Magical Mailly La Ville...

---

We awoke early in Cravant and decided to get a whole day of travelling in. By nine am we'd eaten, washed up and were ready to go.
By the time the locks shut for lunch, we'd managed to get through five of them – the most we'd accomplished in a day on the Nivernais so far! We'd also passed through more stunning scenery including a gorgeous gorge and narrow one way section of the canal. We arrived at lock six of the day just after they'd closed for lunch. There was already a boat tied to the small waiting platform so we decided to tie to the big barge bollard and have lunch whilst we waited for the lock to re-open. As we neared it, Mike asked if I wanted to try lassoing it. My lassoing in the locks had been successful first time about half of the time so I needed the practice. I coiled the rope stood at the centre of the boat, concentrated and waited. As we got nearer I threw one the right hand, then the left, keeping the end in my fingers as Mike had shown me. It missed. I coiled up the ropes and had a second go. This time it hit the bollard but didn't go around it. I re-coiled the ropes a third time. This one was the lucky one, right? Mike had now switched the engine off and come to help me. As I threw the rope it sailed straight past the bollard and landed in a neat loop around Mike's head. The startled look on his face was hilarious and I immediately fell about laughing as I apologised (the apology really didn't come over as sincere through a mouthful of laughter). I heard laughter from behind as well and noticed that the women from the other boat had been watching and seen it all. “Good shot!” one of them called in a strong kiwi accent. “Bet you couldn't do that again if you tried!” called the other, laughing. As Mike untangled himself and joined in the laughing I heard the women explain to their husbands what they were laughing at. I secured the boat with the other rope (we were now touching the big barge bollard so all I had to do was drop it over).“You tard,” Mike said with a grin, “You can't hit a massive bollard, but you can lasso my head whilst I'm moving! I bet that's going in the blog!” “Definitely” I grinned back. He gave me a hug and kiss and we sat down for our lunch of leftover pork sandwiches with a glass of bubbly, still chuckling.
Not long after we emerged from the lock (where I succeeded in lassoing the bollard) we lighted upon a village that looked like it had come straight out of a Disney storyboard. Flocks of swallows were swooping down to feed on insects in the water, a family of ducks swam by, graceful swans floated along, fish leapt into the air and weeping willows gently brushed the water. The sky was azure, the sun was bright and the village old and pretty. “This place is gorgeous!” I said “shall we stay here?” “Why not?” Mike replied “We can go for a walk and explore it this afternoon, and I can try out my fishing rod.” We pulled up to the pontoon and tied up. The power and water here were working and, again, it was completely free to stay.
We got off the boat and went to explore the village, which I'd worked out from looking at the pilot guides was called Mailly-La-Ville. We found a bakery, a butchers and a post office, all closed. We walked further along and found a restaurant which looked really nice. “Let's check the menu, we could come here tonight for dinner.” We walked up and looked at the menu. I immediately started laughing. “This is brilliant!” I said “They have translated the menu into English, I'm guessing because of the boat tourists they have here, but it's been done word for word. So, what should have been 'warm crusted goats cheese with green salad, tomatoes and nut oil' has come out as 'the crusty one of goat heat green salad and tomatos with the nut oil'. Reasons not to use google translate I think!” Mike joined me and we read the rest of the menu in amusement. Choux Profiteroles were listed as 'cabbages'. “We have to eat here.” I said and looked for the opening times. We were really disappointed to see that the restaurant closes at the end of August. However, a sign directed us to its sister restaurant/snack bar down by the water. We went off to check it out.
