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A Flying Bridge
is a Must!
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Before we did our barge trip I was desperate for information,
even the web was of little help, However, we were fortunate in picking the brains
of friends, Roger and Gerry, who had done several barge trips and one of the most
important recommendations they gave us, and I confirm, is get a boat that has an
outside steering position and table seating area on the deck. Our's was a barge known
as a Flying Bridge Penichette. The Flying Bridge has two steering positions, one
inside and the other on the rear (stern - this is as nautical as I get) deck along
with a table and seating for the crew to rest until called to action by the Captain.
It is the perfect way to travel.
We booked our Penichette with Locoboats through John
Reese at www.france.co.nz - who sent us all the info. Our barge was beautifully equiped
and designed - two bedrooms and two bathrooms with more storage space than a Paris
hotel!
Just so it doesn't give you a huge shock, when you
book you will pay a 40% deposit.
The four of us did an out and back voyage on the River
Baise in South Western France. As the trip was along the river, all the little towns
and villages were beside the river so no need to cycle. The main canals were built
many hundreds of years after the villages so are not necessarily nearby, hence the
need for bicycles. We found the river trip charming and even though we came back
the way we went, we still did not have enough time to see all the villages. The four
of us agreed, we could easily repeat the trip as it was so enchanting.
Other things to note are:
- Towels and teatowels were not supplied - we took
some but you could just as easily buy cheaply in supermarket.
- If you are in a very rural area, the tiny restaurants
may not be open every day so have a wee supply of food on board.
- Always stock up daily on bread as French bread can
be inedible on Day 2, also on wine - as it just evaporates!
- When you get to a port, top up your water tanks.
- Remember shops, including supermarkets close between
12 -3 pm daily so organise your shopping accordingly.
- Other costs payable to barge company directly are
diesel (more than enough in tank for journey), insurance, map book - really useful
and cleaning - don't ruin a lovely holiday by saving peanuts.
This is our shopping list when we provisioned the
barge:
- Loopaper, Rubbish bags, Dishwashing liquid, Milk
-longlife and fresh, Eggs, Butter, kitchen sponge, sugar, salt and pepper, juice,
coffee and filters, tea bags, bottled water, jam , beer and wine, oil, vinegar, lemonade,
mustard, herbs, dog biscuits, garlic, pasta, tinned salmon, olives, tomatoes, lettuce,
peppers, cheese, ham and salami, pate, new spuds, fruit bread, can opener, laundry
gel (John's recommended Genie)
You can forget the dog biscuits - I was going to feed
them to the lock-keepers' dogs, no lock-keepers, no dogs. It may be different on
other waterways.
If you would like to read our story, here is my diary . . .
En route
We all piled into an overloaded taxi bound for the
TGV departing from Montparnasse. Madame from our hotel had observed our luggage and
wisely ordered a mini cab, so it was to our combined horror when a small sedan arrived.
Bill had put his back out bending down to pick up the soap in the shower, which was
not designed for a man of his grand proportions. So he was wedged, protestingly into
the front seat, while the three of us and several suitcases were in the back.
About the luggage, Bill and Lis were going on to visit
family in Denmark, had at least 5 large suitcases. They protested that they had to
carry winter clothes and at least 5 wedding presents! We made the TGV, with some
fuss over finding the right carriage and getting our combined luggage stacked into
that carriage while final whistles were blowing. It seems that we were the only people
with lots of suitcases but no small dog or cat!
The TGV terminated at Bordeaux and we had five minutes
to find our next 'local' train, with 'the luggage' things were a bit fraught! The
food aboard the TGV hadn't looked particularly appetitising so while looking out
the window at the vines of Bordeaux heavy with deep purple grapes, Lis and I tormented
each other with descriptions of baguette and pate, jambon du pays and cheese. So
by the time we had stopped at each village and finally pulled into Agen, even the
boys were getting pretty hungry.
A Terrifying Chef
The team decided food and wine, not necessarily in
that order, were needed. When a taxi was not immediately available, the luggage was
carted to the nearest Rapide bar/cafe beside the Station. There seemed to be some
difficulty as the barman was sure the cafe was open, while the chef was not. The
manager was called and I think that the message to the reluctant chef was pretty
strong as he grudgingly told us what was not available on the menu. The chef's appearance
was terrifying with Che Guevara moustache, tatoos and missing teeth, We were all
wishing we could leave as maybe we weren't that hungry after all, but this would
not be permitted. However, through some miracle or perhaps the chef's discovery that
we were from New Zealand not England we befriended our chef.
