Encore France: Day 10 - Picquigny to Corbie

From the journal: 

Wow, amazingly I woke up feeling totally rested, quite buoyant, and with absolutely no after-effects of last night. Can’t believe how good I felt. It seemed to really bode well for a great day’s trip back to Corbie, even if the morning was an exceedingly cold one.

However, shortly after breakfast we noticed that the heater wasn’t working and so we had no heat, and no hot water. Brrh!  We phoned Locaboat and they said that Bertrand would meet us at Corbie to investigate the issue, and so we set off once more, wearing a couple of layers of sweaters plus gloves, hats, and scarves pulled up over the lower half of our faces.
 

Lovely riverside homes which we passed
in Amiens

We had a delightful little experience while cruising back through Amiens. As we passed a lovely area of parkland we notice a whole group of very young school children in the park, with their teacher. We both waved. The teacher said something to the children and then they all, in unison, waved and called our "Bonjour monsieur/dame". We called back "Bonjour mes enfants". It was just the loveliest thing and put a big smile on our dials.

Modern - and I think quite lovely - Amiens houses

The current was running quite strongly, and of course we were going up the locks instead of down, which is such a different experience. Sitting (or standing) on the front of the boat and firmly gripping that bowline while the water comes pouring into the lock like a mad cataract let loose requires quite a bit of effort in a lock of any size as the swirling waters want to turn the boat this way and that. Holding on, keeping the boat steady, sure works the shoulder muscles. In one particular lock – a very large one – it took 45 minutes from when we nudged our way through the gates into the lock until it had filled and we were able to sail out. Have to say, though, the Somme lock-keepers, who are mostly young men, were just delightful. They were very professional, very convivial and always an absolute pleasure to deal with.

We arrived in Corbie at quite early in the afternoon and Bertrand and a young lad were waiting there to meet us. And here’s a thing: we tied up right in front of the English barge “River Dog”, last spotted in Cappy when we started out on our journey and home to the kind couple who bought us a baguette that first morning. We saw no sign of them, though, and so assume that they were off around town somewhere. 

Some shops close to the port in Corbie

While Bertrand and his offsider worked on the vessel we went for a wander around Corbie, marvelling at the hotel de ville, which looks like something out of a fairy story. It was market day, and we spent a couple of really happy hours just wandering around slowly, finding so much to exclaim over. Whatever you could possibly think of was there, from fruit and vegetables, to cheeses, olives, meats and sausages of every description, underwear, men’s and women’s clothing, shoes, handbags, kitchen tools. Quite fascinating, and lovely just to be amongst the people who were, like us, ambling from stall to stall to check out the wares.
 

Very moving war memorial outside the Corbie Hotel de Ville

After that we popped into the patisserie for a couple of their superb éclairs and also bought something which is a local speciality, a flamiche. Basically a leek tart, the casing is apparently a sort of brioche pastry, quite scrummy, and the beautiful creamy leek filling just heavenly. Honestly, my taste buds are going just thinking of how good they are. Note to self: get onto google to find a recipe for them. I really  wish we had decided to try them earlier as they are just delicious. 
 

And, yes, this is the town hall, not a fairy tale castle.
Beautiful, I think.

When we arrived back at the boat with our purchases the men had finished work and we were able to just sit back and enjoy the lovely toasty warmth onboard with some great food and, of course, wine.
 

Just to give it some perspective

After the upsets of last night it was great to just feel peaceful and well, and so we simply passed a pleasant evening with a stroll along the riverside and then a little soft music, some chatter, and a fairly early night – that seems to be about normal, actually, on this beautifully restful sort of holiday. 

I hope you’ll be back tomorrow for the last day of this canal trip. Catch you then.

 

Encore France: Day 9 - Long to Picquigny

From the journal: 

It was a freezing cold morning in Long and there was a very heavy fog, making it impossible for us to set off as early as we had hoped.  We had to be like Robert the Bruce and learn patience. The fog did eventually lift, but most of the morning had passed by the time we were able to slip the lines and set off. It’s good to be able to be flexible with plans, and also to have time on our hands.

