Glorious Caves 17 Sept 2011

It rained during the night, our first bit of bad weather for more than a week. We got up early and did our best to pack and clean, although I didn't try too hard with the cleaning as I assumed we had to pay a cleaning fee. Still, Luke beavered away and made the boat relatively presentable.

We chatted with the Babou marine lady, I signed off on the engine hours and bikes but thankfully we weren't charged for anything else. I mentioned that I'd only done a simple cleaning job but she didn't care. In reality we probably left it cleaner than when we arrived, Luke was sweeping up dog hairs.

Major fuck up when I was paying. I gave her the Mastercard and signed off on it but she didn't hand the card back to me. I wasn't paying attention, said my au revoirs and off we went. Did not notice it until the lady rang at 5pm to say she had the card. Cue lots of panicked worry about what to do - cancel the card, courier it or drive back to Cahors for it? The courier wasn't possible and cancelling the card would be a nightmare for planning so tomorrow Luke will drive back.

We were lucky that Oufaa from Manoir Malatrie did the talking for us and organised it all, we were very grateful. And I think we can trust the Babou Marine lady, it was her fault for not handing back the card and she was good to ring us. She'll drive in to the office tomorrow especially to give the card back.

So... while we were still oblivious to this card-related disaster, we drove out of Cahors and made our way to Gouffre de Padirac, which involved a fair bit of squiggling on small country roads. Monseiur GPS helpfully got us lost a few more times but we got there in the end.

The Gouffre is a major tourist attraction with large carparks and numerous shops but thankfully it wasn't too busy when we got there at 11.30. You buy your tickets and make your own way down into the massive hole in the ground via a plethora of steps - or a lift if you're lazy. Just being in the bottom of the hole is impressive and you can get down there for free. You peer up at the bright sky and the sweeping plunge down, the green moss and ferns at the bottom and the dripping, dark, sculpted walls and you feel very small.

This sign didn't inspire confidence

The massive stairway into the hole

Squinting into the sun, view down into the hole.

We then descended down further into the cave proper, following a long tunnel deeper into the earth along concrete paths and guiderails. In places it looks a little like the queue for a roller coaster, with incoming tourists funnelled down one lane and outgoing tourists on the other. The walls are impressively lit and the roof seems very high up.

Finally we reached the underground river where a bevy of little aluminium gondoliers (seats 8) waited.They finally take your ticket there and put you on the boat. Luke and I were up front on the way in and I think the boat ride was perhaps the best part. It was all very calm and restful, with our fellow passengers hushed as we made our way, stroke by stroke, deeper into the earth. The water was aquamarine and quite cold, 12 degrees, though the air was not much warmer. Our boat guide would occasionally say something about the cave but it was all in French. Luke and I both felt we were being rowed along a magical river with French poetry being quoted to us, the trickle of water and gentle splash of the oars adding to the experience.

We also expected to be attacked by orcs at any moment, this being one of the deep places of the earth, but thankfully that didn't occur. The balrog also didn't make an appearance.

I didn't take this pic. And it doesn't give an idea of just how huge the cave is.

As we went deeper stalagmites and stalagtites started to appear and the rift in the rock became deeper. At last we docked and were mustered into small groups for our guided tour, all in French, of course. One of the other guides had helpfully asked me what language I spoke and then handed me a pamphlet in Dutch, so we had no real way of knowing the details of what we saw but it didn't matter. The glorious cave spoke for itself.

The river leads to a huge underground opening that must be 20 stories high, adorned all the way up with flowing limestone formations in spikes and curtains above your head. We had to climb steps to appreciate some of the segmented pools and mushroom-like rocks but I think it was the sheer size of the cavern that impressed me. The whole thing was majestic and beautiful and awe inspiring.

Our tour guide was quite the comedian and I think he enjoyed making jokes at the expense of we stupid non-French speaking tourists. Luke decided he was just telling knock-knock jokes.

We made our way back up the river (in the back of the boat this time, our female guide reciting poetry again) and smiled for the tourist camera. Yes, we bought a photo for E8.50. Might as well. I was smiling and waving in it, better than our fellow passengers who all look like stunned mullets.

It was time for lunch so we opted for the official cafe but it took about 45 minutes to get our salad and chips which was rather frustrating. The chef was yelling things in the kitchen and I guess we should be glad he wasn't going completely crazy and throwing knives. Lucky I didn't tell him about the dirty fork.

We didn't visit Insectopia but took photos for Paul

It took a long time to get to Manoir de la Malartrie at Le Roque Gageac thanks to the endlessly winding French roads, most of which don't let you travel faster than 60 - although we encountered our fair share of speed maniacs who enjoyed overtaking in dangerous places. We have decided these people are "Le Jerques".

