Toulouse- Bordeaux - Canal lateral à la Garonne

Day 1: to Montech (19 June)

All along the Canal du Midi people told us how good the cycle path was from Toulouse to Bordeaux, so we were prepared for good progress. We had a fabulous map to follow from Cornebarrieu to the canal, traced  for us with great care by Dudley, and set off feeling refreshed. We even discovered a sign for a path to where we were headed, which appeared to avoid a rather busy stretch of main road. 

It did, though it added kilometres to the journey, as these deviations do, with a narrow path passing perilously close to the flooded Garonne at times. However, it was interesting and there was a fun bridge to cross instead of the road bridge. And we connected up with the canal in due course, ignoring the ‘route barrée’ sign, as you do.

Montech isn’t anywhere in particular but is on the way to places and has a great camping ground, if you discount the frogs. Mating season brings a frog chorus whenever you are near water and Montech was particularly endowed, with its very own frog pond in the middle of the camping ground.  What a racket! It seemed to last all night!

Day 2: to Moissac

On the way out of Montech there is a water-slope for canal boats on a sort of side-channel, which avoids 5 locks, thus saving a lot of time.  It went into service in 1974 and is apparently still used but was out of service when we passed. Two diesel engines pull a ‘wedge’ of water up the slope  (with the boat floating on top), and slow the descent on the downward journey.

The original canal dates from the mid-19^th century, and the architecture is nowhere near as interesting as that of the much earlier Canal du Midi.  Many of the bridges crossing the canal are all the same, 1930s style, dating from when the canal was widened, and even the aqueducts are nowhere near as interesting as those of Riquet and Vauban, with the exception of the huge one at Agen (coming later). However, still varied and pretty. Lots of vegetables and fruit crops visible from the path.

Moissac is home to one of the famous abbeys on the Compostello walk. And the town is organized for pilgrims. There were people milling around everywhere. The Abbey and cloisters are strikingly beautiful and all our photos are of these two places – not one of the Irishman and his wife who run the guesthouse where we stayed – and ate. This couple were delightful and are fully integrated into the community they bought into 4 years ago. Their little boy goes to the local school and is being brought up to reside in this community. They directed us to a totally helpful optometrist when Rodney realized his glasses were now in two pieces, and the guy replaced the frame within the hour. They told us about the nuns who sing in the abbey at 6pm every day, so we duly turned up, for the most angelic voices heard in years. Really outstanding. In the guesthouse there is dormitory accommodation in one building and a sort of B and B in another, and in the evening all guests who choose to (at a rate that encourages you to) eat together in the not-so-large kitchen. Most of the guests are Compostello pilgrims and conviviality rules. We really enjoyed our stay.

  

Day 3: to Auvillars

The day was bleak, so we readied ourselves slowly, hoping the light rain would clear. It didn’t but Auvillar was only about 20km away. We had decided to take this detour from the main path, as we had read it was a very pretty place, and we didn’t want to stay in Moissac. As it happened, Auvillar is also a stop for pilgrims en route for Santiago de Compostello and we ended up in a lovely room in a hostel for pilgrims, which was not inappropriate, given our own pilgrimage!

But I leap ahead! The day also gave us another opportunity to experience French kindness and helpfulness. Somewhere near the middle of our ride, Rodney’s rain-spotted glasses with the lovely new frames didn’t allow him to see a difference in level in the road. The bike, not wanting to climb this little step with a load on the back, stopped. Rodney, with the weight of basic physics behind him, kept going and landed on the road, blood all over his face and the new glasses frame sadly mangled.

The first person to pass by was the man from Voies Navigables, the people who oversee the canals. In his little white van, he carried a first aid box, and was both angry and mortified that the antiseptic wipes had dried out. He offered to call the Sapeurs-pompiers but we declined. He was so sorry he wasn’t allowed to carry anyone in his van but directed us up the hill, around the corner to the village and along the road, to the nearest pharmacy, where we were to ask the pharmacist for assistance. Which we did. She took him off to a room, cleaned him up, dressed the wounds, explained that what she had done was just for the day and we’d need to go to the pharmacy the next day.  Mentally adding up the cost of all the materials she had used, we prepared to front up at the cash desk. “Oh no, she said – there’s no charge. C’est normal!” Yet again, overwhelming kindness and attention, dismissed as ‘normal’. So, encouraged by her assistance and attitude, we continued on to Auvillar.

“Very pretty hillside village overlooking the Garonne.” Somehow it didn’t click earlier that we would actually have to climb up this hill to see the view and the pretty village. Suffice to say, we made it, and everyone was very kind to us when we arrived. The centre of this village has a 19^th century circular grain market, which replaced an earlier rectangular one. Somehow they managed to incorporate the old stone measures cut into the stone,  into the new one, while adding measures made of metal as well for the modern building.

The night we were there was the music festival, all over France. The whole town and all its cousins came to the grain market, open-sided but covered, since the rain had destroyed all ideas of using the stage they had constructed in the square. It worked very well, with the raised central area being used for the participants and their equipment, while the audience sat at tables radiating out from the middle. Food was available from stalls on the edge of the square and it mostly seemed to have been provided by locals as a fundraiser. Prices were very reasonable. The evening was fun and the singer easy to listen to. Personally, I lusted after her purple leather boots with the embroidery on the side and high heels. But you can’t have everything and we had a roof over our head, hot showers and good food. Yes!