Around Marseillan



Rooftops of Marseillan

Wednesdays are a day off school in Marseillan.  Last week, Georgia, her friend Sofia and I walked around town hoping to get a better sense of the layout of the place.  In typical old European form, the streets in the centre of town are only one car wide (though usually open to two way traffic) and are anything but straight.  The houses on each “block” are conjoined though there is occasionally a space between rows of houses that might be wide enough to let a person pass, though not wide enough for a horse - maybe 24 inches.  In this particular town, most of the streets are paved. Only the very centre which houses the shops and market are cobbled.  

Great door and vine

 


Tile used as exterior trim - cool

Typical street in Marseillan



The opposite side of our street

Market day in Marseillan-Ville is Tuesday and in Marseillan-Plage it's on the weekend.  In Marseillan-Ville in addition to a few food stands there are a couple of dozen clothing stands.  For the most part, the goods are more dollar-store than hand-crafted though there are some exceptions.  The Sunday market at Marseillan-Plage is mostly a giant yard sale with a huge number of individuals selling whatever they're trying to get rid of plus a few vendors selling antiques and a small food market. 

From our house it is exactly 150 meters into the market square where there is a small supermarket in addition to a butcher, produce vendor and a couple of bakeries as well as a pharmacy, hairdresser, and pizza place.  Less than a kilometer away there is a larger supermarket that has a small gluten free section in addition to a walmart type of selection of household stuff. 




Within the town, but outside the market square there is a hardware store, bank, and a few other shops but little in the way of clothing or shoe stores.   For clothes, shoes, and bicycle gear we'd need to go to Agde, a slightly larger town a ten minute drive away. 

There are restaurants scattered around town with the majority placed along the port where the tourists hang out.  There are also multiple vintners which we have yet to investigate.



I was fully prepared to dock the boat at a small town on the Rhone called Condrieu sur Roche (or something to that effect) but Tom was keen to make it closer to the Mediterranean and in the end we seem to have landed somewhere that is just right for us!

 

Gorges du Tarn in the Central Massif

Last Friday we rented a car so that we could wander a little further afield and get a better sense of our surroundings.  On Sunday we drove up into the Central Massif in order to go along the Gorges du Tarn. 

About an hour from our home base in Marseillan we arrived at Clermont-l'Herault where the road climbs steeply up one of the hills that forms the south side of the Massif.  (My post excursion google let me know that the Massif is a bunch of mountain ranges that cover 15% of the country and are largely comprised of extinct volcanos).  After reaching the peak and driving along the plateau, we descended into a valley in which sat the city of Millau.  After pausing to check out the view, we drove down the switch backs and started along the Tarn river.


Looking down on the town of Millau

In many spots, the road goes along the Tarn down near the water, and you get views of clusters of stone houses that comprise the villages along the river.  In other spots, however, the road follows the river way up high and you get views down into the gorge.  My fear of heights combined with the minimalist nature of French roads made this a scary adventure, but well worth it on account of the views. 



One of many lovely towns along the Gorge

 

That said, at the town of La Malene, I'd had enough, Georgia was sleeping away her car sickness, and Emily was bored in the way only Emily can be, so we headed back into the massif to find our way home. 



A town where buildings seem to grow out of the rock

This part of the drive was remarkable for the number of changes in scenery and I'm sorry I don't have photos of each distinct region.  On some of the very high plateaus the land is pretty dry and just dotted with scrubby trees.  Then there were sections that looked like any pine forest at home, and other sections were comprised of rolling fields. 




It was all very beautiful until we came to the world's tallest bridge (check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Millau_Viaduct) which was an experience I'd rather not talk about.   

Sadly, on a Sunday in February very little was going in the villages we drove through.  The one exception was the market in Bessan which we stumbled upon due to a missed turn off.  This town is only 15 km from Marseillan and the road, though narrow, doesn't seem to be used much so I hope to be able to check it out by bicycle.