The Manoir is a lovely place and the most expensive hotel room I've booked on the trip. It is an 120 year old building on the river converted into a B&B, high on the charm factor but also very well looked after. I got a bargain and we are in the 2 bedroom suite which is simply huge, although we could have had the room with the private terrace. I opted for the suite due to the twin beds and lovely shower which we needed after a long week on the boat.

Manoir de la Malartrie, La Roque Gageac

Main room of the suite

Twin room

The giant shower

The pool. Note: no pool fence. It's France.

Tonight we ventured into La Roque for dinner and saw a large conglomeration of emergency vehicles parked with their lights flashing. Luke and I were walking along the road-river wall, mainly to avoid the traffic, when we realised what the emergency was. Someone had been walking along the wall and fallen off, maybe 5 or 6 metres vertical drop onto the rocky river bank below. There were a lot of ambos, doctors and concerned people gathered around, someone holding a drip.

We stopped walking on the wall.

The emergency people were there a long time. There was a SMUR vehichle which is a French system where they bring a doctor to the scene to treat a patient rather than rush them to a hospital. Given the size of the fall, we figured the victim may have had spinal injuries.

There are no footpaths in La Roque Gageac. Pedestrians are forced to walk on the road which is incredibly busy. The doors of the hotels and restaurants step straight out onto the road, their menu signs are hard to read without being killed. Today driving through it was rather nerve wracking, trying not to run over the hoards of people wandering about. We have decided they need to erect a pedestrian boardwalk along the riverbank just to improve safety. I mean, the French don't really care about safety and normally we like that but in this case I think it's all just a bit too mad to be left as-is.

Our evening meal wasn't that great. We had wanted to dine at the snazzy Belle Etoile restaurant but it was full so we opted for the pub brasserie. Fairly average fare, Luke had a 4 course meal that started out with Turin Blanchi - a huge tureen full of white soup made from stock, egg whites and old bread. Very strange but quite tasty. I had langoustine canneloni with bisque sauce... sounded great except for some reason it was wrapped in a cheesy omelete. WTF.

In the town park there was the 25th annviersary dinner of some local association, they were all singing along with traditional French songs, very cheerful.

So now, bedtime in this lovely wide bed that has a quilt rather than an itchy blanket that a dog had probably slept on. Tomorrow Luke will drive back to Cahors for the credit card and I'll do the washing at the caravan park. Not a perfect day but here's hoping it's not complicated.

17th Sept - Happy Birthday Dad.

Otters and Broken Locks 16th Sept 2011

The "wild mooring" spot on the Lot which was our last campsite

 Leisurely breakfast, psyching ourselves for the big trip back to Cahors. Weather clouding over, a little cooler. I looked downstream at the bank and saw something moving. Luke and I kept still and it came ever closer - a river mammal, fishing, diving down and then popping back up, shaking the water from its head. Our boat was moored near a low hanging tree and I think this gave us cover because the animal - we think it was a river otter - came right up to the boat, under the tree branches. Unfortunately it spotted me when I moved at the wrong moment and it made a getaway, we saw it halfway across the river, taking a breath and then it was gone. Very cool.

It looked a bit like this

After that we realised how much we were enjoying the river silence and didn't want to turn on the boat. We cast off and tried to drift for a while  but it was really hard to actually get anywhere. Then another boat arrived going upsteam, the moment was gone and we set off.

We did five locks in all. Had help from the ladies (one of whom looks like a man) at the first one. Stopped for bread at Arcambal - wood fired but burnt and dry. Rode to find the brewery, discovered it was closed (of course). Downstream again. Moored at our original green mooring for lunch. While looking at the bank, pointing out what looked like otter holes to Luke, we both saw the snake at the same time. A little green and brown one, about 30cm long, it sidled along the tree roots and swam off along the bank, looking very sneaky. So, wildlife day today. We also saw three kingfishers and a rat.

The eastern side of Cahors

Got to the eastern side of Cahors, moored and went into the old city to buy milk at the supermarket, rode our bikes around looking at it again. Didn't last long in the heat and returned to the boat. Off we went to the next lock - the mechanised one, Cody Lock. I decided I wanted to be the one to operate the key so Luke waited with the boat and I walked to the lock, turned the key and watched it begin to empty.

Meanwhile, the tourist boat Fenelon had arrived and was lining up happily to take our spot in the freshly  emptied lock. The rules of the river say that leisure boats have to give way to the tourist boats so I was cursing a little bit.

So Luke had said I turn the key and push the button to make it go. I'd turned the key, wasn't sure about the button, especially because it had that "emergency" look to it and said "Arrete Cycle" which I couldn't remember what it meant. When the doors were due to open but didn't, I figured it was time to press the button.

