A cycling holiday, even if it was to be in France, was NOT (in my opinion) one of Russell’s most inspired ideas. In fact I think I said some strong words to that effect when it was first mentioned some 9 months ago. The idea of a week of bike riding and living on a barge (not even a boat!) was not my idea of fun. I am a walker not a rider and I had seen the Tour De France and knew what a real cyclist looks like; all angular, and muscled and lean and determined and none of those adjectives applied to either of us!! And how many women have there ever been on the Tour? None! And why? Because bicycles were not designed by a woman and in no way do they suit the female anatomy. I know this because I have had my Peugeot bike for nigh on 35 years and have hardly ever ridden it.
So it was with a little less than my usual grace and enthusiasm that I agreed to start training some 8 months ago. At first even the 8 laps around the block had me gasping for air as I struggled up the miniscule slopes of Beaver Street; and then it was my thigh muscles that screamed out in protest when Russ moved us onto the Highway and we had to battle those 20 to 30 kph south-easterlies in our tropical summer. Not fun. But I like a challenge and even though I complained bitterly about that ghastly bicycle seat, by July we had covered more than 1900 kms at an average speed of about 21kph. We were fit and ready to go.
We left London on Saturday 7th August and took the EuroStar train to Paris. And it was all so easy and smooth and direct. Much better than flying because all we had to do was change trains in the Metro to find our way to Gare St Michel, which is where our Citadines Hotel was. Having stayed in the same place 2 years ago it was all so wonderfully familiar and exciting even though we had to trudge our cases along the street in the afternoon warmth. We had arranged to leave our cases at the Hotel for the week and take only hand luggage on the barge. So it was an easy walk through the 2 islands and onto the Canal St Martin where “FLEUR” was waiting for us.
My first impressions of our barge were far more positive than I had expected.
It was large, bright, airy and comfortable with bedrooms that were far more spacious than we expected. The barge was really prettily decorated inside and had apparently been refitted in 2001 after being a cargo ship for about 40 years hauling steel along the canals between Belgium and Germany. However by the late 1990’s it had become commercially unviable and the owner (who lived on board for the duration) had to sell his beloved barge “Bambino” to Eurosail. Since then Fleur, as she was renamed, has been cruising around France being based in Paris during the summer and in Amsterdam in the winter. She sleeps 20 guests in ensuite cabins and has a crew of 4.
We are welcomed by our Captain (Reint) with a glass of champagne and then we sail to our first lock, reposition ourselves for the evening, enjoy a wonderful 3 course meal and another wine and everyone begins to relax. The place gets noisier as we all learn each other’s names and histories. Our guide for the week is a woman called Roelie and she has sailed and toured with Reint on and off since 2002 and after dinner, she takes us for a stroll along the Seine back to the heart of Paris and Notre Dame.
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| A party of dancers and musicians on the Banks of the Seine |
Sunday: Our first day of cycling doesn’t start until about 11am since the Captain wants to move through a few locks before we start. This gives me time to panic…and I do. Every other woman on the tour has those funny bike pants with her – the padded Lycra ones that Hamish told us to buy. But which we didn’t. I am suddenly feeling way out of my comfort zone with all these well-prepared people. There are 2 American men who regularly trek across the States and others who have been living on bikes since birth almost. When they are all dressed and ready to go, there is Lycra and padded bottoms everywhere – except for the 2 Far Northern Australians. Woops! Was this a mistake? And all we have are shorts ….yet the day is really quite cold and threatening rain so I contemplate finding some rubber bands to hold in the bottoms of my yoga pants to keep them out of the chains!
Luckily I get talked out of it and the weather improves before we head off so it is back to shorts – come hell or high water.
It is a gentle introduction to the tour today and we are only going about 35 kms with no major hills or obstacles so it is all very pleasant. We are easily able to chat to each other with the gentle pace and there are frequent stops to rectify minor problems like seat height, gears or chains. We are heading for a town called MELUN and because we are all so keen and excited, we make good time so we find a Tabac (a small bar-come-café) in the middle of a tiny village and indulge in a glass of fortifying beer or wine. We are heading for a castle, Vaux Le Vicomte, just out of Melun, which is up a steep incline on a main road busy with afternoon traffic. Several of us opt out of this extra riding in favour of exploring Melun itself and finding a coffee and cake or another riverside bar. Russ and I do just that and take a photo of the Fleur as she beetles past us on the way to her mooring.
Those who went to the castle don’t return to the barge until 6pm and the rest of us are already showered and enjoying a relaxing wine on the deck. You can already tell which of us are the serious cyclists versus the social butterflies of the group!
