After a lovely (hot) Australian summer, April 2017 pressed in and the cooler autumn days murmured of our return to France, our boat and the canals.

Our plan this year was for me to arrrive in late April and spend some days preparing the boat, “dewinterising” her and getting her ready to cruise, while Jane would join me a week or so later, after spending time with her Mum in Brisbane.

On my way to Épinal, I stopped off in Paris for a day, so I could walk across town to the port de plaisanciers at the Bassin d’Arsenal, where we planned to spend a couple of weeks in August. I wanted to check it out, but also I’d heard it was a better bet to reserve a place in person rather than by email or telephone.

I arrived in Paris on 28 April, a marvellous, sunny spring day. I’d booked into a small hotel, the Albert 1er, midway between my two rail stations – Gare du Nord and Gare de l’Est. My room was tiny, but pleasant; the elevator was the smallest I’d ever seen, barely big enough to hold me and my two bags. Easier than four flights of narrow stairs, though.

That evening I wandered around the corner to treat myself to dinner at the Bistro Terminus Nord, on one side of the big square facing the Gard du Nord. It felt exhilarating to be free and at large in Paris on this, my first visit to the city. The streets were crowded in the early evening sunlight, everyone on their way home or, more probably, to meet friends for drinks and dinner. Do the French have a word for rendezvous?

I, on the other hand, was solo…. but not alone. It felt strange but by no means isolating as I strolled among the throng, and took my seat at the restaurant. The Terminus Nord is a fabulous old place, very traditional, extraordinary decor, specialising in seafood. And it has about a hundred waiters, or so it seemed.

 

I only wished Jane could have been with me to experience the thrill of my first night in Paris.

The next morning, I walked 4.5kms to the Bassin d’Arsenal, basking in another magnificent spring day and soaking up impressions that rushed at me at a furious pace. Along broad boulevards and avenues, across Place de la Republique, across Place de la Bastille, at last to the broad basin of the Arsenal.

 

The very nice young man at the Capitainerie took my details and allocated us a spot for our August visit, all in a few minutes and, to my surprise, without needing a deposit.

It was all done so quickly and efficiently, it left me with plenty of time to make it back for my train, so I decided to walk back the 4.5kms to my hotel, to soak up more of Paris on foot and above ground.

As I walked I could not help but take note of the numerous bike stations operated by Vélib, the city’s fabulous docked bike rental system. Unlike the cheap dockless operations that seem to be sprouting in other cities, Vélib is beautifully coordinated, easy to pick up and drop off, and resistant to dumping. I never, on that day or subsequently, saw a dumped rental bike in Paris. There are dock stations literally everywhere in the central arrondissements. And you see people riding the khaki bikes on almost every street, at almost every moment.

There was one sobering monent when, walking along Boulevard Jules Ferry next to the park that follows the canal tunnel, I was pulled up by a small sign that commemorated the death of Ahmed Merabet, the policeman killed during the January 2015 attack on Charlie Hebdo.

It was a sombre but also surreal moment, surrounded as I was by Parisians enjoying the weekend sunshine, jogging, strolling, pushing their babies and leading their dogs. I must admit I hastened my pace for a minute or two, checking my surroundings more watchfully but, as Parisians in every direction blithely went about their leisure, I quickly relaxed once again.

It was easy to be charmed and reassured by the sheer beauty of my surroundings, as well as the delightful discoveries along the sunny streets …. an old tile workshop, a shady canalside park.

 

The next day I caught the train to Épinal and by the afternoon was back on board. It was surprisingly easy to open up Eben Haezer after she had been closed down for the winter; within an hour or two I had reconnected the water pumps and filled the fresh water tanks, reconnected the electricity and started charging the batteries, and opened all windows and doors to air the boat. Contrary to my expectations, she was not musty, mouldy, dusty or damp, and everything was exactly as we had left her.

In preparation for Jane’s arrival I did find a couple of opportunities to tart the boat up a bit. I bought some plants for our little deck garden; and one day there was a “brocante” market on the dockside, where I withstood the temptation to buy a shipload of lovely but useless stuff but managed to find some really lovely linens which I thought we might use as table runners.

 

In Épinal I caught up with old friends from the previous year, including our Australian friends Knud and Erica on their boat Linquenda, as well as our great mates Fredi from Switzerland and Ron from the US, who had been joined by his brother. We enjoyed a fab meal with them and others one day at a cool little bistro across the port.

It was the formation of these friendships that made our stay in Épinal very special. People were generous, interesting and open. One day we might have Ron, the ex-Marine and current ‘pirate’ to dinner on our boat with his brother; another day we would be on his boat meeting new people like Guillaume and Naphthy, young locals. Ron is from all over but is a Texan kinda guy… I’m pretty sure it was tacos that night.