For once we were not too perturbed about the downpour which Friday greeted us with. Already having accepted a Monday but more likely Wednesday opening, we had planned a couple of days of chores on the boat and I was well behind with the blog so in time honoured fashion, your amiable skipper got a bodrum of coffee and some danish biscuits and settled down to write all day whilst the fabulous crew took to spring cleaning the boat and washing all the towels and bedding following our guests departure.
We needed meat and I wanted to patronise the tiny village boucherie come charcuterie. I had been inspired by the boeuf bourguignon at Vezelay which was simply chunks of meat in a rich sauce. I asked for a demi kilo of boeuf buorguignon. She opened her larder as they say and came out with a selle seche. It was almost black. she cut it into large chunks and told me it was premiere quality. The cost was 5.20 euros and enough meat for 3 people comfortably. I got back and discovered it was saddle and had been hung to dry, selle seche.I cooked it with 2/3 btle of my grand ordinaire as I keep thinking of the tv chefs droning on about using good wine in cooking. 1/3 beef stock and some shallots and that was it in the slow cooker for 7 hours.
The rest is history but my god it will not be the last time I cook it. drank lots of the grand ordinaire with it and we retired comfortably fed and tipsy, well pissed actually!
Friday, 31 May 2013
Thursday 30th May Sad farewells
It was a sad day as Mum was leaving us today having seen all too little of the Nivernais and suffered far too much inclement cold weather. I stayed in bed watching the last episode of Rick Steins French Odyssey to give our departing guests room to ready and pack. Collette cooked some perfect scrambled eggs and with toast and cereals, the troops were ready. We busied ourselves making prawn and ham salad baguettes for the journey before those sad farewells had to be endured. Kept them short and sweet and by 11.30 they were crossing the bridge out of Accolay accompanied of course by the pitter pat of rain on the car roof.
We had tea and I spotted Tim removing Randle`s electric cable from the box. Are you off Tim? He was heading down to Vincelles on the first leg of his trip to Auxerre where he was picking up his family of four passengers starting their week long holiday aboard Randle
Fancy coming and having a go at handling a barge? he enquired.
It was too good an opportunity to miss.
Yes great, we will put our bikes on board and ride back. The plans for a boat spring clean and reorganise had just left the building. Tim suggested Berlin Bertie may like to come. Rheiner was deep in conversation with a German touring cyclist. I had to interrupt with the invitation and Rheiner was euphoric. Yes I have to go to Cravant to use the internet, will he drop me their. You will have to ask him but I am sure it will be no problem. Tim is going up to the pound at Vermonten to turn round. We are going to meet him at the first lock in 20minutes. Rheiner instructed me that he would wait for our return and join us at the next lock back towards the Nivernais. Ok Rheiner. The cyclist was making his exit as I returned to the boat to get ready.
We joined Randle 15 minutes later and Tim immediately let me helm towards the Vermonten pound. It was not as tricky as I had envisaged but the spinning of the gear wheel was weird to a newbie. Tim took over as we entered the pound and within a minute I was so so relieved. There was a terrible crunching sound and the engine juddered to a halt. We had 50 ton of uncontrolled barge heading inexorably straight for a moored hire boat. Tim was stirred if not shaken and very hurriedly started the auxiliary engine. Thankfully it just gave him time to swing her into astern and she oh so slowly came broadside to the hire boat. The hire boat personnel had heard the crunch and seen the possible calamity and had rushed onto the moored boat, they took lines and we settled alongside. One of the guys suggested it sounded like we had hit something. Yes it was probably a very large tree stump floating down river but just under the surface. Tim was calm and tried the engine. It started and appeared to be ok. Must be the prop he offered. In gear, there seemed no vibration and the engine beat appeared fine. It must have been a big stump to have stopped the engine but thankfully no major damage seemed to have been done.
We headed back out and toward Accolay. At the first lock was Rheiner. He boarded, stored his rusting raleigh shopper and we approached accolay and our boats.
Rheiner suddenly said to Tim, There is a German cyclist he has to get to Auxerre today. Casually Tim replied, "Nice ride".
Vincelles is half way, could you give him a lift..... only if it is ok. I then noticed the cyclist still alongside Rheiners boat Tao. Rheiner must have suggested the lift as he was leaving when I had left them earlier. Berlin is not shy of asking that's for sure.
Tim of course said Ok and our caravan got bigger. At Cravant Rheiner disembarked. I took the opportunity to have a good look below decks.
Randle is a very classy boat. It needs to be I suppose when you are charging the rates Tim does however it is easy to see why his is so popular.
The hull is only 13 years old but the fittings and engine is much much older. The brass whistle tubes to each cabin, the Japanese ww2 navy searchlight, the brass boat horn are all just gorgeous.
The engine is a 16litre 1939 model drinking about 16ltrs an hour but is a masterpiece. Tim bought the boat 4 years ago here in France with the thought that he would charter it to make it pay for itself. It has now become his full time business and he is doing very nicely.
The cabins suit a family of four perfectly with a double berth and a twin both en suite.
Gail his chef joins him each morning of a cruise as does his matelot. Tim sleeps in a separate cabin up front offering complete privacy to his guests in a very personal The Randle is immaculate and Capt Harrold is a top bloke. It is easy to see why so many people are seduced by the appeal of barge life.
We were soon approaching Vincelles. Tim noted as did I just how fast the current was flowing past the quay and with a weir just 80 m across the river, he had to turn Randle 180 degrees into the current and get alongside in a fairly limited space. This was not going to be easy.
He was frantic at the wheel as she turned but was immediately gripped by the current and broadside on was struggling to turn. Tim was getting very concerned as we were quickly running out of manoeuvring space. He threw the auxiliary engine throttles full open trying to give her that bit extra. The bows slowly turned but we were now on top of the bank. More frantic spinning and rapid change to astern and Randle inched back from the concrete bank she was within inches of. The German cyclist, now aware that this was close to being a drama ran to the bow and checked to see if we had hit while Time was spinning the helm and the gears urging the bow to come up into the current but she stubbornly refused. As he took way off for a change in direction we were immediately susceptible to that raging current. This was clear evidence as to why the river had been closed for so long if this was now deemed fit for novice hire boaters to navigate. With Tim clearly very worried, Randle finally inched her bow round and once started, her 50 tons would follow. Safely moored, I congratulated Tim on his helmsman ship. It was impressive that whilst clearly very concerned, he remained calm and thought it through. It had been a very scary mooring. We sat down and drank ice cold 1664`s in the tranquillity of this lovely spot contemplating how such an innocuous looking long quay could prove to be so dangerous.