On reflection I wish we had gone to the castle because it was designed and built by a fellow called Nicholas Fouquet, a successful contemporary of Louis XIV, the Sun King of France. He hired the best architects, the best artists of the day and the best landscape designers to build his dream castle so the result was a stunning and impressive structure surrounded by glorious gardens. The Sun King was not amused by this splendour since he wanted to be the one to build France’s most impressive chateau at Versailles. He had Fouquet arrested and imprisoned and then hired the same designers to build Versailles. Such was his power. I missed out on something special I believe.
Monday (day 3) is a 45 km day, and while cloudy it is warm so my shorts are fine. We cycle through mini forests/woods and up some significant slopes, one of which makes all of us get off our bikes and walk up. Bill is the only exception; he has endured and survived some remarkably difficult cycling terrains in the U.S. and he gets our acclaim by steadfastly sitting on his seat and slowly peddling all the way up. We clap loudly …because we don’t have the breath to cheer!!
We pass some gorgeous little houses typical of the architecture of this region,
and then head towards Barbizon the most idyllic little village that is famous for its Pre Impressionist heritage. As we cycle into this cute, flower-laden town, which nestles on the edge of the Fontainebleau Forests, I am captivated by the charm of its rustic architecture and pretty shop facades.
On nearly every wall or corner there are mosaics depicting the landscape scenery that the new school of painters of the 1860’s came here to experience. For the first time they wanted to paint landscapes by living amidst nature rather than memorising the scenery and painting it while locked away inside a studio back in Paris. Photography was gaining popularity and it inspired artists like Rousseau, Daubigny and Corot to explore reality in nature.
The mundane existence and heroism of the common labourer replaced the grand themes of the Romantic era of painters. We visited a museum celebrating the artists who moved there – a house were they used to live and paint. In fact they painted nearly every surface of the house – even the doors and walls and cupboards.
Luckily we had time for a coffee after the museum and I could write some post cards before we headed off to the ‘forests’ where we stopped to eat our packed lunch on boulders and rocks. The forests of Fontainebleau are a special area being only 50km from metropolitan Paris and a favourite place for city dwellers to visit. This “nature reserve” has been untouched for centuries and is part of the Paris Basin – the Seine’s old river basin. The limestone-covered sandstone has been moulded into a wonderful array of rock sculptures. Good for sitting on too!
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| John, Judy and Bill from U.S.A. |
The afternoon saw us peddling to Fontainebleau, the huge summer palace where many generations of French Kings lived. It has an incredibly impressive and extensive frontage, which everyone photographs! Me included!
The kings and their men would go here in autumn to hunt; I assume the queens and their women would amble around the huge gardens and the central lake with its waterfalls instead!. The prettiest part was a garden area called “Diana’s garden” with its lush greenery and interesting fountain featuring 4 dogs pissing…
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| 2 Aussies, 4 Poms and Russell at Fontainebleau We end our day at another gorgeous little village called Moret-Sur-Loing – the most idyllic medieval town on the Loing River. As we reach the river on our bikes to head to Fleur, we are met with a stunning scene of river reflections, weeping trees, rustic bridges and lush greenery. |
We dump our bikes alongside the barge and go for a walk into town. There is so much to photograph and enjoy in this tiny place where Sisley lived and worked, describing the river as “si belle, si transparente, si changeant. C’est a Moret certainment que j’ai fait le plus de progres dans mon art”.
Sisley, who worked with Monet, Renoir and Pissarro in Moret, made more than 400 paintings of this little village and they are displayed in museums all over the world. And perhaps now I will appreciate them a tad more if I ever see one again.
The town dates back to the 11th century and there are still 2 impressive gates and a huge residential tower still standing. It was in this tower that Louis XIV – The Sun King- imprisoned that poor man Fouquet (the fellow who built his Vaux -Le-Vicomte too beautifully for the jealous King).
Life on Fleur.
I haven’t described the life on Fleur much and yet the crew created such a friendly and welcoming atmosphere that we all felt very much at home. The Bar (a most important part of the establishment) worked on an honesty system and each night we would grab some nuts or pretzels and a glass of our preferred drink and relax on the deck under the shade cloth while Clive, the Chef, slaved over a hot stove making our 3 course 5 star meals.
We would chat together or read a book or wander up and down the mooring area or into town after our rides, filling in the time until Ruth rang the dinner bell at 6.30pm. Dinners were always a lively affair and they became more and more noisy the more we got to know each other!
