Wednesday 24th August
After casting off at Les Andelys (PK 174) we bumbled up the winding verdant river to Vernon (PK 150) for a lunch stop and a bit of sightseeing. We rode our bikes 3km from Vernon to Giverney where Claude Oscar Monet (1840 -1926) had spent the last 40 years of his life, painting and eventually getting cataracts and dying 4 or so years after having an operation that was reasonably successful at restoring his sight. It cost 5. Euros to wander through Monet’s large eccentric colorful home and exquisite gardens. The garden was laced with narrow paths through large flowerbeds, over abundant with colour and fecundity. The pond at the bottom of the gardens where he painted the water lilies was immediately recognizable, as was the Japanese style bridge and trellises. It was incredible to realize how Monet, through a lifetime of dedication and striving for recognition, influenced the western world so profoundly. His painting, ‘Sunrise, LeHarve’ gave the impressionist movement its name. We only sailed though there three days ago! I bought a small book on Monet and through reading it gathered not only gained appreciation of his talent but more so, sharpened my momentary outlook on the world into light and dark shades, depth, illusion and movement. There is inspiration for masterpieces everywhere!!
Again we made way up river, past farmlets and high white chalk cliffs that coax the river into slow meanders and pin the chateaus between the white high walls and their luxuriant lawns that stretch to little slate steps to the rivers edge. We stopped at Limay in the rain and tied up at a wall beside a road. We had to use the plumb bob to check the depth as keel boats are not really adequately catered for in the river system and quite often the little floating pontoons, marked as "port de plaisance" are not in very deep water!
This morning as I opened my eyes Nick was smiling. He told me how glad he was that I was awake because something funny had occurred that he wanted to tell me about. As he lay there in the morning, with the rain pattering quietly on the cabin top he thought the heard voices right outside the boat and wondered why they should be so close, - perhaps some people were standing along side the embankment we were tied to discussing the boat. Then one of the conversations broke into a, …how do I say in French, QUARK, Quark quark quark. He he.
From the master cabin portholes I could see a 12th century gothic church. All the guide books note the churches and the shopping streets for tourists. We need one with mountain bike trails, internet cafes, bakeries, groovy bars and hang outs for people who are not adolescent. So now we are in the outskirts of Paris at a place called Isle St Denis, with an ETA of lunchtime tomorrow.