Unexcused Absences

July 9 to July 16, 2016. Based on the order of posts, it looks like we jumped right from the Bahamas to France. But the intervening month was filled with lots of work; packing up Miss Adventure for the summer, getting ready for our summer on Après Ski, and four weeks of actual work at NASA. That, plus all the social events with our long lost friends in the DC area, and we didn’t have much down-time in June.

“Après Ski’s” winter home in Lagarde

Once we got to France, none of that changed. We had lots of socializing to do with our boat friends Peter and Jo (who had just arrived in France from Australia), plus finishing up the solar panel installation project on Après Ski, plus provisioning, plus wine tasting. We did take time to watch the France vs. Germany Eurocup semifinal soccer match. The local pizza restaurant in Lagarde, the one that is normally only open Sundays from 7pm to 10pm, opened specially for the match on Wednesday evening. “Opened,” in the sense that they opened the doors and turned on the big TV on the wall, but the “restaurant” didn’t go so far as to serve dinner. The game was excellent, if you’re a French fan; they won 2-0, and would go on to compete in the final a few days later, where unfortunately they lost to Portugal 0-1.

A misty morning in Lagarde

Kitchen closed during the match

Eurocup France vs. Germany game

We made it out of the marina at Lagarde on the third afternoon, and drove a short hour west with Peter and Jo (on Joyeux) to the small halte nautique at Xures. Peter helped us move our rental car ahead to St. Nicolas-le-Port, the nearest canal port with a train station. We are keeping the car for three weeks instead of the normal one, because we have two road trips to make the next two weekends, plus we need to visit our favorite Champagne producer to stock up for the summer. And because we are keeping the car with us, any long-term parking spot for the boat must include a nearby train station so we can retrieve or pre-position the car.

Straw bales somewhere in Lorraine

After St. Nicolas, we cruised straight through Nancy, pausing only for supplies at the Intermarché, and continued to the canal junction with the Moselle River, stopping in Pompey for the night. It’s a nice little town just below one of the big gauge river locks, and we took a stroll through the village before eating Heather’s delicious poached egg salad with a side of rabbit and mushroom terrine for dinner and heading to bed.

Dinner on deck

The next day we cruised upstream on the Moselle to Toul, which has a very friendly and active canal port just outside the city walls. The military architect Vauban designed the ramparts in the 18th century, most of which are still standing today. Once we settled in Toul, I retrieved the car from St. Nicolas and we drove an hour north to Verdun, to visit the newly re-opened WW I museum/memorial at Fleury-devant-Douaumont. This museum was closed the last time we were through here two years ago, under renovation for the 100th anniversary of the Battle of Verdun, which lasted from mid February into late autumn of 1916.

Retractable turrets on a WW I fort near Verdun

The Battle of Verdun was a defining battle in French history, and its impacts still resonates today. Over 70% of all French soldiers in WW I fought in the battle, and it claimed close to half a million French casualties. It was the longest and largest battle of the war on the Western Front. Soldiers referred to Verdun as “the furnace,” for how much suffering and carnage they had to endure. Some 60 million artillery shells were fired during the 10 months of battle, and the landscape in many places is still pocked with overlapping craters.

Here are the Americans!

In addition to the numerous military artifacts, the newly-renovated museum contains a number of paintings and letters by front-line soldiers. It also has a large display on the “Voie Sacré” (the sacred way), which was the 72km supply line from the large train terminal at Bar-le-Duc to the battlefields at Verdun. The numbers on this vital supply line are impressive; 3,500 trucks and 800 ambulances were dedicated to the road, and between March and December 1916 one vehicle passed every 14 seconds. Sixteen engineering battalions were dedicated just for road maintenance. Special quarries were opened up nearby, and 8,500 men worked around the clock to maintain the road and keep the supply lines open.

