With our most recent guests, West Australians Robyn and Adriaan Schipper having departed for the south coast at our stop in Agen, we made our way back to Castelsarrasin in preparation for another couple of guests, and also to head in the direction of Bordeaux in order to have the generator repaired. We had really enjoyed having the Schippers on board, especially following an earlier, less than wonderful 10 days with a UK couple, who wanted to learn the operations of a barge in preparation for their intended retirement on one. They struggled somewhat, with my teaching and their attitudes, to the point where we all became somewhat worn out by the grind of it all. I cannot quite get to grips with those Brits that seem to have nothing to say but negatives.

Castelsarrasin is as I have previously written, quite a lovely port on the canal a la Garonne, despite its lack of shade on hot days. It is also a good meeting place as it provides facilities and space for a good number of different sized boats. It was therefore not too much of a surprise but a great delight that old friends Roger and Lindy from St Jean de Losne should arrive on a catamaran owned by their friends to spend some time giving and receiving news and quantities of the local wines and produce. It was also not a surprise that while there, we met a number of new friends, including Bob and Maureen (a couple of positive Brits), Bengt and Ilsa from Sweden and Roy, a Dutchman who claims American citizenship these days. A number of meetings were therefore speedily arranged for >aperitifs=, meals and outings.

As we had Gary and Dianne Prattley arriving soon for a short voyage we decided to stay in Castelsarrasin in the interim to explore a bit more of its surroundings by car. The weather at this time was really hot. Day followed day of over 40 degrees and nights little cooler, so there was no respite from the somewhat humid blanket of heat that enveloped the south of France, centring, it seemed, on us. Our electric fans and external shade cloths were in constant use and we cursed the town council for having the municipal pool closed until the beginning of July.

Being only 16km from the garage at Montech (where our car is kept), meant having access to many of the small >Bastides= (fortified 12^th century towns) that dot the map of this area and to the regular >vide greniers= (literally >empty the shed= days), held regularly in small towns where locals set up stalls and try to sell off all their unwanted junk to their neighbours. These provide interesting hours wandering, inspecting and reflecting on the eclectic tastes of the rural French. Upmarket versions of these >manifestations= are called >Brocantes=, where professional second hand and antique dealers set up stalls in a town and display their wares. At these you can pick up treasures that can then occupy space in your shed until you offer them back to the world at a >vide grenier= in your village. It is at such meetings that I occasionally find another wine glass or two to add to my collection of 19^th century crystal goblets.

Looking for some cool respite, Bengt and Ilsa, Bob and Maureen and we two set off for a picnic to a pool advertised in a local town guide - only to find it - like the one at Castelsarrasin, resolutely closed and the nearby river looking too polluted to swim in. Finding a suitable >aire de picque nique= we suffered the still, hot, humid environment as we perspired over our baguette sandwiches and watched bemused as French families fought for hours with portable barbecues and fuel that was obviously well past its >ignite by= date. When we left the site after 3.00pm, several families were still trying to fire up their burners to grill their limp, pink >saucisses=.

During this period at Castel, I began a running >contre temps= with the gangs of young men who would arrive at 10.00 or 11.00pm at the port, turn the Arab rap music up to 200 decibels on their car stereos and sit around until 1.00 or 2,00 am, breaking beer bottles on the road or your car, which ever was closer. A couple of times I put our stereo speakers on the roof and literally blasted them with Wagner=s >Ride of the Valkyries=. That worked occasionally but one group who obstinately refused to be quiet, even after we called the Gendarmes, decided I was to be taught a lesson.

One Saturday after midnight, having been to part of Castel=s music festival, we arrived back at the port to find Van Nelle cast off from the quay and slowly drifting into the centre of the canal. Fortunately it was a calm night and we were close enough to get a line and re-secure the boat, now turned 180 degrees. I have since taken care to chain the boat to the bollards. While their trick was not repeated there was a definite upside to it. I had completed chipping rust spots and had completed the re-painting of the side against the quay a couple of days earlier, so, with the boat now reversed, I was able to do the other side !

During their visit, Robin and Adriaan Schipper had introduced us to Tim and Carol Holmes (also from Perth), who share ownership of a charming house in La Chappelle, a beautiful, tiny village on a hill near Valence d=Agen. We had enjoyed their company at a barbecue on Van Nelle in Valence and they had reciprocated with lunch accompanied by a Rugby test match on satellite TV at their house a day or so later. The day was hot, their pool was cool and the wines and food marvellous. So, after departing Castelsarrasin for a small >halte nautique= at Golfech near Valence, we decided to visit them again. Golfech has a small quay which is serviced with free electricity and water, sponsored we think by the nearby nuclear power station which also supplies the heat for the town=s indoor pool. The halte is convenient to the road to La Chappelle and has regular shaped banks, making it possible for us to launch our occasional transport.

Swinging the Peugeot scooter off the boat onto the canal side we donned helmets and jackets and rode the 18km to La Chappelle on a glorious sunny day. Once again the ever generous Tim and Carol insisted we stay for lunch. As we ate we arranged for them and their soon to arrive visitors to join us for a picnic and cruise on Van Nelle a couple of days later. Eleven people (nine of them and two of us), made huge plates of chicken, salads, breads, cheeses and fruits, and with gin and tonics to start, soon emptied an impressive score of white wine bottles as we slowly cruised up the canal to a turning point and returned in the mid afternoon to Golfech. All too soon, the Holmes gang remounted their scooters and car and disappeared into the afternoon. We continued to Valence to turn the boat so we could later continue in the direction of Bordeaux, and on the way, stop at Agen to pick up our next guests, Diane and Gary Prattley.

