably priced selection of Salmon cuts became a staple choice for dinner.  Another staple was Orangina, a cross between Orange juice and ginger ale, a mix certain to cut the heat, refresh ones energy, all while keeping up your Vitamin C intake!

Ferrous had pulled in an hour or two behind me, mooring several slots ahead.  Ted and Charlotte continued their hospitality, inviting me to join them one evening for fruit, cheese, crackers and wine.  We talked about many things, and found a common interest in certain topics, with me sharing the titles to several meaningful books I had read recently.

The second day, I simply tried to remain cool.  I wandered town a bit, thought about trying one of the local restaurants but ultimately elected to avoid the walk into town and eat at the boat.  Instead, knowing the end of my trip lie shortly ahead of me, I spent time refreshing myself on end of the year prep to leave the boat, including such fun things as oil changes, introducing antifreeze for water in the boat’s sytems, and leaving the battery and electrical systems set in the proper manner.  The end of my trip was approaching, and I needed to be ready.

On August 5 I left Tonnerre and Ferrous behind and headed to Flogny.  This is a rural mooring, and I found I had it entirely to myself.  Ironically, I awoke in the middle of the night and lay in bed with some apprehension.  The cause of my concern?  It was simply too quiet, a quiet that I was unfamiliar with, and which caused me to get up and look around, simply to reassure myself.  At times, the quiet I found on the canals was simply too quiet, that irony not being lost on me!

August 6, I departed for St. Florentine, only getting several hundred yards before waiting for the eclusier.  It turned out there were two boats locking up in the two closely placed locks that lay ahead of me.  Just as I had decided to reverse to my original mooring, the eclusier came along on their motorbike.  They informed me of the situation and, with the passing of the two boats headed upsteam, my path to St. Florentine was opened to me.  By 2:10 in the afternoon, I was safely moored at St. Florentine, noting as I did that the port was quite full, but that’s a story for next time.

 

I spent a total of three nights in Montbard.  There were other adventures during my visit.

I was woken about 3 one morning listening to a loud lover’s quarrel echoing through the night from down the street.  Due to the exceptional quiet, and the fact the argument took place in the middle of the street, it was easy to follow the tone of the conversation.  She had obviously taken some great exception to his behavior during the night, and made certain all the neighbors knew of it.  An unusually loud encounter, contrary to what I’d experience everywhere else.

An evening at the local pizza restaurant was quite lively.  Obviously a popular spot, I watched as various patrons arrived, greeting familiar faces.  I tried the Pizza del Mar, with shrimp, small oysters, and calamari.   Not bad at all, but I’d probably do something more traditional the next time.

And I met other barge owners.  In helping Ferrous and another boat to moor, I met Ted and Charlotte while assisting them in tying off to the iron rings.  In Montbard, our time was very brief, but our paths would cross again.   There were various other boats, large and small, most passing on their way downstream.

The weather had turned decidedly warmer, and the season continued with little rain.  It was time to head back downstream, back to Migennes for the final mooring, and so, on July 31st, I headed to Ravieres.  I spent the evening moored safely in Raviers, with a large barge moored ahead of me, and enjoyed a familiar meal at L’Idyll.

The next two days were marred with some delays and other issues.

Between Ravieres and Ancy-le-Franc, I started out sharing the lock with another large barge.  Poor mooring points given our respective lengths made me quite nervous.  I dropped back after the first lock, pulling to the side to take care of clogged raw water intake filters.  While the other barge moved onward, my delay seemed to have irritated the eclusiers, who checked on my issues.  They then insisted I be at a certain lock promptly at 1PM after the lunch break.  Taking their request seriously, I was in place and ready, but no eclusier appeared until 1:45, and then only to allow boats to lock upstream.  I didn’t lock through downstream until 2:15!

After a nice light meal at La Botica, a small restaurant and bar next to the port in Ancy-le-Franc the night before, where I watched an entertaining baby goat chase the chickens, the next day’s trip to Tanlay also involved delays.

First, having crammed myself in at the bank behind the Hotel barge spot (occupied) the night before in A-l-F, I found the pool had dropped in the morning and my stern was aground.  It came free with a bit of jostling, and I departed.  Then, at both the first lock and the third, I had some extended delays while locks underwent some repairs, the first being part of an ongoing effort (welding and patching) but the second unexpected.  Fortunately the crew working on the first lock was called to work on the third, and I was finally able to tie up in Tanlay just before 4 PM, a short trip but a long day.

After two eventful days, the evening took a very pleasant turn as Ferrous pulled into port, my having passed them somewhere along the way.  We quickly agreed to have a cold beer at the local restaurant, then broke for a bit and enjoyed a late meal together.  Ted and Charlotte proved to be wonderful and interesting folks, and I thoroughly enjoyed hearing how they had come to spend the last 20 years or so in France, and their recent decision to live on Ferrous full time.  It was a delightful end to the day and the start of a new friendship.