A marker on the “Voi Sacrée” between Bar-le-Duc and Verdun

After the “official” museum, we visited a smaller museum in Romagne-sous-Montfaucon, one stocked entirely with objects found by one local family. The driving force, Jean-Paul de Vries, began collecting WW I artifacts in elementary school, and when he was 11 he showed up one day with a collection of objects for show-and-tell. The teacher called the principal, the principal called the gendarme, and the school was evacuated while the bomb squad went to work. Some of Jean-Paul’s found objects turned out to be unexploded shells. Fortunately, no one was hurt, and he lived to build an immense collection of WW I artifacts, most of which he’s found in the fields and forests around his home town. The museum is absolutely worth a detour if you’re in the Verdun area.

Just a few of the guns in Jean-Paul’s collection

Old-style American dog-tags

Hundred-year-old canteens of all kinds

That night in Verdun, after dinner at our favorite restaurant, Chez Anna Marie, we saw the July 14 fireworks. The French seem to know their fireworks, and the display in Verdun was no exception. The shells were fired from the main bridge above the canal port, and we had great seats in a cafe overlooking the river. We finally got back to the boat in Toul after 1am, in time to get a little sleep before our long drive the next day.

The Verdun waterfront before the fireworks

Verdun fireworks

Feu d’Artifices

The destination for our first road trip was Paris, but on the way we stopped in to our favorite Champagne producer for a visit. They were bottling that day, so we got to see the action on their vintage equipment; Zimmerlin-Flamant is a small producer, with only two hectares (about 5 acres) under cultivation, so everything at this Premier Cru producer is done by hand.

Bottling at Zimmerlin-Flamant Champagne

Vineyards in the Marne Valley

More bottling at Z-F Champagne

Once in Paris, we visited the Maritime Museum, one that I’ve wanted to see for years. Later that evening was the real reason for our visit; a good friend of ours (an American who lives in Paris) celebrated her 40th birthday by hiring a riverboat on the Seine for the party. Hard to turn down an invitation to sit on a boat and drink French wine and eat French food and cheese under the Eiffel Tower. The party was epic; a bunch of folks we knew came over from the US, and we met some of her French friends, and I think we finally made it back to our hotel at 2 am.

The party on the Seine in Paris

Canal boating, socializing, battlefield visits, fireworks, and a party on the Seine River in Paris; not a bad start to our 2016 summer cruise.

France 2016 Cruise – Week 1

• Engine Hours: 15
• Kilometers: 81
• Locks: 22
• Moorings: 56 Euros

France 2016 Cruise – Total

• Engine Hours: 15
• Kilometers: 81
• Locks: 22
• Moorings: 56 Euros

France 2016 – Week 1 Route

La Tour Eiffel

Susanne and Mark at the party

The tower in French colors

The birthday girl with her cake

French naval ship models

A failed early attempt at a diving suit

Container ship model

A WW I German military cemetery in Lorraine

Passing Notre Dame

A rural church near Toul

The Louvre seen from the party boat

Lake Powell defies proportions. Like its immediate downstream neighbor, The Grand Canyon, photos simply cannot convey the vastness and complexity of the landscape. I’ve heard the landscape described as fractal, a pattern that repeats at every scale, an accurate description. The high-walled canyons open to smaller canyons, which open to smaller canyons …

Lots of houseboats at Bullfrog, about halfway up the lake

Several years ago, our friends from Beaver Creek, Elizabeth and Michael, invited us to join them on their 60 foot (!) houseboat on Lake Powell. In September, our busy vacation schedule and their work schedules finally aligned and we were able to join them aboard the good ship MT Pockets for a week at Lake Powell.

Towing the waterski boat north on Lake Powell

What and where is Lake Powell? It’s a giant, artificial lake formed by the Colorado River. The river flows through the steep walls of Glen Canyon while passing through the desert lands of Utah and Arizona. In the 1950’s, a 600-foot high (controversial) dam was build in Glen Canyon to regulate floods, provide a stable water supply for farm irrigation, and supply electricity to the growing Southwest. Now the canyon, along with numberous side canyons, hosts a lake hundreds of feet in depth and over 150 miles long. Water laps canyon walls once inaccessible to all but the ravens and vultures.

