Surrender

Right now, I feel like doing what Yogi-dog does when he meets a bigger, stronger more aggressive dog; he just rolls on his back saying "I give up...really".


I am surrendering to Mother Earth and her weather patterns.  Last May, I posted a picture of this Tahoe street covered in snow; tree branches weighted down, white lawns, little dog tracks in the middle of the street.  It was a springtime winter-wonderland.

Now look......

No sign of snow looking east

Or looking west either

It is December, almost Christmas, and instead of a white one we will have a brown one. No snow is forecast for the near future.  In the meantime, our desert house is getting rain.  Go figure.

How can a dog play in that?

I am perplexed but that's all right, I am old and supposed to be confused.  Come to think about it, Mother Earth is also pretty old and maybe she's got of touch of dementia so we'll forgive her.....this time.  To all our friends:

Merry Christmas or

Happy Hanukkah or

Best Wishes for Al-Hijira or

Happy Winter Solstice.............

Oh, forget it, just have a good time whatever you're celebrating!

Truth and Consequences

Younger & Skinnier

No Gray Hair

 
I’ve always been intrigued by those who can take everyday, unremarkable occurrences and find life changing signs and universal philosophical truths in them.  That is not one of my talents.

 Until now, I haven’t given too much thought about how our serial voyaging has affected us; how some of the incidents we’ve gone through might have given us the opportunity to grow and expand our outlook.  Mostly, our uppermost concerns have been surviving many of them.  There is a oft-told cliché that sailing is long periods of boredom interspersed by moments of sheer terror.  Whether by sail or motor, most boating journeys taken by do-it-yourself captains and crews can be included in that.  The longer you are on the water, the greater your chances of experiencing some kind of nastiness.

But now, searching for something to write about by going back through our old logs, I am pausing to wonder what and where we would be without our serial voyaging.  Perhaps we’ve never had a life-changing epiphany, but little by little we have been enriched.

Heading Out - 1988

However painful or pleasurable, one step always leads to another.  Thinking back, I can even recall the smells of our very first day of long term cruising.  It was one of those rarely perfect Pacific Northwest days with gentle breezes making it easy for our little sailboat Espejo to slip across the channel to our first Puget Sound anchorage. Quacking ducks looking to be fed surrounded our boat as we lowered the anchor through sun sparkled water in the protected bay. We spent our afternoon exploring Vashon Island and lazing on the boat.  Each day of the next two months was almost as perfect, with just enough rain between the sunshine to add a little spice.  The end of our cruise was just as memorable. Beginning our drive south, the traffic noise, congestion and fumes on the freeway actually startled us, we’d become so used to peace and quiet.  That just-right cruise set the tone for our next 23 years.

Sparkling Ducks - 1988

Without our voyages, our outlook  would definitely be limited.  By remaining at home and safe, would we understand that people are people no matter where you find them?  Underneath our trappings of headscarves or prayer caps, designer sunglasses or Ferragamo shoes we tend to be alike. Some years ago, in an under-stocked Central American grocery store, I watched a poorly dressed woman try to decide between buying a bag of beans or one of rice.  Surely, she has the same feelings for her loved ones as the well-tended women we saw exiting Paris boutiques carrying beautifully crafted, overstuffed shopping bags.

Learning about others taught us about ourselves; our limits, our capacities, our hearts.  We try to be worthy of  the small and large kindnesses shown to us by strangers over the years and we attempt to forget the truly rude people we’ve encountered.  Dwight and I are fairly insensitive so most insults have gone right over our heads anyway.

Nothing being free, what price have we paid for our journeys?  Here Dwight and I disagree.  He feels that not one thing has been subtracted from his life, on the contrary, without serial voyaging his life would have been dull.  I, on the other hand, with family I love, feel a tad guilty by having missed so many of my grand children’s early years and being away when my daughter was struggling with family medical problems.  Never once, though, has she mentioned any resentment about my absences; she’s only cheered my small successes. 

I am truly fortunate.

 Hugh McKnight's "Cruising French Waterways" is our favorite go-to book.  Have a look at it, click here

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It's The People

This year we were glad to leave our little Echo boat and get back to our roomier Arizona house.  However, now that we've been sitting here in the desert for three days short of a month, our feelings toward canal cruising are softening, especially after receiving a very welcome email from new friends, reminding us of one of the reasons why we cruise.

