The afternoon sun plays through the leaves of the plane trees, casting patches of light on the tranquil green water. The air is filled with the hum of insects, a trailing note of lavender and the smell of something wonderful cooking.
It is "l'heure endormie" -- the sleepy hour -- on the Canal du Midi. As our barge creeps along at a snail's pace of 3 miles per hour, none of us on board feels like moving much faster.
After three days aboard the Bonjour, cruising down this canal in southern France, eating glorious meals and drinking the local wines, even cracking the spine of a paperback seems like work. We are satiated with indolence.
The smell of food is coming from the tiny galley, where Elizabeth, the young English chef, is concocting something grand for dinner. After a lunch, just three hours ago, of chicken terrine and lemon quiche, washed down by a refreshing local wine called Limoux, anticipating another meal seems sinful. But then, there is a special ring of hell reserved for those who vacation on barges, where sloth and gluttony are elevated to high art.
My husband, Dan, enters the salon, where I am lounging, half-finished postcards languishing on my lap. "I can't stand it. I have to move," he says. "Let's get on the bikes."
A few minutes later the skipper has tied up at the bank. We and two bikes are deposited on the towpath with the order not to wander too far away from the canal. That seems impossible to do, given that the canal is the main thoroughfare for the Languedoc.
For a while we keep to the towpath, but soon the urge to explore becomes potent and we steer our bikes onto a path that winds up through the vineyards. The May sun grows warmer and the air more aromatic the farther up and away from the canal we go, and soon we pause atop a hill. The landscape is an undulating carpet of pale green, broken only by the red tile roofs of a nearby village and by the green ribbon of the canal.
Everywhere we look are tender grape buds. (The Languedoc produces 70 percent of the vin ordinaire that fuels France). Finally, we pedal off toward the village of La Redorte. We pedal through the pleasant village and head back up into the vineyards. After a blissful hour, the sky turns gray and we realize we have not seen the canal in some time. A light rain begins and banter ceases as we finally conclude that we are lost. Finally, we spy a different village ahead and tell ourselves, with relief, that it must be Homps, the town where the barge is scheduled to tie up for the night. We pedal eagerly up the hill, but a sign announces we are entering a place called Azille.
This clearly is a village unaccustomed to foreign visitors. We approach a lady weeding in her garden for directions. "Ou est le canal?" we ask.
She looks at us like we're crazy; no Occitan (Languedoc native) loses his way from the local "highway." She cheerfully gives us directions in rapid-fire French and hand signals, and we set off on a new road out of town.
Two stone bridges, countless vineyards, one more kind gardener, an hour and 12 kilometers later, we pedal wearily into Homps. We plop down in a quaiside cafe and await the barge. When its familiar red-and-green hull trudges into view, we sigh in relief. Our home has come home.
Activists may run rapids or scale mountains on their vacations. But barge people are usually content to do nothing -- pointedly -- and the Languedoc is the perfect place in which to do it.
There are several companies that operate cruises throughout Europe, but only a few offer trips on the Canal du Midi, such as Floating Through Europe, the operator of our barge. The most popular routes in France are Burgundy, Champagne and Alsace-Lorraine. But there is something about the Canal du Midi, which meanders lazily through the less glamorous Languedoc region, that captures the languorous essence of barging.
Perhaps it is the province's southernness. Like the American South, the Languedoc is a diverse and colorful land, imbued with a tenacious sense of its unique identity. Languedoc literally means "language of oc," "oc" meaning "yes" in the southern dialect, which once was the tongue of the region's troubadours and was supplanted by the official French language of the north.
This is France's "Deep South," a province to the west of its most celebrated neighbor, Provence, with its glitzy Cote d'Azur. The Languedoc is an ancient land that in the ninth and 10th centuries was more culturally advanced than the barbaric north. It was occupied at various times by Romans and Visigoths, and alternately by France and Spain, until it came under French rule permanently in 1659.