The enormous cliffs at about mile 115

Elizabeth and Michael have been coming to the lake as a family for 26 years, although Mike has been visiting since he was a young child. They both know the lake very well. Our well-prepared hosts packed delicious food, tools and entertainment for any possible scenario we might encounter. Fortunately, we had perfect weather, no wind, no rain, highs in the 80’s and lows in the 60’s, so the sugar-cube slingshot and rainy-day card games went unused while the s’mores supplies were completely devoured.

Perfect boating conditions

After arriving and loading the boat at 2am (we were foiled by a massive peach festival which sold out nearly every hotel room in western Colorado and south-east Utah) we cruised north on our first day for about five hours to Good Hope Bay. This wide area in the lake with several side canyons sits close to the lake’s northern limit of navigability. While Mike and Kent tended the big boat, Elizabeth and I headed out in the ski boat to scout out potential anchorages.

Our “anchorage” on Good Hope Bay

A really really tall cliff

The Milky Way seen from the top deck

A sheer cliff face hundreds of feet tall

Why did we have to scout the anchorages if Elizabeth and Michael knew this section of the lake so well? Due to the Rocky Mountains’ varying level of spring snow melt, Lake Powell is unlike any other body of water; its coastline changes daily, an inch or more a day, typically changing 50 feet or more in a year. A beautiful anchorage on a sandy beach could disappear with a 3 foot rise on the lake, or hang inaccessibly high above the water line with a 5 foot drop in the lake.

Kent carrying the anchor to shore — not a typical anchoring procedure!

Anchoring was a complicated exercise, involving beaching the boat, carrying the anchors ashore and securing the boat to the shoreline by looping large lines around boulders or sinking the anchors into the sand. So, the girls scouted and identified anchorages and the boys followed in the larger boat once the anchorage was chosen. After we were settled in for the night, we fired up the grill, opened a bottle of wine and enjoyed the wild surroundings.

Our secret evening hide-away deep in a side canyon

Possibly the best part of being at Lake Powell was the night sky. The cool, clean, dry air of the desert provided excellent star gazing and satellite spotting. With a first-quarter moon, the stars and planets were soon as clear and bright as we’ve ever seen them. Sleeping on the top deck of the boat allowed us to sleep sous les belles etoiles. We lay awake, amazed, on our first night just staring at the stars. I could easily track the progress of the night by watching the milky way and constellations move across the sky.

A starry sky over moonlit rocks

When dawn arrived, it was time for the morning water ski. After a delicious breakfast of Elizabeth’s egg-and-sausage burritos, we gassed up the ski boat (with a pump from the main ship), grabbed some snacks and hit the water. Because the canyons wind and twist, it seemed it was always possible to get nearly perfect conditions to ski. And, you could ski for miles – literally. With Mike and Elizabeth’s excellent coaching, I was even able to drop a ski and try slalom for the first time.

Elizabeth during an early morning pull

The single dark cloud on our time on the Lake was an unfortunate accident when Mike separated his bicep tendon while skiing. Mike is a truly beautiful skier, and we were crushed when he severely injured his arm on the second day. We’re wishing him a speedy recovery from his surgery!

Mike has clearly done this before!

On our one cloudy day, at Mike’s suggestion, we planned a short hike to an area Elizabeth and Mike knew that contained an old uranium mine. Due to circumstances beyond our control, our one hour, mile-long hike became a “Big Hike” of around 7 miles and 4 hours. We trekked off across the open desert (fortunately we always carry extra water) and up to a small ravine our hosts knew. It contained a huge petrified tree, whose trunk was easily as wide as I am tall.

An enormous, petrified tree.

The rest of the week, our days consisted of skiing (except for Mike), exploring, hiking, skiing again, an evening meal and campfire and sleeping on the top deck under the stars. What a great way to enjoy the outdoors and the excellent company of dear friends!

Pretty good scenery for Kent’s slalom session

Some cliff dwellings at the end of a side canyon

Checking out “Defiance House”

Petroglyphs, left by Ancestral Puebloans* about 800 years ago.