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| From left, Paul and Trish ( from Newcastle,Aust) with Camilla and Andreas (from Copenhagen) |
We all seemed to get on so well even though our ages varied from somewhere between Ian and Hilary’s teenage boys, Oliver and Elliott, to Wolfgang (or ‘Wolfie’ for short) who had just celebrated his 70th birthday. Most of us were in the middle somewhere (and don’t anyone dare to dispute Russ’ and my place in that order!!). Our meals were always varied and beautifully presented and I managed to wheedle a couple of recipes from Clive before we left. One was for his pecan pie (which was just delicious) .
A typical meal consisted of Onion Soup with a cheesy crudite, followed by Beef Bourguignon (Ian, the other vegetarian and I, had chick pea casserole instead) and for dessert we had chocolate mousse; another night we had Avocado, pear & walnut salad
followed by succulent white fish on snow peas with an orange dressed salad (or an asparagus crepe for the vegies), followed by that pecan pie I was speaking about, dressed with a generous dollop of lime mascarpone. Jean and I talked about wheedling out of Clive his recipe for what he called ‘Raspberry Fool’ – but we both forgot to get it, more is the pity. Or did you remember Jean?
Breakfasts were at 8am and they consisted of cereals, muesli, and yoghourts, dried fruits,
an assortment of breads- including the wonderful French baguette- with sliced meats, cheeses, tomatoes and cucumber. On occasions there were eggs and/or bacon and/or fruit salad as well. While we ate breakfast (a mealtime that was no where near as noisy as dinnertime, surprise surprise!), we all made our own packed lunches with juice boxes, fruit, sandwiches and chocolate bars. No one went hungry. …ever! If only I could have a Clive-type person at home to cook me meals of that calibre every day. Both Russ and I would be in seventh heaven – and probably a lot plumper too!!
Tuesday (day 4) was another warm but cloudy day and our route was to cover about 43 kms but it was an extremely relaxing day as we passed through pleasant little valleys with farm houses sparsely dotted around and fields of sun flowers.
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| Hillary (UK) in the foreground, with Jean (U.S.A) and Russell to her left. |
We were heading towards a very small and unique Sheep Cheese farm that sold the most intensely flavoured cheeses which some of us bought,
and further on to an Apple Farm ( but the latter wasn’t open so we just chatted and munched on the fallen fruit) . That was all a bit ‘ho hum’ for me although Henry and Jean did squirrel away a bottle of Rose and some tiny plastic cups for us all to share over lunch, which was a delightful thought. In fact they surprised us with a bottle of wine to share on 3 different occasions!
The fun part of the day began with 3 or 4 really quite challenging hills, which gave us all a great buzz as we flew down the other side. Elliott and Oliver always challenged Russell to keep up with them and he made a mean attempt but was invariably 3rd to reach the top of each hill. I was happy to pedal gently upwards with Jean or Paul or Wolfgang, chatting when we could get enough air in our lungs. We arrive at one of the last provincial cities of Ile de France, the ancient Nemours, and have plenty of time to walk around this quaint medieval city, completely take over a Tabac and indulge in a Chantilly coffee or a beer or a wine. Fleur hasn’t arrived and we all need a toilet so the beers are a necessary evil, or that is what we tell ourselves. When we get back onboard, the late afternoon is perfect for relaxing on board or on the deck and indulging in some quiet
time before pre-dinner drinks appear. But then we all revert to our noisy, convivial selves.
Wednesday (day 5) brings rain and chilly conditions and so we all don our wet-weather-gear. Some like Andreas and Camilla have brought waterproof covers even for their shoes, while Jean and Henry surprise us with rain-proof covers for their helmets. I only wish I had taken a photo.
Today is a shorter day in kilometres thankfully (38) but there are 2 huge and long hills that are too much for some of us. Russell even finds them taxing while the rain makes it all seem so much harder. It is positively freezing because we are wet to the core. We make heaps of stops – taking refuge for coffee at a tiny Tabac at 10am, for lunch under a farmer’s shed at noon and at another Tabac in the historic medieval monk town of Chateau-Landon at 1pm. We are full of coffees!
At times the rain is so persistent we get soaked to our underwear but we manage a smile for the camera – as we drip water from our heads.
When we all troop into the Tabac at Château-Landon, the whole interior steams up with condensation and even my camera goes fuzzy but the hot chocolates we order work a treat and in no time we are all smiles and laughter again.
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| (Ingrid and Wolfgang attempt to dry off, while Ian props up the bar with John) |
Roelie has organised a special guided tour of this medieval town and, somewhat drier and fortified, we meet her at the Petanque pitch, all of us delighted that for now it has stopped raining. Our guide owns a Gite (a small bed and breakfast) some 10 kms from Chateau-Landon and tells me that she became a guide purely by chance when some of her guests asked her to give them a guided tour of the historical township and its Abbey. This was 12 years ago and she had to do some intense research before she was ready.