Catch Up

Way back in October, at the point when we had finished climbing the locks of the Canal Entre Champagne et Bourgogne, I fully intended to write a blog post wittily entitled “All Downhill from Here” .  By then we had gone up approximately 144 locks and reached the town of Langres, a fortified city on a hill near the source of multiple rivers. (Fortunately, our friends Ted and Joan from Peterborough had met up with us at a town called Chaumont and were willing crew during many of these locks. )   At Langres we tied up and hiked up to the medieval town on the hill.  I can only say that after all the locks and the one kilometer walk into town, almost straight uphill, I was too tired to write a post.  That’s a less impressive excuse, however, when I admit that after reaching the pinnacle, Joan and the girls and I did a lot of very gentle cycling as we started to head down the waterway and Ted and Tom did most of the locking.  In any case, I failed to write then and am only just picking up the thread again now, four months later.

In brief, after our great ascent, we started the descent down the other side of the Canal Entre Champagne et Bourgogne, met up with the Soane , took it until it merged with the Rhone, took the Rhone to the bottom of France, headed west  toward the Canal du Midi, found out that the canal would close in a few days’ time (much to our surprise), parked ourselves at a town called Marseillan, enjoyed the beach on the Mediterranean for about a week (25 degrees celcius on November 7), flew home to enjoy Canadian medical care and apply for long term visas, flew back ten weeks later, and are now living in an ancient house in the centre of the town of Marseillan where the children are attending school.

The task of recounting memorable moments and sights over the journey to the south of France is too daunting at the moment, so for the sake of getting something posted, I’ll skip to the present for now and go back in time later. 

The town we’ve landed in is called Marseillan, not to be confused with the metropolis of Marseille which is a few hundred kilometers to the east.  We are just 150 km north of the border between France and Spain, on a salt water “lake” of sorts that is separated from the sea by a thin strip of land on the south east side.  The lake, actually called an étang, is just under 20 km long and supports a lot of boating activity, especially sailing, as well as oyster cultivation.  Our boat is safely moored at the town harbour, in front of a string of boat and sail shops, across from both a winery and a brewery, only a few hundred meters from the centre of town. There is even an aluminum boatbuilding shop on the edge of town where they build workboats similar to those from Metalcraft.  What are the chances?

Marseillan has a population of about 4000 people which supports an elementary school of about 250 kids.   Since we cannot start boating until the Canal du Midi reopens in mid-March, we have enrolled the girls in school and for the coldest months (currently between 12 and 15 degrees during the day and between 5 and 10 overnight) we have rented a house.  The boat is liveable during this type of winter but a little too wet to be really comfortable. 

Georgia is enrolled in the equivalent of grade three, in a class that happens to contain an American girl who has been here since September and has learned enough French to be Georgia’s translator until her own French develops a little more.  Emily is in the equivalent of grade five, a year below her age mates because grade six is contained at a different school and seemed unnecessarily ambitious given that our primary educational goal is learning French.  She has a pretty good foundation from Madelle’s excellent instruction at Marysville and is also keen to practice on DuoLingo on a regular basis (excellent free online language instruction – check it out at www.duolingo.com).  We accompany the girls on the three minute walk to school to start at 9:00 in the morning and pick them up again for a two hour lunch break from noon ‘til 2:00.  Then they return for the afternoon from 2:00 to 5:00.  For reasons we don’t quite understand, the school week is only four days long with Wednesdays off as well as the weekends.  They have a shorter summer break, but more frequent and longer breaks during the year than in Ontario.  For instance, the winter term goes from the start of the new year to the start of March when they get a two week break.  Then they go back for six weeks before they get another two week break.  In that session, Emily’s class takes a TEN day ski trip in the Pyrenees!!!!   (I may need to be medicated for this!)

Tom and I are now on our second day of life in France with six parenting-free hours a day.  It looks like Tom will fill this time fairly completely with Metalcraft Marine via the internet.  I will roam the countryside on my bicycle, trying find the routes that are least threatening to my continuing existence.  From the port in Marseillan it is possible to ride 6km to the beach (Marseillan Plage on the Mediterranean) almost entirely on car-free paths.  That’s it, however, for truly safe cycling.  We rented a car for four days over the last week in order to explore the area around us and discovered that the roads are very narrow and often fall at the sides into drainage ditches without so much as a foot of paved or gravelled shoulder.  As a result, my cycling tours will be an effort to find the less travelled routes where there just isn’t very much car traffic.

No doubt there’s a great deal more that I could say, but I’ll leave it at that for now and see if I can get the other writers in the family to add their bits. 

