Canalicious

Every journey is exciting because of the unknown. A lot of people go to all-inclusives because they don't want excitement, they want to relax, there's enough excitement in the morning commute. But a little excitement adds spice to an otherwise bland day of tanning and recovering from the most current hangover. It can be as whimsical as swallowing a fly or as concerning as losing a crew member.

Adherents of Jainism are required to sweep the ground in front of them and keep their mouths covered lest they swallow a fly or step on an ant. All life is sacred.  Perhaps Pave should consider a new religious path. We had pulled over at a small town that had an imposing church that had been converted to a winery. It was like a magnet. Inside they had free wine tasting - we tasted them all - and cool air so we lingered before deciding bottles were too small. We purchased 2-5 litre containers with taps and had them filled in gas pump fashion with rose and red. As we lingered, a fly landed on Pave's lower lip. Suddenly startled she gasped and vacuumed the fly to the back of her throat. The throat thought food was on the way and instantly swallowed. It took a moment for her to realize what had just happened and as the truth of it took hold she changed colour. Knees got soft and shaky, sweat glowed on her skin, left hand on her stomach and right hand clutching her cane, now fully responsible for keeping her upright. The wine guy saw what was happening and said "You cannot throw up in 'ere! You will 'ave to clean eet up!" She was able to make it to the edge of the canal before donating her stomach contents to the canal gods and I credit that for the smooth sailing ever since.

We're now on Canal du Robine having decided to leave the main canal, Canal du Midi, to search out Narbonne. The map describes it as "the leading Roman colony outside Italy" so it's got some cred. As we floated down the Midi, the locks were manned by a lock keeper, a position that's handed down father to son, or as in many places, father to daughter. This canal is self-serve so the bottom end of a whole new learning curve for us; the excitement of travel. It's not that tough really, you push a button for the direction you want to go and another to start the cycle. If the lock isn't full when you're going down the canal (with the flow) the cycle starts with a rush of water to fill the lock up to your level. Then the Gates of Mordor open and with the use of bow thrusters and an alert crew you guide the boat into the lock. The gates are about a foot wider than the boat but many can accommodate date 3 boats are size (42') because they widen in the middle like a big egg. You tie off to keep the boat from smashing into others or the gates and the gate closes to form your temporary prison. The water drains out, the other gate opens and you drift off to the next lock. Sometimes the next lock is a few kilometres away and sometimes they're clustered together so you float into the next lock and repeat the procedure. At several of the locks there were three and four locks adjoined.

Locks open at 9am, close from 12-1 for lunch (even the self controlled) and close for the night at 7. We found we could be more efficient if Luigi stayed on shore with a bicycle to push the buttons then pedal to the next lock to get it ready for us and it was a good system. Briefly. After the third lock we diverted to Robine and we have a map so we had a good idea of where the next lock was but didn't consider the impact of the Aude river. The canal was constructed in the 1600's to provide a consistent highway for traffic that wasn't subject to flooding, rapids, low water and more but more or less followed the route of the river. Many times the canal became an aqueduct that flowed over the river. It's consistently 6' deep and varies in width from 40' to 70'.

Shortly after turning onto the Robine we came around the bend to see the canal flowing in waterfall fashion into the river. There were no signs to indicate it was coming or advising to stay away but good sense prevailed and we kept to the right. We found the next lock a few hundred meters away but now Luigi was on the other side of the river and the other side of the canal with no map. He has even less French than me so asking questions was out of the question. He had invested in a Vodaphone SIM card as had everyone but me so we called him.

"Where are you?"

"Uhhh"

He had pedalled off on the path that followed the canal but it quickly turned into the woods then acres of vineyards. And he kept going. He found the town of Cusac D'Aude, several kilometers from us but a sign pointed to a highway which went to Narbonne. And away he went riding high on the same rickety bike I took to get cassoulette but now on a shoulderless highway competing for space with trucks and impatient drivers.

We went through the next lock without Lui's assistance and entered the town of Narbonne. Absolutely beautiful on approach but we wanted the dead centre of action and that meant one more lock. We passed by a red light but no sign of a lock so kept on going. When we got to the lock I jumped off and pushed the usual button. Nothing. I pushed again. And again. Finally I pushed the communication button and French came out. Dang, back to the boat to get Deb; our tourguide, navigator and translator. A guy tells her we were supposed to stop at the red light and push a new button. "When you are driving in zee car and come to a red light do you not stop?" He suggested Aperol (a drink before dinner) was to blame and, interestingly enough, the woman at the tourism office also suggested all we needed was a bottle of scotch to get us through the uncertainties that were coming. As he righted our wrong Luigi pedalled up and our full complement was restored.

It was Sunday, so everything was closed including the capitanairie where we usually pay moorage fees and get access to water and electricity. But that didn't stop us. We found a spot downtown that happened to be the only one with an electrical and water hookup. At some of the mooring sites I'd seen access was credit card controlled and you tapped the machine with your card for every 100kw of power you needed and were given an adapter for access to water but here there was a plug and a tap just like home. Easy peasy. 

The next day Frank, the mooring don, showed up with an official looking binder. He quickly informed us he was a former soldier, pilot, parachutist and deep sea oil platform diver and had pictures to prove it.  He had a little bit of English, I have a Canadian's take on French so I was mostly able to keep up with his conversation with Deb which ended with him having 42E and our email in his pocket in case he ever came to Vancouver. He's not on Facebook. So we settled in to this under-appreciated site and set our sites on exploring. Which we've done. Since this writing we've moved on and staked somewhere's else. But about that, later.