Dorte & Bjarne, a Danish couple cruising on their boat Bisse, did most of the lock work as we both traveled down the Canal des Vosges. 

Dorte hanging out at the top of a lock wearing those shoes.

Usually ahead of us going into a lock, we watched, amazed, as Dorte would grab the rung of a lock ladder while Bjarne slowly drove past, taking their boat to the front of the chamber.  She scrambled up those ladders wearing flip-flops, not even serious non-slip boat shoes.  At the top of the lock, after securing the lines Bjarne lifted up to her by boat hook, she'd scurry back to our boat to take our lines. This went on lock after lock after lock without a slowdown or mishap.  Although a couple of times our hearts were in our mouths as we watched her actually jumping off their boat onto the ladder.  Scary people.

Dorte and Bjarne were in the cursed lock with us when we had our "incident" and they stuck by us afterward to make sure that neither Echo nor Fran nor Dwight broke down. Considerate people. 

Bisse heading south, hope we keep in touch

And we were pleased to get to know Jan and Jonda (I think I'm spelling that right) flying the South African flag from their boat, Bolero.  We met Jonda as she was hobbling around the Toul marina.  Though she is a yoga teacher, strong and in shape, Jonda managed to break her hip when she and her bike took a tumble in the marina at Strasbourg.  Lying on the ground for a long time unable to get up, she was finally found by a stranger.  She asked her rescuer to go to her boat to get her husband but, unfortunately, he brought back the wrong man.  It took another trip through the marina before Jan was notified of her plight.  

After her surgery, despite needing crutches, Jonda was still able to get on and off her boat, even after the boat was lifted out of the water making a climb down an 8 foot ladder necessary just to use the marina's bathroom.  We know when we see Jonda next spring, she won't be hobbling anymore, she will be running.

I'd like to know what's up with these cruising ladies?  Are they trying to intimidate me or inspire me?
  

Jiggedy-Jig

Home!  

We are happy to be here, Yogi-dog especially as he always misses his friends when he is away and traveling is never easy for him.  He made himself the talk of DeGaulle airport by insisting on carrying his stuffed bear (read security blanket) throughout the terminals and wouldn't let it loose until we put him and the bear into their kennel for the long boring trip across an ocean and a continent.  Then, in Las Vegas, it was the same...a little dog stubbornly toting a stuffed bear almost as big as he is. Well at least he gives bored travelers a chuckle.  

Yogi with bear..or bear with Yogi

Last night, as a large pack of coyotes was yipping its way through our complex,  I was reminded of one reason why I like Europe. There is nothing that wants to eat my dog along the canals; no coyotes, no bobcats, no mountain lions.  Nor are there any rattlesnakes or javalina to threaten him and what a relief it is not to be always on the lookout.  But then with slippery decks and turbulent lock water we could lose him overboard,  Well, geeze....it's always something, isn't it? 

The people of this household are particularly happy to be home with a car and easy shopping.  Corre, France is a town with only 600 inhabitants, one grocery store, one boulangerie, a garden store and two restaurants.  We noticed that the stores in Corre weren't big on restocking their shelves so when the last item was sold......well, it was gone.  The boulangerie was a little better but didn't always have our favorite kind of baguette. 

The quiet center of town

Then there is the bicycle contraption our marina lends to you, free of charge, so you can ride to the grocery store.  Believe us when we tell you that it is easier to walk, although you don't look quite as charming (or silly) when walking.

Echomarche is the name of Corre's grocery store

I owe my avid readers and Dwight an apology.  Before I flew to Liege, Belgium to meet Dwight, he told me that beside building the settee, he had an surprise waiting for me.  It was a doozie.
Dwight put a hot water line into the galley sink.  We now have hot, hot water going into the bathroom shower and the kitchen sink.  Oh, what luxury.

Because we have no new adventures to write about now, I am going to go back through our old log books to see what other stories I might be able to dredge up from the past.  Stay tuned.

