After the Ocean lock, we come, logically, to the Mediterranean lock. It is draped with ivy. Here we meet up with our two acquaintances from the yacht and we all wait for the lock-gates to open. I have a moving memory of the plaque on the lock-wall : ‘the 9th Year of the French Republic’. That’s really something. We’re travelling on a historic monument.

At last the gates open ; we pass the (very narrow) bridge, followed by a short reach of 800 metres, and then go straight into the next manoeuvre : the double lock at Le Roc. There, a boat is coming in the opposite direction and we pass it inside one of the lock-chambers. A bit of deft handiwork on all sides, a short chat with the lock keeper, and off we sail to new adventures !
At the following lock, Laurens, not less than three chambers await us. There is no doubt about it : the descent towards the Mediterranean has begun. The people on the yacht in front are having a whale of a time, while on the Saint Sernin the atmosphere is more studious … although I can’t speak for everyone!

We are almost in sight of Castelnaudary and to starboard a colony of ducks are having their afternoon nap. Soon, we come to the outskirts of the world capital of cassoulet, a dish invented by its starving inhabitants during the 'Hundred Years’ War. They were short of food, but not of ideas. God bless the baker who lent the use of his oven that famous day ! We pass the fire-station, where a budding-champion cyclist is in training, then go under an old stone bridge (the Pont Neuf) to find ourselves in the Grand Bassin in the teeming rain! A few boats are moored there and we join the motley crew of passengers who are waiting opposite the old mill which stands at the entrance to the Canelot, the other name for the Grand Bassin.

 

We get out our oilskins and raincoats and go shopping for provisions. In the avenues of the town, the feel of the South is unmistakable. A rather wet south, in our own case. We can’t spare too much time to spend here, but we swear we’ll come back to explore the old mills, the magical collegiate church of Saint-Michel, and the bailiff’s court which was built for Catherine of Medici, Countess of Lauragais and whose interior and dungeons are open to visit. Once back on board and dried off, we pass through the quadruple lock at Saint-Roch. It’s a kind of gigantic elevator which conveys us almost 10 metres downwards to a wide stone-lined reservoir, which is tranquil and – at long last – sunlit! Tourists congregate in their dozens to watch the boats and the sailors. Tonight we’re sleeping under the plane trees at the Saint-Sernin lock, the namesake of our boat. The night is clear and the sky is lit up by thousands of stars ; the fragrant herb tea we drink at supper on the deck evokes distant lands.