He recounted tales of old when hire boats had gone over the weir and one poor soul had been drowned in an incident not so many years prior. I would happily wait for the vnf to open the section we were heading into whenever they felt it was right.
After more fond farewells and see you up the rivers, we left Tim and took in the bridge just downstream. It had been the sight a few days ago of my canopy tear. I took a picture for old times sake (its on the incident post) before setting off on the lane climbing up and alongside the opposite bank of the canal and adjacent river Yonne. It gave us a lovely last view of Randle moored at Vincelles
Tim had pointed out an opening in the hillside which had been a German factory building aircraft in ww2. They were then transported across the yonne to an airfield which I had seen coming down river and is still marked by a tower and aircraft insignia. We soon reached the first guard pillbox.
Then came the factory built into the hillside making it impossible to bomb from above. The walls were dug out wider at the bottom to facilitate the aircraft fuselage exiting.
300m further on and a much taller entrance to the factory with the remains of a roof structure coming out to the road. I think this was the goods entrance to the factory.
Finally another pill box with these views toward the airfield in the far distance (second pic is on full zoom)
before the shell of a building which housed factory workers. I love this sort of stuff.
We stopped off in a boulangerie in Cravant for almond croissant and a lardon and cheese feuillette for the skipper. We thought it was about 4ish. 20Mins later we boarded Doucette amazed to discover it was 7pm.
We ended up having dinner of Cod in Bearnaise sauce with haricot vert at 9.30 and after drifting through a couple of hours reviewing e-mails and the season so far and finishing off the muscadet, we finally retired after an eventful day at 12.30. It was a late one.
We had tea and I spotted Tim removing Randle`s electric cable from the box. Are you off Tim? He was heading down to Vincelles on the first leg of his trip to Auxerre where he was picking up his family of four passengers starting their week long holiday aboard Randle
Fancy coming and having a go at handling a barge? he enquired.
It was too good an opportunity to miss.
Yes great, we will put our bikes on board and ride back. The plans for a boat spring clean and reorganise had just left the building. Tim suggested Berlin Bertie may like to come. Rheiner was deep in conversation with a German touring cyclist. I had to interrupt with the invitation and Rheiner was euphoric. Yes I have to go to Cravant to use the internet, will he drop me their. You will have to ask him but I am sure it will be no problem. Tim is going up to the pound at Vermonten to turn round. We are going to meet him at the first lock in 20minutes. Rheiner instructed me that he would wait for our return and join us at the next lock back towards the Nivernais. Ok Rheiner. The cyclist was making his exit as I returned to the boat to get ready.
We joined Randle 15 minutes later and Tim immediately let me helm towards the Vermonten pound. It was not as tricky as I had envisaged but the spinning of the gear wheel was weird to a newbie. Tim took over as we entered the pound and within a minute I was so so relieved. There was a terrible crunching sound and the engine juddered to a halt. We had 50 ton of uncontrolled barge heading inexorably straight for a moored hire boat. Tim was stirred if not shaken and very hurriedly started the auxiliary engine. Thankfully it just gave him time to swing her into astern and she oh so slowly came broadside to the hire boat. The hire boat personnel had heard the crunch and seen the possible calamity and had rushed onto the moored boat, they took lines and we settled alongside. One of the guys suggested it sounded like we had hit something. Yes it was probably a very large tree stump floating down river but just under the surface. Tim was calm and tried the engine. It started and appeared to be ok. Must be the prop he offered. In gear, there seemed no vibration and the engine beat appeared fine. It must have been a big stump to have stopped the engine but thankfully no major damage seemed to have been done.
We headed back out and toward Accolay. At the first lock was Rheiner. He boarded, stored his rusting raleigh shopper and we approached accolay and our boats.
Vincelles is half way, could you give him a lift..... only if it is ok. I then noticed the cyclist still alongside Rheiners boat Tao. Rheiner must have suggested the lift as he was leaving when I had left them earlier. Berlin is not shy of asking that's for sure.
Tim of course said Ok and our caravan got bigger. At Cravant Rheiner disembarked. I took the opportunity to have a good look below decks.
Randle is a very classy boat. It needs to be I suppose when you are charging the rates Tim does however it is easy to see why his is so popular.
The hull is only 13 years old but the fittings and engine is much much older. The brass whistle tubes to each cabin, the Japanese ww2 navy searchlight, the brass boat horn are all just gorgeous.
The engine is a 16litre 1939 model drinking about 16ltrs an hour but is a masterpiece. Tim bought the boat 4 years ago here in France with the thought that he would charter it to make it pay for itself. It has now become his full time business and he is doing very nicely.
The cabins suit a family of four perfectly with a double berth and a twin both en suite.
We were soon approaching Vincelles. Tim noted as did I just how fast the current was flowing past the quay and with a weir just 80 m across the river, he had to turn Randle 180 degrees into the current and get alongside in a fairly limited space. This was not going to be easy.
He was frantic at the wheel as she turned but was immediately gripped by the current and broadside on was struggling to turn. Tim was getting very concerned as we were quickly running out of manoeuvring space. He threw the auxiliary engine throttles full open trying to give her that bit extra. The bows slowly turned but we were now on top of the bank. More frantic spinning and rapid change to astern and Randle inched back from the concrete bank she was within inches of. The German cyclist, now aware that this was close to being a drama ran to the bow and checked to see if we had hit while Time was spinning the helm and the gears urging the bow to come up into the current but she stubbornly refused. As he took way off for a change in direction we were immediately susceptible to that raging current. This was clear evidence as to why the river had been closed for so long if this was now deemed fit for novice hire boaters to navigate. With Tim clearly very worried, Randle finally inched her bow round and once started, her 50 tons would follow. Safely moored, I congratulated Tim on his helmsman ship. It was impressive that whilst clearly very concerned, he remained calm and thought it through. It had been a very scary mooring. We sat down and drank ice cold 1664`s in the tranquillity of this lovely spot contemplating how such an innocuous looking long quay could prove to be so dangerous.
300m further on and a much taller entrance to the factory with the remains of a roof structure coming out to the road. I think this was the goods entrance to the factory.
