The
next day, the scenery changes little by little : weeping-willows and reeds
flourish along the canal-side, the valley widens out to vast, level fields
dotted with large white houses on one side, and huge expanses of sunflowers
on the other. Entire colonies of sleeping ducks can still be seen on the
banks. The characteristic feel of the Midi (South of France) is becoming
ever more perceptible. The soil is drier, paler, and we’re starting
to see vineyards. On the round-tiled rooftops, doves are billing and cooing.
The beech trees are giving way to yews and cypresses. In a word, it all
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The locks follow one-on-another, each one’s name evoking history : Guerre, La Peyruque, La Criminelle. The double lock at Lalande is unusual : after the first three gates which close on oval-shaped ponds, the next reservoir is rectangular and wide enough to enable several boats to pass one another and tie up for a restful break before going through the final lock, Herminis. The layout of the locks makes it easy for younger passengers to get out and stretch their legs : it’s a safe spot to ride a bicycle to the sound of the cicadas.
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In
mid-afternoon, we enter Carcassonne. As we pass under a high, flower-laden
bridge, then between two high walls, we can see the medieval town in the
distance. It happens to be Fiesta y Toros time. The festivities include
bulls and parades to see, and plenty of music, dancing and sleepless nights
into the bargain. We prefer to tie up a little farther along the canal
at a more peaceful mooring, kindly pointed out by the port manageress.
We lock up the boat and set off to discover the old town. A few minutes’
walk away, we find a shuttle service which drops us off right at the foot
of the city walls. An impression of awe is guaranteed. Children and grown-ups
alike are delighted. It’s only once you come face up against the
walls that you realize the restoration work carried out by Viollet-le-Duc.
It’s easy to imagine all the inhabitants in period costume, the
knights in armour and the fine ladies high up on the battlements.
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We
are not the only visitors : it is so crowded that we have some difficulty
in threading our way up to the highpoint of the city, the castle. Carcassonne
is classed as a World Heritage Site, and justly so. However, the unique
sensation one feels there - of having suddenly travelled back in time
- is somewhat tarnished by the profusion of tourist shops and attractions
for kids and overgrown kids. We meet a few bands of knights only three
feet tall, armed with swords and axes and wearing helmets – all
made of plastic. The shop signs indicate how downmarket some establishments
are : from Souvenirs des remparts (Rampart Souvenirs) to Troubadours,
Le vieux Saloir (The old salting-tub) and L’arbalétrier (the
Crossbowman) ; in one alley, even a Maison Hantée (Haunted House)
has opened its doors. What’s on sale here is a rather cheapened
‘Middle Ages’ which lacks authenticity. We escape through
a passage between two ancient walls and reach the summit of the ramparts
as the sun is setting. The beauty of it takes our breath away. We can
see for miles, and only muffled sounds filter up from below. Feeling reconciled
with our time, we plunge back into the crowds and do find some very attractive
boutiques as well as an impressive number of restaurants offering a cosy,
relaxing atmosphere. The confit we dine on is sublime. In short, we are
content.
Night has fallen on the ramparts which are now magnificently floodlit.
It’s time to make our way back to the boat, between two showers
of rain. We phone for a taxi, which is to pick us up at the entrance to
the old town. It doesn’t turn up, so we go back across the river
Aude on foot. The Vieux Pont (Old Bridge) is lit up like a cathedral.
It is a splendid sight we’d willingly linger at, if we didn’t
have a few kilometres’ walk ahead of us.
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The
sounds of the distant Fiesta are only just perceptible as we fall asleep
and dream of the ancient walls and their ghosts. Tomorrow morning we’re
going to the market ! An occasion not to be missed for buying in
fresh vegetables, fruit, meat, fish and local products ; and for the pleasure
of mingling among all the sounds and scents of a southern French market.