He cooked us one of the most memorable meals - in
particular, we girls had fish in a baby mussel, wine and cream sauce that was so
delicious we had to have the recipe. The ingrediants were discussed - and in some
cases they had to be presented so we knew what they were: ciboulet - chives and a
glass of Floc du Gascogne - rouge. This last treat was to be our undoing. Floc is
a wine based aperitif from Gascony, it comes in both red and white -much discussion
and sampling as to which is the superior but on this occasion after a glass or two
of each, red was the winner.
Our hotel, Hotel des Illes, was inexpensive and perfectly
adequate. We dumped our bags into vast rooms furnished with a combination of gorgeous
antiques and fairground tat and made our way to the centre of Agen. It may have been
the magic of the Floc, but Agen was delightful - lovely buildings, a fabulous museum
and a town square complete with a festival. After exploring, we all sat outside at
a bar and watched the clowns, dancers and locals and enjoyed every moment. Bill and
Lis retired earlier than Russell and I, as we danced in the rain to the local rock
band till the early hours.
Saturday - let the adventure begin.
We find out Penichette - Vianne
John had told us that this was very much the rugby
area of France and that as New Zealander's we would be known for the All Blacks.
With this knowledge, Bill and Lis had organised a flag - a not insignificant flag
with a silver fern emblazzoned with All Blacks, New Zealand. In fact a major public
building would have been pleased to fly it! The flag, along with the luggage was
taxied to the Locoboat base and arrangements were made to store at least part of
the wardrobe and some of the presents. Then we saw her - Vianne - what a little beauty,
we knew she was our boat as she was the only Flying Bridge Penichette and we just
knew we had made the right decision.
Vianne had two double cabins, two ensuites, a salon
and a well orgainised kitchen - everything we were going to need. Before we were
able to have our lesson and stow our things, we had to do the big shop.
The four of us carried huge boxes to the Base - our barman from yesterday gave us
a wry smile as we staggered by in the heat of the afternoon.
Papers to sign, insurance and cleaning post-trip to
organise, we can hardly wait. I ask Madame if we will have time to get as far as
Valence - 'Yes, unless you are very lazy' she replies. I see Bill's nostrils flare
and thank God that the river is only navigable as far as Valence - lazy indeed! Our
or should I say Bill's lesson was very brief, did I mention he is an offshore yachtie,
an engineer and a master mariner? By now it was too late in the day to cross the
canal bridge with four locks. One has to be wary of lock opening and closing times.
Mme did not respond well to Bill's query as to what would happen if the lock closed
while we were in it - a perfectly reasonable question I thought but to Mme - incomprehensible
- ' non, it will not happen'. Well we got that one straight!
So rather than staying at the Base, as did our fellow
bargees, we set off up the canal to find a good spot to tie up for the night, along
the way we 'bonjoured' the old men walking dogs and the women chatting beside the
canal - all greeted us and waved, often pointing at the flag and gesticulating. Bill
had a chance to give Vianne a trial and it did not please an encampment of gypsies
that he did a speed test past them! As we approached the first closed lock it was
time to go back, but how? The canal was only about twice as wide as the barge. It
was then that Bill executed the first of his famous 'bugger me' turns, as named by
Russell, who is at his most articulate when overwhelmed with respect. Without the
least fuss, Bill began a series of smooth reversing and advancing manouevres that
had us turned in a jiffy - we were in the hands of a master.
We tied up beside a water meadow, with horses and
geese grazing together - 'Ah! such peace and tranquillity' someone was heard to say,
then the first train passed by, on the furthest, but not far, side of the canal.
Truthfully, after a meal of ham and new potatoes, washed down with copious glasses
of wine, we all slept well and I don't think the hourly trains really worried us.
Sunday
Our first day dawned early with soft mist and the
sound of horsey snorts. It dawned rather earlier than my fellow travellers would
have wished as I thought that everyone would need a cup of tea and juice at about
6.30 am. Well, we would want to get underway - wouldn't we?