Finally another pill box with these views toward the airfield in the far distance (second pic is on full zoom)
before the shell of a building which housed factory workers. I love this sort of stuff.
We stopped off in a boulangerie in Cravant for almond croissant and a lardon and cheese feuillette for the skipper. We thought it was about 4ish. 20Mins later we boarded Doucette amazed to discover it was 7pm.
We ended up having dinner of Cod in Bearnaise sauce with haricot vert at 9.30 and after drifting through a couple of hours reviewing e-mails and the season so far and finishing off the muscadet, we finally retired after an eventful day at 12.30. It was a late one.
Wednesday 29th May Auxerre, chablis and Noyer sur seine
With the frustrating news that the river was opening back to Auxerre but remaining closed in the direction we needed to go, I accepted that Mum would travel no further down the canal on this trip and ange and alec would get no canal time at all. I was devastated for Mum having so much wanted to show her the delights of the Nivernais, but this extraordinary weather year had denied us the chance. In 3 weeks she had travelled just 30 kms. but at least had enjoyed some great days out in the car and today as her last full day would be no exception.
We drove back to Auxerre for Ange and alec to find an aldi so as to stock up on the saumer bubbly. Two cases did the trick. We did a driving tour of the city in a fleeting dry 20minutes before popping into Geant to enable us to get a recharge for the internet from Orange. 30 minutes later, we had lost mum in the superstore, we finally got the recharge sorted, alec was desperately searching for some reading glasses, angela was looking for Mum and we needed to just get the hell out of that hell hole of a shopping nightmare.
We headed for chablis and with the weather at last brightening enjoyed a walking tour of this delightful town.
Full of tasting houses hotels and restaurants.
By the greatest of fortune, I remembered the card in my wallet and we managed to track down the vigneron supplier to the Pot Au Feu at Vezelay and after a chablis degustation, I walked out delighted with twelve bottles of grand ordinair at just 6 euros a bottle. (ok so the restaurant clearly gets a discount) I did try my luck on negotiating a price for 12 on the back of the 75cl carafe for only 6.50 but it fell on very deaf ears. Still I was chuffed with the quality at this price.
Another town we had visited and so enjoyed early in the trip had been Noyer sur Sureine and with it just 18kms distant, I suggested we just had time to fit it in. We got there just after 4 as two coachloads were departing. Perfect we pretty much had the place to ourselves. It really is a delight on the eye.
At the end of the town, I suggested ange and alex follow our footsteps of a few weeks ago and climb the 337 steps to the old chateau and the commanding belvedere viewpoints over the town. Off they trod unawares of the severity of those steps. I chuckled to myself as I nestled down for a cold leffe awaiting their return.
They arrived sweating and drinking a can of coke which had been much needed and sadly, although having loved the views, felt the need to swear at me.
We drove back to Auxerre for Ange and alec to find an aldi so as to stock up on the saumer bubbly. Two cases did the trick. We did a driving tour of the city in a fleeting dry 20minutes before popping into Geant to enable us to get a recharge for the internet from Orange. 30 minutes later, we had lost mum in the superstore, we finally got the recharge sorted, alec was desperately searching for some reading glasses, angela was looking for Mum and we needed to just get the hell out of that hell hole of a shopping nightmare.
We headed for chablis and with the weather at last brightening enjoyed a walking tour of this delightful town.
Full of tasting houses hotels and restaurants.
They arrived sweating and drinking a can of coke which had been much needed and sadly, although having loved the views, felt the need to swear at me.
Back at Doucette, I sent the Ritchies off on an hours bike ride leaving the crew to peel and de-vain a kilo of prawns whilst I prepped the avocado and its dressing for the starters. The main course was a variation of the rick stein salmon in salsa verde recipe which we had with haricot vert and spring onions and new potatoes. Collette finished things off with stewed Mirabelle's (like baby plums) on a sponge base soaked in rum flavoured syrup topped with some good old ambrosia custard.
At least we felt we had fed them well.
All in all it had been another cracking day despite that weather
Tuesday 28th May Vezelay and caves of Bailly
We woke to pouring rain. Unbelievable after the weather of just a few hours ago. The forecast did not raise spirits making grim reading for the remainder of mums visit and beyond. The VNF mediator had arrived at 9am and spent 30minutes with Bertie. I very soon discovered that the problem lay with a barrage which due to water levels was impssible to repair and that whilst the new re-open date of tomorrow was still scheduled, it was looking increasingly likely that the river would still remain closed. Despite the grim news, we determined to make the most of the day and set off in the car, destination, Vezelay. A Unesco world heritage site, a fortified hill town some 18kms from the canal so with an intended later visit, at least we were saving ourselves a gruelling bike ride by visiting today in the comfort of Alecs car.
Through the misty drizzle the site of the old abbey perched on high signals our arrival
Even in the horrid weather, it is easy to see why the town is under Unesco protection and we enjoy a gentle stroll and wander through the old town main street stopping frquently to explore its varied shops from ancient potteries to modern sculptures and abstract art galleries. The architecture is a delight as ever.
It is such a shame to be denied the chance to sit under this old wisteria enjoying a chilled petite chablis in baking sun
We marvel at the sheer immensity of the St Basilique Sainte-Marie-Madeleine, with foundations layed in the 9th century this 12 century benedictine abbey bears stunning architectural testimony to the craftsmen and labourers who constructed it.
Loved the giant sculpture over the main entrance
We trod in the footsteps of Richard the Lionheart for it was here that the christians chose to meet before setting off on their crusades. Fabulous stuff.
We visited the crypt. A shrine housing relics of Mary Magdeline which had made this a place of pilgrimage all those years ago. It was awesome in its solemnity and serenity.
On a more recent historic note, the church walls are decorated with 14 simple wooden crosses. Following the horrors of ww2 pilgrims staged a crusade of peace which had the crosses carried the 300mile way of the cross to this place. The fourteenth cross had been handmade by a german priest who bore the cross dressed in a luftwaffer uniform insistent that Germany should be represented along with the other 13 allied countries. The mass was attended by over 6000 in july 1946.
