In all these riverside towns we’re visiting, taking a boat tour on the river is one of the things to do. Though I sort of feel I’d like to, I know there’s little chance – “What on earth for, when we’re coming back next summer in our own boat?”, my husband would respond to such a suggestion. (Pick your battles, I say.)

St Jean-de-Losne is where the Canal de Bourgogne enters the Saône river, and, having quite a big port de plaisance, is one of the places where you can consider wintering your boat.

On the way there, we found a lock or two to photograph, and marvelled at the wideness and tranquillity of the canal. After taking a walk and a drive around the town – and its immediate neighbour, Losne, on the other side of the bridge – we had a quick coffee at a friendly waterside café before heading off to Chalon-sur-Saône.

 

The coffee’s getting better, by the way – asking for un grand café-crème seems to do the trick, though the French themselves don’t add milk to coffee, except perhaps first thing in the morning. (That said, we’ve also seen a fellow guest at breakfast putting a teabag into a cereal bowl, topping it up with hot water and then dipping her baguette into it.)

Chalon-sur-Saône

For our single night in this gracious town, which made St Jean-de-Losne look a wee bit scruffy by comparison, Roy’d chosen Hôtel Saint Jean on Rue Gambetta (€65 plus €8 parking). Its atmosphere was good, the room was spacious, with two big windows, and the bathroom better than at Le Sauvage. Also, we loved Sylvie for speaking French to us so slowly that we understood every word – even though the instructions for parking the car were fairly complicated.

Chalon-sur-Saône was home to the man who produced the first photograph, in 1765, one Joseph Nicéphore-Niépce – with such a formidable name, he had to do something important – and boasts various museums and art galleries, plus some stunning mural art in unexpected places.

It’s a popular port for the hotel riverboats, some incredibly huge and long, that moor up alongside the Quai de Gambetta. From there, their passengers can walk directly up into the atmospheric old town for dinner at any number of brasseries and restaurants.

As for us, we weren’t in the mood for another heavy, multi-course meal, so we chose a tiny café – mostly for its name, Fromage & Cie, for the arbitrary reason that it reminded us of a restaurant in Moissac (near Toulouse) that we never managed to get into; this was two years ago. Our early dinner of the local specialty oefs en meurettes (eggs in bourguignon sauce, with chips, for Roy), and a bouchon (steak) and potatoes for me – was just perfect.

---