A stand of trees from when it was Glenn Canyon, before it was a lake

It was with mixed emotions that we gazed at stunning canyons towering above us while floating on a boat, knowing our presence came at a price. The dam’s waters buried Indian ruins and settler’s villages along with hundreds of feet of what has been described as one of the most beautiful canyons in existence. The dam changed not only has the ecology of Glen Canyon, but the ecosystem of the Grand Canyon (just below the Glen Canyon Dam) as well. The dam provides much-needed power to the southwest (especially Phoenix), and regulates the flow of water for area agriculture. Nature has adapted to the presence of a giant lake in the middle of the desert, and huge flocks of migratory ducks, herons and grebes now visit or inhabit the lake. Humans profoundly changed the area, and we were grateful to have the opportunity to see and explore this amazing site.

Amazing anchorage, good friends, and a campfire for s’mores

Our Lake Powell vacation with Elizabeth and Michael was absolutely one of the most fantastic vacations we’ve ever taken. The combination of desert, canyon and lake must be unique on the planet. The wildness of the place, its enormous scale and the raw beauty of nature made of a heady combination. We highly recommend a trip to Lake Powell if you ever have the opportunity!

Heather drops a ski…

…gets the back foot in…

…balances…

… and skis away as a slalom skier

All alone off Red Canyon

The real desert

Filling the little boat from the big boart

A flock of water chickens

Kent tries that “other” watersport

Kent biffs a slalom turn

Our final morning at anchor

*The ancient inhabitants of this region are no longer referred to as Anasazi as this is a pejorative term coined by the non-native Navajo which roughly means “ancient ones of our enemies.” Ancestral Puebloans is the term preferred term today.

Nearly everyone we’ve met in Colorado over the past five seasons at Beaver Creek says “you come for the skiing but stay for the summers.” So we finally decided to see what all the fuss was about, and flew out to the Vail/Beaver Creek area in mid September (which in reality is almost autumn, whatever).

Colorado in the summer is not for your typical American couch-potato. Out here, it’s not enough to simply do activities or sports, you must do them higher/faster/longer than your peers. If you mention that you just hiked a 14er (a mountain of greater than 14,000 feet, of which Colorado has many), someone within earshot will almost certainly say, “I just hiked my third 14er this week,” followed by someone else saying, “I just did two in one day”. Sort of an arms race of sporting activity. And woe be the neophyte who simply does one sporting activity at a time. It’s not enough to do stand-up-paddleboarding after your morning yoga session, they now have “stand up paddle board yoga.” I am not making this up. Google it if you doubt me.

Aspen trees in full color

So we arrived in Colorado at the Vail/Eagle airport, and our friends Greg and Susan picked us up. Susan had a list of probably 7 different activities we needed to do in the next 48 hours, and it wasn’t even the weekend! But kidding aside, we had a really good time, and I think i can remember most of the stuff we did for the first couple days of our trip.

Sailing with Greg and Susan

During those first two days, we took a hike with our friend and professional “leisureologist” Praz (from the Talon Crew), went stand-up-paddleboarding on the little lake in downtown Avon, took Susan and Greg’s J-24 racing sailboat for an evening cruise, played 18 holes of golf with Praz, visited our colleagues in the Beaver Creek Race Department, had a cookout, visited our favorite restaurant in Beaver Creek Village (the Golden Eagle Inn), and probably did some more sporting activities that I can’t even remember.

Golf with Praz

Friday afternoon our friends Mike and Elizabeth from Boulder picked us up and we drove to Lake Powell, on the Utah/Arizona border, for a week on their houseboat. Our vacation on the lake was so amazing that it deserves its own post, so keep your eyes on this space, but for now we’ll skip ahead to the end of the trip. Here’s one photo to whet your appetite.

