Up at 6:30 am to make my Instanto. Joined shortly thereafter by Mr Fixit and Peggster, up early to walk into the village for fresh bread. I worked away at The Diaries until they were back and then we visited while they did a Suduko together and I continued to send email. Rest of gang were up by about 8:00 am and then Mr Fixit fried up some scrumptious bacon and eggs and we feasted upon the delicious fare, nicely presented with sliced tomatoes and a few small lettuce leaves.
Apparently, the following grape varieties are used:
- for white wines: Muscadelle, Sauvignon and Sémillon
- for red wines: Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Côt and Merlot.
Misha, thanks for hosting
the last gathering. It was great to see your new digs and fun to listen
to Kurt rave about Pnin. Was that NA bo kov or Na BO kov?
I will suggest either the 27 October or the 3 November for the next gathering. Please state your preference. G
I think think either date will work for me. Guy
By the by, the next book is Blood's a Rover by James Ellroy (Victor).
Hi Stormin'!
Sorry, I'd really like to take advantage of your sample sale but
we'll still be on our canal barge this coming weekend, not back in
Vancouver until October 19th!
We are supposed to house/cat sit for The Millionaires in January so
perhaps we can get together at some point. Cheers, Patrizzio!
Hi folks, Heads up, I put $500 in your account D for the property cheque money but it was for $640 so still owe the difference but had to use it for cat food!!!! Will pay you on the 15th. Love you. Chloe and Maggster!!!! xxxxxxx
Hey World Travellers!
Look,
we know you are busy, but if you could send an email in response to our
invitation below relatively promptly, between sips of Chablis if
necessary,
then we will know whether to invite someone else.
This email was not vetted for politeness by Ruth prior to sending. Cheers! Rick
Fab pics!! Everyone is the office is green with envy of your boat trip. Off to buy Alex's birthday gift...he wants an e-reader like his Nana!! Love to all!
Patrick, I just re-read the last part of your last email where you were very proud of your biking prowess. Anyway I noted that Corinne was to arrive on the 21st. Is this why we haven't heard from you?
We are back in Vancouver as Gerry wanted to attend a SFU sponsored
forum on BC's economy. He has spent the day with union leaders, NDP
MLA's, academics and others of the same ilk so I am sure he will have
lots to share tonight.
We went to an excellent VIFF show last night. I hope we can see at
least one more. The young lady that made the movie was very
interesting, well spoken and did an excellent job on the topic of oil in
Ghana. Nice to see a movie about oil that wasn't
biased but gave you lots of first hand information and let you
determine what you think.
Vancouver continues to have amazing weather. Cheers, Dawn
Hi Big Al and Marilyn!
Sorry I've not been in touch sooner. No excuses but plenty of
reasons. Trust everyone is well. Have been having a wonderful time on
the river/canal aboard The Good Ship Lollypop even if the crew leave
much to be desired. Everything goes swimmingly, from
riding to wine, from food to scenery, from bridge to malt, so can't
complain!
Quite enjoyed that link to go-pro cameras. Wish I had one to record
some of my own rides! That way I'd never have to touch the Dreaded
Burning Ground! Any word on desk. Hope not as I don't really want to
curtail my spending on wine here! Anyway, let me know
when things are settled.
Bit of a snapshot of last few days, for your reading pleasure, should your library privileges be suspended!
Our Flying Bridge penichette is most comfortable and accommodates the four couples very nicely. The four cabins each have two single, narrow beds and a toilette/shower/sink so it is a tight squeeze but fine. For our part, we have to store our two wheeled bags just outside our cabin door as they are too large to fit under bunk beds. They would, in fact, go under, but the openings, (meant, I suppose, to keep things from sliding back out), are too small to allow our baggage to be placed out of the way. Still, not too inconvenient as there is enough room on landing to have them in companionway.
However, night before we were in Buzet-sur-Baïse, docked at a small, private marina, (one not part of Locaboat franchise), and I went to take a shower. I didn't realize that one needed a token and there was only a trickle of water, and I mean a trickle, (although it was hot enough), coming out of the shower head. I had to use a tiny bottle that had once contained conditioner to take my shower! I'd fill it up and then pour it over my head, shoulders, etc., to wet my hair/skin and then shampoo/soap everything. Must have taken me about a thousand, one ounce refills, before I was semi-rinsed off! I was away for so long that Sarge came to see if I was alright. He couldn't stop laughing when he saw my predicament but took pity on me and came back with the necessary token! Then I was in pure shower heaven and luxuriated under the glorious stream for the full six minutes which the token buys!
