Portsmouth

Visiting England, I had a fun day in Portsmouth, site of Europe's largest naval base.

Warrior was built in 1860 as a response to the construction of the French Gloire

 

 

 

Halyards trailing on deck: ropework not up to James Craig standards!

The crew handling the guns worked, ate and slept here

Mary Rose, pride of Henry VIII's navy, sank in 1545--was it the result of French gunfire?

Sailors streamed the log in Mary Rose, as is still done aboard the tall ship James Craig

Sadly, Britain's sovereignty is lost, as daleks have taken over the Royal Navy

Oxygen Masks On!

Mathilde reached the highest point on the Canal du Midi, almost the height of K2, a dizzying 189 metres above sea level. Australians are proud of the Snowy Mountains Scheme: over three hundred years ago Monsieur Riquet brought about a canal connecting sea to shining sea, and he turned rivers around to provide water to feed it (each time a lock is used, water goes from one level to a lower level so that, without replenishment--30 million cubic metres per year--the system would run dry).

There were many signs saying parting of the waters. 

This sign "parting of the waters" made me think of Moses and the Red Sea but of course it means watershed.

Riquet's descendants erected an obelix to mark his achievement, with a symbolic girl replenishing the canal, which links Poseidon (representing the Atlantic) and Venus (I'm sure it's significant that this goddess was chosen to represent the Mediterranean). 

 Then Mathilde went to bed.

Mostly Castelnaudary

Castelnaudary (meaning Arius' New Castle—new in the 12^th century) is fun for the photographer.

 I caught snow on the Pyrenees to the south.

I was intrigued by a sign saying Semi-Pedestrian Way: I found this puzzling till I saw some one-legged people hopping along. Maybe it's all in honour of St Roch.

As I make these notes I enjoy practice at the Ecole de Musique across the water. Reminds me of classes in Toronto.

I'm reading a book by Alison Weir on Eleanor of Aquitaine, redoubtable ruler of these parts in the twelfth century. She was quite a girl—a good-time girl--and it helps to know some of the places mentioned in the book.

Today Saturday I went by public transport to the market of Revel—a village, not a composer. Going northeast, we drove up into the foothills of the Black Mountains, past an artificial lake which feeds the Canal du Midi, and which is itself fed by streams from the said Black Mountains. Very pretty countryside, patchwork of fields with crops including wheat and sunflowers and forest. Like the Shire, good tilth pleasing to hobbits.

Then back to Castelnaudary.

 Strange to think that in less than a week's time I'll be in England. Christopher Ecclestone is playing in Antigone. I believe it's not a comedy, but it may be worth seeing.

Castelnaudary

Don't you just hate it when you read an important official notice to boaters which says “Un cerclage vert repère les arbres chancrés” and you look up “cerclage” in your French–English dictionary and it translates it as cerclage? 

 

Mathilde briefly visited the Grand Bassin of Castelnaudary, which had a very Mediterranean look, I thought, before moving to another marina in the same town. 

I walked up to the highest point of the town, finding an old windmill. On this high point, a good place for viewing battles, there was a helpful plaque described battles fought here: in 1211 (the Cathars lost) and 1632 (the revolting people of Languedoc lost). 

There was another helpful plaque about the water supply from the Black Mountains to feed the Canal du Midi. Castelnaudary is 180 metres above sea level; soon we should get to the Seuil de Naurouze at the watershed, at 189 metres the highest point of the Canal du Midi, from which you either go down towards the Mediterranean or, in Mathilde's case, down towards the Atlantic. So far this year we been through 103 locks (counting a double lock as two). The last was quadruple, called for St-Roch, the guy with the sore leg. The previous lock was called Gay.

The temperature during the day is pleasantly warm—it was no pain to cycle a few hundred metres with a jerrycan to get petrol—but the sun on Mathilde is strong, so she is uncomfortably hot for much of the day. This is not a great problem, as there are other places, like this internet café, to lurk. And Castelnaudary has several pleasant squares.

I have booked a few more nights here, planning a visit to a market in a neighbouring village tomorrow (Saturday). Rain is promised on Sunday, which may make housekeeping in Mathilde comfortable. Monday is market day in Castelnaudary; I will leave for Toulouse around the middle of the day.

Canal du Midi by Bram

I visited Villesèquelande, viewing a 500-yr-old tree planted during the reign of Henri IV—a good thing for a king to be remembered for.

Then the village of Bram, which had a circular wall defending the church and some houses, then an outer wall defending a greater area. Now it doesn't have walls but a great ring road system. Sadly, at bicycle level, there's not much to see, and I didn't bother to charter a helicopter. 

In Bram church was a lovely statue of St Roche, displaying his sore leg. He has been a great support this year, because Mathilde had a sore foot, since fixed, and Mr Pither (pictured) had two flat tyres, also now fixed. The saint's dog also brings him food--unlike any dog I've known, including Inspector Rex.

 A peaceful bedroom for Mathilde.

Back to Carcassonne Citadel

Strolled to Carcassonne Citadel, scene of much fighting over the centuries but retaining some glorious architecture. The medieval depiction of Noah's Arkin a stained-glass window appealed to me--five oars per side, plus a rudder.

Returned to Mathilde via the central square of the “new town” of Carcassonne (meaning 13^th century), where the central square has a plaque commemorating events including devastion by the Black Prince in the 14^th century. At that rate there'll still be plaques about Nazi atrocities in the year 2,745.

Back to Carcassonne

Mathilde has returned to Carcassonne with its stunning citadel. We'll spend a couple of days here provisioning and then head to Toulouse, where she will rest while I fly north.

We've seen a lot of beautiful canal and met some pleasant boats along the way. I've seen some beautiful villages and lovely old bridges and other 17^th-century structures, dating back to when the canal was built. We've gone through many locks. Normally Mathilde motors into a lock, stops near a ladder of 3 or so metres height, which I climb, holding on to her mooring ropes, which I then make fast, whereupon the lockkeeper closes the gates through which we have entered and opens the sluices so that the lock fills—sometimes with quite dramatic splashing and turbulence. The upper gates then open and we go on our way.

This procedure (which is for heading up, i.e. towards higher ground) can go wrong when I overshoot the ladder and have to manoeuvre to get back to it, or people who know less about boating than I do (there are a few) let their great heavy boat swing alarmingly close to delicate little Mathilde—or when there is no ladder at all, just 3 or 4 metres of lock wall. It's all fun—well, mostly.

A switch seems to have been thrown, and summer—or something like it—is here. I have packed away my jackets and long-sleeved shirts and have started hitting the iced coffee and the rosé wine. Very pleasant. I've also discovered Olives Artisanales du Languedoc, varieté Lucques. Yummy, plus cheese, French bread (what else?) and pâté.

Life is not without setbacks. In Argens-Minervois I promised myself a cup of coffee and a glass of wine at Le Sourire de la Grenouille, where I dined hugely on cassoulet last time I was there and also enjoyed the wifi. It was closed. So was the general store opposite, because it was Wednesday afternoon. Poor me. So I consoled myself at the café at the port, which has no wifi but does run to French cappuccino and a waffle. Oh, the suffering. Plus I looked at a tourist booklet about the South of France, with motto: le vrai luxe c'est d'être là, the true luxury is being there. Fair enough.