Uh oh.

The automated lock at Cahors that I did not break, I was not there, you can't prove anything

The doors had only just started to open and bam, they stopped. The tourist boat got closer... closer... nothing was working. I looked confused and held up my hands at them. The guy in charge managed to scramble onto the lock just as the barge boat started to go sideways towards the weir. I turned my key a few more times... nothing. The lady on the microphone made lots of inane comments. Still nothing. The bloke came over, turned his key... nothing. He said "shit" and looked angry at me.

When it became apparent that things were broken, I decided to bail out of the situation and went back to Luke. We then decided to go back upstream until the situtation was fixed. I felt a little guilty... but also secretly pleased since the tour boat had been stealing our open lock in the first place.

It took about 15 minutes but they managed to get the thing working again, perhaps because they called the lock guy and he reset it.

After the Fenolon had gone down and another cruise boat come back up, Luke and I made our way in. The lock guy was still there and he looked at me for a long time, searchingly. I just looked back. We carried on happily. I didn't do it. It was like this when we got here.... Luke did the key this time.

Thus, after an hour, we made it throught the "quick" lock.

After that we hightailed it for the mooring, doing the last Valentre lock with the happy help of a tourist who wanted to know how it all worked. Lots of spectators on the bridge again. Luke also saw a rat running up the dock stairs.

We got back to St Mary and reversed in with some difficulty. There were heaps of people dropping off their boats and heading home, rather strange for a Friday, we thought.

After a calming drink and a shower we rode towards town for dinner, skirting past the major gypsy camp that seemed to have sprung up in an empty field. They had a lot of dogs, many of which were not tied up and all of which decided to chase and bark at me. I now know I'm no good at kicking snarling dogs while cycling.

We wanted Vietnamese for dinner but, like everything else in the last week, it was closed. So we rode into the old town and found an interesting tourist restaurant in a very old building. Very tasty too and quite cheap. I had duck confit rolled in pastry with potatoes that tasted like bbqed chippies, very nice, then panacotta with fig compote. Fab.

Back to the boat, time for bed and a cleanup tomorrow.

The Flasher 15 Sept 2011

15 Sept 2011

Well. I just sat down at the picnic table near the caravan park office in Vers to write a little when I noticed a bloke walking around the other side of the office, peering through the glass door at me. Then I realised he'd got his tackle out of his pants to wave it at me. First reaction, roll my eyes, turn away, feel a little bit fearful. Then I decided to loudly tell him to go away, I didn't need to see it. He walked off so I made the pinkie gesture at him as he left. I feel rather perturbed by this, even though it's just funny, really. I should have shouted louder, drawn attention to him. This is Vers, the same place where the black guy thought he'd call out to me a couple of days ago... I was feeling relatively safe in France but obviously there's wankers - literally - everywhere.

Today we're back in Vers, currently waiting for the Batou Marine bloke to get here and fix the step in the boat. The wooden step that leads down into the cabin split in half when Luke stepped on it this morning, revealing rusty nails and a lot of splinters. He's lucky he didn't get hurt. It's pretty dangerous as it is and the Batou people need the send the boat out again on Saturday so here we are.

The broken step. Nice rusty nails.

 We also were hoping for a shower. Alas, showers are only available between 9-10am and 5-6pm. Like most things in France, if we want something, it's closed. I've just ridden up into the town in the hope of buying washing powder or sunlight soap. It's 3.30pm. Nope. Nothing open. Wait until 4, if you're lucky.

This morning was very cold, the first really cold morning we've had, at least on the boat. I was worried we'd actually have to turn the heater on but sleeping in til 9.30 did the trick. It took a couple of trips up the the St Gery supermarket to buy milk and stuff, plus postage stamps, before we set off. This time, we caught a boat going downstream and thus had easy help in the first lock. We did the second one alone but it was fine. Luke did some driving today and I had the pleasure of sitting on the front of the boat as we went along. In full sunlight in the middle of the day. Fantastic.

It's midday. I'm in the sun. And I'm not melting or anything.

So, not much to report today, except for my flasher. This afternoon will be fairly lazy I suspect. I'm considering secretly plugging the laptop into the power points to recharge the battery.

Wait, the Batou Marine bloke just drove up.

Notes from the 16th:

- 15th - step fixed, everything still closed, we went for a bike ride around Vers, decided to ride up the hill to see the vestiges of the roman aqueduct. VERY vestigal, very big hill. Went to the next corner to see what the sign said. It was a >>> sign for the corner.

View from the Vers hill, our boat is moored in the distance

The very vestigal remains of a Roman aqueduct. But what have the Romans ever done for us?