Off to Nérac after breakfast, (fabulous scrambled eggs with diced Prosciutto and red oniones, by Mr Fixit, fried bread, (no toaster), courtesy of Peggster, with raspberry jam, so was all set and looking forward to another ride along the canal. Flamin' and I set off just before 10:00 am but had to ride on the road as there isn't a tow-path along the river, either the Blaise or the Garonne, only the canal. First town was Vianne, a lovely walled place, seemingly speciallizing in blown glass from the number of galleries and studios we noticed as we rode through centre and outskirts. On to Lavardac but didn't stop as we had been issued orders, by dipsomaniacal co-captains, to find a berth in Nérac. Crusing time there, with locks to negotiate, is about five hours, although only 20 km or so, by road. Busiest road between Lavardac and Nérac so wasn't really enjoyable cycling, considering how wonderful it had been along tow paths and on earlier quiet country lanes.
"Château de Nérac, a castle in the Lot-et-Garonne département, an edifice of the French 'renaissance' style, built during the reign of Jeanne d'Albret, daughter of Marguerite d'Angoulème also Marguerite de Navarre by his marriage, the sister of king Francis I of France. The castle has been classified as a Monument historique since 1862 by the French Ministry of Culture."), and working here. They very kindly offered to call the number listed on the office door and the three of us visited while Andrew left a message on the answering machine. We thanked them for their kindness and invited them for a drink that evening. They were delighted to accept so we looked forward to getting to know them a bit better.
Flamin' and I then cycled back into le centre de la ville. It was only shortly after 12:15 pm by this time and I wanted to continue riding until our companions arrived, at or about 3:00 pm. We had bumped into a gandg of Canadians, from Ottawa, earlier,and one of the women had mentioned a very pretty town called Fourcès so I decided I'd make for there. Flamin' was happy to stay in Nérac so we waved goodbye and I set off. I'd talked to a friendly German man just before I headed out of town and he directed me to follow signs for Mézin. I did this and once up the very, very long hill out of town, (One tends to forget about hills when one rides along the tow path but my month in Languedoc held me in good stead so I was pleased with my performance, although it was a good huff and puff nonetheless.), I sailed along.
Countryside is more mixed farming, fields of grain, corn mostly, at least to my eyes, and endless sunflowers, mainly drooping, dark heads, obviously end of season, and rolling hills, greener than much of the sere in Languedoc. A light shower as I approached Mézin but light breeze dried me almost immediately. Was really pleased that it wasn't the downpour that we'd witnessed day before when in Buzet. Wasn't overly worried about my person but was quite concerned about my camera. Anyway, I didn't have to worry and enjoyed circling through this steep hillside town.
At the bottom of the hill, followed the sign to Fourcès along a quiet, level road and even hailed a number of other lone cyclists, coming from the other direction. About 5 km along reached Fourcès, a tiny, walled village, with a moat. The square is actually a lovely treed circle here with the two-storied houses around the circumference in wedges, the space between the spokes of various small lanes, leading away from centre. Extremely pretty and picturesque, with many small galleries, shops and a number of busy restaurants, their outdoor patios filled with lunch-time crowd, so I was pleased I'd made the effort to ride there.
On to Condom, following a sign, just outside entrance to Fourcès, telling me I had 21 km to go. Headed in the direction I was going I discovered that I was entering two other Appellation d'origine contrôlée, the Côtes de Gascogne and Armagnac regions. I soon encountered more vineyards than on earlier part of ride and keep seeing signs for "Floc de Gascogne, a regional apéritif, a vin de liqueur fortified with armagnac, the local brandy. It has had Appellation d'origine contrôlée status since 1990." A number of long, long steady climbs and then the rush of sailing down, repeated about three roller-coaster times before I saw the spire of some church or cathedral in Condom. Stopped to take a snap of the sign announcing the place's name but decided not to go into town itself. Thought I'd explore the following day when we docked for night.
