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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.

 

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.

Upon leaving Mailly-la-Ville, I headed for Mailly-la-Chateau.  We had passed this village two years prior, with its impressive cliff top Chateau overlooking the bend in the Canal du Nivernais.  My previous research had also found the restaurant at the top had once been featured in a BBC show on canals.  It was a spot I had wanted to explore, but we didn’t have time then.  I did now.

The mooring was, once again, a grassy banked indentation off the canal.  And again, it offered free power and water.

While the village above provided an incredible view, regrettably

it had little else to offer.  The restaurant was closed and posted for sale.  The boulangerie had a sign on the door informing visitors that it was closed for two months of vacation.  The local Tabac appeared to have been closed for

some time.  Even the old church was closed tightly, offering tourists no glimpse of what lay inside.

The “silver lining” to my stay here was meeting the couple that owned the Euroship ROWAN, named after a granddaughter.  Upon learning I had failed to plan ahead regarding my bread for the day, they returned from an extended bike trip back toMailly-le-Ville with an extra baguette for me.  They subsequently emailed me the picture of Desormais that graces the top of these pages.  While our conversations were relatively brief, I very much look forward to crossing paths again.

The next stop was Chatel-Censoir, a town that had been a stop for us on our prior trip.  Capped by a walled area containing a church atop the hill towering over the canal and mooring basin, this town had a number of services and a restaurant that had wowed us on the earlier trip.  It quickly

became clear there was a new Captainiere in charge of the port, and the mooring fee charged seemed to reflect his sense of self-importance.  Even dinner at the restaurant seemed to be less impressive.  Overall, a good stop for groceries and the boulangerie, but not what I remembered.

The final stop before heading into Clamcey was Pousseau, a rural mooring with no services, but quiet and pleasant.  Mooring again to agrassy bank, where a close grove of trees offered shaded tables that were decidedly cooler than the sunshine.  While resting there, three elderly folks came along,

asking me if that was our boat, which I acknowledged. They then asked if I minded if they took pictures and, with my blessings, took turns posing in front of Desormais.

A late afternoon exploratory bike ride took me to nearby Surgy, where a small auberge provided an opportunity for a cold beer or two, after touring the town, the one church, and the Marie.  The evening brought a very peaceful and restful stay, before departing for Clamcey the next morning.

 

 

Leaving Vincelles June 21st, my goal was Cravant, a short distance away.  We had stopped here for lunch, not knowing what to expect (there was no information in the guide provided by Le Boat).  To our surprise, we had an excellent 4 course lunch and then walked about this walled city.  The mooring is really just a grass banked indentation off the canal, but I was able to shoehorn Desormais into one of the few places where power was accessible.  The small cobblestone streets wind through the village, with its small fountains in squares, an old washhouse (laverie), even a prison tower!

 

I made for a free mooring in the pretty little town of Mailly-la-Ville, but with a lunchtime stop in Pregilbert.

Pregilbert is a small town, with really no services available.  My reason for stopping had nothing to do with the town, but the area across the river from the town.  There lay the remaining vestiges of what was once one of the more powerful Abbeys in France.  It was where knights headed to the Crusades dropped off their wives for safe-keeping, and so became well connected over time with many of the leading families in France.

The Abbey raised various crops to make money for upkeep, and one enterprising Abbess decided they would raise trout, taking advantage of the cold, clear water running in the Yonne.

Little remains of the Abbey.  On private land, out of sight, there is evidently a remnant of the original building, and along the roadside, a remarkable entranceway.  Surprisingly, though, there is also a fish farm (Pisciculture de Crisenon) that continues the tradition of raising trout.

I arrived before noon, wandered in, marveling at the many pools of various types of trout and other fish.  I ultimately noticed the sign and bell, instructing me to ring for service.  In response, a pleasant woman emerged from a nearby home and, after some brief conversation, scooped a trout from a pool, bopped it on the head, then cleaned it.  I was off to the boat, with my exceptionally fresh trout dinner in hand!

Mainly-la-Ville is a lovely village, sitting on both sides of the canal.  I has floating pontoons for mooring, with free power and water available.  Initially, I was confused about the mooring options (still learning to read the DBA guide!), and initially moored to a bankside bollard, a move that proved quite tricky single handed, given a breeze that was blowing the boat away from shore.  When operating alone, I had already learned I would have to step off the boat at times to moor, but this proved a bit daunting, and gave me some valuable insights.  I finally realized I could move upstream a bit and take full advantage of the floating docks, and promptly did so.

I relaxed in Mailly-la-Ville for two nights, both to do some work on the boat and to travel back down the canal one day for lunch.

At virtually every lock, a lockkeepers house was built.  These are numbered and carry the name of the lock.  On the way to Mailly-la-Ville, just above Pregilbert, I had passed through a lock called Ecluse des Damas,  There, the house had been turned into a small restaurant, catering to locals, canal boaters, and those bicycling along the canal.

I decided a bike ride down the canal was in order, and arrived just before lunch.  The restaurant had taken the time (presumably with VNF permission) to paint the lock fences and gear in their colors.  They didn’t serve lunch until noon, so I had a cold beverage, wandered around, and sat in the shade.  Lunch ended up being a delightful meal of escargot and other area goodies!  Well worth the bike trip….