Why I Hate J. K. Rowling & Other Tragedies of This Cruising Life

One of our dock neighbors is a kindly French woman who puts up with my extremely bad French and likes our dog.  When we are out on the dock, she will stop by to pet Yogi and try to have a conversation with me despite my garbled French sentences.  So far, I’ve come to understand that she is from Bordeaux but lives in Madagascar during the winter and she’s come to understand that I have few language skills and am not very bright.

For over a week, I stared at the name of her boat, ‘Gryffindor‘, looking it up in both my French/English dictionary and my plain old English dictionary.  I began to think that it was an ancient, obscure French word with perhaps a double meaning.  Duh!

I literally slapped myself upside the head when I realized why my grandchildren have been nagging at me to read the Harry Potter books.  Those stories are so much a part of the world now we’d (I’d) better get used to them, no matter how old, cranky or backwards we (I) may be.

Gryffindor - one of the four houses at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which, in particular, epitomizes courage and chivalry.

Almost every evening our marina capitain, Jean-Pierre, serenades us boaters by appearing on his second story deck with his alpenhorn and belting out a few tunes.  He usually blows melodies I am not familiar with but last night we heard Amazing Grace and the Marseilles coming from the end of his long horn.  How nice to hear live music; we look forward to his twilight concerts and are disappointed when he misses one.

The marina up a creek

 Even though Corre is the tiniest, sleepiest of towns it boasts two marinas.  Our marina is up a creek (literally not figuratively) but the town marina sits right on the Canal De Vosges.  As Yogi and I took our evening walk through both marinas, we were approached by a local man who, with his granddaughter, was walking from boat to boat peddling fresh fruits and vegetables from his garden.  I said sorry but I had no money with me.  No matter, he said, reaching into his basket for 2 tiny peaches which he presented to me with a flourish.  Juicy, sweet and gone in a gulp - merci beaucoup, monsieur.

The town marina alongside the Canal de Vosges

Our local grand-pere isn’t the only enterprising spirit along this canal.  On our way to Corre, just as we had pushed the lever to begin a locking process, a grandmother with fresh haricot vert, a picture perfect head of lettuce and newly dug potatoes perched in her motor scooter’s carrier roared up to lock side.  We were too busy line handling to dig out any money so she revved up her motor and peeled out to find boaters with looser pockets.  Bon chance, madam (although with her kind of get-up-and-scoot attitude, her chance is already bon).

Then we ran across that damn selfish dog.  A group of men stood talking together alongside a lock and, as our boat entered, I noticed a wire-haired Fox terrier beside them sniffing the ground, digging a bit, then eating what he found.  I pointed the dog out to Dwight, wondering out loud what that puppy was chewing. His owner looked up and said “truffles”.  Truffles, those little black gems worth hundreds of dollars a pound and that dog was not sharing, nor was his owner ripping the food out of its mouth to sell on the open market.  At last we’ve met a dog even more indulged than our Yogi-dog.

The canals aren’t all ancient scenery or scary times in the locks.  Sometimes they are cornucopias yielding freshly picked vegetables, sweet golden honey or just laid eggs with orange yolks that stand at attention in your frying pan…..but not truffles.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (isn't that title already taken?)

The Good
The birds left earlier than usual this morning.  Here in Corre, raucous crows fill a few trees across the marina from us.  The quarrelsome, noisy birds fly off in the mornings cawing loudly, then in the evenings fly back to roost in their favorite tree complaining all the while. 
I enjoyed them when we were in Corre 8 years ago and they still please me so I listen for them.  But all was quiet when Yogi and I walked by the trees on our regular morning stroll.  
I don’t know where the birds were I just know that I missed their fussing.

We are finally where we are supposed to be.  We’re leaving on a jet plane in just about 2 weeks and little Echo will stay here safely tucked up for the winter.  We hadn’t planned to return to Corre, we were off to Niderviller which is close to Strasbourg, then, after listening to some cruiser friends sing the praises of the new owners of this marina, we changed our minds and headed south instead of east.  And we are glad we did….sort of.  Never have we found more accommodating people.  Corre is a small village with no facilities, so the capitain, Jean-Pierre and his wife Doris, today are driving Dwight to the dentist in the next town, driving Yogi and I to the vet next week for an International Health Certificate and will be driving us to catch the high speed train to Paris.  That is service!