No difficulty finding route back to Nérac and I was soon speeding along a very well-surfaced highway, wind at my back, for the most part, so it was a most enjoyable ride. Traffic was heavier than on other sections but it wasn't a concern. More dismayed by dark clouds ahead and about 12 km from Nérac it did start to rain steadily, although lightly. I'd put my camera under my vest and it was well protected there, that part of my chest not even wet all. Rain became more of a drizzle as I entered town and since I had about 78 km on the clock as I went over the bridge, (I saw Cora Lee in her pink rain jacket on deck of Damazan, on river below), to take me dockside I decided I'd take a dipsy-doodle out the other side of town just to see what I could see. Took a side road and ended up in what one might call a new subdivision and then shortly thereafter, farm land. Turned around near a large agricultural complex and made for the boat. Very pleased with the new countryside and the distance even if I'd touched the "Burning Ground" a number of times over the the course of the outing!
Stats for ride:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/383705560#.UkmI2BhEfxE.email
Tuesday morning, around 10:00 am, Flamin', Des and I left the able crew of the Damazan to cycle to Condom. We arrived around 12:30 pm as it was slow going for Des, his first ride in years. I didpsy-doodled ahead, taking off down side roads as they presented themselves. On the road leading to Mézin, (If I'd been by myself I would have ridden there as I wanted to see what the route, cross country, was like, having ridden to the village from Nérac the day before.), I encountered three tractors, all with different mowing attachments, keeping the roadside trimmed. The smell of fresh mint wafted across the road as I passed one, I suppose some rogue plants had rooted in the ditch nearbye. Further up the long, long, gradual incline, I came upon a number of farmers tending their vegetable fields and noticed the crop was cucumbers. Turned around at the top of the hill and swooped back down to D930 to rejoin my two companions.
This is a fairly busy road and there were quite a few large trucks roaring past. However, the drivers always gave us a wide berth, something which car drivers sometimes do not. Closer to Condom we came upon a roundabout and I followed one of the spokes, looking for the Château whose sign advertised Floc de Gascogne, wondering about whether a degustation there was a possibility. When I encountered a warehouseman, a few minutes of dipsy-doodling later, I posed the question: "Degustation, est possible?" in my perfect French. First thing he did was look at his watch and knowing exactly what he was thinking, I quickly added: "Non, maintenant, mais un autre temps, peut-être." "Mais, oui, bien sûr, Monsieur!" Of course, like all French people, he as worried that I wanted to interrupt his sacrosanct lunch break! Chuckling to myself I waved, thanked him and rejoined the peloton.
At the next roundabout, I took another dipsy-doodle around a small industrial park, (by now were near the outskirts of Condom), and noticed a very large field completely filled with solar panels. It is the second or third one of this size that I've encountered, the first ones in Languedoc. As well, I'd noticed there that many of the wineries had solar panels on the roofs of the larger buildings. Back to rejoin the other two and was glad approach to Condom was downhill as poor Des's legs were really starting to cramp up. I'd mentioned, earlier, that since I didn't actually know where the docking facility was located we would make for the centre of town and take things from there. As it turned out, as soon as we went through the first roundabout directing us to le centre de la ville it bacame obvious where we needed to go. A couple of dipsy-doodles later, (We'd not seen the Capitaniere as it was back from the water's edge and we ended up on the opposite bank.), we chained our bikes to fence post and walked half a block to join Desmond who'd made his way to the first bistro he could find!
After we scoped out moorage we enjoyed a delicious lunch, Salad Gersoise, Des's treat, at the Café du théâtre, just across the street from the Capitanerie where we would dock. Flamin' and Des had had enough riding for the day and they wanted to reconnoitre Condom and I wanted to try to log my first 100 km ride of the canal trip.
Stats of Tuesday's ride:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/384331954#.UksxPr46T1U.email
Grand, grand ride, with plenty of challenging hills but feel that I can now handle just about anything that this region can throw at me. Very pleased with overall distance even though it came at the expense of my becoming a member of the Lunch/Latte Riding Society. Fortunately, once one pays one's dues, a complimentary pair of asbestos soled riding shoes is included, so that the pain of The Burning Ground is partially ameliorated, Dear Reader!
