Back on the Midi

Most people, if asked to name one canal in France, would answer the Canal du Midi. There are about 8500km of navigable canals and rivers in France and the Midi is only 241km so why is it so well known? Perhaps because it has been a setting in many a TV programme or film.We see it in paintings, postcards, posters and calendars. In short it is photogenic. Most canals are straight but the Midi has curves, not only in its course but also in the shapes of its ancient (350 year old) hand-hewn, stone locks and low bridges. As it winds its way through the south of France it flows close to Mediterranean beaches, passing quaint villages, and then the medieval, fairytale-like  citadel of Carcassonne. Fields of sunflowers follow the sun, grapes ripen in the vineyards and a boat drifts through the dappled shade cast by the stands of old plane trees lining the banks.

Oval lock Canal du Midi

Low bridge - Canal du Midi

 Ok I'll stop there. You get the picture. It's the one they put in the brochures for the hire boat companies. The one with one boat (or maybe 2 because you'll be wanting to make some friends won't you?). The one with empty locks and smiling boaters. It's the same picture I had in my head many years ago when we first bought l'Avenir in the Netherlands. I wanted to come straight to France and make for the Midi. We didn't as it happens (I'm happy to say) but many do.
The Midi is undeniably a most interesting and scenic waterway. It dates from the mid 1600 s and is a marvellous feat of imagination, engineering and sheer hard work. Its UNESCO World Hertiage status is well deserved. Sadly, one of the main features of the picture I just described to you is disappearing year by year - the plane trees. 3 years ago when we last were on the Midi there were long stretches of canal denuded of plane trees; they were being cut down and burned in huge bonfires beside the canal. Many of the remaining trees were daubed with red paint which meant they too were condemned. It was distressing to see and I'm sorry to say this continues. The trees are infected with a fungus which  kills them and they were and are being removed in an attempt to prevent it spreading. This seems not to have been possible. More and more trees are being removed and replaced with different varieties of saplings. These will take many years to reach maturity. In the meantime (and probably forever) the character of the canal is changing. There are still stands of plane trees but less each year.
Constructing the canal was a monumental project designed and overseen by Pierre Paul Riquet. It took 12000 workers (many of whom were women) 15 years of hard manual work. Sadly Riquet died before its completion. It is hard to imagine how difficult life must have been toiling on the construction or, later, working on one of the man/horse hauled boats through non mechanised locks. Believe me, it is exhausting enough travelling on it nowadays particularly in the summer heat and with the added ingredient of the hire boats. Yes, unsurprisingly, the photos in the brochures are not entirely accurate. There are more than one or two boats. There are hundreds.

Leaving Toulouse

We picked up our guests/crew from Toulouse which is where the Midi begins. From there it's all uphill (always harder) to the summit. On this stretch the locks can be quite deep and most are self operated so someone needs to get off the boat on approach in order to press the buttons and take the ropes. There is only one hire base in operation at Negra so it is relatively quiet.

Negra - Chapel

Boatman's Chapel - Negra

Negra has a nice little boatman's chapel beside its lock which is worth a look. There were once 6 chapels along the Midi but now only 2 remain consecrated. This one was the half way mark for the mail boat which also carried passengers between Castelnaudary and Toulouse. The building next door was once an inn but is now the hire base office.
We made the mistake of stopping at the the village of La Seragla on the summit of the canal. The mooring was completely taken up by a peniche turned gite (named 'Avenir') and an abandoned ancient cruiser so we were forced to try and moor against a broken down bank where it was shallow and rocky and we needed a gangplank to get off. To to all the motorhome holidaymakers seated in a row along the canal in your fold up chairs, watching, arms firmly folded - thanks for your offers of help (not one). What is it with these people? They always look so bloody miserable.
The small bar/restaurant in the village had no free tables, there was no boulangerie and overnight the water level dropped leaving us aground. So altogether not a successful stop. With much scraping and screeching of metal we finally got underway. At least it would be downhill from now on. Into the first lock. Press the button. Gates close and then nothing. Was this an omen?

First downhill lock - Canal du Midi

Coming soon ( I hope) -Midi Madness

Over the Rooftops - Toulouse

We are back in Toulouse for the second time this year. No great hardship as it is one of our favourite ports in this part of France. We arrived here a couple of weeks ago to pick up Libby and Brian who join us each year for a week's relaxing holiday. At least that's what they thought they were coming for. The reality turned out to be a little different but that's for a separate instalment.
We were here for a few days before they arrived so I took the opportunity in my time off from the usual washing and preparing cabins etc to take a look around Toulouse at a few of the sights I'd missed previously.