So, well rugged up against the cold, we eventually reached the town of Picquigny, our destination for the day, in mid-afternoon. We enquired of the lady lock-keeper as to the whereabouts of a store and she pointed out that the supermarket is on one side of the river, a few hundred metres down the road, but that the town itself is on the opposite side. We felt sure that the town must contain at least a small alimentation and so we set off to explore this interesting looking place.

And what an amazing little village full of higgledy-piggledy houses Picquigny proved to be. Wandering around its streets was just wonderful.

What stories do these walls hold?

We saw very few people, but those we did see were certainly friendly enough, with one young couple even offering to take our photo. We declined that kind offer but did ourselves take quite a few snaps of some of the fascinating houses we came across. 
 



How could you not photograph these wonderful Picquigny homes?

And, yes, the lock-keeper was right, we needed to head across the bridge to the opposite bank to visit the supermarket because we found no shops at all. I’m sure there would have been some hidden away in some little corner, but we didn’t see any.  The supermarket, which is just a short walk along the main road, is an excellent one, large and offering a great range of food, and so we were able to fill our basket with some delicious looking fare, including – confession time – some very innocuous looking lollies, the gummy party mix sort which I am so fond of.
 

I love the religious statue set into a niche in the corner of the building.

When we got back to the boat we got the heater running, settled down with our books and some nice background music, and feasted on chocolate, grapes, wine – and lots of those party lollies. Quite suddenly a feeling of total and absolute exhaustion came over me. I couldn’t even sit up and hold a book, couldn’t even raise my wine glass, and that really is serious. I had to just go and lay down, feeling that I needed a doze. Before long, however, some serious stomach pains started up, and then terrible backache, a blinding headache. Added to this I was feeling hot, then cold, and felt that my heart was racing. I took pain killers and put extra bedding, plus our coats, on the bed, and after a few hours I fell into a deep sleep. My sleep was so solid that I didn’t even hear the trains which apparently ran all night long on the track which was right next to where we were tied up.
 

And we adored this one, which somehow made us think of a boat -
and notice the little man and woman out the front. Fantastique, n'est pas?

My poor man had a solitary and worrying evening, fussing over me and keeping an eagle eye out for any signs that my condition may suddenly get any worse. Was it food poisoning from the lollies? Was it some strange bug I had picked up? Who knows what the cause was, but it didn’t bode well for the morrow that’s for sure. 

Something completely different, and somehow very British looking
I think, opposite the tie-up point. Quite lovely.

Well, I’ll be back soon to tell you what happened on “the morrow”.

Encore France: Day 8 - Amiens to Long

From the journal:

 

What is there to say? This was a really lovely day’s cruise, with superb scenery all the way. We just had to ignore the smells emanating from the potato alcohol factory and the sewerage plant.

Oh, and a bit of excitement: as we cruised slowly along enjoying the colours and the beautiful autumn sunshine, we came across an inflatable vessel belonging to the fire department, and they were practising diving into that dark, silent water, I guess training for emergencies. They all called out “Bonjour” and waved as we passed.

Amazing hydro-electric plant by the canal, over 100 years old
and in use for many years.

Another thing I should mention here is the sounds of gunfire. Yes, that’s right: gunfire, the noise of men who need to show their superiority by firing weapons at unarmed creatures. While last Sunday was the worst for it – after all, what could there possibly be better to do on God’s day that kill some of his loveliest animals – this was a really popular day for hunting obviously, and the sounds of gunfire, I guess mainly from shotguns, echoed all around us. Those decoy ducks looked so phoney to us, sort of like an avian version of a blow-up dolly, that you really have to wonder how dumb ducks would be to sashay on down for a chat when they see a few of them lined up in perfect formation on a lake. But obviously it works, because the hunters were out in full force. Do I need to add that we beat a hasty retreat to the interior of the boat? Hm, no desire to become the victim of a stray bullet.