Up at 6:30 am, Thursday morning to see if we still had an umbrella. Wind had come up about 5:00 am and I could hear thinks knocking about on the flying bridge right above our cabin. We'd had a lovely dinner there last night and then The Brotherhood had played bridge, the Two Waynes scheming, between bids, how to place the inflatable Roo, from the bow of the Aussie's boat across the river, back into "protective custody", as they put it! They, aided and abetted by Desmondo, had pulled a similar caper late Tuesday night when we were docked in Nérac. That time I had been rudely awakened around 2:30 am by the sounds of a kerfuffle of some sort, thinking it was a band of local thieves come to steal my prized Navigator. Soon realized it was the Three Buffons, all jacked up on malt, slip-sliding all over the quarter deck, guffawing and farting, (A direct result of the cannellini beans which The Sisterhood had taken upon themselves to add to Andre's ratatouille.), in more than symphonic splendour!
At any rate, the umbrella was still in its stand so I took it down and repaired to the galley to put the kettle on to boil. With my Instanto at my side, I began scribing. Unfortunately, this mooring doesn't have power or water so we cannot re-charge our computers/cell phones, so not sure how long I'll have to try to update the sorely neglected Diaries!
We spent a lazy day in Condom yesterday, not leaving until after 2:00 pm. I'd decided to stay on the boat until we docked at Moncrabeau as I'd not actually travelled on it since we left Agen, having biked between one moorage and the next stopping point. Sarge had ridden there and back that morning, trying to wear off his overhang, and so I knew about a side road I could take to avoid fairly busy main road. I plotted out a route that would take me back to Condom then as far southeast as Caussens. From there I turned north and then east towards La Romieu. From this village it was almost directly north to Lisgardes, then a slight jog northwest to Francescas. Once here, it was almost entirely downhill, (Except for quite a killer climb, not long after leaving Lurchescas, about five times as long as the UBC Foreshore Hill, I reckon. I'd round a curve thinking I was near the top and then another stretch would present itself, and on and on. Most of the grade was slow and steady but there were a number of shorter, steeper bits which had me huffing and puffing, although I managed the entire ride, from start to finish, without having to use my lowest gears, so was pleased, from that point of view.], and it really was a thrilling descent, all the way back south again and then the final turn to the west back down into Moncrabeau and the river moorage, down quite a steep hill below the village itself.
Except for the stretch between Condom and Caussens, (not overly busy but a number of large trucks and cars, from time to time), I was almost always completely alone but for the odd tractor. Funnily enough, I rode past Château de Gensac after leaving Caussens. Would definitely try to visit if ever happen to be back in this area. The ride was a true roller-coaster, up long, long grades and then a wild whizz down to repeat the process, usually two or three times between each town. At certain points route would snake along the hilltop and here I would pass freshly ploughed fields, (rich, rich looking soil), brilliant green expanses of crops, (not certain of plantings), drooping, black patches of sad looking sunflowers and more and more vineyards as I made my way further north. It was a simply gorgeous afternoon and early evening, sun blinding whenever I was headed in a westerly direction so that I had to look down at the road immediately in front of me to be able to see, even with my spiffy new orange sun glasses! The odd herd of cows, eying me balefully from their pasture near a cluster of farm buildings, or a goat or two, paying me no never mind as they nibbled on the shrubs of their enclosure. Given the utter serenity and virtual isolation of much of the ride it was almost a shock to encounter a few individuals, as I passed through one village or another, working in their front gardens or chatting on a doorstep, so mesmerizing was the quiet, uninhabited landscape through which I journeyed. Don't think I've ever really experienced such a prolonged sense of almost transcendent calm while riding since I've never been in such extended rural settings before. Even in Languedoc the towns seemed/were closer, the vineyards busier, so that I was never "alone" for particularly long stretches.
Must say it was quite a magical time and I was rudely reintroduced to reality when I returned to the Damazan. When I left, around 4:30 pm, there was talk of trying to moor on the opposite bank where electrical outlets were available. Boats already docked there prevented us from tying up but The Two Waynes were going to ask if others would be willing to shift along quay in order to let us dock close to hook-ups. Not sure why they didn't proceed with this but they didn't bother. At any rate, when I reached the bridge under which we had tied up, I thought I recognized the Damazan across the river so I cycled to that side and through the campground behind to come upon none other than The Aussies! I had mistaken their penichette for ours and ad to endure the jibes and cat calls of my own shipmates, already eating dinner on the flying bridge across the way! Not wanting to walk through the soggy field I'd just managed to ride through, I elected to clamber a fairly steep embankment, using my trusty Navigator to help me scale the slope. Back aboard, a constant barrage of barked demands/commands, (more wine, more this, more that, more wine, more wine), flew down the aft hatch as I tried to salvage a few scraps from the leavings of the dinner. Actually, the bbq'd sausages and zucchini, the oven roasted yam fries, together with fried haloumi/sliced tomatoe appetizer, were simply delicious and went exceedingly well with the two Gensacs, the Tannat and the Meritage. Unfortunately, for me, the juiceheads had already polished off the Paul Mas Vermentino so I was mildly disappointed but drowned my sorrows with a Stella Artois to rehydrate myself after the glorious ride and then the crash and burn of re-entry to life aboard The Good Ship Lollypop!