I have absolute respect for people who have a faith whatever it may be however I am not a religous person but have always been intrigued and fascinated by the sheer power and wealth of Religion and its political influence on human history right up to todays world struggles in the name of it. The irony of the beauty of a stain glass window portraying murder in a place of worship is simply bazarre to me and yet all my church visits are filled with these types of image. Just as Richard had sought his churches blessing before setting off in the 12 century to murder those that had slightly different beliefs to him, 900 years later, in our so sophisticated and educated world, the news bulletin fills us all with sadness as innocents, babies, children young and old are still being slaughtered all over the world in the name of someones religion. I wonder, will these atrocities one day be celebrated in a stain glass mural decorating tomorrows religious houses. How is this still happening today and yes I have no doubt it will still be happening in another 900 years. We really need to sit and think about this and get something sorted world wide. Its just so bloody wierd and sad to me that we simply refuse to learn that religious faith is between you and your god whoever that may be, and on an individual basis and that all men have a right to choose and that choice can never be used as justification of such deep hatred as to harm another who chooses differently.
Ok, Sorry about that but the recent events in syria and woolwich have so saddened me, guess I needed to write something down. So quickly back to lighter stuff.
Time for a late lunch. We headed back to the main square where I had spied the Pot Au Feu, number one on trip advisor, we popped our heads in to this little restaurant to see if they were still serving lunch as it was 2pm.
We then enjoyed possibly the best menu lunch I have had in all our trips to France. At 15.50 per head between us we covered all the choices including starters of epoisse tart, or lardon salad with eppoise mini gougeres followed by chicken in a mustard and paprika sauce with baked ragout of vegetables and saffron mash or the deep rich beef bourgiugnon with mash and dessert choices of apple tart or chocolate mousse with rum. I tasted a morsel of most and have to say all were beautifully presented and fantistically cooked.
I actually chose just two courses on the seperate menu and had fois gras followed by pork fillet wrapped in crispy pancetta with a sage stuffing and honey and mustard sauce, also served with saffron mash and the vegetable ragout. Simply fantastic. We had a 75cl caraffe of red, rediculously good at 6.50euros. A brilliant lunch. I asked the patron about the house red. He supplied me with his vignerons card and told me it was just a Bourgoyne grand ordinaire. We left very satisfied customers.
Past 4 and still the rain fell, we hurtled to the caves of Bailly and got their just in time for the last tour. The guide spoke a little English which enriched the tour of these old stone quarry which had been converted to mushroom houses before the co-operative of Bailly took them over in 1972 and now alledgidly stock anything between 8 and 11 million bottles of Cremant de Burgoyne at any one time.
A feature of the tour is the carvings. They held competitions from 1994 and the winner would get to choose an area of the caves to carve a sculpture.
The one of Bacchus seemed to draw merriment amongst the crew with intimations of a passing resemblance to a very close loved one. The skipper was happy with some aspects of the comparisons whilst a tad aggrieved about others.
The competition was closed after 2011 with the sculpture deciding on a world peace theme following the tragic events of september 11.
We finished the tour of course with a couple of glasses of cremant. the five euro entry includes the tour the tastings and you get to keep your glass as a momento. Terrific value. We also made a few purchases of course and were the last to leave.
Through the misty drizzle the site of the old abbey perched on high signals our arrival
It is such a shame to be denied the chance to sit under this old wisteria enjoying a chilled petite chablis in baking sun
Loved the giant sculpture over the main entrance
We trod in the footsteps of Richard the Lionheart for it was here that the christians chose to meet before setting off on their crusades. Fabulous stuff.
We visited the crypt. A shrine housing relics of Mary Magdeline which had made this a place of pilgrimage all those years ago. It was awesome in its solemnity and serenity.
On a more recent historic note, the church walls are decorated with 14 simple wooden crosses. Following the horrors of ww2 pilgrims staged a crusade of peace which had the crosses carried the 300mile way of the cross to this place. The fourteenth cross had been handmade by a german priest who bore the cross dressed in a luftwaffer uniform insistent that Germany should be represented along with the other 13 allied countries. The mass was attended by over 6000 in july 1946.
I have absolute respect for people who have a faith whatever it may be however I am not a religous person but have always been intrigued and fascinated by the sheer power and wealth of Religion and its political influence on human history right up to todays world struggles in the name of it. The irony of the beauty of a stain glass window portraying murder in a place of worship is simply bazarre to me and yet all my church visits are filled with these types of image. Just as Richard had sought his churches blessing before setting off in the 12 century to murder those that had slightly different beliefs to him, 900 years later, in our so sophisticated and educated world, the news bulletin fills us all with sadness as innocents, babies, children young and old are still being slaughtered all over the world in the name of someones religion. I wonder, will these atrocities one day be celebrated in a stain glass mural decorating tomorrows religious houses. How is this still happening today and yes I have no doubt it will still be happening in another 900 years. We really need to sit and think about this and get something sorted world wide. Its just so bloody wierd and sad to me that we simply refuse to learn that religious faith is between you and your god whoever that may be, and on an individual basis and that all men have a right to choose and that choice can never be used as justification of such deep hatred as to harm another who chooses differently.
Ok, Sorry about that but the recent events in syria and woolwich have so saddened me, guess I needed to write something down. So quickly back to lighter stuff.
Time for a late lunch. We headed back to the main square where I had spied the Pot Au Feu, number one on trip advisor, we popped our heads in to this little restaurant to see if they were still serving lunch as it was 2pm.
We then enjoyed possibly the best menu lunch I have had in all our trips to France. At 15.50 per head between us we covered all the choices including starters of epoisse tart, or lardon salad with eppoise mini gougeres followed by chicken in a mustard and paprika sauce with baked ragout of vegetables and saffron mash or the deep rich beef bourgiugnon with mash and dessert choices of apple tart or chocolate mousse with rum. I tasted a morsel of most and have to say all were beautifully presented and fantistically cooked.
I actually chose just two courses on the seperate menu and had fois gras followed by pork fillet wrapped in crispy pancetta with a sage stuffing and honey and mustard sauce, also served with saffron mash and the vegetable ragout. Simply fantastic. We had a 75cl caraffe of red, rediculously good at 6.50euros. A brilliant lunch. I asked the patron about the house red. He supplied me with his vignerons card and told me it was just a Bourgoyne grand ordinaire. We left very satisfied customers.
Past 4 and still the rain fell, we hurtled to the caves of Bailly and got their just in time for the last tour. The guide spoke a little English which enriched the tour of these old stone quarry which had been converted to mushroom houses before the co-operative of Bailly took them over in 1972 and now alledgidly stock anything between 8 and 11 million bottles of Cremant de Burgoyne at any one time.
