Cruising into new territory (3/06 – 7/06)

Auxonne – Seurre – Chalon-sur-Saône

Seurre

Having enjoyed some lovely warm sunny days, we found ourselves cruising Catharina Elisabeth off for the 2025 season under a grey sky. Still, with only two locks to negotiate for our first day, one to exit the derivation from Auxonne back onto the River Saône and the other one of the large commercial locks that we will encounter on this river, it was not too tiresome.

The first lock is manual – I have to rotate a long rubber pole that extends out from the bank over the water (Ian drives me as close as he can so I can reach it). This fills/empties the lock as necessary, then opens the gates to let us in. Inside, we have to push a metal pole upwards to initiate the lock cycle. We shared the lock with a hire boat that had followed us from Auxonne, but we had been denied access earlier by another hire boat that deliberately made the gates close before we could enter. Just bad manners. Sometimes smaller boats are intimidated by our size and they panic. The second lock of the day was one of the large commercial ones, although we were alone in it on this occasion. I call ahead on the radio and they prepare the lock for our entry. I had arranged a mooring at the town of Seurre, just outside this lock, so once we were through we tied up to the pontoon which had a long tape and a sign saying it was reserved for us. The skies cleared and we were able to pick up our cruising rituals once again, enjoying our first beer of the day with aperos on the aft deck,

followed by dinner, a couple of games of Gin Rummy and another of Rummikub. Nothing much to report on Seurre as we had explored the town last season – just a church and a small but clean town centre. 

Chalon-sur-Saône

Drizzly again the following morning, we set off for our next stop, Chalon-sur-Saône. The rain hung around for most of the four hours or so that we were cruising, heavy at times, but not unbearable. And I did not have to spend much time on deck. Just before reaching our mooring we passed the exit of the Canal du Centre that had taken us down through a 10 m lock late last season to spit us out onto the Saône. At that time, we turned north towards Auxonne. This time, facing south, we rounded a curve in the river to see a very large hotel boat (110m long, over five times our length) coming towards us – one of the giant ones that ply the big European rivers. We passed port to port, while I was trying to see through the rain to determine the quay we hoped to moor against. Meanwhile, the cruise ship executed a very smooth 180° turn in the river before quietly carrying on past us, downstream.

These are a common sight where we cruise now. Usually two or three per day and often the same number pass us at night. Chalon is the furthest north they come but they travel down to Lyon over a bit less than a week and some have routes that take them as far as Avignon on the Rhône.

There was room for us on the quay and since the river current was not too strong, we did not turn around before mooring, but I did get a stern rope on first so Ian could hold Catharina against the quay while I got a bow rope on. We bumped a little along the bottom, so it was plainly only just deep enough for us.

Not long after mooring, a twin outboard service boat roared upstream past us stopping at a nearby pontoon. They generated an incredible wash – very unprofessional. We rolled hugely and some smaller boats on our quay just about mounted the mooring. Still, it reminded us that now we are back on a big river, sharing it with plenty of commercial traffic, we should be tying up with four ropes, not the two that are usually sufficient on quieter waterways and we would now also use our thicker ropes. I also relocated a number of the beer glasses that normally sit comfortably on a shelf in the salon, as the tilt on the boat would likely topple them off if we were rocked like that again.

We ended up spending four days here and felt we explored a good part of the old town of Chalon-sur-Saône. Lovely half-timbered buildings throughout,

brightly painted, and a variety of shops.

Ian lost count of the number of shoe shops, but was probably very grateful when I did not enter any of them. He did examine every single ice creamery we passed, and was endlessly disappointed to find no cherry offerings.

The original walls of the cathedral of Saint Vincent date from around 1000 AD, but much of it was rebuilt at the end of the 14th Century. It was damaged in 1562 by the Huguenots and following various other insults was partially rebuilt at the beginning of the 20th Century. Currently, the cathedral is undergoing renovations and is not open to the public, but we were able to stroll around the cloisters, which are themselves the subject of some ongoing renewal.

A mild and sunny day, our walk took us past some delightful buildings including a trompe l’oeil wall celebrating Molière and a couple of people in the windows of the house nearby.