Today, it is eclipsed by the north, but its rich history is visible in a wealth of ruins, cathedrals, temples and castles -- many ravaged, but a few remarkably restored.
The region remains mainly a land of farmers and boatmen, poets, iconoclasts and would-be rebels who have an abiding distrust of sophisticated Northerners. Every so often they mount half-hearted separatist campaigns for a resurrection of the Occitan state.
The Languedoc is, in some ways, a place out of time. The Canal du Midi, its life-giving artery, is a splendid anachronism.
The canal was the dream of a Languedoc native, Pierre-Paul Riquet, who envisioned a waterway cutting across his land connecting the Mediterranean Sea with the Atlantic Ocean. The canal took 14 years to build and was completed in 1691. It represents the most romantic chapters of the Languedoc's history. This we learn as we travel somnambulantly, down the canal on our barge and back in time.
On the fourth day of our trip, we are awakened by Homps' church bells. The morning is misty and after a breakfast of fresh croissants, fruit and bracing coffee (or a full breakfast from Elizabeth, should we so desire), we pile into the van that has been following our route. We're headed to the ancient fortified village of Minerve.
The road opens suddenly above a deep gorge and there perched in the middle on a plateau is Minerve. Shrouded in mist, connected to the rest of the world by one bridge, it seems a forbidding place.
The Languedoc is dotted with Cathar castles, most in ruins, which are testaments to the tragic political and religious wars that ravaged medieval Languedoc (Cathars were members of a religious sect). We had started our barge trip moored near Carcassonne, the largest and most famous, and on our first night were treated to the sight of the castle bathed in lights. The next day, we had explored the fortified city, an extraordinary example of medieval architecture and engineering.
But the village of Minerve is different. Carcassonne, so perfectly restored and ringed with tour buses and souvenir shops, seems almost a Disneyland re-creation. In lonely Minerve, you feel truly transported back in time. Minerve is inhabited and a few tourists can be found in its modest cafes. But its narrow streets are peopled with the ghosts of the martyrs who were burned at the stake by Crusaders after a bloody battle in 1210. Unlike Carcassonne, eerie little Minerve still wears its history uneasily.
The next morning, the barge already is under way by the time we appear on deck. We approach another ecluse, one of the myriad oval-shaped locks that move traffic along the canal. On the bank is a simple, two-story house, its windows framed by peeling green shutters and lace curtains billowing in the breeze. It is a typical maison de l'ecluse -- home of the lock keeper and his family. The canal is dotted with these identical houses, most built between the 18th and 19th centuries and inhabited by dynasties of eclusiers.
An old woman comes out to operate the lock's gates. This ecluse, like all the others we've seen during our trip, is operated ,, by a hand crank, which the woman handles deftly while a dog sits patiently at her feet. Our skipper guides the barge into the lock while the mate mans the ropes. Passengers are free to help with the lines or join the few spectators gathered on shore. Finally, the slow process is complete, and with a wave at the eclusiere we are on our way again.
On the last day of our trip, as the Bonjour creeps toward our final destination of Beziers, we sit on deck, sipping aperitifs, watching the vineyards slip by.
The barge comes to one of Riquet's most architecturally impressive legacies: Le pont-canal sur l'Orb. It is a long, handsome, multi-arched aqueduct over the river Orb. This time, instead of going under a bridge, the canal becomes part of one. Our barge glides triumphantly along the aqueduct, as if Riquet's patron, Louis XIV himself, were aboard.
Soon after, we approach Riquet's most spectacular engineering achievement: Les Ecluses de Fonserannes, a series of seven locks that comprise a monumental stairway of water.
But we are not going through the locks. We detour slightly to make our ascent via a gleaming new hydraulic machine, la pente d'eau ("slope of water"). The hulking contraption looks like a futuristic water toboggan for boats with a control tower atop in which two technicians man computer controls.
