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It’s mid-April, Spring is in full blossom in South Carolina, and our thoughts are turning toward DESORMAIS, France, and what we can do in 2019. 

 

 

It’s been a hectic spring, with more than the usual amount of business demands, with various property sales and refinancings under way, several with timeframes that will likely extend into the cruising season.  That means an indefinite timeframe for usto depart for France which, in turn, means no real opportunity to appear months ahead of departure at the French Consulate office in Atlanta in time to secure a Visa for a stay in excess of 90 days.  So, we’re planning a 90 day season this year, with a departure pushed into mid-June.

 

 

Matters became a bit more hectic when, earlier this spring, the Broker on our barge purchase advised us to consider something other than a French registration.  After some floundering around and very mixed messages on the requirements, we are now working with Jitse Doeve of Doeve Makelaar to secure a Dutch registration for DESORMAIS.  That is not yet complete, but we are hopeful it will be shortly.  The challenges in the current environment for a US owner to own and register a replica Dutch Barge from an English seller, with the boat located in France, at the height of an imminent Brexit deadline and rising US and EU “protectionism” trends in motion are not to be underestimated in terms of facing a moving challenge.  We’re hopeful Jitse can guide us to where we need to be, that being a lawfully registered boat thoughtfully and conscientiously registered in the EU in compliance with the requirements of the countries we plan to visit.

 

 

As boat owners, especially with a newly acquired boat, we’re also facing the usual number of repairs, replacements and planned improvements.  Batteries, portable air con units and mattresses need to be replaced; certain tools and supplies need to be purchased, and all needs to be made ready for moving forward.  Consideration of a proper water-cooled Air Conn system will probable need to wait to the end of the season, but we still plan to replace one of the portables for hot August nights.

 

 

The planned route for this season is to move down the Yonne to St. Mammes, then on round to Briare, and on to Decize.  At that point, depending on travel times, head up and over on the Nivernais or, alternately, visit Digoin and (perhaps) Roanne, before making our way back to Migennes and Evans Marine by either the Nivernais or the Canal du Bourgogne.

 

 

Suzanne may likely only be present only for the first few weeks, if that, concurrent with or followed by the presence of our nephew, her Brother’s youngest son, Wade.  After that, the boat is open to visitors and, with friends planning August trips to France, we hope to have some.  Then it’s back to the Evans Marine yard by mid-September, but with plans for a more extended say in 2020.

 

 

I do have to note, for those who might have need of their services, the relationship, communications with, and services provided by Evans Marine, both in communications with Simon Evans and Phillipe, have been excellent.  They have been responsive, exceptionally helpful, supportive and have generally made our efforts and issues with regard to the boat much easier to handle from a distance that I had hoped.  If you need a lift out or in, and basic yard services in support, I can certainly recommend them.  I’m aware some have posted reviews regarding issues on costs vs. quotes, and I don’t know the basis of their comments.  I do know every boat and every job on each boat is unique and different.  A boat yard is not an auto dealership service shop where there is a card showing the prices for each service.  That being the case, I hardly understand how some can complain that the final price for their job was not the “ballpark” estimate they were given up front.  It’s a boat – that happens.  For us, they could not have been more forthright nor more helpful, and I’m happy to recommend them.

 

 

Enough said for now.  We hope to see you on board as a welcome visitor, or to see you in passing on our journey through the canals.  For those of you already setting out, our best wishes.  Bon Voyage!

 

 

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.

 

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)