Stats for ride:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/384771128#.UkyBhk3BY38.email
http://connect.garmin.com/page/activity/activity.faces?activityId=386007332&
Went for my longest ride of canal barge days yesterday. I stayed on the boat after breakfast, (Wonderful French Toast by Mr. Fixit!), until we reached a lock, Nazareth, on the Baïse River, not far from a town called Nérac. It was raining lightly but I'd decided to hope for the best and set off, waving goodbye to my companions. We were to meet in a walled town called Vianne, only about 20 km away, by road, but about a six hour boat trip, given 6-8 km/h speed restrictions and number of locks, (12 or so), to clear. Whizzed along a small, quiet road, used mostly by local farmers and since it was a slight downhill grade all the way to Nérac, I was more than pleased to see that I had a 20+ km/h AVG. Even a dedicated bike lane into town!
On towards Lavardac and was able to maintain same average. Once there though, it was new territory as I made for Casteljaloux. Road was almost arrow straight and only a few long, long grades to climb, roller-coasting through much different countryside: quite heavily forested countryside. I knew from various roadside signs that Casteljaloux was thermal spa town, the Harrison Hot Springs of this part of France, I assumed. About halfway there I noticed road signs for Agen so I knew I could always head in that direction once I'd logged about 40 km, roughly estimating distance I'd need to cover to make my 100+ km goal. Took a quick spin around Casteljaloux once there and it looked like a very pretty, prosperous place. Then retraced my earlier route until I saw a sign for Damazan. Wanted to ride there as that is the name of our boat.
Almost as soon as I'd taken this turnoff, road started to climb and this continued for quite some time. Grade was not overly steep but was almost never-ending. Once again, I was cycling through heavily forested hillsides, although they seemed like mountainsides, at times, as I was huffing and puffing my way to the top of one upward curving bend and then another and then another. When I finally crested the last rise I was treated to a magnificent view of the valley below and knew I was probably in for a giddying swoop down, all the way to the bottom. Basically, this was the case and I swooshed along, wind whistling through my helmet, all memories of the grueling ascent banished from my mind and the exhilaration of the slalom run pumped adrenalin into my system.
Got more of that rush when, on a tight curve, I was passed by a huge logging truck, with full trailer to boot, (Thought I was back in BC for a second, so huge were the logs! Later discovered I was in "The Landes Forest (La forêt des Landes), or the Landes of Gascony (las Lanas de Gasconha in the Gascon language), in the historic Gascony natural region of southwestern France now known as Aquitaine, is the largest maritime-pine forest in Europe. The French word, landes and Gascon lanas, mean 'moors' or 'heaths'."), and right behind another double semi! Truck drivers, in general,are extremely courteous and careful and always give cyclists, in my experience, as wide a berth as possible. I wasn't overly worried but was still glad when they were past, Dear Reader! Little further along I met another convoy of heavy trucks and was more concerned about them encroaching on my lane as they cornered the tight curves. Keeping a weather eye ahead, I was soon safely down on level ground, on a busy road, truck after heavy truck zipping by me. However, there was a very wide, paved shoulder so it was just like being on the Island Highway heading to Lantzville from Nanoose Bay and all my worries were over. Or so I thought until I approached quite a large bridge over the Lot, very wide at this point. The sidewalk was very narrow and rough looking, with a reasonably high curb to cross so I opted to ride on the road. Lanes are even narrower once one starts across the bridge so I was a bit concerned about traffic I might have to deal with. Fortunately there was no oncoming traffic and although I was passed by three huge lorries they all were able to move over enough not to be dangerously close.