Mike and Elizabeth’s houseboat and matching ski boat in perfect Lake Powell conditions

A week later, after Lake Powell, Mike and Elizabeth dropped us in Grand Junction at our friend Sean’s house. Sean was our crew chief from our first Talon Crew experience back in 2009, and he and his wife Terry (and twins Andrea and Steven) hosted us for a couple days of small-town USA fun. Friday night we went to the local high school football game, where Andrea is in the marching band, and Saturday we ate loads of pancakes before going to the local parade (Andrea again), then the opening to a high-school volleyball game (Andrea and her friends sang the National Anthem), followed by a marching band competition (you guessed it, Andrea competed), followed by a grilled salmon dinner back at the house.

The parade of old cars…

… old tractors…

And of course the high-school marching band

Sean and Terry have quite the little operation going, with close to 20 acres under cultivation, plus two horses and a cow. Sean’s big milestone this year was using the steel trusses and girders he had lying around to build a 60-foot long hay shed for his side business of harvesting and selling hay, over a thousand bales per year. It’s not clear to me when Sean finds time for his real job in the oil and gas industry, between dealing with the animals, managing two teenagers, keeping all the farm and tractor machinery in working order, selling hay, and volunteering for every opportunity that crosses his path. Kind of sounds like my Dad, without the farm equipment (or the teenagers).

The roof of Sean’s 60-foot hay shed

After renting a car at the Grand Junction airport Sunday morning, we said goodbye and drove the two hours east back towards Avon, where we were again to stay with Greg and Susan. But on our way there, Susan called and asked if we had plans for the afternoon. They were just finishing up a camping trip, and did we want to paddle the upper Colorado River with them? Since it had been several hours since our last sporting activity, we of course said yes (in the true Colorado spirit). So we met them between Eagle and Avon, and drove north of the interstate to a lovely section of the Colorado River, about an hour’s paddle in class I and II rapids.

Heading east on I-70 out of Grand Junction

It was a perfect autumn day; the aspens were in full color, the water was not numbingly cold, the eagles were flying, and the river was flowing nicely (not too strong, but not so weak that it was too shallow). Heather and I had both done stand-up-paddling before, but never in flowing water. I tried Susan’s SUP board, and she and Heather paddled an inflatable kayak for the first 30 minutes. I only fell once, although I did have to go down on one knee for a couple difficult sections. After a break for beer on the beach (Susan and Greg are always well prepared), we switched things around and Heather and I took the kayak for the rest of the way to the take-out point.

Inflating the kayak

Entering a class II rapid

Beach break

After that, it was time to go back and pack up for our flight home the next day, so we finished up our summer/fall Colorado visit with a BBQ chicken dinner at the house and set our alarm for the alarming hour of 5am the following morning. A flight home on the awful United Airlines (they are just an abominable excuse for an airline), and we were back in the DC area, to prepare for our cruise down to Florida and the Bahamas. Remember to check back for details of our trip to Lake Powell, the main reason for our just completed trip to Colorado.

If you say “South of France” to the English, they generally think of the area in southwest France between Bordeaux and Toulouse, specifically the Lot and Dordogne River Valleys. But if you say the same thing to an American, they think of Provence and the Côte d’Azure (roughly Nice, Cannes and St. Tropez). It was near here that we found ourselves for the final week of our 2015 summer in France.

After leaving Après Ski in Lagarde (northern Lorraine) for the winter, and meeting Marianne and Jean-Pierre at their house in Dijon, three of us followed Jean-Pierre on his motorcycle down the Autoroute to the seaside village of La Londe-les-Maures, where Jean-Pierre’s family has a vacation apartment. We now see the attraction of the Mediterranean coast; great weather, blue skies, beautiful scenery, and lots to do.

The Mediterranean beach near La Londe

The first morning we awoke to a spread of fresh fruits and pastries and a delicious yogurt cup that Jean-Pierre makes with plain Greek yogurt, honey, shaved almonds, and minced fresh ginger. A healthy and delicious breakfast, especially the pastries part. We packed our knapsacks with fresh sandwiches and swim gear and drove the short way to the shore, then hiked several miles along the coast to some sparsely populated beaches near the Fort de Brégançon. The water was cool, but quite refreshing, and it was nice to finally swim in salt water again after our dips in the rivers of north-east France and western Germany.