The Bad
We are only sort of glad to be here because of an incident in one of the locks coming down the Canal de Vosges.  We’ve been through hundreds of locks both going up and going down.  Down is always easier, gentler, except for this time.  I cannot explain why the water wasn’t going in the right direction….it was rushing into the lock from the downward side, where it was lower than we were, creating such turbulence that our aft line broke under the strain and the boat repeatedly crashed into the side of the lock.  We had no control whatsoever  Standing on deck, I clutched the handrails trying not to fall off at each shuddering bang.  All of a sudden, I head the engine start and Dwight was driving the boat forward despite the end of the broken line being wrapped around the prop, using all of our 70 horsepower to keep the boat from being slammed into the lock gates behind us.  Meanwhile the two young VNF lock keepers, who we suspect caused the problem, just stood at the top of the lock frantically calling their supervisors (we hope) on their cell phones.  Finally the downstream gates opened stopping the rush of water into the lock chamber.  The propeller somehow cut through the wrapped line and we moved forward, out of that damn place.

We would like to say a few things to this boat of ours:

• thanks for being steel because a fiberglass boat would have been destroyed
• thanks for having a strong propeller
• thanks for keeping Yogi-dog inside during all this otherwise he would have been thrown from the deck and drowned in that turbulent water
• thanks for taking good care of us, we will return the favor

 I, Fran, who’ve never been particularly fond of this boat have a new respect for it and also for Dwight for his quick thinking and driving skills.  Whew, glad that’s over….well, not quite.  We are pretty sure that the shaft was damaged in the melee.  Our accommodating hosts here in the Corre Marina have composed a letter in French and sent it to the VNF in hopes that they will take up some of the cost of new lines, a new shaft and renewing the paint scraped off by the lock wall.  Keep your fingers crossed for us.

The Ugly

The nasty blister obtained while trying to hang on

Poor, poor boat

Two Pictures Worth A Couple of Words-Maybe

Occasionally, due to a lack of parking space at a halt, we raft up to another boat. Getting Yogi-dog to shore for his morning emptying session presents a problem as small dogs do not cross wet slippery decks easily. So our dog is snapped securely into his life jacket so we can then safely and easily carry a bundle of Yogi. 

 

 

 

 

A French Laundry.  Yes, that is a urinal right next to the washer and dryer--sigh.

Snippets

If you travel far enough south on the River Muese,  you find yourself in Lorraine country….as in quiche. There is more to Lorraine, though, than just a piece of pie, no matter how delicious.  The village Domremy-la-Purcelle is in Lorraine, birthplace of Joan of Arc. Not far from there, less than 2 kilometers, is the very spot where she heard her “voices” telling her to save France.  A chapel stands there now.

Another local favorite is Stanislaw Leszczynski, twice deposed King of Poland who, after becoming the Duke of Lorraine by the good graces of his nephew, France’s Louis XV, also became a patron of the arts and a tireless builder.  Here in Commercy, we are about half a kilometer from one of Stan’s country cottages. Also, under Mr. Lesczynski’s rule, rum baba and Madeleine sponge cakes were born, which I am sure he enjoyed as evidenced by the roundness of his cheeks in his portraits.  Those gastronomical delights probably assuaged his hunger after a busy day of running around building.

The country summer cottage of His Royal Portly-ness

Verdun is in Lorraine.  We don’t know what to say about Verdun and its World War I history.  Reciting statistics such as there isn’t a tree standing today that was alive prior to 1918 or that  the 10 month long battle between the Germans, the French and finally the Americans resulted in over 800,000 casualties, seem to reduce the pain that was felt then and sacrifices that were made to something akin to being impressed by the world’s largest hot dog.  Perhaps those young men knew what they were fighting for, perhaps their sense of patriotism kept them from despair.  We certainly hope so.  Even after 93 years, reading the names engraved on the memorials tugs at almost everyone’s heart.   Thank goodness WWI ended the notion of the romance of war….no one today would wait until the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month to end a bloody conflict, or would they?  

That the tourist office in Verdun is exceptionally accommodating is an understatement.  First of all, moorage for boats is gratis (water and electricity included), then the Office de Tourisme lends you an electric car, free of charge, so that you can tour the battlegrounds, or go to the store if you need to.   It’s not a big car, just a big gesture.  Thank you, Verdun.

