We wake up to the sound of birdsong and see early-morning joggers pass by. After breakfast, we set off on the first proper stage of our cruise, in all, a 145km journey which will take us through almost fifty locks -including some triple and quadruple ones – before reaching Argens. If we want time to stop off en route, we’d better not hang about!
The Canal du Midi owes its existence to Pierre-Paul Riquet, the Baron of Bonrepos, whose brilliant mind conceived the project. The canal, now listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, was built in the space of fifteen years, between 1667 and 1681. It runs south from Toulouse, veers up to the Ocean lock (near Montferrand), and then turns south again towards the Mediterranean. On the way up, the cycling path, which runs adjacent to the canal throughout its length, is on the left-hand side ; while on the way down, it’s on the right-hand side. It’s as easy as ABC!
Riquet - and this, in itself, was no mean achievement! - convinced Colbert that the Canal project could be undertaken without making too much of a dent in a budget already diminished by the building of Versailles. In fact, the construction of the Atlantic-Mediterranean canal link was carried out at Riquet’s own expense, apart from some share in the cost of employing the 12 000 workers, including the 600 women who transported the stones.

So, from Toulouse we cruise leisurely back the short way we came, under the green archway of ancient plane trees. We overtake the morning joggers and are, in turn, overtaken by cyclists with whom we exchange a ‘Bonjour!’. Speed is beside the point. We enjoy other pleasures. We watch the ducks rush towards the boat to beg for a crust of bread ; we contemplate the weeping-willows here and there along the banks, their long branches hanging right down to touch the mirror-like water. The bow enters the water imperceptibly, without the least ripple, not even a wrinkle to distort the reflection. It’s unreal. We pass a few flower-decked barges whose owners greet us. Ah! Life on the water! It’s a world apart!

Ahead of us, a kid is playing a stupid game : he has tied a rope-swing to the branch of a plane tree and is swinging out from the bank as far as he can above the water. I pray to Heaven that the rope will hold out and that he won’t end up landing on our deck. However, all goes well and we leave him to get on with his circus-training. ‘Youth must have its fling’, as my god-fearing grandmother would say.