Mailly La Ville is definitely a seasonal town and on the ten minute walk to the snack bar we saw no-one, despite the still glorious weather. A little beach had been constructed by the waters edge, along with a playground, basketball court and small restaurant. We looked at the menu and saw that 'snack bar' was the best description of the place. It served sandwiches, chips and burgers and ice creams. We decided to continue our search for somewhere to eat. “I fancy an ice cream,” Mike said “want one?” “No, but I'll come in and see if they have a fruit lolly, I'm boiling.” We went into the kiosk and saw a man stretched out on a sun lounger, a fan blowing on him, a fly swatter in his hand and a big screen in front showing a nature programme. He was snoring softly. “Come on,” I whispered “It seems a shame to wake him, let's go.” Mike nodded and we turned around to leave. As we did so, he kicked a chair. It scraped noisily and Mike pulled an “Oh no!” face. The snoring stopped and the man awoke with a start. “Ca-va?” he asked sleepily as he got up and rubbed his eyes. We couldn't just leave after waking the poor guy up. “Je voudrais une glace s'il vous plait” I said and he gestured to the freezer with his fly swatter. Mike and I got our ice lollies, thanked the man and left, trying not to giggle.
As we made our way back to the boat we chatted about what to do. We decided to spend an hour or so getting some exercise. Mike wanted to go for a run and I said I'd cycle alongside him. I hate running, it hurts my boobs and my knees and Mike would never get a good run with me whinging and ambling alongside him. We'd passed under a bridge just as we entered the village so we headed that way and explored the opposite side. Mike kept up a good jog and I pedalled leisurely alongside him, looking around at the sights, watching lizards scatter as we approached and reading the signs. We came to a town square and saw a big inn. It had a menu up, and we said we'd come here for dinner tonight. We passed it and went up a hill and across some railway lines, then turned back and passed the pub, heading down a country lane and alongside some fields and vineyards. I kept racing ahead now and had to keep slowing down – it was hard to keep pace down a slope! Mike had now been running for a good half hour in the blazing heat and was pouring with sweat. I got off my bike and re-joined him and we took a stroll in the fields whilst he caught his breath. We then slowly made our way back to the boat, slowly, because I kept stopping to look at lizards – I am still a curious child at heart and nature, particularly of a variety not found in England, still fascinates me.
Back at the boat Mike announced he was going for a swim to cool off and get rid of the sweat. “Want to come?” he asked. I still didn't fancy the idea, but did want to do more exercise. “I know, “ I said “why don't we put the dinghy in the water? I'll row whilst you swim.” So we got the dinghy in, Mike changed into trunks and off we went. We passed a hire boat with Americans on board tied a little further up the pontoon and they smiled and waved as we passed. One of them looked a bit out of place on a hire boat holiday. Whilst the others were all in shorts t-shirts and sunglasses, she was wearing skin-tight red capri pants, wedge sandals, a striped red and white t shirt, huge white straw hat with a red ribbon, massive sunglasses and full make-up on her clearly surgeon sculpted face. She looked as though she should have been on a luxury cruise of the tropics, not in a battered hire boat on the French canals. Still, it takes all sorts I guess! We had fun in the water for a while, me towing Mike to test out the guns, exploring the little backwaters, chatting and laughing, then returned to our boat. As we got back on board, the American men came by and asked about fees, power and water. We told them that the power water and mooring were free and they seemed pleased! Then they asked if we knew what the restaurant was like. “Closed,” I replied “and the one down in the park by the water just does chips, burgers that sort of thing. You'll have better luck on the other side of the bridge.” They thanked us and went back to their boat. The sun was still blazing so we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon fishing and sun bathing. We could see huge fish in the water next to us – how hard could it be to catch one? Turns out, very. We had only one bite, whilst I was watching the rod and Mike was inside the boat. I grabbed the rod and started to reel her in. All of a sudden I was a kid again, fishing for carp with my Dad. I reeled gently and smoothly, as Dad had taught me, and soon saw a huge silvery body flashing through the water. Here was dinner! However, we did not have a landing net. How was I going to get it on board? I dipped the rod right down to the surface of the water reeled in some more, then lifted. I received a loud plop and a lightening of the line in return. The bugger had gotten away. I'm guessing the attempt to lift him out of the water had pulled the hook through his lip. Just at that moment, Mike, who had been informed of me having a fish on the line a few moments earlier, came out. “Where is it?” he asked “Is it big