Later she joined the Historical Society of Chateau-Landon and she now runs tours regularly in the high season. Her tour lasts a good 90 minutes and she is incredibly informative and interesting. We walk all around the area, down steep staircases to the canal where in the 11th Century the women did their washing, past ancient buildings now renovated and housing tenants, to the Saint-Séverin Abbey with all its stories.
The Abbey was named after a Swiss Monk named Séverin who performed what was reputed to be a miracle cure on King Clovis of Paris in about 500 AD. Word of mouth meant that the town became a bit of a Mecca for pilgrims who wanted to get similarly blessed by the Monks of this same order and, from then on, the Monks ‘milked’ the situation and became very wealthy. With a dry sense of humour our guide told us that King Clovis had in fact died some short time after this miracle cure but that did not detract from the power held by the Monks because King Clovis had converted to Christianity at the time of his cure and was therefore assured of ‘salvation’ when he died!! It was a cute story.
It is because of this fame that the town’s history through the ages shows an intimate relationship between the Aristocracy who could afford the ministrations of the Monks, the Monks themselves and the poor people who lived in the fields below the elevated town who provided the food and the services for the rich people living above them. I don’t remember all the details and I won’t swear that all of this is ‘verbatim’ but she was a wonderful storyteller and we all thoroughly enjoyed her energy and enthusiasm for this historical township. I just wish I knew her name.
Since our cycling that day had been so wet and miserable, we were all treated to a welcome glass of Schnapps when we got back to the barge and Ruth offered to wash all our wet clothes and dry our sodden shoes in the engine room. The schnapps, a shower and clean clothes worked miracles on all of us and we were ready to party once again.
Thursday 12 August. Day 6. Today we were offered a choice; a short cycle of 33 kms to Ferrieres with its monastery (“not another Church,” says Russell!) and along the Canal De Briare to our destination for the night, Montargis, or a longer one of about 50kms to see some Roman Baths. The day is an easy riding one and we have plenty of spare time in Ferrieres to browse the shops, buy some souvenirs, have a coffee and cake and wander aimlessly along each of the roads.
Ferrieres was a very pretty little town and we discovered a market garden, lots of lovely fruit shops displaying their wares delightfully, and quite obviously some remnants of a long history.
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| This lovely old arch-way just cried out to be photographed! |
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| And here is the cutest display of fruit and vegies. |
We re-group and it is an easy cycle towards the Canal de Briare, built in 1604, is one of the oldest canals in France and connects the Loire and the Seine Valleys. There we have lunch on the banks of the Lock with another of Henry’s bottles of wines before we split into two groups – one
to take the flat and easy Canal path towards the barge which will be in Montargis in a couple of hours, and the other more adventurous group to head off with Roelie to the Roman Baths. I join the former group because I am already on anti-inflammatories for my knee, and Russ joins the more experienced, energetic and intrepid riders. Our group has a leisurely ride along the flat, pebbly canal path and stop to buy patisseries in a tiny town where we find Fleur waiting for the Lock Keeper to open after lunch. We take photos as Captain Reint skippers Fleur expertly into the tight fitting lock.
Then as she passes us on the canal. What an impressive home we have!
The gorgeous township of Montargis is our home for the next 2 nights and we are all delighted. I would call it the Little Venice of France and with good reason.
It appears to be situated on a network of canals that feed through its streets providing an endless circuit of waterways with little bridges and walkways floating seamlessly above. There are 17 smaller or larger bridges in Montargis, and the walking circuit we follow was created in 2000 with the aim of promoting cultural heritage. Roelie has her trusty map and takes us past or over all of them!
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| Russell, Roelie, Wolfgang, Ingrid, Paul, Judy and Bill |
Many homeowners have to walk over these tiny bridges to reach their front door and there are boxes and tubs and displays of brightly coloured flowers everywhere – even in the middle of the canals!
It is a photographer’s dream to take a slow amble through these streets and over these bridges. This tiny township is extremely picturesque.
The town itself was the end of one of the stages of the Tour De France this year and flowers were planted to spell out a welcome to the cyclists and all the tourists (and the TV Cameras I presume!)
But there were other references to the Tour also – in the form of this baguette bike in a Patisserie!
When the Tour was on we actually watched carefully when the cyclists reached Montargis knowing we were to come here with our Eurosail trip, but the footage gave us no real idea of how pretty the village was and what it had to offer. Even though we only saw a small part of it in our 2 nights here, there was evidence of a rich history. I read about the Montargis Church with its Renaissance chancel and its 19th century stained glass windows and the remnants of the Montargis Castle which stems from the 12th century. There is plenty more to explore if any of us ever come back to this region.