Big enough for 1-1/2

Most of the locks on the Muese are automatic, which means that you are given a remote control so you can point and click to begin the lock’s process of opening, filling and lifting your boat up to the next level (or down if you’re going the other way).  Great system, although sometimes…it was a dark and rainy day and the two red lights on the outside of the lock told us that it was out of service, not operating, kaput.  With no convenient place to tie up,  Dwight maneuvered the boat next to a grassy, sloping, slippery bank, I leaped off, clutching a line to hold the boat steady against the current.  Then, as we were pounding stakes into the muddy ground to secure the boat, we debated about who was going to walk up to the lock to use the intercom to report the outage, all the while yelling at Yogi-dog to shut-up, stop barking and screaming because he wasn’t going to be allowed off the boat.   Dwight has the better rain coat so he went, scrambling up the bank on his hands and knees.  Just as he got to the lock, a VNF (Voies Navigable de France) truck pulled up and the lockkeeper told us to bring the boat inside the lock.  Dwight hurried back through the pouring rain but getting down the bank turned out to be harder than getting up.  With his fanny stuck high in the air, Dwight cautiously slid almost face down the slope, grabbing at tall weeds to slow his velocity.  We could choose to be dry, comfortable and warm in a sweet little house in the desert--what are we thinking?

Dwight warming himself with soup while at......

at lock bottom, waiting, waiting, waiting

Our boat, Echo, is well named.  You’ve read before how Dwight used salvaged wood to build our much needed salon settee.  Now we have cushions.  One of our trips to a grocery store required a 3 kilometer bicycle ride and as we were pedaling, I noticed a thick piece of foam rubber in the roadside ditch.  Turns out that someone lost a lightweight twin size mattress.  It must have been in the ditch for awhile because it was wet and buggy, but someone’s loss is our gain.  We rolled the piece of foam as tightly as we could, secured it to the bike and brought it to its new floating home.  Now, with our brightly covered cushions and our step/footrest made from a wooden wine crate that Dwight rescued from a restaurant dumpster, we almost have a living room.  So it seems that this boat is being brought to a livable condition by things that have a past--an echo of what used to be--how appropriate.  Has anyone seen a small folding table we could pick up?

Back cushions are next

Lessons for All

In one of his books, the writer David Sedaris describes his attempts to learn French.  He tells about a day he asked a butcher “Is them the thoughts of cows?” when he really meant to ask if the meat in the display case was calf’s brains.  Apparently Mr. Sedaris and I have a stumbling block in common.  Lately I have found myself blurting out phrases that sound just as ridiculous.  I might be making progress though, at least I am beginning to realize how foolish I sound.  The French, bless their hearts, being a kindly, polite people, just smile and nod, agreeing “yes, them is.”

As my French practice for this week, I have composed a little story for your enjoyment and edification (but don’t quote me on any of it.....although you may correct me).

See Yogi
Voyez Yogi

See Yogi jump off the boat
Voyez Yogi saut de le bateau

See Yogi slip and fall in the water
Voyez Yogi glisse’ et tombe dans l’eau

Help me, help me says Yogi
Aidez-moi, aidez-moi, dit Yogi

See Fran
Voyez Fran

See Fran lie down in the mud
Voyez Fran s’allonge dans le boue

See Fran lift Yogi out of the water
Voyez Fran leve Yogi de l’eau

See a very dirty Fran, a very wet Yogi and a happy ending
Voyez Fran tres sale, Yogi tres mouillle’ et un conclure heureaux

Too bad Yogi didn't fall in here, at least Fran would have stayed clean

Incommunicado

Our reactions to not being able to be on the internet at will amazes us.  We actually have withdrawal-like symptoms. We feel relieved that we are back......more or less.

Greetings from Charleville, France.  We have traveled down the Muese river from Liege, Belgium and despite a few glitches, we've had a lovely trip.  After Namur, Belgium, the commercial barge traffic thins out to practically nothing, the hills grow taller, the woods get thicker, the towns ooze with charm, the locks get friendlier and easier to negotiate. 
We are back to the kind of cruising that we remember.

The old fortifications in Namur, Belgium. A bagpiper's lament was drifting across the river as I took this picture.