Beautiful scenes coming into Long, grounds of the
chateau on the right.

Bertrand had stressed upon us, when chatting in Cappy, the necessity of visiting Long to glimpse its chateau. Well, coming into Long with the chateau’s grounds on the right is indeed really beautiful and definitely not to be missed.

The roof of Long's hotel de ville visible through the trees.

The grounds, on the greenest of green rolling hillsides, look just like a movie set with lakes and fountains and follies and statuary dotted here there and everywhere. And wandering in amongst all this are the most dazzling white geese, geese of such a size that from a distance we took them to be sheep. Oh, and just to add to the idyllic scene: pure white horses contributing their own elegance to it all. And the chateau? Well, could it look anything other than splendid? Of course it couldn’t.

Bummer, we're shut out of the chateau.

Fascinating as well to discover that when the chateau was being built, the owner had the river/canal re-aligned so that it flowed right by his property, just for aesthetic purposes. Ah, the power of money, and, ah, how wise of him to do so.



And I think this is the stables! Life is good for a horse
in such an estate.

It all boded so well for a lovely place to stay, didn’t it, with such beautiful countryside, the magnificent chateau, an hotel de ville to rival those found in large cities, and an awesome cathedral overlooking everything? Wrong!

Very speccy looking hotel de ville overlooking
the canal.

The tie-up point, which is just before the lock and very close to the Somme Canal authority’s premises, is by an abandoned building and opposite a couple of very creepy derelict houses, one of which had a huge and rather scary dummy in the window. This was right out of the sort of movie which ends up with numbers in the name, you know, “If You Go Down to the Canal Today 8”. Added to this, while most of the windows in the building you tie up next to were already smashed, this didn’t stop a bunch of local kids – one of whom was carrying a boomerang, for goodness’ sake – from coming along and throwing stones in an attempt to break those still remaining. Even knowing that we were on deck watching them, only a few feet away, didn’t deter them in the slightest.  Thankfully, we soon heard the sound of mothers’ voices calling their sweet little darlings home for dinner and so they wandered off. Amazing!

Now, despite our misgivings, despite the derelict building, the horrible kids, the creepy houses, I have to say that it was the loveliest, quietest night and we slept like logs. 

 Catch you tomorrow when we visit a town of unforgettable houses.

PS. I have to say, that tie-up point at Long is probably quite, quite different now. I am sure the derelict building has either been renovated or demolished. The actual services were excellent, and the location could certainly be fantastic.  

 

Encore France: Day 7 - Corbie to Amiens

From the journal:

 

We were up fairly early (well, early for us – everything, as they say, is relative) and went for a good long walk around Corbie. I had bought a few postcards in Paris and so we visited the post office and I sent them off to Australia, making myself perfectly understood in my struggling French and having a brief chat to the woman who served me.

 

Accidentally, by taking an unplanned journey back to the port, we discovered a large supermarket, ATAC, where we were able to stock up on more bread, cheese, vino (of course) yummy Normandy butter, eggs and fresh greens, plus of course some of our favourite ham and terrine.  Then on the way back to the boat we called in at the patisserie and picked up – yes, of course – some Paris Brest and Éclairs, the perfect holiday food.

 

L'Abbatiale Saint Pierre, Benedictine abbey in Corbie
founded in - wait for it - 657 AD.

We set off from Corbie at about 2 o’clock and travelled on to Amiens, arriving there probably somewhere around 5 pm. 

Love this little box which the cakes came in
at the patisserie in Corbie. Charming.

 

Bertrand at Locaboat had warned us not to tie up in the main mooring site in the middle of town as it can get quite noisy and the youth there can become, in his words, rather “lively”. He advised us instead to moor by a restaurant, le Vert Galant, which is owned by a friend of his. At first we cruised straight past the restaurant because, while we could see some mooring bollards, the bank looked very steep and seemed to be covered in long reeds. However, after cruising on to check out for ourselves the main tie-up area in the centre of the town we decided that Bertrand was indeed correct as it didn’t look particularly desirable. There was a bunch of drunken guys arguing by the dock, and throwing bottles into the river. We turned the boat and headed back to le Vert Galant to tie up there for the night. 

