29 March 2011: Boat Cruise Day Twelve.

We all slept very well last night, the boat didn’t move an inch from its moorings (well done Mark and Steve for paying attention on how to secure the ropes at our brief) and it was so calm and quiet, just what we needed after the big day we had yesterday.

We may have been lacking in a few maritime skills and ability, but we certainly weren’t short of lovely food (thanks to Dominique and Michelle), as a result, breakfast was just what the doctor order for us to take off on our first full day on the canal.

I really didn’t know what to expect on this part of the European trip but it was a stroke of genius by Dominque who was the main driver in organising it (well actually, she was the sole organiser). Now, sitting on our boat following the tree-lined canal, I am absolutely relaxed and amazed at the sights we are seeing. The century old farmhouses and the numerous vineyards lining the canal have kept us oohing and aahing all the way.

Dominique also made sure that we had bikes on board so that we could moor the boat and take a ride into the countryside whenever the opportunity arose. Haven’t been on a bike since I was 14 (and that last ride at 14 was enough to make me give up biking forever) but I was really keen to make use of them.

Our first pit stop was in Somail and we duly moored the boat and got the bikes out. It would be impolite to say we should have left the bikes on the boat and kept going through Somail……..so all I’ll say is that the bike ride was fun.

I decided to sit at the front of the boat after we left Somail and having only just left the place we were moored, I made a motion to our helmsman to pull to the right…..spotted a vineyard……we need more wine……problem solved.

Don’t think the woman at Domaine Du Tresor www.domainedutresor.com will ever forget the day that Mark and I rode into town, but she was lovely and very understanding about our lack of French. We have both suffered the indignity of having our partners speak French and Italian whilst we have meekly stood by waiting, not this time; we are determined to have a go.

We entered a lovely tasting area where we were met by the owners dog, sitting in its basket at the front door, and the salesperson. As she approached, Mark took the lead and in a voice louder than what he would normally project, said “we come from a long, long, long way away…we no speak French” immediately, I offered hand gestures in an attempt to back him up, arms spread and making waving motions as if to show we had crossed many seas from where we live.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but anyone watching would have said it was like watching an old Western movie and seeing white man attempting to communicate with the Sioux.

Mark, in that loud voice of his, “we need wine….you have nice vineyard….we try…” Me, doing drinking actions with my hand, looking around at the vineyard giving thumbs up and pointing to tasting bottles.

Then noticing the world map on the wall behind us, Mark steps up and points to Australia….”we are from here….Melbourne…..wines come from Margaret River, Barossa Valley, Hunter Valley and Yarra Valley….nothing north of this line (indicating the Tropic of Capricorn)…” Me, not sure how to hand gesture all that, simply circled the southern part of Australia on the map and nodded as if to confirm his words.

The woman has probably never been so bored in all her life offered some of her wines to taste, all the time looking at us and speaking in broken English and offering up to our questions, “maybe yes, maybe no….” which was really quite clever of her as she couldn’t possibly get into any trouble responding like that.

We tasted four wines from the vineyard and they were all very, very good but the Chardonnay was the best. We couldn’t get over the bouquet of this particular wine and Mark made comment (in his very loud voice) “this one very, very nice smell….” Whilst I offered up waving hands to my nose and then turning sideways touched the tip of my nose several times. One very puzzled woman looked back at us not sure what we were saying.

Finally, Mark says, “we go now….our women wait on boat….we be gone long time…..they wonder what happen to their men…” Me, pointing to the canal, showing time by lengthening my arms and pointing at my watch and looking serious and then pointing to Mark and me to indicate “their men”.

We set off very pleased with ourselves congratulating each other on our grasp of the French language. No more than twenty meters down the road, we ran into Michelle and Dominique…they’ve been wondering what we have been up to. We proudly display our wine and say we have been chatting to the locals in their own lingo…and very successfully, we might add. “you should taste this chardonnay we purchased,” said Mark “why not come in and meet the woman who sold it to us, she’s a lovely lady”

We walked into the wine tasting area and met the young lady again (probably seems strange to everyone that we don’t know her name, but we were so intent on what we were doing that asking her name got past us) and Mark said (in his loud voice), “these our women…..” Me pointing to first Dominique and then Mark, indicating that they were a couple and then Michelle and I. Both Mark and I then took a step back, folded our arms and let the girls talk.

At the end of the day, the wine lady sold us 9 bottles of her very finest and we walked away very happy pilgrims. It amused us no end and the girls as well.

Back on the boat and on our way again, we couldn’t help but appreciate the scenery, which just seems to be endless and our amusing visit to the local winery.

Approaching the end of the day, I was feeling very energetic and asked if I could get off the boat and ride one of the bike’s on the path along side the canal. It was very liberating to be doing something that I hadn’t for the past 30 years and I took off with a lot of vigour. The boat goes very slowly, so I looked like I was steaming ahead on the road to Beziers.

Or maybe it just seemed to me that I was steaming ahead.......

I reached our mooring ahead of the boat and was greeted by a young woman yelling something in French and waving her hands above her head. I was wondering what it was that I had done to upset her then she pointed to the dry riverbed below the bridge we were on. There was her beautiful Golden Retriever monstering one of the local’s chickens he had chased from someone’s back yard.

The dog was really just playing but the chicken looked distressed. I realised she was trying to call the dog off but he was having none of it. Decided I should whistle really loudly to try and get his attention and let the chicken get away. The whistling certainly got his attention but he thought it was all part of the game. In the end, I went down to the riverbed and retrieved the Retriever (which is ironic in itself). He was only too happy to chase me back up to the bridge where his owner was.

The Retriever got a scolding and I got a resounding “Merci!” from the owner. We looked back for the chicken and saw it stumbling off to its backyard a little shaken but with no apparent injuries. Thumbs up between me and the young lady and I had done my good deed for the day.

Finally, we arrived at Beziers and I have to say, it was one of the funniest and most entertaining days of my life. A few wines from our vineyard and a lovely meal prepared by Dominque and we had completed another day in paradise. It just keeps getting better.