Flower filled marina, Revin, France

Path to the charming but unisex shower room, Revin, France

Glitch number one: we are out of propane and cannot get our Netherlands' propane bottles refilled here.  France has a different system (of course) so we must travel to the next town to get an adapter and somehow find propane containers to fit inside our locker.  Oh well, excrement occurs, doesn't it?

Yogi with Adolphe Sax in Dinant, Belgium

M. Sax (of 'aphone fame) is very popular in Dinant.

Glitch number two: just as we crossed the French border, we were stopped, thoroughly inspected by the gendarmes and found lacking.  Our fire extinguisher wasn't dated and we do not have a throwable life ring aboard so we were written up although we were allowed to enter France on the condition that we rectify our lack of safety equipment and report back when we have done so.
We've been told that there is a big problem with drug smuggling into France, so before the gendarmes sent a diver to inspect our boat's bottom, before they ordered our little Yogi-dog off the boat so that their drug sniffing dog could inspect all our corners and before they made Dwight take a breathalizer test for drugs, we quickly fed all our contraband to the dog ...............just kidding.

Duty calls even when it's raining

 
Glitch number three: we cannot cook without propane and Yogi-dog is running out of his super-deluxe home-made dog food.  In our search for propane, we had to by-pass some lovely little "haulte fluvials" that needed exploring.  Guess that someday we will just have to return to do the Muese again.  Not too sure that is a glitch though.

Finally, a little visual aid to show just how fast we travel.

 

Now it's time to join some fellow American cruisers for a glass of wine this evening.  It's a small world, so when we found out that they are from Tucson and spend their summers on the European waterways.....well, golly, it didn't surprise us at all. 

Cruising Time

Finally, it is time to move this boat.  Graduations are all over, I am back from safari and Dwight, who feels like he's been in Liege since 'nineteen-ought-four', is anxious to see new sights.  With any luck at all, we will be saying goodbye to the Liege Marina on Friday morning, July 15.

Yes, you read that word correctly - safari.  Not what it used to be though.  I think I saw more tourists than animals.  These days, at least in Tanzania, you ride through national parks while standing in the back of a Land Rover hoping to catch a glimpse of "the big 5": lion, rhino, elephant, leopard and cheetah. Seems like the people are caged not the animals.  But we saw every one of them roaming free (plus a few more) and traffic, traffic, traffic.  I never imagined that I would be stuck in a traffic jam in the Serengeti.  Guides don't have to search for game anymore, they just have to be good at spotting a group of Land Rovers on the horizon.

Looking through traffic at a leopard lazing in a tree (we did get closer)

Very glad I got to go to Africa though.  All the things I expected to see are still there; hundreds of wildebeest and fat-bottomed zebra, giraffes chomping on the tops of trees, elephants strolling ponderously through the bush, and in early July, adorable babies of every kind from baboons to buffalo.  Plus in 11 African days, I was only bug-bitten 27 times.  Not bad for me.

The graduations were worth waiting for; my nephew, written up in the local newspaper as a young man with the ability to go his own way, will be studying film making in college; my 6'1" 14 year old grandson is out of middle school and on his way to an exciting high school basketball career; my 18 year old granddaughter, senior class president and prom queen, is on her way to UC Davis to study molecular biology (she thinks), and our double major university graduate, my oldest granddaughter, is working with autistic children changing their lives for the better. Bragging? You betcha'! To all those old cranks complaining about this younger generation....you don't know what you're talking about.

  The 3 graduates in the middle of family

Now it's back to doing what we do best...canal cruising.

Denver and Beyond

We Are Here

Since my last post, one week has disappeared from our lives.  Yogi and I arrived in Liege, Belgium, a little worse for wear but we seem to be bearing up admirably....sleeping a lot, though.

We will have more to say about the trip but this post is a paean to airlines.

Arriving at Denver's overly large airport I really felt that Yogi-dog needed a potty break before boarding the plane for our 5 hour flight to Boston's Logan Airport.  But the logistics of taking the train to the main terminal, walking the dog, then going through security wouldn't allow us to get back to our gate before our plane left.

A Southwest Airlines gate agent came to our rescue after hearing our story.  She called a supervisor who took Yogi-dog down the long steps beside our plane, ran him and allowed Yogi to do that leg-lifting thing that he does best, then brought doggie back to me, emptier and happier.