A feature of the tour is the carvings. They held competitions from 1994 and the winner would get to choose an area of the caves to carve a sculpture.
The competition was closed after 2011 with the sculpture deciding on a world peace theme following the tragic events of september 11.
Monday 27th May More Guests but more river frustration
First job of the day was to text Angela to tell her we would still be at Accolay. The bad news had come through via a skippers notice. I left Rheiner to deal with the VNF. Did not fancy their chances. Could hear him telling them he would never travel this canal again and that they were a disgrace. He came straight over to tell me what had taken place and that the vnf were sending a mediator down to see him tomorrow morning and explain why the canal must stay closed.
I set about giving the bikes a service and fitting my lovely horn whilst Collette did the ironing before popping off for a walk round the village to calm down after I had apparently overstepped the mark. Women are a constant mystery are they not.
At least it was at last a hot and sunny day. Tim had recommeded a trout farm for a lunch stop on our intended journey to Mailly La Ville. With the trip now impossible ,I determined to still get the trout. My now lovely and much appreciated wife and I set off cross country on the wheels of steel bound for Pregilbert and the trout farm. It just seemed right today.
My idea of going cross country was questionable after being forced to walk the first mile straight up a hill along a tractor track which was impossible to ride on and was pretty tough going in the sun. This however was more than compensated for by the views over the valley and the rather too hairy for Clo but very exciting descent the other side.
When we finally got too a proper road the sign at the start of the track we had just travelled said it all.
The trout farm was located but of course closed for lunch til 2.30. Ange was due at 4pm so fine. I had asked Berlin Bertie if he wanted me to pick him up some trout. He did not eat meat so fish was his staple diet, but he declined on the premise that he once worked at a trout farm and disagreed with the concept of them. Seeing the teeming concrete tanks, I sort of got it and certainly respect the view
however having just been on a safari and seen at first hand just how cruel nature can be, I ordered ten trout with a clear conscience. Ten because they were quite small apparently due to the inclement weather which trout quite understandably do not like. I watched them netted and counted into my yellow plastic trolly.
Whilst the young Frenchman prepared them for the bbq for me, we sat and enjoyed a magnum soaking up the hot sun. Lovely.
Heading back the quick route, we arrived back at Doucette at 3.30pm finding Mum asleep on one of the loungers on the poop deck. Happy as larry.
Bang on 4pm The Ritchies arrived. It had been an 8 hour journey. No toll roads deciding on the scenic route butt it was double the toll road rote time wise. They had brought our new replacement hob and grill and some more boat spares which I was glad to recieve.
Quickly settled, we had drinks on the poop catching up on each others news before the absolutely fabulous Trout were griddled on the BBQ. With new potatoes and salad and washed down with a nice bottle of Cremant, Ange and Alex questioned my reports of all the bad weather with today being so glorious. If only was the choral reply from Mum, Clo and the skipper.
It had been a great day and it was terrific to have our new guests safely installed.
I set about giving the bikes a service and fitting my lovely horn whilst Collette did the ironing before popping off for a walk round the village to calm down after I had apparently overstepped the mark. Women are a constant mystery are they not.
At least it was at last a hot and sunny day. Tim had recommeded a trout farm for a lunch stop on our intended journey to Mailly La Ville. With the trip now impossible ,I determined to still get the trout. My now lovely and much appreciated wife and I set off cross country on the wheels of steel bound for Pregilbert and the trout farm. It just seemed right today.
My idea of going cross country was questionable after being forced to walk the first mile straight up a hill along a tractor track which was impossible to ride on and was pretty tough going in the sun. This however was more than compensated for by the views over the valley and the rather too hairy for Clo but very exciting descent the other side.
When we finally got too a proper road the sign at the start of the track we had just travelled said it all.
Heading back the quick route, we arrived back at Doucette at 3.30pm finding Mum asleep on one of the loungers on the poop deck. Happy as larry.
Bang on 4pm The Ritchies arrived. It had been an 8 hour journey. No toll roads deciding on the scenic route butt it was double the toll road rote time wise. They had brought our new replacement hob and grill and some more boat spares which I was glad to recieve.
Quickly settled, we had drinks on the poop catching up on each others news before the absolutely fabulous Trout were griddled on the BBQ. With new potatoes and salad and washed down with a nice bottle of Cremant, Ange and Alex questioned my reports of all the bad weather with today being so glorious. If only was the choral reply from Mum, Clo and the skipper.
It had been a great day and it was terrific to have our new guests safely installed.
Sunday 26th May Mum gets excercised
Sunday morning heralded with warm sunshine. It was about time I started working on mums fitness. I really am getting concerned about her lack of exercise. She suffers from itchy legs with walking and she worries about her breathlessness but I tell her its only getting worse and so Mum we are going for a Walk and a Sunday picnic lunch. I give her a target of the parc Des Illes at Vermenton. Her face shows the blind horror but she knows I am not giving in. Picnic prepared, we start by getting her off the boat, no mean feat as with the sloping quay, it requires a step of 2 feet. She flies over with some assistance. After 500m we stop to rest at a canal side bench. She immediately starts itching her calf's. I am relentless. Ok time to move. Mum accepts her fate and realises the itching routine is not softening this hardened horrible son. At the end of the canal we set off down the riverside track which is very muddy. The complaining lessens and the sound of birdsong and the chattering woodpecker seem to be distracting her from the ordeal of the route march. Granny does her grandchildren proud by making it to the parc where she sits and enthuses over the beauty of the parc and the rapid rushing torrents passing through it. She even manages to cross the age old stone bridge and pose for a picture or two.
Collette is thrilled as she gets a call from Carla and a long catch up. Always happy days for me when the girlies are on top form.
We enjoyed our picnic lunch sat on a riverside bench even though sadly the weather had deteriorated to a grey cloudy overcast day with only splashes of sunshine.
The walk back is a doddle. Mum seems to have forgotten about her itchy legs and she is walking faster than I can remember. I am sure it is all to do with her enjoyment of the day. She even suggests we walk a different route back which takes us back down a lane into the back of Accolay and through the village. It recalls memories of holidays on a farm in Devon all those years ago although she swears the roads were even narrower then. We guess at the names of hedgerow plants and savour the immaculately kept gardens of some stunning houses on the village outskirts.
