A Heart Runs Through It

The morning fog was lying on the canal like a soft, low ceiling, creating a tactile tunnel that we were steering through. Both banks were crowded with trees and carpeted with bright grass; we were steaming north aboard the 24 meter barge Festina Tarde. We were in the hands of Jim and Mary Neil, their gracious hospitality, friendly demeanor, and enthusiasm for the barge life was an infectious and graceful feeling.

Mary and I had taken the train 3 hours south of Paris to visit a fellow retired fireman and his wife (also a Jim & Mary) who are spending 7 months a year living aboard their barge. It is home ported in Roanne and spends about 5 months traveling through the canals of Europe. This is travel at a gentlemanly pace, as the barge averages 6 to 8 Kilometer per hour. It is 24 meters long and has all the luxuries and amenities you will find at home.

The Neil’s had piped us aboard the previous afternoon. After a stunning lunch that lurched into the late afternoon when we roused ourselves for some serious Petanque. Petanque is French boules or a bowls game, like its cousin Bocce Ball it involves throwing small, heavy balls. It is best played on long, sun dappled afternoons, where men on the dark side of 60 can compete, converse, and debate decisions involving fractions of an inch with victory and defeat hanging in the friendly balance.

This was the weekly tournament of the Port of Roanne barge owners. Jim Neil was the coach of the defending championship team. The trophy had sat prominently in the wheelhouse of the Festina Tarde the previous seven days. This was the Americans against the Europeans, but unlike the Ryder Cup the good guys would prevail. Your humble correspondent was pressed into service because of my vast Petanque experience; I had once seen a match in Luxembourg Garden.

Next to our titanic struggle the wives were locked in their own fierce battle. English is the default language setting in the barge world. It was nice to talk to someone else other than your mate. That sentiment was roundly seconded by the Baroness.

After carrying Jim off the victorious pitch we all went to the barge of Peter and Pauline for an introduction to Indian cuisine and an evening of excellent conversation with them, the Neil’s, and a San Diego couple, Al and Joan. A fabulous evening; with more dead soldiers than banquet night at Simpson’s.

The Barge People

While spending three days with Jim and Mary Neil we had ringside seats to the lives of the other barge couples. They are a group of finely etched individuals who share many similarities while still being very different from each other.

This cast of characters all tends to be outgoing, adaptable, adventuresome, and usually great story tellers. They hail from a variety of countries: America, Canada, New Zealand, England, Netherlands, Switzerland and all points on the compass, even Texas. Because of the variety of tongues spoken, English, sometimes with heavy accents, has become the official language of the barge life.

Given the ages of the group, from mid 50’s to the late 70’s, you can see that moving from mid-life to later mid-life called for a big adventure. Most people have sold their houses at home or at least downsized to a turnkey operation. Some are old salt water sailors who migrated to the barge life, but most were first time boat owners when they decided to live permanently on the water. Can you imagine taking delivery of your barge, which you do not know how to drive, let along dock, three days after retiring after 30 years of work?

Many of the barge people I met were wintering in the town of Roanne from October to April; life would be a flurry of rekindling old social contacts and friendships. For those that stay in Roanne their lives would be busy with social get-togethers and boat improvement projects that had been postponed through at least one sailing season.

Beginning in late April the boats would again be leaving Roanne for their individual barge sailings to a host of destinations. Sometimes they would see each other at far off ports of call, passing on a canal or a docking at some small village. They gather again in the fall when they all return to Roanne before heading to other parts of the world if they were not wintering in France.

Nancy of billandnancy.com laughingly says she is the most boring barge person she knows. The line up of eccentric stars includes Texas Bill who spent a working life on oil rigs in Dubai and speaks fluent French with a pure Texas twang.

Christian is French and spent WW2 in Morocco (and is a seven time Miss Casablanca) and can go toe-to-toe with Texas Bill in story-telling skills; do not arm wrestle this woman for the microphone. Tom and Trish are retired furniture store owner/small business slaves from St Louis. They are both larger than life personalities to match their 6 foot frames and ten foot hearts.

One favorite couple I met was Gwen & Gordon. They are in their late 70’s and just returned from the Midi after spending 2 years in the south of France. They said the heat bothered them and they were relocating again to Roanne.

I am having trouble deciding where to move my small coin collection and they, in their almost 80’s, are moving their lives and barge once again. I only hope I can have that much adventure. I think you can understand the breadth of eccentricity and one of a kindness that makes barge people the treasures that they are. And bring your own ice, because these people can party.

North To Artaix

The second day aboard the Festina Tarde saw us in a pre sailing mode. We went grocery shopping for provisions, and did all the pre launch preparations. After lunch we would be steaming? Sailing? Driving? Barging? North to Artaix. Our destination would be a picnic grounds near Artaix where the semi annual barge owners picnic and Autumn Fol de Rol would be held.

The first day we barged through several canal locks until we overnighted near the town of Iguarande. Vail, Colorado bargers Eric and Suki were already tied up, it was an excellent opportunity to meet them and their son and his wife who were visiting. Jim BBQ’ed (the other beef) duck breasts for dinner. Duck is a very dense and flavorful food; I came home with a new respect for this meat. In Paris I had several Duck Confit dinners. It is a new love affair that has added only 3 inches to my waistline.

In the morning we were greeted with a fresh baguette and croissants courtesy of Erick’s son who had mountain biked to the nearest Boulangerie. This errand of mercy was equal to finding a cold beer at a fifth alarm.

We hiked to town and saw a small, hand made olive oil factory. Every small French town has a WW1 memorial with the names of the villagers who fell in that war. The numbers make you realize what a devastating experience that war was.

The afternoon found us barging to Artaix where we joined Tom and Trish who had already tied up their barge. Going through the canal locks is a tricky and delicate operation, not the least tricky is arriving while the lock keepers are not on a 96. These guys have longer lunches than firemen. Mary Neil judiciously used the gift of a bottle of wine to grease the locks and their keepers. Good move Mary!

We arrived at Artaix near noon, Tom and Trish had set up a table and chairs on shore. Eric and Suki had put some cheese and baguette on the table, and in what my wife called a “Gourmet Magazine Moment” out of nowhere suddenly appeared a couple of kinds of cheese, proscuitto, figs, white asparagus, cold duck (no not the alcoholic kind from our youth) breast with cherry sauce, French rolls, olives, cucumbers, assorted pastries, condiments and of course wine and some mineral water.

The eight of us were now fortified for the pre picnic work party. It had been a busy couple of days and the evening ahead would end with a giant bonfire and Tom toasting Baileys Irish Cream to the gods of barge safety.

More than 40 barge people had trekked to the Artaix picnic. It was a fitting end to our introduction to barge life and barge people. I cannot convey how impressed we were with both.

Bon Voyage