We’d arranged yesterday that we’d be arriving into Carcassonne with the Capitainerie, and it felt very civilised to arrive into a pre-planned berth with even our vessel’s name posted by the moorings. We sauntered into the town centre and had a cheery drink too (right next to the most patriotic scaffolding I, for one, have ever witnessed) . However, clouds were gathering…
For context, a note on the weather we’ve experienced – basically, much better than the forecast. Yr.no has generally predicted cold, cloud and rain; we’ve had largely some cloud, but warm and sunny. That changed in Carcassonne.
Dark, wicked clouds gathered on the horizon and whilst we cocked our snook at them (whatever that means) for a while, ultimately we couldn’t refuse that the weather had gone to shit. It had to happen, sooner or later. A dinner of decent cassoulet (3 stars vs Chez David’s 5 star performance) but dubious service at Chez Fred didn’t entirely lift our spirits. I also had the chance to freshen our clothing stock with The Most Mysterious Washing Machine In The World.
Chastened but undaunted, we headed up to the Medieval Cité on Thursday morning (we’re out of season, but the No. 4 bus goes (on weekdays, first bus 0935) from just outside Le Bristol which is moments from the Capitainerie, and whisks you up to the fortifications and touristastical gift shops and restaurants in 15 minutes.
The abject weather did make it less than festive, however, and after seeing refuge in the lovely church, we secured a round of hot chocolates then return journeys to the boat. Heartening soup and rillettes later and we were off again, into the rain and wind.
Now, you can technically drive these boats from inside, but I wasn’t even tempted – the combination of bad visibility and frequent questions/disruptions from the kids, vs getting a bit chilly but with good visibility was an easy calculation to make. When we weren’t going through the locks and I was on my own, I still had a smattering of swifts (or swallows, I don’t know the difference) larking around, and sone large bird of prey at one point, to keep things interesting. It was very nice going through a few locks with my dad as crew (Aurélie was settling 2YO down for her nap, and having a brief much-deserved rest) and even being out on deck alone, being brought a cup of tea to fortify me against the elements felt like an appropriate continuation of that narrowboat holiday when I was 7, as my dad apent a chunk of time manfully resisting all that nature could throw at him so we could progress up the Manchester Ship on schedule.
Timsformational 