Naturally we were delighted to find a church that was open.

Saint-Pierre was originally a chapel but was expanded and converted into a church in the 17th century, functioning as a convent for a time. Inside, it is fairly simply adorned, with perhaps the most attractive part, a side chapel beautifully restored and painted in a duck-egg blue colour.

It was a little late in the afternoon to check out either of the museums so we shelved that idea for later and had a wine in the colourful square

walking back to Catharina past a shop with an impressive ‘whiskey window’.

The Musée Denon, while a modest size,

had a very extensive archeological section where we saw evidence of early settlement,

with many of the exhibits sourced quite local to the area making it feel very relevant. We saw how pylons were cut from trees and forced into the river to allow the settlers to dam the river and to build huts, an impressive feat for the times. One room housed a number of ridiculously long shotguns.

It turned out these were for duck hunting. I asked how anyone could hold such a weapon, and learnt that they would rest the barrel on the side of the little boat they were in and shoot from there. There were a couple of small galleries of paintings, which we always enjoy. One that took my eye was called ‘Le Conseil tenu par les rats‘ (Council held by rats).

Painted by François-Édouard Picot (1786-1868). It is inspired by one of Aesop’s fables as written by La Fontaine and depicts the end of a meeting where rats have just met to discuss how to warn them of the local cat – the decision being to place a bell around her neck, everyone agrees with the plan but no one wants to take on this risky job. The text written by La Fontaine is thinly veiled allegory about how meetings and committees function “Ne faut-il que délibére, La cour en conseillers foisonne; Est-il besoin d’exécuter, L’on ne rencontre plus personne“, “It isn’t enough to deliberate, The court is full of advisors; It is necessary to execute, There is no one to be found.” Thus we have the idiom ‘to bell the cat’ for a task that a plan calls for, but is impractical to actually achieve.

There was also a section displaying international and indigenous items from the museum’s collections including some from Japan

The other museum we wanted to visit was devoted to Nicéphore Niépce, the man who did actually invent photography.

A native of Chalon-sur-Saône, he produced the first permanent photograph in 1827.

Unfortunately, following his death in 1833 his primacy in the development of photography was overlooked. This was partly due to his collaboration with Louis Daguerre. So the official announcement of ‘photography’ which was made in 1839, was by Daguerre. This type of photograph became known as daguerreotypes and no credit was given to Nicéphore. A couple of years later, an Englishman, Henry Fox Talbot, published a book, ‘The Pencil of Nature’, describing his process for capturing images and, as this process generated what we know now as a negative, it provided a means for making multiple copies of an image so this kind of photography developed into what we have today. Eventually, Nicéphore’s contribution was recognised and this museum celebrates his invention. The museum is clean and expansive with plenty of technical and historical information. It’s all well documented in both French and English and we would highly recommend a visit.

However, the most amusing part of our visit to this museum was as we entered and spoke with the chap behind the welcome desk. There was no fee to look around, but there is usually a request to know to which country we belong. We had heard the introductory information given to the French couple in front of us, so I said we understood all of that. Asked about our nationality, I said Australian, then chatted with the French woman who said my French was really good. Within moments the guy behind the desk, Ishmael, realised that we are travelling on our boat. In no time at all, Ian has whipped out one of our ‘business’ cards, and Ishmael immediately responded, saying he remembers us and our boat! “Ah, I remember your boat (spud pole) broke on the Canal du Nivernais in 2019. I was moored behind you at Vincelles”. In his boat he approached us after disaster struck and slowed down to offer help. We suggested that he continue on, and just tell the lock keeper we would be held up. Now, six years later, we bump into him behind the desk in a museum. Small world!

On our last evening, the rain and wind looked as though it was ready to take a break so we walked over the Saint Laurent bridge to the island. Another pretty part of the town, with the main drag through the centre of the island completely populated with restaurants. From this vantage point it was fascinating to watch another of the huge hotel boats pass Catharina, who was appropriately dwarfed.

Having spent several days exploring Chalon-sur Saône, we decided it was time to move on and we would set off the next day towards Tournous.