Unexcused Absences

We have a new addition to the family! She is 8.8 meters long and weighs 7 tons. Yes, we have just purchased a small canal boat. In southern France. And before you ask, yes, we have lost our minds.

Comet 6, sister ship to our Comet 13

Some of you know that I recently made a secret trip to France. A few of you know why I went. For everyone else, I took the trip to finalize the purchase of our boat, Comet 13 (don’t worry, we will rename her). With this purchase, we’ve now locked down Phase II of our Unexcused Absence.

This whole silliness started in the fall of 2009; Suzanne, Karen, Heather and I were sitting on the deck of our rented canal boat in western Burgundy, France, enjoying a lunch of baguette, Époisses de Bourgogne cheese, and a Grand Cru Chablis that we bought from a lockkeeper, when I looked up at a passing barge and saw, flying from the foredeck, the Colorado flag. This registered one of those “hmm, you don’t see a Colorado flag cruising through rural France every day,” looks among the four of us. We resolved to track them down and learn their story.

Eric and Sudi's "Oldtimer"

Later that day, farther down the canal, Heather was out for a jog and saw the boat parked for the night along the canal. Turns out the boat (Oldtimer) was a converted Dutch cargo barge from 1927, and was owned by Eric and Sudi, retirees from Vail (of all places!) who were on their fourth straight year living on the canals of central France. Out came the happy hour supplies, and we spent a lovely evening in rapt attention, learning about the fascinating world of living full-time on the inland waterways of Europe.

Who knew that France has over 8,800 kilometers of navigable canals and rivers? Who knew that there is an entire ex-pat community of people, mostly from the UK, Netherlands and Germany, who live full- or part-time on the canals? Who knew you could get from central France through Belgium, Netherlands, and Germany all the way to Prague, Czech Republic, entirely on canals and rivers? That evening was certainly an eye-opener.

And the most amazing part, to us, was the cost, or lack thereof, of their adventure. Eric and Sudi kindly shared with us details about their annual budget, as well as the current state of the market price for used canal boats. Shockingly, the total costs were very manageable, even for two semi-employed, decidedly un-wealthy people like us! A little post-vacation research showed us we could own a small canal boat in France for less than $4k per year, including mooring fees, fuel, waterways license, registration, insurance, and regular maintenance.

Vineyards below Sancerre

So the seed was firmly planted by late 2009; we just had to create our own canal boat adventure! By mid-2010, preparations were in full swing. We had cut our expenses to the bone (see Suzanne’s guest post on that topic), had held a big garage sale to purge our house of unneeded possessions, and had lined up a boat-finding excursion to France for the fall.

We began our trip courtesy of Eric and Sudi with a short stay on Oldtimer, moored on the Loire Canal at the village of Sancerre (wine lovers, pay attention), then drove over to St. Jean-de-Losne, the “boating capital” of central France, to look at a number of used boats, most of which were rather disappointing. They were either well used, in terrible shape, or overpriced.

Not in our price range

Definitely in our price range

Not in our price range

Definitely in our price range

More than a little discouraged, we took a train to the Canal du Midi (in the south) to charter a boat that was for sale from Le Boat, the big European waterways charter boat company. Happily the boat, Comet 13, was perfect, as much as a 20-year-old charter boat can be perfect. But the price was right! Le Boat agreed to make some repairs over the winter, and I set up my secret trip to France, just completed, to inspect the repairs and finalize the purchase.

The small-boat harbor in Beaucaire

The folks in St. Gilles (where the boat spent the winter) did a fantastic job of fixing up the boat and preparing it for our purchase. I spent 3 days making carpentry and electrical modifications, and purchasing all those things you need when you get a new place to live (trash cans, mops, etc.), then took the boat out for a 2-day shakedown cruise to Beaucaire, about 4 hours up the canal from St. Gilles. Heather remained in Beaver Creek. After all, one of us has to work!

Marseille, France

I finished my secret France trip with an overnight stay in Marseille, then set off at 6am on the 27-hour journey back to Beaver Creek. The commute home started with a long walk through Marseille to catch a bus ride to the airport, then flights to Munich, Philadelphia, and Denver, followed by a Colorado Mountain Express van to our door in Avon.

We head back to the south of France in early May to begin our summer boating adventure with a 500 km cruise along the Canal du Midi and Canal de Garonne. Phase II of our Unexcused Absence starts in less than 4 weeks!

Saint Vincent-de-Paul

Marseille waterfront at night

Departure Day

The Command Post

In the olden days, setting up a car for a road trip was a simple matter; a thermos of tea or coffee in your lap, a triple-A fold-out map for each state along the way, and a bag of chips to snack on. This morning, looking around the front seat of our 4-Runner/space capsule, I see a scene that would make an Apollo astronaut (and Steve Jobs) proud; a GPS, two iPods (nano), two cellphones (one with 5mp camera for taking spontaneous photos out the window – like the ones here), two MacBooks, one iPad (queued up with Trip Advisor to scope out the next meal or lodging), cellphone headset, a 200W power inverter (which can barely handle the load), and a nest of charging cables and adapters. Oh, and a bag of chips to snack on.

Somewhere in Kentucky

One Week Prior

At one point a week before departure, it looked like our plan to use the 4-Runner for the trip to Colorado might be in jeopardy. The “check engine” light is both a blessing and a curse. To its credit, it continuously monitors, by some estimates, over a thousand sensors, continuously comparing measured values to a set of programmed limits. Those limits are set to alert you before the part actually fails, so it’s now rare for your car to just suddenly break and leave you stranded by the side of the road. You are usually given ample warning, so that if your car does leave you stranded, it can say “but I gave you ample warning…”

So when “check engine” comes on, you may be facing the dreaded exchange –

Mechanic: “It’s saying that your oxygen sensor is shot, your catalytic converter needs replacing, and the timing belt is about to break. That will be $1400.”

Me: “Do I have to fix it now?”

Mechanic: “No, but if your timing belt goes while driving, you’ll have to replace the whole engine.”

Me: “Oh.”

Other times, it’s as simple as –

Mechanic: “I just tightened your gas cap.”

Me: “That’s it? THAT made the ‘check engine’ light come on???”

Mechanic: “Yep.”

Me:

So there I was, driving home during a really long workweek (four 11-hour days and one 15-hour day at NASA), about 8 days from departure, and suddenly there it was, that little yellow light just below the tachometer. In flooded the uncertainty; will it be expensive? how long to fix? does this mean my (until now) reliable ’97 4-Runner just informed me that its 12 years of faithful service was to come to an end in a barrage of maintenance issues?

To move the story along, the highlights; swap car with Mrs. Vacation, she goes to see the nice folks at Auto Stop Automotive, they plug in and download my car’s recent history, and then Heather calls me to report the following exchange –

Mechanic: “Do you park this car under a tree?”

Heather: “Yes.”

Mechanic: “An oak tree?”

Heather (curious where this is heading): “Um, yes.”

Mechanic (grinning): “Follow me.”

He proceeds to pop open a plastic cover under the hood, and underneath is a partially chewed air filter next to a pile of … acorns. A large pile of acorns. Apparently deposited by a chipmunk. This was the work of no ordinary chipmunk, either. He/she had carefully eaten a portion of each nut (I assume to test for quality and aging potential), then carefully tucked away the rest of the acorn in my 4-Runner’s air intake, including one wedged up against the airflow sensor (see “check engine” light discussion above).

One thing I know for certain; a “check engine” light is rarely boring.