The machine clasps our barge like a tow truck and, slowly, it
pulls us upward. A technician onshore, gauging the progress, informs the skipper that we are the first boat to go through the new machine. "We're sure it will work," he says cheerfully. We down another kir to stave off the vision of the Bonjour plummeting backward, like some out-of-control raft at the Six Flags Over Atlantis water kingdom.
But we make it and chug peacefully into Beziers. We moor at the quiet quai and go below to dress for our final meal, a seven-course degustation dinner. We come into the salon to a feast for the eyes and nose. Candles flicker, and vases of tulips and wild irises, plucked from the canal banks, grace the table.
We linger at the table, satiated again with food, wine, good company and supreme laziness. Finally, we drink a toast to the crew and retire to our cabins. Sleep comes quickly, enticed by the rhythmic lapping of the canal water against the barge.
In the morning, we bid adieu to the crew and our barge mates. No lingering over coffee and croissants in sweaters and jeans. Dressed for travel with a schedule to keep, we down a quick coffee and depart. Within the hour, we are on the TGV train, speeding north toward Paris at 200 miles per hour, leaving behind the Languedoc and the Canal du Midi. Already they feel like a fast-fading dream.
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If you go . . .
Most barge cruises are seven days/six nights and include meals and wine, open bar, sightseeing trips, bicycles, Champagne welcomes by the crew, transfers to and from the barge and hotel stays the night before the cruise. Many include ** special restaurant meals and wine tastings.
The companies listed below carry as few as four passengers and as many as 28 per barge. Some cruises limit passengers to adults only or children over 10, although families can charter whole barges.
Prices listed below do not include air fares or transportation to cruise departure city. A crew member picks you up at a designated hotel in that city and returns you to same.
When to go: This depends on the region you want to visit. Generally, the cruises run April through October. Those two months can be delightful, but are subject to vagaries of weather. July and August are peak travel times, especially for the French themselves. Most barges are equipped with air conditioning but check before booking. Fall is becoming very popular, and some barges break down prices according to season, with fall being most expensive.
What to take: Cruising is a casual affair. Dressing up means slacks and a sweater for dinner, the exception being a simple dress or sports coat for special trips to restaurants. As for extra money, the only purchases you'll make will be ones ashore, for souvenirs or personal items.
Here is a rundown of companies offering barge cruises. Prices quoted are per person, double occupancy. Singles are slightly higher and charter prices are available for groups.
*Floating Through Europe: 271 Madison Ave., New York, N.Y. 10016; telephone (800) 221-3141. Conducts four cruises in France -- Burgundy, Champagne, Alsace-Lorraine and the Canal du Midi. Prices start at $1,795.
There is a special 14-day "Van Gogh and His Heritage" cruise scheduled this year, coinciding with the Netherlands' Year of Van Gogh celebration. Cruises begin on May 27, June 17, July 1. Prices start at $3,990. Seven-day cruises are available, starting at $2,195.
*Esplanade Tours: 581 Boylston St., Boston, Mass. 02116; telephone (800) 628-4893. Conducts cruises on the Canal du Midi and through Burgundy. Prices start at $2,500.
*Carlisle Cruises: c/o MTA Travel, 230 E. Ohio, Chicago, Ill; telephone (800) 525-1599 or (312) 944-2779. Conducts six cruises in Burgundy. Prices start at $2,500.
*Horizon Cruises: French Country Waterways Ltd.; telephone (800) 222-1236. Conducts three routes through Brugundy focusing individually on wine, gourmet food or regional history. Also offers cruises through northeastern France. Prices start at $2,450.
*Euro Charters: 6765 S. Tropical Trail, Merritt Island, Fla. 32952; telephone (407) 632-5610 or (407) 453- 4494. Conducts cruises in Burgundy, Alsace-Lorraine and on the Canal du Midi. Offers half-board programs, which give passengers the option to take some meals in restaurants. Prices begin at $1,200.
Kristy Montee