Riverside homes in Amiens

 

Just as we were pulling in and I was getting ready to try my best to throw a line over a bollard, a lovely man who was strolling along the canal path at that time offered to catch the mooring line for me, which was a great help. My man was then able to jump off the boat and secure the stern line and then put the little gangplank across from the deck to the pathway. It was indeed a nice spot. 

Our first impression of Amiens had been so negative that I wasn’t interested in walking around town and wondered whether I had made a bad decision in arranging for us to spend some time there post-cruise. Of course, the man wanted to be off and stretching his legs and so I stayed on board reading and catching up with the journal while he went for an hour’s walk. 

 

And a few more.

We probably should have taken Bertrand’s advice and eaten a meal at his friend’s restaurant, but we really enjoy sitting up on the back deck of the boat of an evening, eating a really simple meal, sipping on some great French wine and letting the world turn dark around us, and so that is what we did. There was a little noise from people leaving the restaurant later in the evening, but nice happy noises, and so we were really glad that Bertrand recommended this spot.

 

See you tomorrow. 

Encore France: Day 6 - Cappy to Corbie

From the journal:

 

And so it was that Sunday morning, about 20 minutes before we wanted to depart, I had to phone the Somme Canal authority and say, in my bestest French, “Bonjour madam. Ici bateau Labreilloire, départ Cappy á Corbie”. Thankfully, the answer came back, “D’accord” and so my pulse rate was able to return to normal. The first time, as they say, is the hardest – or so I believed.

 

Before leaving Cappy, the English couple who live on a big old barge called River Dog, out of Hull, which was tied up at the port, came over and said that they were going to the boulangerie and would we like them to bring anything back for us. We said that a baguette would be great, and in due course they returned with a lovely fresh one for us. They refused to accept any payment for it but just said it was a gift. Such kindness seems to attach to the river life, yet there is also a great respect for privacy.

 

Farewell Cappy

After setting off we passed under the lifting bridge at Cappy and so began a day’s slow and easy travel through some stunning scenery with hills and fields covered in trees of amazing autumn colours such as we don’t see in Australia. The colours looked almost unreal, like a painting, and the canal and canal-side lakes were dotted with superbly hued ducks and the snowiest of geese. Yes, it really was like living art.

Stunning scenery

We stopped for lunch at a lovely tie-up spot not all that far from Corbie and waited there for the lock to open – remember, those French lock-keepers strictly observe the lunch break. It was just gorgeous sitting there up on deck, taking in the beautiful scenery, feeding our souls and our tummies at the same time.

 

Fabulous colours.

I did embarrass myself at the first lock, I must confess. We brought with us a selection of Australian souvenirs as gifts for people who were particularly helpful, such as lock-keepers. Well, there we were at the first lock and I was chatting to the lady lock-keeper. Just before she passed us back our ropes so that we could cruise on out of the lock, I reached behind me and grabbed a rather nice pen to give to her as a little gift of appreciation. However, I didn't say "Pour vous", I said "Pour voir". And she, of course, looked at the pen, as I had told her to do, and then gave it back to me. Spot the error: vous = you; voir = see/look. I kept giving the pen back to her; she kept looking at it and returning it to me. Then I realised my error, blushed probably not so becomingly, and gave it back to her for the final time. She laughed and happily put the pen in her pocket and thanked me for the gift.

 

Coming into Corbie.

We arrived in Corbie late afternoon and discovered the mooring area to be a really excellent one with great facilities. After securing the vessel we wandered up into town only to find everything closed, which of course is pretty normal for France of a Sunday. We did, however, discover a patisserie/boulangerie open and so we were able to indulge ourselves with some wonderful cakes.
 

Fantastic tie-up point.

