Peter and Judi Burleigh Carry On Up French Canals
We are in the middle of a Canicule,
which French people tell us has two meanings: a heat wave, or 'the temperature
of a bitch on heat'. Luckily we're moored in the shade with power and water.
The fans are running hard. Rope Girl Judi is struggling to make a shade-cloth system
to keep the boat cool - and she's winning, despite stabbing herself in the
fingers with sharp instruments and having to listen to gratuity advice from
yours truly.
The Voges Mountains, roughly an
extension of the Ardennes, were meant to be cooler but the forecast for the
coming days is 33 degrees today , then 35, 37, 38, 39 with heavy wind gusts and so
on. We are in Fontanoy le Chateau, a beautiful if largely empty town in a
narrow river valley. Our next target is Epinal, but we'll probably stay here
for a few more days because of the bitch in heat.
As we rise into the mountains
the number of locks increases - at the highest point there are up to three locks
per kilometre . If we set off we'll need to do about 15 a day, travel about 20km
and get ourselves burned to a crisp in the process. The solution, as it so
often is, is to drink our way out.
We are taking it as easy as we
can and are living well except for the occasional crisis; a couple of days ago
we nearly had a pair of giant lock gates close on the stern of our boat. We did
a 'wheel spin' into the lock then had to stop dead instantly. It takes talent
to overcome the laws of physics.
This canal is one of narrow dimensions
so we must lower the canvas and the radar arch so we can get under the bridges.
It's obligatory to hit our heads on the arch. The daily record is, so far: Judi
6, Peter 5, but Peter is winning with the severity of the blows and the amount
of blood seeping through the hair.
The traffic on the canals seems
to be far less than in previous years, meaning we often find good, uncrowded
moorings. In this region the canal-side trees are huge, the fields lush and
green and the cows contented (or is that 'stupid'?). Villages are rare so we
are stocked up with instant dinners, canned petits pois and
long-life bread. Of course it's the long-life vodka which has our primary
attention.
We have discovered a way to BBQ
duck breasts without drenching the environment with flaming duck fat (is this
what napalm is made from?) and so far we've had Michelin 5-star dinners several
times. Luxury! Along with vegetables, meat and chicken we can really taste, we're
doing fine.
Not wishing to be seen as
'surrender monkeys' we have not yet requested political asylum. There's
probably a treaty between France and Australia which will see us end up at
Manus Island. Still, how bad could life on a Pacific Island be?