Heather with our hosts

After the first terrific day, everything sort of blurred together; I am writing this post about a month after it actually happened because once we returned to the USA our life was complete chaos, with preparing the Miss Adventure (our old boat) for her voyage south to the Bahamas, plus a two-week vacation to Colorado and Lake Powell. But I can tell you that we did a bunch of fun stuff with our Dijon friends and hosts.

A traditional fishing boat

One day we drove north to Collobrières, a little tourist town along a stream in the hills north of the coast whose main claim to fame is the edible chestnuts that grow in the area. Local businesses make chestnut candy, ice cream (marrons glacés), and even liqueur. We wanted to try the town’s version of Kir (normally black currant liqueur mixed with white wine, but in this case chestnut liqueur with white wine), but the preferred restaurant was full, so the head waiter made us four glasses to go and we walked around town sipping our Kir Châtaigne.

La Verne Monastery

From Collobrières we drove up into the hills to the Monastère de la Verne, a Carthusian monastery still occupied by monks from a branch of the Grande Chartreuse Order, in the southern Jura mountains. It is relatively famous in France, but is so obscure to us in the USA that there isn’t even an English Wikipedia page. We took a short hike in the hills around the monastery, then ate our lunch on a picnic table by a spring. Afterwards we drove the long way home, past Sainte-Baume, an enormous fissure in the southern Alps that would have been awesome to hike except for the unexpected rain, and then down a twisty-turny road into Aubagne (15 km east of Marseille) and from there back along the Autoroute through Toulon and Hyères to La Londe.

Hyères from Edith Wharton’s garden

Another day we drove west and hiked in the hills around the Fort de la Gavaresse, between Hyères and Toulon. The hills gave us a view of the Baie de la Garonne and the harbors around Toulon. We visited the market in Hyères, and walked through the public gardens in the hills above town. The gardens used to be the private villa of Edith Wharton, of all people. She spent the later years of her life wintering in the French Riviera. That evening (or maybe it was another evening) we returned to La Londe and after dinner walked to the coast to watch the feu d’artifices. After the fireworks we walked through the marina and oceanfront complex and stumbled upon a Cuban band playing a show.

Fireworks off La Londe

The one day of “bad” weather (it was only bad because it was windy) we visited the local area, and at one point passed by the beach at Almanarre, a spot famous in the 1980’s and 90’s as a stop on the World Pro Windsurfing Tour. The Mistral wind was at full strength, and the water was crowded with windsurfers. I casually suggested that we stop and see what the gear rental situation was, and discovered that I could rent a complete set of terrific Neil Pryde gear for 25 Euros an hour. I didn’t need too much encouragement to avail myself, so while Heather and our hosts toured the Giens Peninsula I played around in 35 knot winds and shoulder-high surf. Unfortunately on my last run out before quitting time I got catapulted onto my gear at 25+ knots and sliced my knee open (it required 5 stitches), but it was completely worth it to windsurf in those terrific conditions.

The Cuban band in La Londe

That evening, Marianne and Jean-Pierre hosted a dinner with their neighbors Robert and Chantal (neighbors to the left) and Guy and Ginette (on the right). It was a lot of fun hearing everyone’s stories, and we all spent a terrific evening lingering over a long French dinner. Another night we were guests of Guy and Ginette at their place next door. They were such wonderful hosts, they gave us some home-made fig jam to take home, and we loved listening to their south-of-France accent.

Dinner with the neighbors

Jean-Pierre had to leave early to work a catering job back in Burgundy, and Marianne wanted a day to relax at the beach, so on our final full day in the Riviera Heather and I drove west to the coastal town of Cassis, where we rented sea kayaks and paddled several miles out to les Calanques, a series of deep gorges cut into the seaside cliffs between Cassis and Marseille. The area is very popular with tourist boats, but was still an amazing place to kayak through at our own pace.

Les Calanques

Our last morning we helped clean the apartment, then dropped Marianne near Avignon to meet up with Jean-Pierre, who was driving back down from Burgundy. They were both heading to Montpelier for Marianne’s daughter’s birthday party. We spent the evening in Avignon on the Rhône River. Recorded history in Avignon began in the 6th century BC, and the city replaced Rome as the home of the papacy during much of the 14th century. Today, the city has amazing remnants of its historical architecture, and a portion of the famous Pont d’Avignon still stands on the Rhône River.

