We start on the last part of the journey, I’m sure of it. I hear their conversations clearly, where it’s about returning the boat tomorrow, talking of Gaul, and of aniseed sweets. All that doesn’t mean much to me. I must do some serious thinking to try and understand why these four friends have come here, and, above all, why are they travelling on this floating house which doesn’t even serve them as an office.
The poplars bordering the canal form two long lines of slightly bald sentries. It turns out that it was the company SEITA, now defunct, who maintained these poplars for making matches. These are in the process of disappearing and the poplars are waiting for someone to come and give them a bit of a facelift. But for mistletoe for the New Year it’s a spot to dream of….Anyway it’s a magnificent place. We pass by some old fortified farms, which recede into the distance, and at Courcelles lock some walkers help to get us through. The kids are delighted!

The fishermen are in their places, the sun shines and so do the fields of rapeseed…this is happiness. The sky is reflected in the calm waves and only birdsong and the lapping of our wake breaks the silence. Groups of calves watch us going by – it’s something new for them – and inexorably we progress.

 

Not far from Vénarey, our next (and last) stop, we pass a curious boat moored at a lock. It’s all wood, with a cabin which stretches from the front to behind the motor. It’s an English “Narrowboat” wintering here and waiting for its owners from Chatham. They’d better be thin…
At the end of the afternoon we reach the Locaboat base at Vénarey Les Laumes, the end of the cruise. I think I understand the real story behind it all…

Tourism.

But special tourism, that needs to be said. You only have to watch them walking peacefully hand in hand in the little streets of Flavigny the next day. These tourists travel differently. A bit like me with my house on my back, slowly, in order not to miss countryside and sites that one leaves to one side so frequently in this age of speed. They seem relaxed, happy, serene. They journey at walking pace, far from crowds, far from tumult. And they benefit from it, clearly.
At Flavigny, famous down the ages for its aniseed sweets, they went through the small gateway protected by the Virgin Mary, travelled round the alleyways of the village, admired old houses, visited the thirteenth century church of St. Genest, noticed the interesting sights which mark out the former religious capital of the Auxois. They walked on the footpath which fringes the village, a sort of round path where the countryside is spread out on the surrounding hills, witness to battles of times past.

- Look at diaporama of Flavigny sur Ozerain -

Alésia under a burning sun…

Then they continued towards Alésia, nearby, to breathe the air where Caesar and Vercingétorix joined in battle. Under a burning sun they covered the remains of the little streets of this gallic-roman city, bordered with traces of houses of that time. They imagined the noisy and bustling life of the merchants, the taverns of the Gaul of the first century before our own time. They dreamed of these Gauls from the history books – “our ancestors” – and of the first big battle in the history of France, where the honour of a people did not fail.

- Look at diaporama of Alésia -

Then they left, with me, as always, in the camera bag.
Since then I have been passing happy days in a little garden in the suburbs of Paris. And finally, all things considered, I don’t regret that they chose to take over my office…