A Sailboat Wannabe

Bretagne, August 2014

 

Once a sailor, always a sailor, and even though one might reason that boating is boating, it isn't so and we are pulled in the direction of the ocean by taking our little canal boat as far as we can down the river Vilaine until the Arzal Dam (sadly no power installation, it was built to prevent tidal flooding) where sailboats can jam into a huge lock and continue on to the ocean.  For our boat though, this is the limit of where she can safely go and we tie up on the dock among all the sailboats, listening to the halyards banging in the wind, walking the docks checking out the sailboats and pretending we belong.  

The marinas in this area are huge, there is easily a thousand boats here, if not more.  We have never seen anything like it.  Our canal boat looks a bit out of place on the dock and the harbour master was a bit perplexed of what to do with us at first.  Not many canal boats make it down here, mostly staying in the proper canals but this reach of the river is wide and very scenic, definitely one of the highlights of our voyage.  As it doesn't have low bridges, sailboats can make it quite far inland on the river and people store their sailboats here during the off season.  

We bike around the coast, but the water and weather remind me of our coast; even though its sunny, it feels on the cool side. Kuno dips his feet in, but I am content just watching. We also take two train trips, one to the historical port of Vannes and one to the seat of the dukes of Brittany, Nantes.  After the solitude of canal boating, the bustle of these cities, with lively historic cores and artsy atmosphere is a welcome change (notice the cheeky picture of the Non Thinker that was installed in the courtyard of the castle in Nantes).  

Kuno insists on taking the routes less travelled (at least by bikes) and, in a typical Kurschner fashion, instead of following a nicely marked velo route, we end up biking on the hard packed beaches and pushing our bikes through sand dunes, supposedly for enjoyment.  At least the bikes are rentals.  The horizon is dotted by wind turbines wherever one looks, but I can't help but notice that even though its windy they are not running often.  Clearly the folly of improper green energy integration is not just limited to North America, sigh.

 

We return to the boat base drenched by full day of rain.  Even the weather is telling us that it is time to move on.  And so here we are on a Saturday early morning, waiting for a train that will take us to Rennes for the fourth part of our vacation, free traveling wherever out interests take us.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

The north parts of Brittany with St. Malo (and a tidal power plant) and Mont St. Michel and beaches of Normandy to pay homage to WWII events and Canadian part in the liberation of Europe are beckoning.  Then again, who knows what will distract us :) along the way.

Floating in the shadows of French castles

Bretagne, July/August 2014

"Schnuggi, do we have a magnet?" Kuno asks on this lovely Thursday morning as we are getting ready to start our daily canal odyssey through Brittany.  I continue to brush my teeth, pondering the question.  Or, more precisely, the reason for the question.  It doesn't take long to figure out that we have a problem on hand as Kuno sheepishly explains that he dropped the keys overboard.  Generally a very bad move. We have two sets of keys on board and this bundle includes the engine key and the safe key containing our passports and money.  They are now apparently very safe!  While Kuno contemplates taking apart the boat speakers to get a magnet, it is clear to me that this is a folly and instead he needs to jump into the canal and find them before other boats start buzzing by.  So in he goes.  Now you need to understand that these canals are not intended for swimming, the water is murky and its best not to think about what floats there considering the boat traffic.  However, as my mom used to say, there is a punishment for every act of stupidity, and Kuno reluctantly dives.  After about 10 minutes, against the odds, he victoriously pulls out the bundle of errant keys and following a long hot shower, we can finally continue on our journey toward the historic towns of Malestroit and Josselin in Brittany.
We chose Brittany as our cruising ground for this year after pouring through brochures and websites, hoping for a rich history and beautiful nature.  It was difficult for us to trade the option of Mediterranean sailing for a landlubber kind of boating, but Brittany, so far, did not disappoint.  Proud to be different than the rest of France in heritage and attitudes (as pointed out to us but also observed), we are enjoying friendliness and hospitality that we have not encountered in other parts of France.  Castles, old towns, rural bike routes, sun, cheese, baguette and fruit pies make a perfect vacation in our books.  And now we discovered a local speciality, apple cider, and have added a bottle or two of this lovely beverage to our daily consumption to complete the happiness.  Its rich yellow color and sweet, mildly alcoholic taste goes refreshingly well with the meandering rivers and canals that pass on the side of our boat, as we progress from Messac on the river Vilaine, through the Nantes-Brest canal to the medieval castle town of Josselin where we turn around and continue to other parts of the area.  But not before we explore by bike what lies beyond, an "up and down" lock staircase over a mountain connecting two watersheds.  Having two weeks gives us a luxury of time to stop and stay wherever we like it, not following a particular plan (gasp!).  Yes, even I can do that occasionally.



Our days unfold slowly, but that is not to say they are without action.  In fact, I am having tough time progressing through my book despite the fact that I like it very much.  In the mornings, Kuno searches nearby villages ostensibly to get a fresh baguette for breakfast, but invariably comes back with all sorts of other goodies that he just couldn't resist.  I suspect that sometimes there are also goodies that he bought but that never made it back to the boat, surely needed for Kuno's refreshment during the strenuous search of boulangeries.  We generally spend a few hours on the boat going to the next destination and then hop on the bikes and explore the countryside, never forgetting to sample any patisserie that comes our way.  

Sometimes its just a few kilometres to the next little town, sometimes a circle route through the countryside and other time, like the trip to the lock staircase we end up out for the whole day of biking.  The bikes we have are rugged and heavy, the wide saddle presenting a particular challenge on longer distances.  But biking along the tow path of the canal route is wonderful, no hills!  We see families with little kids loaded up with camping gear crisscrossing Brittany all the way to the Atlantic.  It seems that the path is in fact more used than the canal itself.  We go for hours without meeting another boat and have the locks to ourselves.  They are much smaller than those we experienced in Canal du Midi, barely holding two boats at a time.  All of them have lock keepers (often students on summer break) that operate the locks and pride themselves on how beautiful their lock is compared to others, particularly in decorating their houses and keeping beautiful gardens with an abundance of flowerpots in every possible spot.  They even have a competition for the most beautiful lock! But  we would be hard-pressed to pick a winner.  

Perhaps the part that I enjoy the most are the castles along the way and the picturesque old villages and towns.  They are all very well maintained, and houses in the old towns are either made from rock or timber with slate roofs.  The oldest one we saw was from early 1500's and other than being crooked so that the newly installed windows did not align with the originally vertical timber, it was just fine.  And lived in.  




We have concluded that the hierarchy of amenities to be found in a village is as follows (you will find more of this sequence with increase in the size of the village): Church or two, followed by at least two bars, a hairdresser or two, and only then a boulangerie and maybe if one is lucky a boucherie.  A grocery store is way, way down the list and so we live on bread, cheese, pate and deserts.  Occasionally we find a town market in progress and stock up on fruit and veggies. The local specialty seems to be something called a galette - it looks like crepe, but it is made from buckwheat flower filled with a selection of savoury or sweet stuff.  It makes for a wonderful lunch.

It is harvest time in Brittany and as we bike through the countryside, it reminds me of the sounds and smells of my childhood; the hay, the cows, the summer rain, the river weir,... It dawns on me that these would not be the same smells that Tatiana would have in her memory and makes me ponder how different her childhood had been than mine.  I wonder if hers would be ocean waves and salty wind.  She is now happily at Cambridge, just finishing a week of leadership training and starting two weeks of law.  As usual when she is happy, her texts to us are minimalistic and that means all is well.