- Showers still not open. Rode along the caravan park, sat on a park bench near a very pretty bend in the river, Luke picked figs off the tree and ate them.

Figgen good

- Church bells rang 6pm, rode back, the lady finally there and showers open. She told us we'd better hurry up as she'd be off again in half an hour. WTF.

- Finally showered (unisex bathroom... no flashers, thankfully) we decided to get the hell out of Vers and took advantage of an open lock. Moored downstream at a green mooring. Very pretty spot again. Pasta for dinner.

The Painted Horses and the Hill 14 Sept 2011

14 Sept 2011

There are little caves all over this valley

Drank too much at the restaurant, small hangover the next morning. Took us a while to get organised and off but that seems to be standard.

The trip back downstream is pleasant enough and going down in a lock is a lot easier, less turbulent. We had help from Dutch people for the first one. The second one wasn't so great because Luke decided to do it himself. That was fine except that a boat drove up to the bottom while he was still doing it and waited. Then a bloke walked up the track to the lock, stood near Luke, lit a cigarette... and watched. Didn't lift a finger to help. Even though he was right there and it would have sped up the process and helped him out. Nope. Just going to watch. Bloody rude bastard.

The mooring at Bouzies. There were no boozies to be had.

We made it back to Bouzies, docked and I did a lap of the village, hoping to find a boulangerie for lunch. Nope. Closed. Of course. It's Wednesday. It wouldn't be open today. So we had cereal for lunch. Breakfast: the lunch of champions.

Having rung the Pech Merle cave and found that we didn't have to book, we set off on our bikes along the 5km road to Cabrerets, past swooping high limestone cliffs riddled with little caves. We did a bit of exploring and then kept going, following the lovely little side river. I could have sworn the road was all downhill to the village. Once there Luke had a quick coffee which turned him into Superman for five minutes. Then we set off again.

Rock shelters on the road to Pech Merle, just out of Cabrerets

The road to Pech Merle has about 500m of flatness, past more limestone cliffs that ended in a beautiful flat area, facing south. I could easily imagine that stone age tribes would happily have camped there, it was a lovely spot. Nice little brook, now with a mill house over it.

Then it was 3km of hill, straight up. Hard going. Luke was pushing it due to his illness. I did a lot of standing on pedals but still ended up pushing my bike. When we finally got there we were very sweaty and tired but rather exhilerated.

The cave tourist complex was fairly deserted though people had begun to arrive for the post-lunch sessions. We went in with the 2pm tour, the first for the afternoon. Unfortunately it had the full complement of 25 people (perhaps more) and the tour guide only spoke in French so I don't think we had the best experience; it certainly can't compare with our amazing Font De Gaume experience of 2008.

The famous Pech Merle horses. This painting is thought to be 25,000 years old.

The cave is extensive with lots of amazing stalactites and limestone formations. There's also several very old cave paintings including "The Black Frieze" which has about 40 different overlaid animals, hard to discern all of them. There was a carving of a bear's face which I really enjoyed and human footprints in mud, preserved. Impressive. Obviously the best painting was the spotted horses, huge and well done. I wanted more time to just look at them, to stand in silence and admire the antiquity and the workmanship but of course the tour group had to move on.

It was still wonderful to see and I'm glad we did it.

The cave was only 12 degrees and after being hot and sweaty at the start we emerged very chilled, I couldn't wait to stand in the sun. I thawed out as we rode down the hill... I should have been hurtling but I found I didn't trust the brakes on my crappy old hire bike... the back one didn't do much and seemed ready to fail. Then the ride back was easy... I swore it must have been downhill all the way.

Bouzies bridge with the "English castle" built into the rock behind it

After returning to Bouzies we hightailed it back to St Gery as we didn't have any milk for breakfast. Drank beer as we drove, like you do. No police breath checks on the river Lot. Tried to make the supermarket at 7pm, arrived as the bell was tolling... and the roller door had just started to close. Damn. At least I got some bread. Then settled in for a lovely minestrone for dinner. And too much wine.

Sunrise in Saint Gery at the mooring spot

Boozies, San Sair La-Poppy and Truffles 13 Sept 2011

13th Sept 2011 - St Cere Lapopie

Genil towpath up ahead

  This morning we woke up to a thick fog which cleared into a fine day and, thankfully, Luke's malade had started to improve as well. We cycled into the supermarket for supplies at the same time as 6 people from the English boat went. I thought I had a hard time shopping - they were a wandering disaster, couldn't work out what anything was, complained the whole time. The lady we spoke to yesterday asked me if I could see any canned minced beef on the shelf. I was tempted to ask why she'd even want that.