When we got back to the boat we decided to give the bicycles a tryout. Dangerous idea. Now, my man loves cycling and has even been on cycling holidays. I, on the other hand, have a strong belief that the person who invented the bicycle was somebody with absolutely no knowledge of or respect for the laws of gravity. I have never enjoyed cycling, and feel always that I am one wobble away from disaster. Nevertheless, the path along the canal looked safe, and so I climbed onto the two wheeled contraption and set off. Or I should say I tried to set off. The bike was a horror story. I know I wobble, but this wobbled all by itself, and seemingly in various directions all at once. I quickly dismounted and offered the bike to my man. Ah, it wasn’t me: he found the bike quite treacherous himself. So, scrap that idea. Bikes back onto the foredeck, he and me up onto the back deck with coffee and cakes. As they say in The Castle, “How’s the serenity”.

 

And here she is, bateau Labreilloire - isn't she lovely.

See you tomorrow.
 

 

Encore France: Day 5 - To Cappy and Locaboat

From the journal:

We were up and at out so bright and breezy this morning, excited to be heading off on another canal boat trip, really thrilled to be seeing another area of France.

First port of call was a little café on rue Monge for a simple breakfast of coffee and croissant. We hoped that there would be a supermarket handy to the Locaboat marina in Cappy, but thought we would cover ourselves by picking up a few basics - coffee, sugar, toilet paper, tea, butter – from the Fran Prix just in case. The morning was freezing and so we made a quick detour to the Monoprix off the boulevard to buy a nice warm hat so that my ears wouldn’t drop off with the cold on the canal. This was a very good move, believe me.

Back to the hotel where I quickly separated our clothes and various bits and pieces into two lots: Paris, and canal trip. All the things that we knew we wouldn’t need for either boat trip or our stay in Amiens, such as dressier clothing, high heels, plus Paris guide books, we left in our large suitcase at the hotel, taking with us only two small carry-on bags and my rather large tote. The hotel staff kindly called a taxi for us, and we were off on our way to Gare du Nord for the next step of this adventure.

The station was, as it always is, insanely busy and noisy, and is not a place for relaxing, being aware always of the pickpockets who are ever on the look out for easy prey amongst tourists and locals alike. One incident which happened while we were waiting for our train was quite funny. An elegantly dressed middle-aged gent approached me and asked directions to somewhere. He had his suitcase with him and looked as though he was one tired traveller. I had to explain to him that I was sorry but that I was not a local, not French, and couldn’t assist. Goodness, you would have thought that I was intentionally uncooperative; he was so angry with me, swore and stormed off. I hope somebody sent him in the opposite direction to where he needed to go.

It was now time to board our train, and, as with the previous holiday, we found the train fantastic – extremely comfortable, such a pleasant way to travel. We settled back in our seats, and I took from my bag our baguettes and macarons which we had purchased at the famous Eric Kayser Patisserie. It was a delicious lunch which we washed down with a bottle of white from the wonderful Sancerre region.

When the train reached Amiens it was a case of rush up one long, long, long flight of stairs, along a corridor, and then down a different flight of stairs to platform 10 where our train for the short trip to Albert was almost ready to depart. This was a great little train, a two storey affair which was clean and bright with comfortable one-class seating that made for a pleasant 20 minute trip through the flattish landscape.

We had been told that there would be taxis available at the station, but found this not to be the case. However, a really helpful young ticket-seller at Albert phoned the local taxi company for us, and we were soon sitting back happily in a lovely – unexpectedly lovely – Skoda, driven fast through the winding roads between Albert and Cappy by a friendly woman taxi driver while all the while nice easy-listening music played on the car radio. It was tuned to, if I remember correctly, Cherie-FM, and I was over the moon to hear coming through the speakers the beautiful voice of one of my favourite Australian singers, David Hobson. I think he sounds even lovelier in French than he does in English. Even though the taxi ride was almost double what Locaboat had told us to expect, it was a great ride through delightful countryside, and still not expensive compared to tasxi fares at home.