Finally back at Doucette, Mum looks healthily tired but is clearly delighted with her achievement. I tell her she has walked about 3 miles in total. This brings on a smile of self satisfaction immediately followed by a collapse onto the sofa from where she is clearly not moving for a while. I am chuffed and hoped it inspires her try and engage a tad more exercise on her return home.
The sun has finally won its battle with the grey clouds. Collette and I set up on the poop and I finally get to refit the magma. I am a Cheshire cat as I load the coals and snort on the black soot flavoured smoke engulfing me. Fan bloody tastic. Its soon grey and ready. Chops and rabbit purchased yesterday removed from the fridge. Collette sniffs the chops suggesting they smell a tad offish. Over the side they go, the fish are now smiling more than me. Thankfully my favourite BBQ food the rabbit is good to go. the sizzle sets my smile back in place and I guzzle on some more Burgoyne rouge.
Mum is feeling a bit cold so I put the heater on for her. Ten minutes later, sat on the poop finishing off the rabbit, I hear Berlin Bertie ranting with some motor homers. He marches storm trooper style straight past me and heads for the art de vivre. 5 minutes later, he approaches me. The gist of the rant is that he only uses 500watts of electric and yet it has tripped again during a movie. He has spoken to every user on the quay and asked them to reduce their personal usage as this is so annoying. It is a spectacular `lost it` moment of flailing arms and `you are all a bunch of bastards`. I am reminded of the west hams fans you tube rant and struggle to contain a snigger. He is so sweet but obviously at the end of his tether so I decide to console and tell him I will be careful.
Now this could not be more incredibly humorous if not for the fact that earlier in the day, Rheiner had told me how he had only paid the 2.60euros for electric for one day of the stay so far and was hoping the river would be open soon before the girl caught up with him. Utterly staggering but wonderful then, this outburst.( I of course have paid in full and very happy to have done so)
With Collette now feeling the chill a tad on the poop, I get a second fan heater, put it on the poop deck and switch it on.
I do hope the lovely Rheiner didn`t mind.
We enjoyed our picnic lunch sat on a riverside bench even though sadly the weather had deteriorated to a grey cloudy overcast day with only splashes of sunshine.
Finally back at Doucette, Mum looks healthily tired but is clearly delighted with her achievement. I tell her she has walked about 3 miles in total. This brings on a smile of self satisfaction immediately followed by a collapse onto the sofa from where she is clearly not moving for a while. I am chuffed and hoped it inspires her try and engage a tad more exercise on her return home.
The sun has finally won its battle with the grey clouds. Collette and I set up on the poop and I finally get to refit the magma. I am a Cheshire cat as I load the coals and snort on the black soot flavoured smoke engulfing me. Fan bloody tastic. Its soon grey and ready. Chops and rabbit purchased yesterday removed from the fridge. Collette sniffs the chops suggesting they smell a tad offish. Over the side they go, the fish are now smiling more than me. Thankfully my favourite BBQ food the rabbit is good to go. the sizzle sets my smile back in place and I guzzle on some more Burgoyne rouge.
Mum is feeling a bit cold so I put the heater on for her. Ten minutes later, sat on the poop finishing off the rabbit, I hear Berlin Bertie ranting with some motor homers. He marches storm trooper style straight past me and heads for the art de vivre. 5 minutes later, he approaches me. The gist of the rant is that he only uses 500watts of electric and yet it has tripped again during a movie. He has spoken to every user on the quay and asked them to reduce their personal usage as this is so annoying. It is a spectacular `lost it` moment of flailing arms and `you are all a bunch of bastards`. I am reminded of the west hams fans you tube rant and struggle to contain a snigger. He is so sweet but obviously at the end of his tether so I decide to console and tell him I will be careful.
Now this could not be more incredibly humorous if not for the fact that earlier in the day, Rheiner had told me how he had only paid the 2.60euros for electric for one day of the stay so far and was hoping the river would be open soon before the girl caught up with him. Utterly staggering but wonderful then, this outburst.( I of course have paid in full and very happy to have done so)
With Collette now feeling the chill a tad on the poop, I get a second fan heater, put it on the poop deck and switch it on.
I do hope the lovely Rheiner didn`t mind.
Saturday 25th May Some Decent Weather at Last?
Awoke to a dry morning, the first for many days. It was so nice to top up the water without getting soaked shorts just walking around the deck. After breakfast of scrambled eggs following grapefruit and greek yoghurt, Collette and I decided to go for a walk back along the Vermenton canal back to the Nivernais to see how the river was running and see if by chance we bumped into a VNF man. We walked about 2miles and passed two locks, the river looked fine which added to the frustration of the closure. We were just heading away from the canal down a tiny road signposted Accolay when a VNF van hurtled past in the opposite direction. Sure enough he pulled into the lock cottage we had just passed. I shouted to him "when will the river open?" "lundi" was just the answer I had hoped for.
Back at Doucette, Collette cooked a delightful macaroni and tomato with mushroom dish for lunch without the mushrooms. Mum ate some of this and proceeded to finish off the leftovers of last nights dinner which effectively was a full dinner again, so we decided we would not cook tonight. For a 78 year old she has an amazing appetite especially for anything with cream. Marvelous!
I had been teasing Tim next door on Randall about cleaning his boat with clients due next week and the hull looking a bit grassy. Collette castagated me when on our return from the walk, we had found him hard at it with a brush and hose. With the sun finally out and it being very warm I set up on the poop deck, I told him to join me for a beer when he had finished as a reward. He was on board within 10 minutes. It was 4pm. He left at 9pm. We had chewed the fat over a lot of beer and the two bottles of st.bris were history. Cracking little session.
The ladies had been very happy as with me otherwise engaged, they were able to enjoy the Voice without my constant haraunging. I joined them as it finished and was able to turn over to watch the last 20minutes of the champions league final whilst Collette sorted a supper of cheese and pates with bread and biscuits. The only sad note on a superb day when we had at last enjoyed some decent weather was seeing that annoying little whinger Robben grab a last minute winner for Bayern.
Back at Doucette, Collette cooked a delightful macaroni and tomato with mushroom dish for lunch without the mushrooms. Mum ate some of this and proceeded to finish off the leftovers of last nights dinner which effectively was a full dinner again, so we decided we would not cook tonight. For a 78 year old she has an amazing appetite especially for anything with cream. Marvelous!