We slipped past the gypsy encampment at a sedate pace
and only a couple of lean dogs bothered to notice us. The Base was our first stop
to sort out a couple of minor problems with bed linen and a blocked shower drain.
We pulled into the dock, feeling infinitely superior and most adventurous compared
to those who had stayed put for the night - what did they know of canal life? Lis
and I collected fresh croissants for breaky and we made a pot of coffee, then waited
for the experts to arrive at 8.30 am so we could be off.
First challenge of our adventure was the 500m long
canal bridge crossing the River followed by a series of 4 locks - We all had our
jobs - Captain Bill at the helm, our lockboy Russell, Lissie the benificent to give
gifts of the Silver Fern pins and 10 franc pieces to the lock keepers while I feed
their starving dogs with the biscuits purchased in Agen! As we only met up with 3
lock keepers during our entire voyage, none of whom had dogs,
Lissie and I found work with the ropes - aft and stern
which Russell put around a bollard and we either tightened or released depending
on whether we were going up or down. It was an arduous task that required copious
refreshments.
It was a long straight run down to the Baise, flat
farmland with the last of the season's crops still evident - maize, an old sunflower
here and there, some tobacco. The sky was clearing and our wash lapped gently behind
us - this was the life.
It took two locks to bring Vianne up on to the River
Baise, where trees drooped over the grey green waters, birds sung and we felt alone
in a magical watery world and very special. So romantic was it that the boys thought
it was time for a beer and a bite to eat. We moored to a dead tree after some splendid
rope throwing was demonstrated and lunched like royalty on duck pate, smoked country
ham, squishy cheese and chewy bread that we had bought at the bakery that morning
in Agen.
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The afternoon passed quietly and at about 4.30 pm we
rounded a gentle bend to see a weir, a mill house and the delightful village of Vianne
- 'our home port' we exclaimed proudly. We tied up alongside a path and grassly slope
leading up to a small walled village. There was another barge tied up, it was facing
downstream. A man was fishing and we asked him if he had any luck - ' non' but it
didn't seem to concern him as he only fished for the cat's food. It was a sleepy
Sunday afternoon and dogs snoozed in the sun, we explored the four towers and sought
refuge from the afternoon heat in the cool stone church. Most everything was shut
except a restaurant which also sold local produce, we bought a large box of ripe
tomatoes, some Floc de Gascogne and booked for dinner. There was little else left
to do but sit on the grassy slope, snooze and wait till dinner.
Dinner was a feast, Madame and Monsieur were able to devote their total attention
to us, as we were I think the only people eating dinner that Sunday, anywhere in
Vianne. We began with fish soup, complete with croutons and rouille, served in a
large tureen. Surely we could not finish this, well, perhaps. Russell had ordered
a steak, which was cooked with much ceremony on the barbeque wheeled on to the terrace.
I call it a terrace but this is rather flattering as it was in fact a tarsealed area
on which our plastic chairs and table were arranged. There were oysters and to finish
apple tart or a confection of creme fraiche and berries - oh the menu envy!
Our hosts chatted with us and most generously poured us a local liqueur to enjoy
with our coffee. Monsieur seemed to like his Silver Fern pin! What a meal, what a
day, time for bed.
Monday
Oh dear, me again at 6.30 am with tea and juice. It should be difficult to be cross
with someone offering you sustinance and a friendly smile,shouldn't it? Consequently
we left Vianne at first light and glided up river to Lavardac to wait until 9am for
the lock to open and allow us to proceed.
Lis and I walked across the bridge and up the hill to Lavardac, marvelling as we
passed buildings with dates of 1300 odd on them. Lavardac had a lovely lookout at
the top of the hill with vistas of the river and countryside, it deserves visiting
properly because it was a most attractive town. However we were not here to marvel,
our task was to stock up the provisions - so to the boulangerie for our breaky croissants
and baguettes for the day and to the charcuterie for a selection of hams and spicy
sausage. Tomatoes were introduced into the breakfast menu, after all we did have
rather a lot of them.
Enchanting Nerac, we were all enchanted by this utterly picturesque medieval town
- as we tied up below the first of the two bridges, the old and the new. The new
bridge being built in the 1600's. No-one was more enchanted than our Captain, who
was already planning our return. We spent a few pleasant hours wandering around the
town, up the little lanes and through the squares and promised to stop for the night
on the way back down.