About five years ago, we arranged a hire boat on the Nivernais Canal in conjunction with David and Judith Reed and Gary and Diane Prattley. We had a fantastic time, spending four days in Paris before 10 days on the boat and then 4 days in Tuscany and Rome. Following our move to France, Gary and Diane had joined us for a couple of days in 2002 while we were on our way to Paris and David and Judith also had visited for a chilly cruise in February 2002 from St Jean to Dole. It therefore had been some time since we had seen them and so we were looking forward to renewing our friendship with the Prattleys on their second visit.

We arrived in Agen a day before our guests and by mobile phone managed to effect a faultless rendezvous the next day, securely parking their hire car by the canal and departing at 9.00am the next day for Buzet for a rendezvous with the famous wine co-op. Having passed over the 500m long >pont canal=, an aqueduct across the Garonne River, we passed through the four locks that take you out of Agen. Stopping at Kate Hill=s house for morning tea, we took time to let Gary and Diane tour her house and herb gardens and her lovely barge >Julia Hoyt=, before continuing on to Ecluse 38 where everything came to a dead stop.

For reasons not explained, the wall of the canal between Ecluse 38 and 39 was somehow breached, the water therefore draining out, flooding the surrounding neighbourhood. This can occur if a small leak is allowed to develop, the escaping water thereby quickly creating a major breach. It had happened after we had passed the locks at Agen so that we could not be warned. We arrived at ecluse 38 and as we are 10 to 15 metres longer than the width of the canal - and therefore unable to turn, there we were stuck until the wall could be repaired and the water allowed to refill that canal section. This took 3 days - the whole time our guests had with us. (Note: This section of canal is 15km long and on average 15 metres wide by 1.8 metres deep. You can imaging therefore the volume of water required to fill it).

So - Plan B. A quick confab with the eclusiers informed us that we could not get them to take one of us back to Agen but they arranged a taxi so that we could collect Gary=s car. That, and the supply of electricity, was all we needed to ensure that while marooned, we had a secure environment from which we could use Gary and Diane=s hire car to explore the surroundings, including Buzet and the wine co-op. Over the next two days we ranged far and wide, taking in fabulous medieval villages such as Pujols - all of 350 metres long, perched high on a hilltop, completely restored by the current inhabitants - the old town is now almost completely a tourist attraction, featuring antique shops and artisans making and repairing things such as antique clocks.

We also visited Buzet, returning to the boat with the inevitable couple of cases of white and red wines, including a 5 litre container of the very drinkable >vin de table= in >vrac= - bulk. All too quickly the time passed for our friends to depart on their drive to Cherbourg and the ferry to the UK.

Fortunately, a real disaster was narrowly averted.

Gary and Diane had around the world tickets in Business Class with Qantas / BA including the leg from Rome to London which they had ignored in order to take a hire car to drive to us, then onto Cherbourg to take the ferry to the UK. They then planned to pick up their interrupted flight plan in London to travel onto the US on their scheduled date. Just before the scheduled date for the Rome /London leg, Gary called in to cancel the sector, only to be told that if they did not take the flight (which was now clearly impossible) that the whole ticket would be cancelled ! Some very fast talking and the fact that Gary is the Director of Planning for the NSW government while Dianne is a Platinum Frequent Flier, had the ticket re-arranged by Qantas in Australia. Moral - Beware the small print on restricted, advance purchase tickets !!!!!

Our 9 kva generator, a much needed piece of equipment that gives us independence from shore power and allows us to use equipment such as our clothes dryer, had shut down several times, indicating an over-heat problem in its alternator. Before meeting with Gary and Diane, we had driven to Bordeaux to talk with the management of company which would fix the generator, to arrange for them to visit us at Meilhan, a village on the canal some 60km short of Bordeaux. That would be easy for them to drive and make it possible for us to avoid navigating the Garonne River the 54km to Bordeaux and having to hole up in the rather forbidding Bassin a Flot (under the huge German WWII submarine pens). The more we thought about it however (and as they started to change the arrangements by phone), we decided to hell with it - we would take the boat down to Garonne River to Bordeaux.

We arrived in Castets, the last canal stop before the river, at 1130 am on Monday the 7^th of July to find that the best time to leave there was at 3.00pm that day - so that was what we decided to do. At 3.30pm we departed for the two ecluses that take you onto the Garonne as the tide ebbs towards Bordeaux. At 4.00pm we were on the river and at just a bit over half revs on the engine, we were soon doing 20kmh downstream. The 54 km took only 3 hours to navigate as we were swept into the huge Port de la Lune at Bordeaux under the famous Pont Pierre through café latté coloured water. Sweeping past the vast Bordeaux waterfront we spied a floating pontoon just near the entrance to the ecluse of the Bassin a Flot - our resting place in Bordeaux. We turned mid-stream and pushed into the ebb to tie up securely for the night as we had to wait for the next high tide to enter the bassin.