I had been teasing Tim next door on Randall about cleaning his boat with clients due next week and the hull looking a bit grassy. Collette castagated me when on our return from the walk, we had found him hard at it with a brush and hose. With the sun finally out and it being very warm I set up on the poop deck, I told him to join me for a beer when he had finished as a reward. He was on board within 10 minutes. It was 4pm. He left at 9pm. We had chewed the fat over a lot of beer and the two bottles of st.bris were history. Cracking little session.
The ladies had been very happy as with me otherwise engaged, they were able to enjoy the Voice without my constant haraunging. I joined them as it finished and was able to turn over to watch the last 20minutes of the champions league final whilst Collette sorted a supper of cheese and pates with bread and biscuits. The only sad note on a superb day when we had at last enjoyed some decent weather was seeing that annoying little whinger Robben grab a last minute winner for Bayern.
Thursday, 30 May 2013
Friday 24th May Still bloody closed.
The crew were up early on another drizzly morn. But today we were hoping to get back on the move and by 8.45 we were togged up in our wet weather gear and ready for the off. The vnf website showed the river open but their was no skippers notice stating that it was re-open. I consulted with Berlin Bertie next door on Tao. I called him David as he had strangely asked as his name was Rheiner which he decided was too tricky for me and so suggested as an englishmen his family name of david would be easier for me. There was no edge to this, just typical of his consideration. He and Monica were delightful although it has to be said that Rheiner is more than a little skittish and easily seemed to get in a bit of a tiz over things. He was constantly on the move and a ferret of information. He had my mums ability to use twenty sentances when one would suffice but was so very helpful always eager to get the bread in the morning and offer the latest news. Monica was unable to get around much but had a fixed smile that was genuine and brightened whenever she saw you.
Rheiner was desperate to get away but was also unsure. Tim, captain Harrold, came across with news that the river was still closed and this was confirmed by the skipper of art de vivre. Having paid 4000 euros each for a week on board, his american clients were getting pretty tetchy about the lack of a cruise. whilst Tim had been updating me, rhiener called the vnf. I heard him exploding on the phone and ranting about the situation. If it was not open today then their was little chance before Monday but Rheiner`s news was that Monday was a definite.
We settled down to coffees and watched the bbc news. Our daughter Stacey was travelling to New York for a long weekend visiting friends this morning. Suddenly breaking news of an incident closing the runways at Heathrow. What time is her flight? Collette is instantly calming me, not for another hour. We text her and she replies saying that boarding is starting in 10 minutes clearly none the wiser about any issues. We decide not to say anything. She was delayed an hour but landed in New York still blisfully unaware of the incident. Airports really are rubbish at communicating with their passengers.
Collette decided to do a wash day. Out came the machine which was a signal for me to get on my bike and head off into Vermenton to buy a new water hose. Mine had not wintered well and was frankly embarrassing to use. I enjoyed the ride into town and discovered it was market day. The market was spread all around the town but I had no time to linger as the ATAC supermarche was closing for its 2hour lunch in just 15 mins. I nrushed in and found their only hose. A 19mm diameter. Would it fit my range of fittings I woundered. Unable to be certain, I returned to the salles de fetes in the town square. Two rickety fold up tables were set up and a gathering of weathered bergundians sporting berets and bad odours were recounting France`s glory days over 1 euro glasses of red wine poured from 2 litre plastic water bottles. Fantastic. I just wanted to stop and get involved but I had spotted the queue of 3 old crones at the fromage stall. It was not though the cheese which had taken my eye but a row of boxes in front of the stall containing bottles of wine. Priced at 5 euros 20 one box had only two bottles remaining. Another good sign. It was a st Bris Sauvignon blanc. Now I had only yesterday read in my Hugh Mcnight bible, that no self respecting nivernais boater should travel its length without a bottle of aforemention wine. I was having these!
The 3 old crones were all prattling away with the round cheery faced proprietor who clearly had a taste for cream and cheeses herself. Interestingly, I noted they all purchased the same cheese. Comte. Now this cheese is very popular in France. It is a hard cheddar type and is often served with drinks. It comes in a variety of qualities and you can pay a fortune for it. The crones all bought the cheapest one, but they knew something or two between them. With them out of the way, I got to chatting with the proprietor who was happy to confirm that the ladies had made a wise choice. After a lengthy chat with this amiable lady who was keen to help me with my stuttering french and was flabbergasted that I was retrait at my age and had no right to be enjoying such a lifestyle, I returned to the washhouse where the grafting crew were hanging the last of the washing on rigged lines in the wheelhouse. Confronted with a resigned look of no surprise at the lack of a new hose, I endeavoured to explain how self sacrificing I had been in ignoring the temptations of the salle de fetes wine bar but soon fell quiet as my case appeared to be simply enlarging the hole I was clearly digging for myself. I offered to make tea but opened the door with a quiet sence of satisfaction at the mornings trade.
By now it was late afternoon and with the weather still very drizzly and with a boat full of drying washing we had a night of vegging although I took forever cooking a mince in red wine sauce to go with a broccolli and toasted brioche in cheese sauce which was gloriously rich due to the fact that I mistook the litre of single cream for whole milk. The ladies loved it!
Rheiner was desperate to get away but was also unsure. Tim, captain Harrold, came across with news that the river was still closed and this was confirmed by the skipper of art de vivre. Having paid 4000 euros each for a week on board, his american clients were getting pretty tetchy about the lack of a cruise. whilst Tim had been updating me, rhiener called the vnf. I heard him exploding on the phone and ranting about the situation. If it was not open today then their was little chance before Monday but Rheiner`s news was that Monday was a definite.
We settled down to coffees and watched the bbc news. Our daughter Stacey was travelling to New York for a long weekend visiting friends this morning. Suddenly breaking news of an incident closing the runways at Heathrow. What time is her flight? Collette is instantly calming me, not for another hour. We text her and she replies saying that boarding is starting in 10 minutes clearly none the wiser about any issues. We decide not to say anything. She was delayed an hour but landed in New York still blisfully unaware of the incident. Airports really are rubbish at communicating with their passengers.