Friday day 7 . Today is our last day on the bicycles and Roelie promises that we will return to the barge in time to do some late afternoon browsing in the main street of Montargis. And so it is with a spring in our pedals that we set off to demolish those last 42 kms in a circle out from Montargis. It is leisurely, relaxed cycle with lots of downhill glides and open country (I don’t know where all the hills went but I didn’t notice any!). We are heading to a Living Bee Museum. Apparently France has always been a large producer of honey and today there are still some 70,000 beekeepers producing honey. Our Apiculture Museum has been handed down from father to son and the creation of the little museum here is a delightful mixture of casual and formal. We watch a professionally made DVD about bees and the production of honey from his particular hives to the jar. It is all in French so many of us have difficulty following it although the visuals are quite explicit. We then browse around the quaint museum and see the hives and the Queen Bee before he takes us into his workshop to see how he gets the honey off the hive.
He chats to us in English and answers our questions as he scrapes off all the wax and then uses centrifugal force to wiz the honey out of the cells and into a pot. Fascinating to watch. We also get invited to a feast of honey in all its configurations – with alcoholic Apple Cider to wash it all down. It’s He chats to us in English and answers our questions as he scrapes off all the wax and then uses centrifugal force to wiz the honey out of the cells and into a pot. Fascinating to watch. We also get invited to a feast of honey in all its configurations – with alcoholic Apple Cider to wash it all down. It’s only 11.30 but who cares? It’s our last day!
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| from left: me, Jean, Henry, Bill, Judy and Paul |
We are offered home-made Honeycake, Spring Honey, Summer honey with cream cheese and then Winter honey all on tiny pieces of baguette and at the end, there is some Honey Mead to try. Our bee keeper knows how to win us over!
His quaint little shop is how he markets his produce and he tells us that he has regulars who return to his farm every year from as far away as the south of France to buy their annual supply of honey. It all looks so cute I just can’t resist. I buy a box of 5 wee honeys for Frances and Bob who are meeting us in Paris tomorrow. It is just a pity that I am not allowed to take any bee products back into Australia but they will have no problem returning to the UK.
As we happily head off on the final leg of our journey back to Montargis, everyone waves. I could have staged the photo a lot better- I can only just see Ingrid and miss many of the crew.
Our last dinner is a special one and Reint, the Captain makes a speech. Then I get up and make one too, thanking the crew and giving Roelie, our cycling guide, some little things I had purchased in the supermarket and in town. She gets some wet tissue wipes to clean her hands after she has fixed someone’s chain, or mended a puncture: hand cream to keep her hands soft: chocolates to keep up her energy. She is doing back-to back-tours and the new group arrives on board tomorrow so she will be cycling the route in reverse back to Paris!
I also present the Captain with an envelope and Thank You card with a generous gratuity inside. It is from all of us for the crew to share. But the speeches aren’t over as Paul takes centre stage to remind us all of the “F.O.B (Falling off Bike) Club” and who is actually a registered member. It is an extremely elite group – only 2 bona fide members; Hillary and Paul himself. Camilla’s bruises only get her an Affiliate Membership. Jean reckons she should also be considered a member of the Club but Paul, having made himself Chairperson, decides her symptoms came about because of the previously unheard of “Falling Bike Attack”. She is in a league of her own. We erupt in laughter and it is the best way to finish the evening.
We have had a wonderful time on this tour and we have all thoroughly enjoyed the journey. We have shared lots of laughter, lots of great food, lots of stunning scenery and lots of fun times. We were a disparate group of people from different countries who luckily shared a healthy sense of humour and a common love of adventure; by the end of the week we had really made a bond and it was going to be sad saying goodbye. Although we all swap emails and addresses, who knows if we will ever meet up again?
This is one holiday that I will never forget. It was really fantastic and I would do it all again. For me the challenges of cycling were scary but I overcame them: the beauty and charm of the little French villages was totally seductive: and the learning that took place as we were guided through this lovely part of the outer Paris’ environs was invaluable. I will never forget what I learned about the Pre –Impressionists at Barbizon and about the Monks at Chateau-Landon: I will treasure in my mind’s eye the tranquil scenes of beauty of the river at Moret-Sur-Loing and the delightful flowers and canals of Montargis. And I will fondly remember all the lovely people we met onboard Fleur. Above all I appreciate that the company provided such a well organised and well rounded experience for us all. There was something for everyone.
Russ and I had a fabulous time. This trip was very special for both of us.
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