One of those was viewing the city from the rooftop cafe/restaurant at Gallerie Lafayette (big department store). The last time we were here the rooftop was closed. Incidentally the rooftop of the shop's Paris store shouldn't be missed for a fantastic view of that city. Access to the roof and the view(in both cities) is free although do check the menu if you do decide to have something to eat or drink. Certain friends of ours to whom I'd recommended the visit asked the waiter for 'deux (2) Oranginas' ( a fizzy, soft drink). The waiter misunderstood (it seems) and asked them to clarify that they meant blah blah blah. Not being sure themselves what exactly he had said and what they had agreed to they were more than a little surprised to be served with 2 gin cocktails with a bit of orange in them and decidedly gobsmacked at the bill of 30 euros. Apparently they were delicious though. And the view is something to behold.

le Capitole, Toulouse

Another great place to hang out for a drink, ice cream or just people watch is la Place du Capitole. The square has arcades along 2 sides filled with cafes. The waiters can sometimes be 'misunderstanding' here as well as I've experienced previously.

I also took a river (I thought) cruise along the Garonne which turned out to be yet another misunderstanding. The Garonne part of the cruise was about 5 minutes at the beginning and end of an hour long boat ride. We entered a lock just upriver onto the canal du Brienne through the city until it joined the canal du Midi where we are moored now- and it looks exactly the same oddly enough.

Grand Rond Toulouse

Electric Braes

We have managed to go a little further afield than in previous years with the aid of our new velo but as we only have one between us we either go separately or someone has to use one of the trusty old steeds - or not so trusty as the case may be.
Our bikes have served us well over the past 10 years but lately we have had a problem with 'punctures'. A bike tour leader I spoke to said they rarely have trouble but I have certainly seen many a cyclist on the tow path, bike upturned. Perhaps the inner tubes we buy from supermarkets are not very good quality and we should be stocking up on the once in a blue moon occasions when we see a specialist cycle shop. As an emergency back up we've been carrying an aerosol foam sealant.

As the less enthusiastic rider (and having a chivalrous partner) I usually luck in with choice of bike and so it was we found ourselves recently high in the hills, miles from the boat and surrounded by vineyards. Hills I would have had trouble walking up far less cycle without that bit of magical assistance. The views were splendid and I had plenty of time to relax on the verge alongside the vines appreciating them as I waited for my companion relying on muscle power alone.

Our destination was an old fortified village (bastide) but there was, as yet, no sign of it. So on we went until we came to a road sign - no mention of our village though.
'I think we should go back,' said one of us gasping for breath whilst looking longingly at the downhill slope.
The other, making their usual miscalculation, ' It's a fortified village. It's probably at the top of the next hill.'
It wasn't - but there was a chateau. We stopped at the gates for a breather -well, strictly speaking only one of us needed it whilst the other being nosey peered over the wall. An old man and his dog sat  outside the front door of a gatehouse. Seeing me, the dog immediately started barking and the man coughing as only one with a 60 a day habit is able.
I gave a cheery wave and 'Bonjour' and the old guy shuffled over to the gate where we proceeded to have one of those conversations where neither person has any idea of what the other is actually saying but somehow you get the meaning. What we eventually worked out was that the village was miles away and that the assumption that it would be on top of a hill couldn't have been more wrong. We needed to go all the way back down. The man found the whole thing hilarious, particularly my apparent mispronunciation of every single French word especially the name of the village. If you can't even pronounce it how would you expect to find it? Anyway I'm glad we brightened someone's day.

The rider of the muscle propelled bike shot off  before any new plan could be devised and was soon out of sight whist I followed as slowly as my brakes would allow.
We never made it to the village. At the bottom of the hill I found my companion seated at the side of the road looking miserable. Another puncture; the squirty repair kit had failed to fix it completely and we still had a long way to get back to the boat. Now, it happens that the gallant rider of the leg powered velo is also the one with the gammy knee who cannot walk more than a few hundred metres.
So, it was payback time for the one leading him on a wild goose-chase up hills and round the countryside with no map or any thought in their had except that this is good fun for no effort at all.
We swapped cycles.
They aren't called push bikes for no reason you know.

*The Electric Brae of the title is a hill in Scotland near Ayr where a freewheeling car or bike seems to be going uphill of its own volition. It was once thought to be the result of some mysterious force or magic but is actually an optical illusion.

What If?