Collette decided to do a wash day. Out came the machine which was a signal for me to get on my bike and head off into Vermenton to buy a new water hose. Mine had not wintered well and was frankly embarrassing to use. I enjoyed the ride into town and discovered it was market day. The market was spread all around the town but I had no time to linger as the ATAC supermarche was closing for its 2hour lunch in just 15 mins. I nrushed in and found their only hose. A 19mm diameter. Would it fit my range of fittings I woundered. Unable to be certain, I returned to the salles de fetes in the town square. Two rickety fold up tables were set up and a gathering of weathered bergundians sporting berets and bad odours were recounting France`s glory days over 1 euro glasses of red wine poured from 2 litre plastic water bottles. Fantastic. I just wanted to stop and get involved but I had spotted the queue of 3 old crones at the fromage stall. It was not though the cheese which had taken my eye but a row of boxes in front of the stall containing bottles of wine. Priced at 5 euros 20 one box had only two bottles remaining. Another good sign. It was a st Bris Sauvignon blanc. Now I had only yesterday read in my Hugh Mcnight bible, that no self respecting nivernais boater should travel its length without a bottle of aforemention wine. I was having these!
The 3 old crones were all prattling away with the round cheery faced proprietor who clearly had a taste for cream and cheeses herself. Interestingly, I noted they all purchased the same cheese. Comte. Now this cheese is very popular in France. It is a hard cheddar type and is often served with drinks. It comes in a variety of qualities and you can pay a fortune for it. The crones all bought the cheapest one, but they knew something or two between them. With them out of the way, I got to chatting with the proprietor who was happy to confirm that the ladies had made a wise choice. After a lengthy chat with this amiable lady who was keen to help me with my stuttering french and was flabbergasted that I was retrait at my age and had no right to be enjoying such a lifestyle, I returned to the washhouse where the grafting crew were hanging the last of the washing on rigged lines in the wheelhouse. Confronted with a resigned look of no surprise at the lack of a new hose, I endeavoured to explain how self sacrificing I had been in ignoring the temptations of the salle de fetes wine bar but soon fell quiet as my case appeared to be simply enlarging the hole I was clearly digging for myself. I offered to make tea but opened the door with a quiet sence of satisfaction at the mornings trade.
By now it was late afternoon and with the weather still very drizzly and with a boat full of drying washing we had a night of vegging although I took forever cooking a mince in red wine sauce to go with a broccolli and toasted brioche in cheese sauce which was gloriously rich due to the fact that I mistook the litre of single cream for whole milk. The ladies loved it!
Thursday, 23 May 2013
Thursday 23rd May Hostellerie de la fontaine
Sadly we awoke to rain again. At 9.15 berlin david called to ask if I wanted anything from the boulangerie. an order of une baguette et 3 croissant was requested and delivered promptly. Very nice service from a very nice man.
Having decided on lunch out today, we just had the croissant and coffee for breakfast. I got the blog bang up to date and suddenly it was noon. a swift change of clothes and as we left the boat for the 5minute stroll to the much heralded Hostellerie de la fontaine, the sun won its battle with the clouds and voila, it was lovely. The restaurant was not busy with just four other tables taken. we had the lunchtime menu at 13.50euros. First course was a unanimous decision, a hot baked prawns and fish and vegetables dish which was just sublime. Collette and I had steak au poivre with frites which was excellent followed by a pineapple salad with ginger and a cafe. Mum had kidneys and adored them followed by a vanilla creme which took her about 10 seconds to devour. enough said. all washed down with a nice bourgogne pinot noir. Fabulous lunch.
With mum settled back at the boat, the crew and I set off to try and get into Vermenton again. This time we turned left at the bridge following a lovely if rather wet path
and of course found a river crossing just 250m down river.
The walk along the bank was spectacular with the river in a raging flood. Crossing the bridge almost heralded disaster as I removed the camera from around my neck, I managed to drop it. It landed and bounced across the wooden planking and thank god came to a rest just a foot short of falling into the unwelcomed depths below. I was still shaking as we entered the supermarket 15 minutes later on the far side of town.
Vermenton old town is very old and is a maze of narrow old streets centered round the slightly dilapidated church. A classic sighting was en route to the supermarket when an open gate in a terrace of houses in an ordinary looking street revealed an inner courtyard of a farm complete with cat tractor and a grazing white cow directly behind it(look closely or enlarge the pics by clicking on it) it was genuinely surreal.
Loaded with vittals, we set back and passed the public park "jardin des isles". based around an old watermill it is based on a group of islands in the middle of the rushing river Cure. Words or indeed pictures cannot do justice to the spectacular natural beauty and cocophony of sound of the flooding torrent of the Cure hammering its way through this glorious park or the heavy thudding of a busy woodpecker surely flattening his beak in a spirited assault on an old oak.
We had a ball enjoying its delights for the next 45 minutes of exploration finding moss covered tree lined arbours around a dozen boules courts, one even floodlit and I learnt a new name "Boulodrome"
cracked and creaking wooden bridges across torrents which made a very nervous Collette feel quite wierd as she crossed praying that this was not the time for another plank to give way.
Beautiful centuries old stone bridges worn away by the many thousands of enthralled predecessors who had trod this lovely park including some very dodgy types apparently!
We finally dragged ourselves away
and back to Doucette which looked lovely against the backdrop of Accolay.
Having decided on lunch out today, we just had the croissant and coffee for breakfast. I got the blog bang up to date and suddenly it was noon. a swift change of clothes and as we left the boat for the 5minute stroll to the much heralded Hostellerie de la fontaine, the sun won its battle with the clouds and voila, it was lovely. The restaurant was not busy with just four other tables taken. we had the lunchtime menu at 13.50euros. First course was a unanimous decision, a hot baked prawns and fish and vegetables dish which was just sublime. Collette and I had steak au poivre with frites which was excellent followed by a pineapple salad with ginger and a cafe. Mum had kidneys and adored them followed by a vanilla creme which took her about 10 seconds to devour. enough said. all washed down with a nice bourgogne pinot noir. Fabulous lunch.
With mum settled back at the boat, the crew and I set off to try and get into Vermenton again. This time we turned left at the bridge following a lovely if rather wet path
Vermenton old town is very old and is a maze of narrow old streets centered round the slightly dilapidated church. A classic sighting was en route to the supermarket when an open gate in a terrace of houses in an ordinary looking street revealed an inner courtyard of a farm complete with cat tractor and a grazing white cow directly behind it(look closely or enlarge the pics by clicking on it) it was genuinely surreal.
We had a ball enjoying its delights for the next 45 minutes of exploration finding moss covered tree lined arbours around a dozen boules courts, one even floodlit and I learnt a new name "Boulodrome"
We finally dragged ourselves away
and back to Doucette which looked lovely against the backdrop of Accolay.
It had been a fantastic day again.
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