Clockwise from above: a barge making its way through a lock; revving up the hot tub for a nighttime soak; onboard wining and dining; a charming French street scene.
early-morning visit to a private wine cellar for us the next day. There, we sipped glasses of premier cru straight from the barrel while most people were still on their first cup of coffee. Slightly tingly and with a couple of bottles of Nuits-Saint- Georges tucked under our arms, we bid our adieus to François and were off to catch the train to Nîmes, where we’ d hook up with our next barge.
Our second voyage followed an entirely different French canal— the Canal du Rhône à Sète in the Camargue region of Provence. Although not as scenic as the Bourgogne, where we took our first cruise, the Rhône à Sète is a relatively unspoiled and lesser-known area of France, which is precisely why the owners had chosen to barge there. The region is home to Europe’ s largest wetland, comprising more than 300,000 acres of salt marshes, lakes, pastures, and sand dunes. It’ s teeming with egrets, flamingos, and countless other birds, as well as herds of hardy horses and bulls tended to by the local cowboys, or gardians, who can be spotted by their black, wide-brimmed hats.
On our first full day aboard the barge, we made a trip to the medieval walled town of Aigues-Mortes, where Cindy and I browsed the plentiful shops and galleries in the colorful main square and picked up packets of lavender and other herbs as souvenirs. The following afternoon, we journeyed to the Pont du Gard, an ancient Roman bridge and aqueduct. The 160-foothigh structure, which once carried millions of gallons of water, is a marvel of engineering. We only wish we could have visited it at night, when we were told it’ s lit up like a Christmas tree.
Our final off-board pleasure was a visit to the town of Arles, often referred to as“ the soul of Provence.” The city is best known as the place where Vincent van Gogh painted some of his most famous works and where, in his later years, he cut off part of his left ear. After visiting a small museum dedicated to his talents, we stopped for a drink at a sidewalk cafe in the lively Place du Forum, then headed for the Amphitheatre, an ancient Roman arena where thousands of spectators still gather for the occasional bullfight and other events. From a lofty spot atop the stadium, we could see the city and the Rhône River spread out before us. Thankfully, all the walking and step-climbing we did helped us work off a few of the thousands of calories we had consumed throughout our stay.“ France is about food and drink,” our captain Kevin gratefully acknowledged one night after we’ d stuffed ourselves silly on a meal of steak filet flambéed in cognac and fresh scallops in cream and Irish whiskey.
The other meals aboard the barge were help-yourself affairs: breakfast consisting of cereals, yogurts, fruits, breads, fresh-squeezed juices, coffee, tea, and jam, and lunch made up of typically French fare like salmon quiche, pâté en croûte, and tomato-and-cucumber salad with raspberry-and-vinegar dressing. As a special treat, our last dinner was spent at a charming Michelin-rated restaurant whose name I sadly can’ t remember. What I do remember is that after already starting to feel a little full after the hefty amuse-bouche appetizer, I still managed to down a respectable portion of my entrée, several glasses of wine, and a decadent crème brûlée for dessert.
On our final day aboard our final cruise, as my friend Cindy and I sadly prepared for our return to life on dry land, our barge slowly boated past a pair of elderly fishermen huddling next to the shore.“ Trés tranquille,” one of them shouted at us.“ You don’ t have a worry in life, eh?” the other countered. They were right on both counts.
20 | NW GEORGIA LIVING JULY / AUGUST 2025