A week with Guests

This week, starting on Wednesday, October 17, we have our third group of guests. It is quite convenient for me as I hate doing locks and there are a lot of locks on this canal. We are on a canal that goes parallel to the Marne. In this section of the Marne it is too uncontrollable so we are on a man made canal. Actually, today I think we did our last few locks for a while and left the canal and entered the Soane. Probably tomorrow I will post a picture of Georgia, mom and I in our cabin. Right now it is late and mom wants us to go to bed.

EMILY

Champagne Country



Typical village where we first enter Champagne

We hadn't planned on travelling along the Marne, but are now very glad that we have come this way.   Although the days tend to start off quite overcast, it has always cleared up at some point, and we have had beautiful views of grape country in the sunshine. 

At first, the countryside consisted of low hills covered in vines, intersected by a strip of village at the middle.  As we floated further along, the hillsides became taller and steeper, usually with the towns situated at the bottom, along the canal. 


The vineyards rise above the village

It is currently picking season, and the hillsides are busy with activity.  When we stopped in the town of Cumiers, we climbed the hillside to get a better look at the grape vines. 



Village atop a hill in Champagne

One of the things we noticed on the hillside was the plastic covering the seats in the vans used to cart plastic cases of grapes down to the village from the hillside.  Even the seats on the bus were covered.  I guess grape picking season is a fairly messy time!  According to our nautical chart, the town of Cumiers is home to 40 different champagne producers.  We haven't stumbled across an opportunity for a tour yet, but hopefully we will before we leave the region.

The Canadian flag on the bow of our boat alerted a passer by as to our nationality and he stopped for a chat, indicating that he was a British Columbian here to pick grapes.  For him, the 150 dollars a day in exchange for hard work, lots of scratches, and impressive grape stains is an okay wage but his Spanish girlfriend said that it was a very good wage compared to what she would make at home.  



Grapes on the vine at Cumiers 



Grape picking art along the canal at Cumiers





View down the hill at Cumiers



September



What boatbuilders build when aluminum is in short supply

On September 5 we decided it was time to leave the safety of our shelter at Chatham and head toward France.  The Chatham Maritime Marina had been the perfect place to stay while sorting out Emily’s medical issues, providing excellent washrooms and laundry in addition to the most helpful and friendly marina staff we have encountered.  We also had fun learning a bit about Charles Dickens and his time in the area and hanging out at the Historic Dockyard.  However, we had by now arranged to meet Tom’s friends in Paris mid-September and we needed to get moving.

Boats behind us after the fog had cleared

We started with a one hour motor to Queenborough where the moorings are set out from the shore on the tidal river.  It makes for a lovely, peaceful night, rising and falling with the tide and the movement of the water and without the creak of lines or bumping of boats against the dock.  In the morning, however, we awoke to the proverbial pea soup fog.  We couldn’t even see the river more than about five feet away from the boat let alone spot shore or any other vessels.  Fortunately, the fog burned off by 11, giving us plenty of time to get to Ramsgate on the east coast by the end of the day.


We spent a couple of days in Ramsgate, taking advantage of our last days of Englishness by stocking up on familiar groceries and dry goods for which we were able to read the ingredient list (Emily’s initial diagnostic work-up included screening for celiac which came back positive, requiring us to go gluten free, at least until she is able to undergo a more diagnostic biopsy back in Canada).  Tom got a haircut and bought a few boaty things and we all had one last trip to the used book shops.

Fabulous weather for channel crossing

On September 8 we crossed the channel uneventfully, in waves that were choppier than expected but just below the seasickness threshold.  As we had heard that the lock into the canal at Calais was out of order, we entered France instead at Gravelines, a little north of Calais, a little south of Dunkerque.  What we did not realize is that to enter the canals here required 48 hours notice to the lock keeper.  As we had entered on a Sunday, we would not actually get into the canals until Wednesday.  In the meantime, we, along with all the other boats at the marina, floated up as the tide flowed in and sunk into the mud when the tide went out.

Sitting in the mud at Gravelines



Our first industrial sized lock - beyond intimidating

On Wednesday, we made it into the canal system and got started toward Paris.  This initial stretch of travel exposed us to new experiences such as locks we could not see the top of and tunnels through hills that we needed to be pulled through by electric barge.  We were lucky enough to meet up with another pleasure boat on our second lock and picked up a few locking tips from the much more experienced boaters.  We were also lucky that when the lingering odour of burning acid turned out to be the defunct battery under our salon bench seat rather than the pervasive scent of French countryside, we were only a few hundred meters away from a lock that had extensive waste disposal.  Tom unhooked the battery and disposed of it, all good, but sadly, we lost our cruising companions.