In Boston, the Iceland Air personnel took the kenneled, unhappy little dog into their back office, keeping him somewhat mollified until it was time for him to get stuck in the plane's cargo compartment.  All other airlines have let him languish on the tarmac with the other luggage.

So Yogi and I would like to thank the kind employees of Southwest and Iceland Air.  A long difficult trip was made a little easier by your thoughtfulness.

River Traffic on la rive Muese (yes, that is a car on the aft end)

Countdown

One week from today, a mere 7 days, Yogi dog and I will be winging our way towards Belgium and our Echo boat.  My family has been extraordinarily hospitable but I wanna' go home and our modest, little boat is just that....home.

Although, from what I have heard and seen, the modest boat is becoming less so.  Dwight has been working very hard.  Look what he has accomplished.

A seat, a seat

With storage space, space, space

Our Echo was missing so many things that make life aboard easier and enough stowage was a big one.  Dwight deserves a huge pat on his back for building the settee.  Lumber is so expensive in Europe but if you happen to be in a marina where someone is upgrading a rather large barge and if you do a little dumpster diving all kinds of good wood will be at your disposal, well, maybe not all kinds but enough to build a great little settee.  And, if you are lucky, you also have a generous neighbor with a few power tools.


Dwight also has another surprise for me but he won't tell me what it is.  This is the first time in his life that he hasn't blurted out a secret.  I will lay odds that he won't be able to contain himself for another week.

Now there will be no lazing around getting over jet lag for me when I get to the boat.  We'll have to find fabric, foam and stain so that I can match the settee to our wood and sew cushions and pillows for comfort.  My nice little European sewing machine is going to get a work out....me, too.

Dwight's even put the right name on the boat

Awwwww

Some of This But Not Much of That

Two graduations down, another 2 to go then Yogi and I will be off to Belgium.  I am getting excited.  It's not that I don't love my family, I just hate their weather.  It snowed all day yesterday and this is what we woke to this morning.  I know it's Tahoe and I know it snows lots here but come on, it is May 29th.

Meanwhile, this is what Dwight is experiencing in Liege.  T'ain't fair.

 

He even bought some flowers so our boat wouldn't look so forlorn.

 You can see from the picture what a big city Liege really is.  By the time we are ready to move the boat, I am sure that Dwight will have had his fill of crowds and noise and bustle. He will be anxious for a little countryside peace and quiet.  So will Yogi so will I, but first we have to get there.

I am apprehensive about our journey.  We are following Dwight's itinerary, almost.  We fly out of Reno, change planes in Denver, fly to Boston, overnight there then the next day fly to Rekjavik, change to the plane flying into Brussels finally meeting Dwight at 6 a.m. then take the train to the boat.  My poor Yogi-dog--although I am not certain which one of us will be the worse for wear; the 4 year old dog or the septugenarian woman.  

Because it would be so much easier and less expensive to stay home, I often wonder just why we enjoy this boating life.  We struggle with the expense of owning and maintaining a boat; we struggle with the logistics of getting from here to there; day-to-day living in a foreign country can be hard, especially in the French speaking part of Belgium where, just like in France, everyone speaks English but refuses to, so we struggle to communicate in another language.  We have to learn to navigate not just new canals but new cities, stretch, stretch, stretching ourselves, mentally and physically, all the time.  We are not sure whether all this is keeping us young or just making us tired.  Nevertheless, it is what we do.

Waking to the birds' morning songs while tied to the bank of a quiet canal; buying our daily baguette and crispy warm croissants from the local boulangerie; serendipitous meetings with old cruising friends or sharing a glass of wine with new cruising buddies satisfies us, it expands our world and warms the cockles of our hearts.  We are better people because of it.....albeit with emptier pockets.  Ehhh, you can't have everything.

Great Scenery

Dwight took a picture today that is way too good not to post right away.

What to do in Liege, Belgium on a sunny afternoon.  Hope Dwight stayed to listen for a bit.

More Scenery

One of 4 very large locks getting from Holland to Belgium

 

BIG lock gates closing on our little boat--watch your fingers, Dwight

Your neighbors in the locks are intimidating, too

A large barge

Echo coming out of that lock while another barge goes in

After all that work, dinner is served (avec vin)