As we boated up the river, without sight of other barges we passed by charming lockkeepers
cottages, mills, weirs, bridges, and chateaux. We were most intrigued by the small
fishing shelters erected along the banks, some complete with car seats, tables and
shelves. Lis called them 'chateaux des pecheurs' - I do so admire someone who can
joke in a foreign language.
I must say, even at this stage, we felt we were a pretty classy team on the locks.
Captain Bill had Vianne under complete control and would take her up to the bank
before the lock, Russell would spring off gracefully, insert the card in the lock
mechanism to start the process of gates opening, then once in the lock, Lissie and
I would throw Russell the ropes to wrap around the bollards and then we would hold
Vianne steady as she rose, once at the upstream river level, the gates would start
to open, the ropes would be cast off and Vianne would head off.
Such style and dexterity is not really necessary as we discovered when we encountered
the Israelis. Certainly having an expert Captain made all the difference but as we
came upon a barge heading up river hitting left bank, right bank, left bank and so
on, we realised that anyone can go barging. Bill managed to pass during one of their
wild swings to port and when we looked back we saw them having several attempts to
get the barge under a bridge, we coined the 'Beware of Israelis in Barges' edict.
We planned to tie up for the night at Moncrabeu a small hilltop village, famous for
it's festival of liars. The bridge was bedecked with flags of many nations and offered
a colourful welcome, already tied up at the bank was a larger barge with a crew of
young people, they waved a friendly greeting. Despite the heat Russell and I decided
to struggle up the hill and check out the village, try for provisions and spy out
a spot for dinner. Lis and Bill wisely elected to have a late afternoon kip. Moncrabeau
boasted only one shop which sold everything, at a price, so we loaded up and reported
back for evening drinks. Later as it cooled down a little, we all headed up the hill
to the only restaurant, only to find it closed on Mondays! Well as Lis said, 'what
do you expect in the town of liars!'. We knocked up a salmon pasta in the galley,
complete with bread and of course, tomatoes, and dined on the bankside picnic table.
Tuesday
A decision to make for the first lock and wait for it to open was in part based on
the desire to avoid the Israelis who had pulled in during the latter part of the
previous evening. We sat below the lock and breakfasted on bread and pate, and more
tomatoes! Our plan was to make for Condon where, at the port office, we had to exchange
lock keys, as a different key operated the locks in the upper Baise. Condon appeared
to be quite a substantial town and we decided not to stop, as my diary noted 'too
big and we have been spoilt by the charm of villages'.
Before we reached Valence, one of the highlights was a visit to the Abbaye de Flarons.
We tied up and crossed the bridge - the abbey looked delightful but as is so often
the case in a country that takes food seriously, it was closed for lunch. Well, lunch
sounded like a jolly good idea and as there seemed to be a rather nice restaurant
half a kilometer up the road, perhaps we should go to lunch. Our meal at the Ferme
de Flaron was excellent - highlights included a warm prawn and avocado salad and
Lissie's choice of dessert, the prune tart with Armagnac ice cream, divine. After
coffee and Armagnac's the crew of the Vianne stumbled back down to the river.
Valence (don't call us lazy!) was another charming hilltop village. The 'port' had
wonderful facilities: a laundry and showers. All free and managed by a very obliging
toothless old man, whom we tipped heavily (was it the Armagnac?). We wandered around
the village, visited the church - for it's temperature as much for it's charm, then
fronted a beer in the local bar. After showers and a load or two of washing, a decision
was made to camp beside the Abbey back down the river. We would have a big day tomorrow
to get back for our night in Nerac, so a start would be made.
We made fast with the stern of Vianne tucked under one of the bridge arches as shelter
from the sun. This proved fatal, as the night wore on, sitting on the back deck Russell,
Lissie and I enjoying a few wines (Bill was being wise) decided that we would have
a singsong. We thought that with the resonance provided by the stone arch we sounded
pretty good, and so it went on. When all the wine was consumed, the three of us cast
around for something else to sooth our now parched throats. As we had loaded at Agen,
we three had made derisive comments about Bill bringing a bottle of brandy along,
now it seemed the best decision he ever made.