Entering a 5 kilometer tunnel behind a commercial barge

After several days of motoring and mooring at the quiet marinas that are built in small pockets of water off the canals, Tom rented a car at the town of Compeigne and we drove in to Charles deGaulle in Paris to pick up Rob and Jane from Kenora.  Their boating experience started the next day with an extremely short cruise down the river to the boat mechanic's where we dropped a full month’s budget on three new batteries for the boat and another handful on the nautical charts needed to see us through France.  Never mind though, because with the new batteries we can brew a pot of coffee in the morning and still have power enough left over to make toast.

After Compeigne we landed at the edge of the canal in a town called Creil, the highlight of which was a rowdy evening at the pub for Tom, Rob and Jane, and a visit the next morning to a barge in the process of being converted to a home, courtesy of Phillipe, a charming Frenchman met the previous night in the aforementioned pub.   Note that while a barge conversion makes for an excellent residential space, I have had no trouble resisting the urge to get out my squared paper and start designing.

 

After Creil we landed at Cergy, following the margin notes in the “Paris by Boat” book given to us by an English couple we met way back in the Netherlands.  As promised, this turned out to be a truly great place to stay.  In fact, if it were located a few hundred miles south, where January might be expected to be a few degrees warmer, we would have gladly tied up for the winter and stayed put.  In addition to a lovely marina surrounded by restaurants and all the basic services within easy cobblestone walk (butcher, baker, grocer, pharmacist), the town had a great looking school and train service to Paris.  It also had easy access, just across the river, to a huge recreational park encompassing a few small lakes and fit out with all kinds of boat rental (kayak, canoe, sailing, paddle boats, stand up paddlers, and white water rafts), waterski pulled along an electric trolley line, adventure courses (plank climbers, zip lines, rope net tunnels, etc.), a playground, small midway, biking and hiking trails, and a series of really neat exercise machines.  Very cool.

Alas, Cergy is a bit too cool in January so after a few days, we set out for Paris.  Our first views of the city were as we have come to expect, very industrial.  In fact, our first night was spent on the outskirts at a marina that does not have a high regard for visiting boats.  We made it into the city proper the next day, however, and managed to squeeze the boat between barges right under the Eiffel tour.  This was clearly a temporary parking spot, and having surveyed the neighborhood and noted the fellow surveying our boat, Rob opted to stay with the boat while the rest of us went for a quick explore.  We walked up to the Arc de Triomphe and down a block of the Champs Elysees before heading back to the boat to relieve Rob of his security duties. 

Unfortunately, we had learned a couple of days earlier, that the lock entry to the marina in Paris was broken, making it impossible for boats to go in or out from the Seine.  Had we known this much earlier, we might have taken a different canal around the top of Paris that would allow entry to the marina from the north.  Having taken the route that we did, we would now be looking at an extra day of motoring to get in, and as our guests were not particularly interested in the big city, we decided to carry on our way. 

Along with a British boat carrying similarly frustrated travelers, we landed at Port Cerise.  We explored and did the mandatory grocery shopping, but when Rob and Jane left on the train the next day, we departed in search of cleaner bathrooms.  A further wrinkle in the plan at this point was that the locks were out of commission a ways upstream on the Seine.  The closures had been planned up to September 29, which would have left us waiting for about a week, but, in fact, had been extended to mid-October, which would have left us waiting for three weeks.  The alternative to waiting was to plan a different route, taking the river Marne instead of the Seine, and a long, circuitous route to the south.  Alas, this is the route we have taken.

