To read from the beginning use this link – Barging in Burgundy

I may moan about boating at times. Hands up. That’s me. But gearing up to leave our boat is always sad. And a bit traumatic. What weather will she endure? Are there vandals in the area? Did we do a good enough job with the covers? What if she has a mini leak and sinks? Will she be OK when we get back?

We’re so far away. It’s not like we can pop over and check on her. We leave her with a heavy heart. Sigh!

Luckily my other half had budgeted extra time in Roanne for us to get on top of things. We had used up most perishable food. Washed and cleaned. There were a last few things to do and see before we left. Which we did on this day.

Shangri La covered up

Shangri La covered up

Our last evening was spent minus the usual coverings on the back deck, listening to families, and various groups, not necesarily speaking French, playing petanq. This game crosses cultural and generational divides. People were queuing up to play. Shouting out for good luck and bashing their balls together before throwing. I can watch this forever.

Meanwhile on the boat, we were so sad. Having a boat is about entering a relationship. With an entity. You derive great pleasure from it. But you also bear a huge responsibilty for it.

Each of us chatted to various other boaties during the course of the day. Roanne is an affordable place to stop. Many people were moored for some time. Some were doing work on their boats. Others not leaving for long periods. It’s a crazy life. We’re all water nomads. Trying to escape the mundane, but bearing up to the responsibilities of owning a boat.

People playing petanq

People playing petanq

Our last supper was a Black Forest Tofu with my favourite French grated carrot salad (love that stuff) and a green leaf salad with a French dressing. Lots of wine. Divine.

Day Forty-Nine – 15th August 2017
Roanne to Lyon
As luck would have it, or not have it, depending on which way you look at it, this was yet another public holiday. Luckily the marina was open, so finalising our winter stay in Roanne could be done. The boat was clean and wintered. Something my husband has preferred to let an engineer do, but did himself for the first time this year.

The final chore was draining the hot water cylinder and water supply. Which we left until last. It turned out to be an almighty mission. All the engineers who did this job drained the water with another hose and used a pump to extract the water. The hose my husband was trying to loosen would not come free. With his dodgy back he was wriggling this hose by every means, trying desperately to get it to shift. Eventually he had to cut it to get it loose.

Leaving Roanne

Leaving Roanne

Then the water would not drain. We had to use a small bucket with a rope, and lower it along with the hose into the bowels of the boat, draining the water bit by bit. Which took forever. By the time the water had drained, it was time to go. The pair of us were drenched in sweat. We nearly forgot to turn off the stop cocks to the toilet. A South African girl living on her boat in Roanne kindly agreed to give us a lift to the station. I ended up leaving my jacket and hat on the boat.

As we arrived there was a train pulling in. We hopped on board with our luggage. No spare seats, so we stood for the the 70 minute journey. I wasn’t upset about standing but I would have liked to see the secenery. Sigh! Lyon Part Dieu Sation was a heaving mass of humans. We grabbed a bite to eat and dragged our luggage to the river banks to check into our Airbnb accomodation. Fabulous spot. High speed wifi, views, airconditioning and a super helpful host. We freshened up and took a mini siesta. Then went walkabout in the drizzle. We found a Lebanese restaurant and had an amazzing meal. Back at our accomodation our host, us, and a Polish couch-surfer shared a bottle of rose wine.

See more – here.

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