Yesterday the older English blokes were poking apples off the tree with their poop stick. The lady said she'd make stewed apples and custard but Luke couldn't work out why they wouldn't just eat them fresh, he said they tasted fine. I meant for us to get more apples but I forgot.

I managed to make off with a few useful things from the suprette while Luke, who came along to help, waited outside looking sick. He bought an espresso from the bar tabac and I noticed a lady who may or may not have once been a man. Couldn't work it out, though I was only curious. We saw her several times later today, she is on a boat with her dumpy but cheerful female friend, older style barge boat from Babou marine.

We got on our way, tootling up an extensive area of lock-free Lot. Luke retired back to bed but I enjoyed the drive, admiring the swooping vertical limestone cliffs, jumping fish and general wilderness. Actually had to keep right today as another boat went past, felt like a real riverboat captain, yaaar.

While waiting for the lock, Luke rode along the towpath

We approached our first lock and got through it well enough, cute little weir with fishermen. It would be nice to have one that's actually open, for once. Our second lock was at the impressive Genil towpath area. This is where a path was carved out of the sheer limestone in 1850 and it makes for a good walk, as evidenced by the many tourists who were making their way along. We had to wait for the tourist boat to come through the lock, which was just as well as we wouldn't have fit into the subsequent canal if we'd had to pass it. A friendly handsome young bloke on a bike told us to wait for it to come through, giving us time to take photos and generally muck about (Luke rode his bike along the path for a bit).

Luke driving the boat up to the lock. I'm supposed to be operating the gates, not taking photos

Beyond that was Bouzies. That's pronounced "Booz-yeahs" not BOOZIES as we are currently saying. Better yet, there's upper and lower Bouzies, no doubt with suburbs of Petit Bouzies, Perkie Bouzies and Bouzies Le Droop.

I'd planned to stop at Bouzies and head to the Grotte Peche Merle today but Luke being sick changed that so we charged on ahead to St Cirq Lapopie, about 4 hours travelling by the time we got there. Alas, there was a final lock before the official mooring area which we did by ourselves, filmed by several tourists. I felt like asking them to help, it being such a charming experience and all. But I did my best to look competent and thankfully didn't crash the boat while driving it into the lock.

St Cere Lapopie from the river

St Cirq caravan park/haute nautique is actually really nice, lots of shady trees along the river and a swimming beach. Campingcars are charged E7 to stay, we are supposed to pay E2 for showers but I'm not sure who to... or where the showers are. We rode along and found a closed amenities block so that was that.

It was another warm sunny day so after a short reconnaisance mission on the bikes we decided a swim in the river was the best option. Very pleasant, if a bit cold. Smells like the Namoi and the Mary but the river rocks under your feet are very slimy and very round. Lots of relaxed older people swimming quietly.
There was one older couple with an airbed, we almost felt obliged to wade out and tip the old lady off, like you do. Australian tradition, claim the airbed and stand on it in triumph. Or is that just us?

Caravan park at St Cere Lapopie. Our dingy boat next to all the big ones.

Having swum in the cool water and dutifully sunbaked as well as possible using my Mr Bean 20cm square towel, we finally decided it was time to walk up to the village. After a quick calming wine because it seemed like the thing to do. Everyone on the boats had spread out onto the grass, sipping their drinks, playing cards and generally being relaxed and summery.

The boats offer a weird vibe of class warfare in a way. The Le Boat rentals are better looking, faster and more impressive and they all seem to be occupied by older groups of six or more people. It feels less egalitarian than motorhomes or camping, there's a few airs and graces going on. When Luke reversed our crappy old 2 person Petit Sirene into the mooring the French people next to us looked on with disdain. Admittedly, the disdain may have been caused by our out of control reversing where the front end bumped into their boat a little bit or the way we may have ground the propellor into the bank. But they didn't accept our laughing apology very graciously. Indeed, they just stared at us a lot.

In any case, we just carried on and smiled our way through.

Halfway up to the village on our bikes

At 6pm we took the bikes and set off up the impressive hill to the St Cirq village. Flat for about 200m, then straight up. Quite the walk with plenty of photo opportunities on the way. I think we picked the best time to visit, after all the tour buses had left and when the sun was making striking angles across all the old buildings. The town is mainly historic houses, art galleries and restaurants, plus the hill fort, remains of the chateau and old church. We doodled about the small alleyways a bit, getting puffed from going uphill so much, then finally climbed the ramparts to enjoy the view. All very nice, photos taken, wish you were here.

View from the ruined fort, snazzed up with colour selection in-camera

Luke is pointing exactly at the location of our boat.