When we arrived at the Locaboat offices we discovered that Cedric, who I had been communicating with by email, was away for a couple of days and so we dealt with Bertrand, who has marginally more English than I have French. This made the formalities quite interesting, but I do think we managed to understand enough to know that we were signing for the usage of the boat, some fuel, back-up services, et cetera, and not selling our souls for a mess of potage.

We had been of the belief that we could get some provisions there at the port offices, but this was not the case. There was also the issue that towels were not provided on the vessel, and nor could you buy them at the port. This sort of thing is fine if you are arriving by car and can trundle off and do a decent shop, but can make life a bit difficult for travellers such as ourselves. Bertrand then offered to run me into Bray-sur-Somme, a town a short distance away, so that I could pick up some shopping, including of course towels.

Note to boat hire companies: people cannot be expected to bring along their own towels, tea towels and such. If you don’t include them in the hire fee, at least have a supply on hand for sale.

Eventually, with a decent supply of wine, eggs, tomatoes, delicious Paris ham, and some nice little extras – not to mention towels (urgh!), we were ready to board our beautiful penichette, the bateau Labreilloire (pronounced Labraywah). She really was totally gorgeous, just the sort of lovely, stylish vessel we had fallen in love with on the website and in the brochures. The layout onboard was excellent, and the boat really comfortable. We knew we would really enjoy spending time on this delightful lady.

 

A beautiful stylish penichette at Cappy, in the mist.

Bertrand did a run-through of driving the vessel, manoeuvring, the usual warnings about keeping the ropes untangled and well organised on deck, and loaded the two bicycles we had requested. The store beautifully on the front deck. But then – oh then he scared the hell out of us by handing us a small mobile (cell) phone and explaining that as all the locks are managed by the Canal de la Somme authority, it was required of us before setting off every morning - or whenever we left a mooring - to phone a pre-set number, announce ourselves, our current location and state our destination. The operator would then confirm our plans and arrange for lock-keepers to be waiting at each lock we would be passing through. Yeah, right, start each day with making a phone call in French. And guess whose job that might be? Oh yes, oh yes. The first thing I did when he left the vessel was write down on a piece of paper exactly what I would say each morning, in my carefully constructed phonetic French, so that it would be a case of simply reading from a script each day.

It was too late and too foggy to leave, and so we just cruised slowly around the canalised river near the port, getting used to the handling of the vessel, before tying up again and then going for a bit of a walk around town. Oh, and it was chilly, I need to add, so we were very glad to have gloves, scarves and hats with us. I knew buying that hat in Paris was a good idea.

Almost looks like a Turner painting - except for the boat, of course.

That evening we enjoyed our usual boating meal of baguette, ham, cheese, those fabulous full-of-flavour French tomatoes, and of course a bottle of wine. It was then a case of pouring excitedly over the course we would be taking – a different one, as advised by Bertrand, to what we had planned - and then a quick shower and bed.

Ah, tomorrow: setting out on our second canal boat trip in France. How wonderful! Oh, and I will show you our fabulous bateau then - she's much prettier than this one.

 

Watch this space

I just about have steam coming out my ears at the moment. It would seem that Google/Picasa like to arbitrarily delete photographs from blogs. In case you are wondering why my travel blog looks like this, it turns out that I - along with hundreds of other bloggers - have simply had all their photographs deleted. No explanation, no contact, no nothing, just a hell of a shock when you turn on to get back into the  blogging swing and find these ugly pages where there were once lovely photographs.

 

I have gone through just one post and added photos back in, but it seems to have played havoc with the blog and spacing. I am really annoyed and upset by this, as you can imagine, and am going to investigate other blogging platforms.

 

If I can sort things out with Blogger - which would obviously be my preference - then I will pick up (belatedly) where I left off, taking you along on our canal boat trip through Picardie. If I can't, then I will let you know where to find my new abode.

 

Thank you for your patience,

Beejay4016