Almost immediately after the bridge I took a left turn into Aiguillon and took a quick tour of the place. Looked like a fairly large town so probably worth a visit if we stop here next week. Once I'd cycled a few of the main streets I headed back to the highway as I needed to cross the bridge again, to make the turnoff which would take me towards Buzet-sur-Baïse, the town before Vianne. Fortunately, I was all alone on the bridge this time so was soon on the quieter road I cycled before, when we first moored in Buzet. By this time I had about 82 km on the clock so knew I was in good shape as far as my distance goal was concerned.
Decided I take a quick spin around the town to add a few more kilometres and happened to bump into the young German couple we'd first met in Agen. We'd had them aboard in Nérac for drinks and enjoyed their company. They were staying in Buzet that night and then making their way back to Agen as their trip was coming to an end. I told them about the winery just outside of town, Les Vignerons de Buzet, one I had scoped on my first visit to village, and which we planned to taste at on Friday, and then waved goodbye, bringing greetings from them to rest of our gang.
Only a short ride to Vianne, although the wind was fierce some, and I was worried my AVG would drop below 20 km/h. Didn't wish this to happen so I grit my teeth, put my head down and plugged along. Once outside the walls of Vianne I went to roundabout and made for a town called Xaintrailles. Road seemed to climb, gradually, up a series of hillsides but since the wind was now at my back, it was actually far, far easier to climb than to fight the incredible head wind. By the time I crested the last hill I was in a small village called Lasmazères and I had about 98 km on the clock by then so decided it was time for the run home. I turned around in the parking lot of a fairly busy, medium-sized lumber mill, skirting large piles of logs, wondering if any were on the truck that had passed me earlier!
Although the wind had not abated in the slightest since I was rolling downhill I was laughing all the way into Vianne. Decided I'd try to scope out the moorage so made for the river and quickly found where the Damazan was likely to dock. Continued on around, following the perimeter of walls until I was back at the Buzet side. Took the opening here and round around some of the narrow streets and had just gone through the roundabout on the Lavardac side of town when I spied The Sisterhood coming up the slight hill from the riverbank, making their way into the village to look for some groceries. After greeting them, I made my own way to the boat to find the lads just tying up and hooking up power and water. caught up on boat trip after I left them and then they left to go into town to find the local bar!
Stats for Thursday's ride:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/385070320#.UlJ3G6NJQ78.email
I wanted to have a shower aboard as there were none ashore. By the time I made myself a cup of instanto the Goils had returned and started in on dinner preparations. Shortly thereafter The Three Buffoons returned,laden with beer and groceries, (The Sisterhood had been unable to find any open stores.), so Desmond readied the bbq, lighting the briquettes. While he was so engaged I stood in for him on the quarter deck, played bridge with Sarge, Peggster and Mr Fixit. A couple of bottles of wine later, coals were glowing nicely and I made for my shower. By the time I was squeaky clean Cora Lee had finished putting kartofellage in tin foil so she replaced Mr Fixit at the table as he had to put rub on the chicken he was going to grill. While all this was happening, I put together a mixed green saladin and opened about 17 more bottles of wine!
Everything came together nicely and we enjoyed a scrumptious dinner inside as wind was still blowing, gusting quite strongly at times so that bridge players had to keep their fingers on the card tricks to keep them from sailing overboard. After we'd enjoyed the delcious meal and dishes were done, some of party retired to read and have an early night. Sarge and I took on Desmond and the Peggster and we played more bridge until about 10:30 pm, fortifying ourselves with rum and coke, instead of malt this night. Some good contracts on both sides so lots of fun.
After we bade one another goodnight, I did all the wine and rum glasses and then hit my own bunk. Cora Lee was sound asleep, glasses on her nose, book open, pages fluttering in rhythm to her gentle snores! Plucked her specs off her nose and she jerked awake only to roll over, mumbling a groggy goodnight and falling back asleep even before I'd brushed and flossed. Great ending to a wonderful, wonderful day!
To be continued...
Pics: Sarge casting off in Nérac; some shots of Condom and lovely couple, Catherine, (Strasbourg), Andrew, (Liverpool), now living in Nérac. We met them, by chance, there, and invited them for dinner in Condom, following evening; market in Condom and bronze sculpture of Three Musketeers as all four are from Armagnac. Typical lock; embankment at Moncrabeau, against which we tied up; bridge in Vianne and view from our cabin window, across river there; Desmondo, The BBQ King!
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