For dinner we went to the restaurant above the Musee de Vins, specialising in truffles, foie gras, walnuts, duck and goose. Which is pretty much what we both had. Mine came out in a huge pile on one plate, salad, potato gratin and truffle omelette going everywhere. Luke's was more refined, well placed foie gras with fig jam. Before that we giggled our way through the amuse bouche with tiny soup tureens and spoons, very refined.

Most of it tasted fab but I must admit I felt the omelette didn't do the truffles justice. It just tasted like an omelette so that perhaps 10grams of truffles were wasted on me. I enjoyed the potatoes more.

Truffle omelette. The biggest plate of food EVER

Perhaps the best thing was Luke's aperatif - Vin de Truffe. Somehow, they've made alcohol out of truffles and it was amazing, like pure mushrooms in a glass, really subtle but alluring. A well spent E4.50

Having ordered a 500ml pichet of Cahors wine, I was a little tipsy by the time we left the restaurant. We'd bought our bikes up the hill to make it easy to come down... and damn, it was good. Hurtling downhill constantly for about 3km, no cars on the road, lit only by the full moon. We had no lights, no helmets, no early warning systems. Just us, drunkenly screaming down the hill in the utter darkness. So. Much. Fun.

I was on such a high after that I was tempted to go skinny dipping in the river but chickened out. The only thing for it was to have a shower in the boat (water dumping unceremoniously out the side in the process) and go to bed.

Tomorrow we're heading back to Bouzies (snigger snigger) and we'll do an exploratory ride to the Cave Peche Merle inthe hope of getting into a tour group. If not, we'll reserve it for the next day. I've been told it isn't hilly to ride from Bouzies to Cabrarets so here's hoping.

Second Doctor Visit in St Gery 12 Sept 2011

Waiting at a lock

Today has been a bit of an unexpected one. Luke woke up coughing and feeling sick again and soon decided he wanted to see a doctor. So that became today's job.

 After another leisurely breakfast I set off for a shower and was hurried along by the Vers caravan park lady who was closing the facilities in 5 minutes. And never mind the "no smoking" signs, she was going to wait inside for me and smoke while I washed my hair. Bloody caravan parks, same silly rules no matter where you go. No toilet seats either. I'm certain that if I pay for facilities, I shouldn't have to balance precariously on a cold porcelain rim.

Inside the boat

We set off again, trailing behind two larger boats and therefore queuing for the locks. First one was easy enough, second one was huge. In between was more magnificent scenery, towering cliffs with hollows and caves, swallows swooping down to the water, little fish being chased by bigger fish. The leaves are just starting to turn but the hills are mostly still green. The day started off cool and overcast but soon turned into a sunny, hot one, 30 degrees or so.

Heading up the river

We have decided our boat should be called the "Petite Bruiser" due to the ongoing injuries we're both sustaining in the process. We've both got an impressive selection of bruises at exactly the same height on our thighs, right where the posts around the edge of the boat are. I''ve also kicked my toes three times on the table leg/feet (the last time almost breaking the camera as well as my toe). Luke has brained himself on the low bulkheads a couple of times as well (adding to the egg he got at Langeais, bashing into the charming attic window. Charming window it was, too.)

Pulled into the St Gery dock with the aim of going to the boulangerie and supermarket. Both closed. Monday. Lunchtime. But of course.

We also set about finding a doctor. Thankfully a lady at the Medical-Social office spoke english and made an appointment for Luke - at 8pm. We then realised the pharmacie would be closed by then. Cue the search to either get an earlier appointment of obtain the antibiotics without a doctor.

The Pharmacie people were really helpful, the good-looking English speaking lady there knows someone from Brisbane. She did her best to help us out, rang Dr Marc back in Touraine but he wasn't there and the receptionist said Luke should just see the doctor anyway. They solved the issue of being closed by pointing out the night bell.

We went for a ride up a farm lane for 1km, found the bridge and also the local camping area. The river was too low there to moor properly which was a shame as we would have liked to have moved there. Rode back.

By then Luke was getting feverish so I sent him off to bed, had lunch and then did a bit of reading. Unfortunately when we pulled in we didn't park under the overhanging willow tree, figuring we'd be off soon enough. Alas, the spot was soon taken by a large boat with happy drinking French people and we regretted it for the rest of the day. We had no shade and the sun was really hot. I went off to sit under trees and read my kindle, also rode the bike into town and bought bread. Lots more boats pulled up and moored, including English, Spanish and Americans. We laughed at the English people getting apples off the tree with their poop stick. I love that in France you can just pick fruit off trees, it all just grows everywhere. In Australia you don't dare do anything like that.

Made minestrone for tea, despite the heat. Very nice. Finally went up to the doctor's surgery. No receptionist (which is strange, it baffled us when we tried to make an earlier appointment). Waited a while.