Avignon

From Avignon we braved the Autoroute # 6 on the busiest day of the year, the Saturday at the end of the summer when the last of the Parisian schoolchildren head home for the start of school and workers finish their vacations in anticipation of many long lunches and holidays to come. We drove just past Cluny to the tiny hilltop village of La Vineuse, home of our American friends Ron and Lynne who have lived in southern Burgundy for the past 10 years. We had a wonderful shrimp and grits dinner on the terrace (Lynne’s from South Carolina) and the following morning we visited a village brocante (flea market). After a delicious lunch, we headed off towards Geneva for our flight home in a few days.

Moonrise from La Vineuse

But before flying home, we had one final day to see a new part of France. From our little hotel apartment in Annemasse we drove south to the famous village of Chamonix at the base of Mont Blanc, Europe’s highest mountain. We walked around town, had a big cheese fondue lunch (Restaurant le Tremplin), then hiked to the base of Glacier des Bossons. The deck of the small chalet at the end of the hike has an amazing view of the glacier hanging over the valley, and also has a display of various aircraft bits and pieces from the multiple plane crashes that have occurred on Mont Blanc, including a large life-raft from the 1966 Air India Boeing 707 crash that killed all 117 people aboard.

Chamonix

And so our 2015 summer trip through France came to an end. From Annemasse we drove the short distance across the border to Switzerland and the Geneva international airport. Iceland Air whisked us home to Washington, DC, and we immediately began preparing for our upcoming cruise aboard Miss Adventure, our 40 year old trawler. We will cover our cruise at this website as we finish up year 5 of our Unexcused Absence.

The mass of humanity in Cassis

Restaurant in Bormes les Mimosas

Boats moored in Les Calanques

Restaurant le Tremplin

The Pope’s Palace in Avignon

Cassis waterfront

View above Bormes-les-Mimosas

Landing gear from Air India flight 101

Center of town in Hyères

Sea-kayaking near Cassis

No, I do not know what this means!

“Parking allowed until July 8th at 11:45 am,” stated the sign along the village of Wasserbillig’s boat mooring quay. As I read the sign, a felt a tension release I didn’t know my body held. Of course, what the sign actually said was, “Parking jusqu’à 8 Julliet à 11:45 am.” My anxiety evaporated because I was no longer illiterate — I was in Luxembourg. They speak French in Luxembourg!

After five summers in France, my brain continuously performs a low-level scan and strains to understand the unfamiliar language around me. It’s become a habit, and back in the US I find myself eavesdropping on African immigrants shopping at the Bailey’s Crossroads Trader Joe’s or the Quebecois skiers at Beaver Creek. Thanks to this habit, I now understand some very basic French and feel quite comfortable navigating every-day tasks in France.

But then, we traveled to Germany. Although excited to see the lovely Mosel Valley and cruise the famous ‘chou cru route‘ (French for the ‘cabbage route’), I was anxious because, honestly, I hardly knew two words of German. From the moment we crossed the border, I couldn’t read street signs, follow instructions, or communicate with those around me. Germans proved to be kind, patient and helpful, but it really was an alien landscape. I managed to do laundry – in German (and pantomime)! I bought groceries (slowly) – in German!

I think I understand what this is – dino Müsli!

But faced with an unknown language on all sides and constantly attempting to decipher the situation stressed me a bit, like a little hum in the background you don’t notice. But suddenly, the hum ceased. The Luxembourg village posted mooring instructions in French, waitresses and shop-keepers spoke French, and we easily made the acquaintance of a lovely restauranteur and his crew over a delicious meal at La Frègate. We could communicate once again!

German seems like a pretty interesting language — where else can you make an entire sentence into a single word? Nonetheless, I’ll continue to focus on improving my French going forward, although I will certainly have more to say next time I visit Germany.