L'Avenir - Cruising Europe's Inland Waterways

I had intended this post to tell you how much we have enjoyed our stay in Dijon with its quaint medieval streets, handsome Place de la Liberation, imposing Palais des Ducs,   cathedrals, restaurants, mustard, pain d’epice (gingerbread) and more. Sadly, all that has been overshadowed by a couple of incidents. For the first time in our 6 years of cruising we have been bothered by thieves – twice in one week. Perhaps we have just been lucky up until now. The port at Dijon is a short tram ride to the city (and, for those Melbournites amongst you, the trams are great. You can easily buy a rechargeable cardboard ticket at any stop and you touch on by waving your ticket in front of the machine as you board – works even if it’s in your wallet or bag. No touching off. Simple, efficient, cheap.) The port has water and electricity but no captain to collect mooring fees and so, at the moment, it is entirely free. Thank you city of Dijon. Perhaps that’s the reason that one or two ...

The Canal de Bourgogne is not as popular as some French waterways. When we mentioned our plans to other boaters, before setting off, the usual response was one word expelled on a sigh – locks. There are 189 of them over a distance of 242 km. It is, perhaps, a canal you travel only once, although lots of people regularly make the 30km trip   from St Jean de Losne to Dijon and back despite it being a dead straight and fairly uninteresting stretch (with   21 locks each way). That is because Dijon is a fascinating city and, with its TGV station, a convenient place to pick up or drop off visitors. There is no commercial traffic at all other than several hotel boats. Of course, if you are a (high) paying guest you are perfectly entitled to sit back with your wine and gourmet food, enjoy the beautiful countryside and watch others do the hard work at the locks. Eclusier at work Lock Cottage on Canal de Bourgogne Sharing a lock on Canal de Bourgogne - Eclus...

With May over the sun finally decided to ‘cast her clout’ of gloomy, grey clouds and make an appearance. Those still on their boats (many from the UK having given up in disgust and gone home) emerged blinking into unaccustomed sunlight clutching scrubbing brushes, paint brushes and plants to pot. Spring cleaning needed to be done and dusted pretty quickly this year – it’ll be midsummer in a few weeks. We gave it 2 days and then decided we needed to escape. So, as soon as the port office reopened after the weekend and the bill had been settled we waved our goodbyes and set off. Strong, gusty winds were whipping up waves on the river and there was still a fair current running against us but we were finally on our way -but not the way according to ‘the plan’ which had been turn sharp right (sorry, starboard) at the marina exit and head directly into the first lock of the Canal de Bourgogne. We wanted to spend a day or two cleaning on the go with the aid of a newly purch...

  Smugness is a fairly unpleasant quality so if you were one of those irritated by the closing sentences of the last blog post I apologise and blame jet lag. Be assured that the scales have tilted and all feelings of self satisfaction have been tipped out and washed away by the deluge of rain we've endured since that one sunny afternoon. Mother swan and cygnets haven't been seen since, the champagne remains undrunk and on chill (although it now doesn't require refrigerating) and the daily trip to the baker for the baguettes has become someone's 'turn'. And anyway, how do you keep the baguette dry on the way back? Cabin fever is setting in. On the plus side the 'flurries of snow' forecast for today haven't eventuated (yet), the river level has gone down and the sun is rumoured to be making a reappearnce next Sunday  - and the cheese really is delicious.

Le Train Bleu, Paris Here we are once more. 40 hours from door to door via car, 2 buses, 2 planes, 2 trains, a taxi. and now, finally, our boat. I feel exhausted just writing that. Quite a lot of those long hours were spent waiting for connections in airports and railway stations. When, on touchdown in Paris, our pilot cheerfully announced that we'd made good time and arrived early it was good news for everyone- almost - we now had even more than 7 hours to kill before our train to Dijon. Should we leave our bags in left luggage and go sight seeing? When the automatic doors of the airport swished open and we were blasted with freezing wind and rain we decided that no, we had neither the energy nor will to drag our leaden feet anywhere, not even Paris. So, after an hour on the Air France bus ( the memory of last year's rush hour experience on the Metro still brings me out in a cold sweat) we found ourselves in the vast and draughty confines of the Gare de Lyon.We had ...

Not France! Bushrangers Bay, close to where we live in Australia. May Day. Or perhaps mayday!! Time, almost, to fly north once again in our pursuit of an endless summer. This year will be our sixth season on our boat and whilst I wouldn't claim we have the house winterisation down to a fine art we have, at least, learned the value of making a list and realised that it doesn't change greatly from year to year. The final couple of weeks at home are always a bit frantic as we attempt to catch up with jobs, family and friends.A lot of rushing around White Rabbit fashion. ''No time to say Hello, Goodbye! I'm late!" Speaking of rabbits we have had a plague of them on our property this summer. Those of you in the northern hemisphere may think it charming to look out of the window each morning and see dozens of bunnies cavorting in the grass or perhaps on the verandah looking in. I occasionally, fleetingly, think similarly - the baby ones, of which there a...

St Jean de Losne  The journey has ended for this year. We are back in the marina at St Jean de Losne and busy preparing L'Avenir for her long, northern winter and ourselves for our long flight to the southern summer. As ever, we find ourselves wondering at our surprise that this moment has arrived. Surely after 5 summers afloat we should have learned that time really does fly when you're enjoying yourself and the closer you are to the end the quicker it speeds by. Summer virtually threw its hand in a couple of weeks ago. We had intended staying at Auxonne for only one night but ended up tied to the pontoon there for 4 days of torrential rain and high winds. There seemed to be as much water falling out of the sky as there was running beneath us. At least we had the luxury of staying put. We felt admiration (and sympathy) for those hirers on their expensive week's boating holidays forced to battle on, clad in sou' westers and oilskins in conditions more North Sea tha...