Outside I saw a car that had a BIC loco on it. As in BIC the biro pen. We laughed at the idea of how clicky the locks would be. Also, if it didn't work you'd have to push it around in circles until it started. Then you'd drive off and always know where you'd been.

There are lots of Renault cars here with a "Picasso" logo on them. We've been giggling at the idea of a Picasso car, with only 3 wheels, all on one side, the driving wheel on the roof, 2 dimensional and confusing.

Also laughed at the ad in a women's magazine for perfume - skinny model tips 3 litre perfume bottle up on herself. Nice.

Our doctor was young, groovily bearded and didn't speak a word of English. My carefully prepared bit of writing helped get us through and we did very well for ourselves. Poor guy working so late and his last patients are two confused tourists gesturing and jabbering wildly. Weirdly, we paid him direct with cash and he did all the money handling himself.

And then we set off on our bikes back to the boat. Cycling in little French villages is fun.

Luke now has 5 different types of drugs to take. Here's hoping it works and we can get back on track with our boating. I'd planned to visit Grotte de Peche Merle tomorrow but instead we'll get to St Cirq Lapopie and see the cave on the way back. I need to ring and book too. It's a 10km bike ride to the cave and our bikes are only very simple so I hope there's no hills. Better that Luke has a day to recover before we do this.

Need to do more exercise. My belly seems to be huge at present, always full of food. So much for being thin in September.

Heading Up The Lot To Vers - 11 Sept 2011

11 Sept 2011

Slept very badly due to worrying all night: are we tied on securely, what if we drift off? What if people come and undo the ropes? What if I drown in this little cabin. BANG! goes an acorn. What's that diesel smell? Is the gas off?

I'm an excellent driver

 Aside from that, our mooring was quite nice. After a leisurely breakfast we set off again up the Lot. Cliffs on the banks were getting increasingly steep and more majestic. Failed at trying to throw Luke his crocs and had to retrieve it from the lock with the poop stick. Stopped to try and find a boulangerie at ------, no luck, just an old car display and a bloke singing "songs sacre" in the church - including Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. The second time I've heard it sung religiously but it's really about sex.

River heron

Second town gave us a  better result, Luke rode to the bakery while I washed my t-shirt. We moored for lunch, our first French lunch of the holiday - bread, pate, cheese, cider, sausage. My salami is joined like Siamese saucisson!

Nap time.

Finally set off around 5pm, got another couple of locks done, the first with the help of English people. The second one didn't go so well, it was only little but I failed twice at throwing up the rope. Second time a complete disaster as I bashed my elbow really hard on the steel frame at the back, funny bone. Hurt so much I nearly passed out. Luke had to pretty much get us through by himself because I was swearing and crying. Bruise wasn't even that big.

The painful lock

Stopped for the night at Vers. It was a bit dodgy when we first pulled in, there were 3 blokes drinking cask wine on the picnic table near the river and abusing people who went by. Thankfully someone had allready called the Gendarmerie who stepped in and had a word. Our drunk friends were soon on their way.

Luke got into conversation with Derek, one of the English people in the helpful boat. I decided to explore, wandered into town. Passed young people packing up their market display, playing very loud French rap music. It doesn't matter what the language, rap is still horrible.

Was spoken to by a black guy who made me feel rather threatened, so I hurried on my way.

Further up the hill was better, there was a "tea dance" - a man singing jolly songs and playing an accordian while people danced and sang along. I should have stopped and had a wine. Vers is very pretty, lots of dramatic cliffs and old bridges. The stream in the middle is crystal clear and tinged blue, you can watch the fish swim in it from high on the bridge.

We were moored at the local caravan park, paid E2 for a shower. Drank too much wine and ate pasta for tea, another 5 boats with us. Very congenial and pleasant.

It may have been "that anniversary" but we didn't give it a second thought. Rather nice, to be honest.

On the Boat - 10th Sept 2011

10 Sept 11 Cahors Notes

- Lazy morning at the hotel, have to check out at 11am, not 12. Jeez. Bathroom leaks and all. Nice brekky, made off with some jam.

- Went over to the old town and visited the markets. Lots of vegies, meat, fish and charcuiterie available, also a lovely spice stand. Wanted to buy stuff but we were intimidated by not knowing the numbers and no checkout till to read. I bought croissants and garlic, Luke an old world tomato.

Saturday morning markets near the church

- Old church was interesting enough inside, grand paintings of someone having their head cut off. Luke got frustrated with it.

- There was a bloke busking by playing complicated classical music on a battered, tiny, portable piano. The people sipping coffee nearby listened but didn't seem to pay so we gave him a couple of coins. He was really good.

