Life’s treasures are the people we meet
For the past few days, I have been following the Marne and Saône Canals, with overnight stops in Vitry le Francois, Chaumont, Langres, and now in the tiny village of Heuilley sur Saône (the closest shop and restaurant is 12 km away, so I’ll be having bread and a tin of tuna for dinner. The tuna was meant for lunch tomorrow. If I have to eat bread and M&Ms tomorrow, so be it)
The service road along the canals is mostly paved, and for tens of kilometres it’s just me. In a day, I might see a handful of people.
At each canal lock, there are houses that have the same design, and were built in the late 1800s; presumably when the canals were constructed. Some of the homes have people living in them and others are shuttered.
This morning, I noticed two people sitting on the steps of one, so I stopped.
Cathy and Patrick were still in their pajamas welcoming the morning with a coffee. After chatting a bit, I asked if I could take their photo. Cathy laughed and blushed. She wasn’t prepared for a photo first thing in the morning. Her pajama top said as much: I don’t do mornings. She got up went inside and came back wearing a jacket. Patrick went inside, too, and put on his Voies Navigables de France fleece, which I assumed was given to him while working the locks.
Cathy and Patrick
Patrick is now retired but used to work at a command post, with seven computers overseeing 43 locks. Today, the locks are automated, and boaters use a remote control to open and close the lock doors. It takes just three minutes to fill or drain 1,000 cubic metres of water.
I told them I was cycling from London to Rome. Cathy had a surprised look on her face, as if she didn’t hear what I said, so she typed the following into her phone to confirm: tu fais du velo de Londres a Rome.
“Oui.” Yes, I replied.
“You are strong, she said, pointing at her biceps.
“No.” Patrick answered. “His biceps aren’t strong, those are,” he said, pointing at my thighs.
“Would you like a coffee,” Patrick offered, after I took their photo.
“Sure,” I replied.
Truth is, I don’t like coffee, but I wasn’t about to let that get in the way of hospitality. While Patrick was inside getting the coffee, Cathy asked me if I was travelling alone. I told her I was and showed her a picture of my family.
“Beautiful,” she said.
Patrick returned with a colourful mug. I looked inside at the foamy swirl of coffee and took a sip. We chatted some more. A few English words mixed with French, and when we wanted longer sentences, we’d each poke at our phones to get the translation.
I finished the coffee, which didn’t taste bad at all, and Patrick came back outside with a massive archery bow that Robin Hood would have been envious of.
“He’s a European champion,” Cathy said, as Patrick showed me the target set up behind their house. “That’s where he practices.”
It’s usually just me and the birds along the canal
I asked if they had to pay rent to live in the house. They do. Currently, they pay 260 Euros a month, but it will soon double because of inflation.
I told them it was beautiful along the canal. They agreed. And said, “pas de stress.” No stress.
We shook hands, and I told them I was glad to have met them. They wished me well, as I climbed back on my bike and pedaled away.
Scenic vista along the Saône Canal