Very early the next morning, about 10 or 11 o’clock, I am woken by the growling of the engine. They have set off without warning and I find myself like an idiot in the middle of nowhere, without a chance to warn whoever. I raise a tentacle and cast an eye and what do I see…the entrance to the Canal de Bourgogne, just before Migennes! I know this spot like the back of my hand from cousins of mine who wanted to get involved in a restaurant, the idiots. I knew I mustn’t miss this place
because it’s not easy to spot, but glancing out of the other eye I see the photographer and the captain poring over the navigation charts. I hastily extract myself from the bucket where I have spent the night, and already the Laroche lock recedes into the distance behind us. Not even any time to admire the scenery! I have to admit that there’s not much to see here apart from marshalling yards and comical engines that look like toys for grown-ups.

The TGV roars past at a terrific speed and sounds its horn to acknowledge us. Two opposing worlds…
My pleasure boaters go like bats out of hell, at least 7 or 8 kilometres an hour.
We cover all this section of canal in a straight line, more or less, without meeting any opposition except for some locks, all worked by hand, and we find ourselves at St. Florentin in no time, barely a few hours, having passed some inveterate anglers doing a bit of fishing from the banks.
Our arrival in the city where Cheese is King (but really difficult to find in the shops) is pretty spectacular: the sight of St. Florentin church glowing luminous on a base of green trees makes one think of a sort of fluvial Mont Saint-Michel, reflected in the waters of the canal. “Vénarey” is soon moored against the canal bank, and I see that my companions are getting ready. I sense that yesterday’s jaunt will be repeated, so I bury myself once again in the camera bag and allow myself to be carried to town between the lenses and films. What is it that so motivates them that they move like this?
At the edge of the town there’s a peculiar house standing stiffly, hung with slates and with balconies of rusty wrought iron. The strange atmosphere around this building has something of Hitchcock about it. One feels it is peopled with memories and ghosts. Happily, the wearer of the bag doesn’t stop, and we enter into town under the protection of the 12th century clock tower, all that remains of the original town walls.
We climb up as far as the church where the relics of the saint who gave his family name to the town are preserved. Its construction was delayed by the hundred years’ war which raged at that time. Building work started in 1376 and finished in 1614, under the regency of Marie de Medicis. For date fanatics, note that it was in 1614 that the last reunion of States General before the revolution took place….
Inside is pure enchantment. Sixteenth century statues of the Trojan school, sculptures, stained glass windows, the altar… Everything here attracts the eye with its lightness, grace and elegance. Such is the pleasure of unexpected discoveries.
Several beautiful old houses later we finish going round the church and find ourselves in front of a lovely Renaissance fountain. I have just discovered an engraved motif depicting me in the middle of three bronze griffons. I must say, putting modesty aside, I find myself very handsome. If I had ankles they would swell with pride!

This little construction is in fact a reproduction of a fountain built early in the sixteenth century, central to life in Florence until its demolition in 1859. The characters decorating the capital are Adam and Eve completely naked, St. Beata and a dragon, St. Barbara and the tower where she was imprisoned, St. Martin, former patron of the parish dressed in his bishop’s robes, and of course St. Florentin in armour with the sun on his shield. We end our tour of the town on a rocky spur facing a sea of red-tiled roofs from which the church rises. It was on this spur that a convent for canons and hospitallers was built in the eleventh century, which disappeared at the Revolution. A charming little pavillion enhances the spot and from there a magnificent view of St. Florentin and the surrounding area unfolds. Our little gang goes down towards the boat and I stay in the camera bag for the night.