Piano busker

- Off to the E.Leclerc for our big supermarket shop. we needed more than the 2 hours I'd planned for. Couldn't find lentils, stock... all sorts of things took ages to find. The vegie section was really very small. Bought fresh beans for 10cents. All the food is amazingly cheap. Huge Brie cheeses for E2!

- Frustrated buying wine. The French need to adapt their AOC naming traditions to help out people who just want to buy one sort of wine. Plenty of Cahors black wine... but what if I feel like white? Especially since the day was really hot, 33 degrees. Opted for a cheap semillion, last minute. Couldn't find any kir flavouring.

- Rushed off to pick up the boat, sweating. Lady just asked for the voucher, pretty much handed it over without much fuss. Her brother gave a few lessons in steering and took us through the first lock. A bit scary but we did it.

- Our boat is blue, the "Petite Sirene", no upgrades for us, just a Triton 860, minimal bedding provided but the bunks are comfy enough. smells a bit, people have had dogs in it.

Luke enjoying the first of many beers

- Off we went upstream, did 2 more locks, the 2nd one was automatic, the 3rd one we were helped by Swiss people.

- Stopped for the night at a green dock sign, no-one else there. Discovered why - Oak trees drop acorns loudly on the roof. Decided to stay in spite of it.

Swimming in my crocs. I love this photo.

- Went for a swim, what a relief. Too bad if it's pooey, very refreshing. Luke drank heaps of Affligate beer. Vegies for dinner.

Swimming off the edge of the boat

Cahors 9th Sept 2011 - Hot!

Drinks by the Pont Valentre bridge

It seems there is such a thing as a french onion soup hangover and it doesn't smell very good. At 3am I was fanning the open window frame back and forth, sleepily muttering about suffocation.

This morning we packed and left the Abbey, having managed to remove all the extra charges the hotel had helpfully added to the bill. We decided that E14 each for breakfast was too much which resulted in us driving a very long way without coffee.

Finally we pulled in to a small town patisserie and availed ourselves of caffiene and eclairs, the breakfast/brunch of champions. Cheap too. I'm really starting to enjoy our mangled french interactions in bakeries, everyone is always so cheerful and I'm getting a bit better with the language.

Today's drive to Cahors took longer than we expected. When you're not on a toll road you average about 70kph due to small towns and roundabouts so the first leg of our journey took about 3 hours. Motorway was a relief until it came time to take our exit. All going well until Monsieur GPS told us we should take slip road D22. The signs didn't say Cahors... but we decided to trust him.

Yeah, thanks Monsieur GPS.

Instantly we were on a single lane road spiralling ever downwards preciptiously into a steep valley, edging past cars coming the other way. The two vehicles in front of us must have had the same Garmin GPS as they looked just as lost and confused as us. Thankfully the ridiculous sidetrack didn't last too long and we made it into the city alive and only a little late. It's not the first time the GPS has done this to us but this one was a real doozy with no chance of escape. There wasn't even a chance to turn around. The bloke in front of us actually just stopped dead in the middle of the road, turned on his hazard lights and tried to think about where he was for a few minutes. In the end he let us past and did a three point turn.

Collapsed on the hotel bed. This happened in pretty much every hotel room when we walked in.

Cahors is a lovely place, not very busy. Hotel de France could easily be called Hotel de 70s thanks to its classy disco decor and slightly musty vibe. The bed has an AM radio built into the headboard and the bathroom has a blue bidet - our first. Alas, it doesn't have a fountain of water that shoots up, only a couple of taps, making it a sort of rectangular bum-bath without a comfy seat. I'm not willing to try it as it seems an awful lot of effort to go to, in spite of the French Onion Soup Aftermath.

Our first bidet. We didn't use it.

The built-in 70s AM radio, in the bedhead.

Luke was knackered after the drive so I went exploring, in the 32 degree heat, wandering over the Pont Velentre bridge and carefully watching a couple take their boat through the lock below. After I told Luke about it he decided he wanted to make it work by himself so off we went again, wading through the unusually warm and soupy conditions. He got the whole thing to empty successfully, all watched by tourists on the bridge above.

Luke playing with the lock

I retired to the nearby shady cafe to drink rose and admire the reflections of the bridge on the water. I also watched two beautiful kingfishers hunting from a dead tree lodged on the impressive diagonal weir under the bridge. I hope I see more of them on the boat.

We had Vietnamese for dinner, the only diners in the large "La Indochine" restaurant, and it was very tasty. After that we wandered into the old town, wondering where all the Friday night crowds were. I'm still not sure. There were a lot of diners in places but it was far more pleasant and civilised than the horror of Tours last Friday night. I think I like this place.

Tomorrow we'll go to the market and go grocery shopping in preparation for our week on the boat.