Years of encouraging young children to write imaginatively has given me a pretty well-developed 'what if?' mentality. Is that such a good skill to develop, I wonder? It's all very well to enliven a story with dramas and catastrophes for the protagonist to overcome but not, perhaps, entirely useful to imagine similar struggles in our daily lives. Some foresight is necessary for the avoidance of problems but too much makes it harder to be brave and adventurous - qualities you would think are not necessary for inland boating. Generally speaking you would be correct.
We were chatting over dinner with a couple from a neighbouring boat. 'Have you been to Bordeaux?' he says.
We spent a couple of enjoyable days there en route to Scotland but that wasn't what he meant, of course. He meant by boat. Now this is something that one of us has been trying to persuade the other to do for the past couple of seasons. No prizes for guessing who is the reluctant one.
The canal de Garonne terminates at Castets en Dorthe, about 70km from Bordeaux. We went there last year and walked along to the deep lock leading down onto the River Garonne. The lock house has a flood gauge on its wall with markers showing the heights and years of the many floods. The lock house is, unusually, double storey and the gauge reaches the second floor. In summer the river is fairly benign but it is tidal which means that you need to travel at particular times. The journey takes about 4 hours by which time the current in Bordeaux is picking up.
Our dining companion assures us that the trip is easy and the mooring superb; right alongside the lovely Water Mirror . This sounds encouraging. I ask if there were any problems at all and he says 'it was a bit swirly' going through the bridge but ok if you have a bow thruster (hmm..) and by the time they moored up there was 'some current but it wasn't too difficult'. Then, 'there was a bit of a party atmosphere at night though.' (We were in Bordeaux on the night of the semi final of the World Cup. I'm familiar with how the locals party). However, I am, initially, encouraged and agree we should go.

The routine on arriving in Castets is to see the port captain to arrange the 'voyage'. A form has to be filled in, the lock descent booked and a phone call made to the Bordeaux port authority to arrange the mooring. And herein we find a problem and not one of my imaginary ones either. The Water Mirror mooring is not available and we will have to go elsewhere. The phone call is quite long and I understand enough to work out that the port captain is not quite sure about what is being suggested.
Anyway, he finishes the call and tells us that we must go to another mooring about 2 km further downstream. (I don't like that 'about'). 'You'll know it when you see it,' he says. 'There's a tower.' I ask him if he can show us on the chart and he just waves his hand over a distance of about 10km.  I remember then that he is new to the port and came here from central France. What if he doesn't really know where exactly we are to go?
We go back to the boat and I pore over the chart and can't work out where we are to moor so we go back and ask again but he's in a hurry on his way home or somewhere and just says, 'You can't miss it. It's a big house. With a garden.'  Is it a Tower or a Big House or both? And now it has a Garden. I just want the name of the place!

 The 'what ifs' begin. The main ones being what if we can't find a place to moor and the tide sweeps us away and/or the bowthruster fails (this has actually happened since so not entirely fanciful)  and'/or the engine breaks down etc. etc. However I am still prepared to go - reluctantly I admit. That night it begins to rain. Heavily.

Next morning it is still pouring. The forecast says it will rain for the next three days. There's been torrential rain in the east of France. What if........?

We cancel the lock.

Honeydew

Back where we started - Moissac. The port already has an end of season feel about it with quite a number of boats double banked and closed up for the winter. There are still a few hire boats passing through - mainly Americans and Australians it seems, Europeans having returned to work and school. Summer is over for many- not quite for us though. We still have another month in France before we follow the sun south.

A few survivors (or late bloomers) from the summer crop

The change of season is evident all along the canal. We, unfortunately, missed the full glory of the huge sunflower fields. The plants look rather crestfallen now, heads dipped towards the ground with their heavy load of dark seeds. The plane trees, of which there are still many along the canal du Garonne and which provide not only welcome shade but are also very lovely to look at haven't yet lost their leaves just the moisture and colour from them. The hoped for autumnal russets don't look as though they are going to happen. Disappointingly they seem to have just 'browned out'. Speaking of 'browning out' plane trees have an unendearing quality - that of completely covering boats with a mass of brown spots and dust. A sort of speckled egg finish which is nigh on impossible to remove without removing the underlying paint as well. Strictly speaking it is not entirely the fault of the poor trees themselves. We assumed it was some sort of resin but have recently been given a less appealing explanation for me to ponder on as I scrub away. Apparently, it may be the sticky 'residue' excreted from sap feeding insects and is called, rather prettily, honeydew. (I'll never look at honeydew melons the same way again).