Wednesday
My diary -'a slow start'. Perhaps fortunately
the day was a little cooler and with a light drizzle. Towards lunch time, I asked
Lissie if she would like a glass of wine. She replied that she 'would rather lick
the lock walls'. As we had not purchased fresh bread, nor other goodies our provisions
were a little low (we had tomatoes) - 'dog biscuit with foie gras anyone?'
By the time we reached Nerac at 3.30 pm all restaurants were closed and we were all
starving so we gathered together a picnic and then had an afternoon kip. While the
Captain was in good form, the crew were a little doucement. That night we wandered
up to the town and dined at a restaurant beside the Henri IV chateau, then home to
Vianne for a big sleep.
Thursday
We had a quiet start to the day, then spent the morning exploring the streets of
Nerac and buying provisions. On our way back down the river, we stopped at for coffee
at the lock cafe, then Vianne, our home port for lunch, and met up with a barge of
4 Californians - Casey and friends. They regaled us with their barging disaster whereby
they had managed to get their barge jammed in the lock gate! It didn't seem to worry
them at all, by all accounts they had eventually freed it and continued on unscathed.
This wouldn't have done for our team, as Bill did a stylish departure from the Vianne
lock and we left them in our wake.
It was with some sadness that we locked up to the Canal and left our beautiful little
river Baise behind, it had quite stolen our hearts. We pulled into the port at Buzet,
which appeared to be quite a bustling affair with Port Offices and showers and pedal
carts for hire. We tied up further along and walked into town, as far as the church.
Then Lis and I set about buying steak for dinner. I don't think the butcher appreciated
Lissie's comment that at home we would have bought the whole cow for the price charged
for 4 steaks! Bill and Lis headed back to the barge and Russell and I stopped for
a beer. We met up with Casey and the three of us exchanged views on world events,
life and holidays over a couple of cold ales. We dined on the bridge and all declared
the steak - tough.
Friday
Lazy indeed, Bill thought we had plenty of time for an unscheduled port, Damazin,
along the canal to the west. As we cruised along the straight formally planted tree
lined canal, we all agreed that we preferred the wilderness of the Baise,with it's
bends and surprises. Damazin was a great surprise destination, a pretty village with
the buildings painted in many different pastel shades. Lissie and I befriended a
local dog, or should I say it befriended us, we bought the only stale croissants
ever and we 'chatted' with an elderly local gentleman on the canal bank - about what
I am still not sure! Good port Bill.
Our cruise planned to have us at Serignac for lunch, however as we arrived at the
door of the Black Prince at ten past two, lunch is off love! If that was not enough,
we only had some of yesterday's bread, as you know french bread is great on day one,
but awful after - we even discovered ducks won't eat day old bread in France. It
was a meagre meal but we promised ourselves a decent dinner. As we motored into Agen
at 5 ish on a Friday, all the people leaving work waved out, tooting and pointing
at our flag - we waved and smiled, what a voyage.
Rather than stay with the others returning their barges, none of whom we had seen
except some Swedes in the run in from Serignac, we decided to head up the canal to
tie up at Bon Encot, where we would go out for a final nosh. Don't ask how we found
the restaurant, because we seemed to walk for miles. When we came to the dining room,
we couldn't believe it they too were shut, and it looked such a nice place. Just
as we were about to leave in total despair, Mme arrived and explained that they were
indeed shut, but were opening in ten minutes if we would like to take a seat and
have a drink . . . bliss. A very enjoyable meal at La Table d'Antan with friendly
and delightful service. We wombled back to the barge and finished the night with
what else but a Floc de Gascogne.
Saturday
We awoke early to sound of very noisy cockerels. We had to take Vianne back for her
checkup, was everything in order? It was with considerable flair and style that our
Captain performed the final manouevre of backing Vianne into her berth, the other
bargees just stared in wonderment as we observed their attempts which included the
use of ropes, boathooks and bad language. We passed our inspection but wondered if
the Israelis would pass their's. We made the final payment for diesel and water,
reclaimed our baggage and taxied to the station. Au revoir Vianne.
We are planning our next trip together 2004.
Let us know about your barging experiences, recommendations and tips. |
Barging sur la Baise