enough for dinner?” “Um, it's back in the water,” I said “It came off the hook when I tried to land it. I think the distance from the boat to the water is too much.” “You tried to pull it up the side of the boat?” Mike asked, in slight disbelief. “Yeah, I couldn't think what else to do.” “Never mind,” came the reply “Just walk it round to the back of the boat next time, it will be easier to land there, the water's shallow and the boat is lower.” He re-baited the line then put it out again. For an hour there was not a sniff. “I'm going to try from the pontoon,” he said “You can see them in the shallows there.” Off he went and I popped the cork on one of our cremants and poured up a couple glasses in our souvenir flutes. I took Mike's out and sat with him for a while. Still no fish. “I think I'm going to read for a bit,” I said and got up. There was a smash as I did so. Clumsily, I managed to knock over my flute full of crémant and it had smashed on the pontoon. “Oh shit!” I said “Don't move, I'll clear up the glass.” I grabbed the dustpan and brush and swept it all up. “That didn't last long did it?” said Mike “Now I remember why all our stuff is plastic. It's not just because we live on a boat, it's also because plastic is one of the few materials that's carly-proof!” I smiled “I'm not so sure about that, I managed to melt that plate, remember?”. I kissed him and hopped back on to the boat to read. Mike joined me a short while after. “I'll leave the rod out, but I'm going to read too. We'll just keep an eye on it.” He set up the rod on board, propped between his toolboxes and leaning against a little tub of small screws. “If we get a bite, the rod will rattle the screws.” He explained. Genius. Who needs expensive alarms when you've got a box of screws? Unfortunately we caught nothing. Today was the day of the one that got away.
We awoke early next morning and went off for a row and swim again before we left. As we left the 4 Americans passed on their way to the bakery and stopped for a chat. The slightly out of place looking woman asked us if we'd found a restaurant the night before. “No, we just cooked tuna melts and stayed in.” I said “I can't believe everything's closed.” She replied. I smiled and said “well, that's the way it is sometimes.” The other couple smiled. “yeah, we ended up having soup on the boat.” Out -of place woman's husband said “We went over to the one on the other side of the bridge but they weren't serving food. It's crazy, how can they make a profit?” “I guess they make a lot in high season.” I replied. They said goodbye and went to find a bakery. We went for our row/swim.
We were coiling electric cords and the hose pipe ready to depart and when saw one of the American couples again. They were lovely and told us they'd been cruising the French waterways for a few weeks every year since they first did a holiday here over ten years previously. They lived in San Francisco and owned a boat there. They sailed regularly back home and loved boating. They asked what we were doing and when we told them we were spending at least a year travelling, lived in our boat and had crossed the channel with her they were very impressed. “I think it's fantastic you've had the guts to do it whilst you're still young,” said the woman, “Make the most of it, and have a lovely trip”. “So, it's just the two of you?” asked the guy. “For now,” we said “but we're meeting friends in Lyon in October and at Christmas in the south.” They exchanged a look. “Do you get on well?” he asked. “Yes, they're some of our best friends.” “And have they stayed on the boat before?” asked the woman “Yes, a few times.” I said “Why's that?” “Well, we brought our friends with us this year. When we talked about how much we loved cruising the French waterways, they said they'd like to come along, but they've never been before and their idea of 'cruising' isn't this. I don't think they were expecting a lot of waiting around for locks, doing rope work and cooking for ourselves. It's been difficult at times.” That explained why the woman on their boat looked a little out of place - she had been expecting a more luxury version of a cruise. I felt for her and for the other couple. “Oh no,” I said “well, I don't think we'll have that problem. Our friends have all been on the boat before and will be fine getting their hands dirty! You have a good journey back.” “And you enjoy the rest of yours,” they said and returned to their boat. We passed them on our way to the lock five minutes later they waved us off as their friends returned carrying bakery goodies. Hopefully that compensated for the closed restaurants.

---

Comments

[umair akber]

[e-mail]
amazing pic nyc view i love dis palce