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Published: August 29th 2010
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CS:
Another bright day, but much cooler and CS suspected she saw a gloss of frost on the washing she and PP had carefully wrung out and hung out the night before. Our intrepid CJ and JJ did their usual early reconnoitre of our environs before the rest of us were awake and reported back during breakfast.
PP felt ready to relieve Skip at the helm and JJ and EB undertook to ride the tow paths, JJ was happy to use the bike CS had purloined because of the gel-seat cover CS had brought and fitted thereto.
Our plan was to head to Lucy-sur-Yonne because we had heard there was a farm close by which sold local produce. The fact it was known as Ferme de Misery would not deter us. One of our only disappointments has been the unavailability of fresh fruit and veg (procurable if at all only from the various supermarkets we visited.) The joy of experiencing a French local market has eluded us. We began to joke that market days were always the day before or after the day we were actually in a place.
True to form we pulled into the bank near
the bridge at Lucy (having slipped past the Chateau de Faulin on our left). IJ and CS found ripe blackberries growing right by the path and picked accordingly.
PP stayed on board to sketch and we others headed off with great expectation to the farm. A pretty place indeed, hermetically closed!! Not a soul to be seen. Not a carrot, tomato, potato in sight. We rode through the whole village of Misery, such as it was, to no avail. On our return ride some of us rode through Lucy and on to the Chateau (also closed but accommodated by at least two large snarly dogs). The Co-Op was closed but announced sale of fresh produce on Thursdays. Pity we were there on Wednesday.
Back on board, after crepes for lunch, we headed for Clamecy. 6 locks and a very long bike ride for EB and JJ and we slid into the upper parts of the town past a side-creek of old locks and a small island in the river, which we were now negotiating. Our biking scouts advised that the small 'marina' beyond the 9th lock was already full so we pulled up against the river side and
went without recharging power and water for the night.
Soon after tying up we were feted with an extraordinary spectacle. Jousting (from boats) is famous in this part of the world, to commemorate the strength and tenacity of the erst-while loggers (“flotteurs”) who ranged the river and canal in the past to provide timber for fuel to keep Parisians warm in winter. The pictures do not do justice to the sight. Firstly a woman on the red boat took on a burly gentleman with only slight (one dunking) success - landing in the water about three times herself. The 'players' changed from time to time and seemed to get progressively bulkier. The finer rules were lost on us and our wild cheering did not seem to impress the small spectator crowd, but we had fun. They were practicing for the championships held every 14 July, we were told.
Dinner ashore in an old church involved a delicious 4 course, fixed price menu for 5 of us, with JJ deciding just the coq au vin and cassis cake would do her. The venue was fantastic, the food superb and the waitress a cheeky young lass with sufficient English to
flirt happily with Skip.
We spent the morning exploring Clamecy and undertaking basic chores like laundromatting, internetting and doing what we hope will be our last major shop. The town is fairly large compared with the little villages we visit and contains a range of lovely old buildings in its Medieval centre. Lunch in town proved pleasant, once we found a place open and willing to serve us. We headed off that afternoon in search of a mooring offering power and water.
Three locks away and we landed in Chevroche. Skip was so confident in PP's helming skills (with good reason as it showed) that he and EB did the tow path riding. One lock involved an interesting circular bridge that the lock-man wound out of the way so we could pass through. A flock of ducks appeared to be waiting patiently till the lock opened to fly squawking inside.
Our selected mooring location was vacant and adjacent to a lovely park where we enjoyed our BBQ dinner. A van with fishermen parked across the canal stayed all night but apart from quiet rumblings in French we heard no elation to signify great catches.
We woke
to pouring rain. It is no surprise the landscape in this part of the world is green, green, green.
PP:
Well - shiver me timbers and splice the mainbrace (and other such ritual chanting). Manoeuvring a 15 metre iron boat of 30 tonnes, and 4.5 metres wide through 5 metre wide locks was quite some work - a few “in-offs” and some gentle sliding entries, plus lots of trimming the wheel and heavy concentration kept us mostly out of trouble so the Scurrilous Skip sent me solo driving the barge (methinks he preferred to be ashore to avoid the collisions etc - much the same reasons we send students solo in aeroplanes!?). Still, I wasn't keelhauled at the end of it, so I have been forgiven my major errors.
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Patrick Keyzer
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Insanely jealous
You are living the dream!