Our first stop on the Marne was at a lovely marina along the edge of the river in a town called Nogent sur Marne.  In the end, it was from here that we explored Paris.  Tom stayed on the boat to do laundry and change the oil, while we three girls took the train to Paris two days in a row and:

• Wandered the streets of Montmartre

• Had the girls’ portraits drawn outside Sacre Coeur

• Walked through Sacre Coeur and climbed the 308 stairs up the dome

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ate lunch overlooking the square filled with artists

 

 

• Wandered an extensive outdoor market (coincidentally located right beside the marina we were unable to get into) where we ate Lebanese food and green apples from Canada

• Admired the gorgeous stained glass windows in Notre Dame cathedral

• Bought a used French version of Harry Potter at a canal side book vendor

• Took a midafternoon break at a bistro on the left bank

• Examined the lovers locks all along the bridge above Notre Dame

• And sat on a bus that took us all over the city

If all goes according to plan, we will return and get ourselves Paris museum passes for a few days before we fly home in November or December. 

 

 

 

Comings and Goings, Highs and Lows

Crazy people on the bridge in Oxford that our boat can't get under

My parents came to visit on July 24 and it was great to see them.  The plan was to motor up to Oxford and start our way back down the Thames during their two week visit.  We managed to get to Oxford, though we didn't see as much of the city as expected, particularly the famous colleges of the University, because we had a significant plumbing malfunction on the boat. 




Tom mucks with the plumbing...

Thankfully, Tom has both the skills, the will, and the internal fortitude in the face of sewage, to solve the problem. 


...while girls and grandparents play cards on land



Walking the Thames Path

We spent just two days in Oxford and then turned the boat around to head down river.  However, just as we started down, Tom got the news that his brother, John, was very sick which turned into the news that he had pancreatic cancer and a very bad prognosis.  Tom needed to fly home and for this we needed to be docked somewhere with power and toilets.  He got the boat to a marina just outside Reading and jumped on a plane.  Sadly, Tom's brother passed away before Tom made it home.  He was able to be there for the funeral and to support John's wife and daughter, though, and he also made it to the island service for Leann's mother who had also succumbed to pancreatic cancer.  Oh those pancreases!!!

 


A coffee break at Nero Café in Reading

Unfortunately, I have been remiss in my duty to learn to drive the boat.  I can manage it fine on the open river, but I have not learned the finer points of manoeuvering on and off docks and in and out of locks.  As a result, during the remainder of my parents' visit we were stationary at the Thames and Kennett marina, a lovely marina but not so well located.  We explored Reading, but even according to the tourist websites, Reading's big draw is good shopping. 


Georgia and Grandma played lots of card games and read together and the girls found an excellent blackberry source with their grandfather.

  


 

The girls picking blackberries on the lane out of the marina








Seven miles of beautiful sand beach at Bournemouth

In search of excitement, we found the beach town of Bournemouth where we had a couple of great days and splashed in the sea with the Brits.

 

 

My parents flew back to Canada on August 8 and Tom made it back to the boat on the 10th.  

After a big grocery load up at the most convenient grocery store ever, we started back down the river. 

 

The highlight of this part of the journey was the River and Rowing Museum at Henley where Georgia rowed a bit and enjoyed the Wind in the Willows exhibit. 

 

Finally, on August 19th our pass for the Thames expired, meaning that we needed to be below the last lock, in the tidal part of the river.  We headed down river with a pretty vague plan and ultimately wound up motoring for 11 hours, out the last lock of the non tidal Thames, through London, and into the mouth of the river.   
 
 
 

 

 

 

During this adventure, Emily, who had been sick with a runny nose and face ache that seemed to be sinusitis, wound up sleeping for four or five hours.  Needless to say, this is unheard of for her.  On August the 20th we made it to the town of Chatham, where we were familiar with the marina, and got Emily to the doctor.  Sadly, we followed the doctor visit with a hospital admission as a urine test showed that Emily's blood sugar was sky high and her blood was full of ketones.  She was suffering from Diabetic Ketoacidosis, brought on by undiagnosed Type I diabetes and a deficit in insulin production.  The pancreas strikes again!!

 

Emily had just one night in the hospital, receiving fluid and insulin by IV before being discharged with a load of information and diabetic paraphernalia.  She's taken it all in stride and instantly determined that she did not want either of her parents on the other side of her daily needles.  In addition to doing all her own blood tests and insulin injections, she's monitoring her own diet very well and monitoring ours at the same time!

 

We need to stay here under excellent British follow-up care until Emily's blood sugar is stable in the healthy range.  This will mean regular visits to the nearby Historic Dockyard where an admission ticket is good for a whole year.  We went yesterday for a bit and Georgia took her turn at making rope in the ropery.