Un été caniculaire; Le Farniente Fourquais and the mineral man of La Fallotte; of fish that wriggle in Buzet; sweltering in Sérignac, broiling in Boé and grilling in Golfech

This has been un été caniculaire, as the French put it – not a summer heatwave, but a full-on heatwave summer.

Fortunately, we were in no hurry. With no agenda but to be back in Moissac in time for the 10-12 August boat festival, or fête des plaisanciers, we could take it easy.

On our last day at Fontet base de loisirs (or leisure base), I was lolling around after a swim in the lake when Tui arrived, bearing friendly Kiwis Lindsay Sweeney and Vicki Ritchie. Drinks aboard Karanja were clearly in order.

Before we left Fontet in the morning, Lindsay insisted  we try out their electric bicycles. The motor is in the wheel-hub, and I was surprised (and a bit alarmed) by the the surge of power you get just by activating the pedals.

Fourques (2 nights)

Four locks today: L’Auriole, La Gravières, Bernés and L’Avance. We’re now going uphill (montant) all the way to destination Moissac, and so having to work harder at the locks. Nevertheless, there’s something restful about cruising back along a route you’ve already travelled.

In this heat, a shady stop was essential. Luckily, the single mooring at Fourques that we’d seen on our way west was vacant.

Running in the heat didn’t appeal, so I walked 5km eastwards to Caumont. No boulangerie, just one of those bread-vending machines, or distributeurs de pain, with a sign boasting that it’s stocked twice-daily. (But of course it is! Twelve-hourly access to crusty baguettes is a basic human right in France.)

Review: Le Farniente Fourquais

It would have been rude not to have dined at Le Farniente Fourquais, literally 25 metres from our mooring. Luckily, it’s a gem. Its set menu offered a choice of three starters, four mains and three desserts.

Going with the flow, we each ordered a different fresh-fruity cocktail: Roy’s rum-based, mine vodka-based, and both delicious. (It was the hottest summer’s day so far in France; after a high of 36 degrees, by 9pm it had settled down to around 30.)

Then, in addition to the three courses, came tapas – divinely deep-fried veggies, fish and goat’s cheese, straight out of the pan.

For starters, I had the black pudding kebab with confit pineapple, an inspired combination; Roy had the delicious tomato tart. For mains, we both went on to the tender and tasty pork medallion in honey, with cheesy spinach and fries. Apple cake (him) and ice-cream (me) – one boule of coconut, another of passion fruit – rounded off an inventive meal. Including a half-litre pichet of rosé, it came to €45.

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La Fallotte (1 night)

Three locks and 2.5 hours from Fourques to La Fallotte: Mas d’Agenais, La Gaulette and La Gaule.

La Fallotte isn’t a village as such, merely a lovely stretch of free mooring in Puch-d’Agenais.

The manicured acres belong to Jean-Pierre, who runs his own private museum of minerals here.

It’s an impressive collection of minerals, sand, shells and fossils from all over France and the rest of the world. I suspected that a visit would be linguistically demanding, and it was.

Jean-Pierre’s English is worse than my French, yet we talked strombolites and the Pinnacles in Western Australia, genetic heritage, the eight main groups of minerals, how synthetic gems are made, what sorts of insects you can realistically expect to find in authentic amber (tiny ants, yes; a scorpion, no), and much more.

This is just his hobby, by the way; in fact, he’s a retired police chief. Sadly, none of his children has any interest in his passion. (Quel dommage, I said – What a pity. C’est dommage pour eux, he replied firmly – It’s a pity for them.)

I paid him the €8 for his 90-minute tour, and another €2.50 for some peach jam made by his partner, Colette, before returning to the boat at the bottom of the lawn.

Back to Buzet (3 nights)

Berry being the sole lock, it’s a gentle run from La Fallotte to Buzet where – despite its lack of shade – we rejoiced to find the main pontoon unoccupied.

I was suddenly gripped by a vacuuming, dusting and even silver-shining spurt – an unusual occurrence that seemed to  motivate Roy to get the exterior of the boat cleaned by the Aquitaine hire-boat staff. (It cost €102 and they did a good job.)

Review: Auberge Le Goujon qui Frétille, Buzet

We’d heard only good things about this place, and all well-deserved. It was a magnificent meal, enjoyed alfresco next to a koi pond alive with fish – appropriate for a restaurant whose name means “Hostel of the Fish that Wriggles”.

The owner is also the chef, and the maitre d’ was superb. It’s amazing to see just two people managing to serve food of such a high standard, and so well, to 30-odd diners.

From the €29 menu, my fresh tomato soup with creamy buffalo mozzarella was bursting with sun-ripened flavour; Roy’s terrine of raw skate wing was excellent. We both had the porcelet – like a rack of lamb, but from a piglet. It came with a piping hot roast potato, a smear of carrot (or pumpkin) and a delicate heap of fresh ratatouille… so good. We splashed out on the Pouilly Fumé (€36), and it all came to €96.

Described as a panaché (mixture), the dessert spread included three types of melon, mango ice cream, chocolate lava, raspberry panacotta, and a delicious chestnut confection – my mother’s favourite.

Sérignac (2 nights)

From Buzet to Sérignac you have first a double lock – Lardaret and Baïse, immediately followed by an aqueduct, and then L’Auvignon.

Great to find Sérignac’s beautiful new moorings all ready this time round, and with plenty of space for us. Sadly, the shade doesn’t last much after 4.30pm; the sun swings round and blasts you for the hottest part of the day, the late afternoon.

A lazy snooze in the wheelhouse was pleasantly interrupted by the arrival of first Michael and Sue on L’Escargot; then the eight-passenger hotel barge Rosa (made famous by UK chef Rick Stein’s BBC2 series filmed on the Canals du Midi and  Garonne); and finally our friends Greg and Bridget on Piper barge Drumsara, who had been on the go for nine hours from the River Baïse and were dropping.

Greg and Bridget soon perked up over an apéro (drinks with a snack) which morphed into an apéro-dinatoire (drinks-with-snacks-that-becomes-dinner).

There were issues with the Rosa* connecting to shore power and blowing the supply – particularly annoying for the man from Elegance, who has a permanent mooring just beyond the new public quay.

(*It’s taken very little time to go from, “Ooh, there’s the Rosa, how lovely!”, to “Oh shit, here’s the Rosa again, I hope it’s not coming in behind/in front of us.”)

Review: Le Prince Noir, Sérignac

We had  a memorable dinner in the atmospheric courtyard of Le Prince Noir, a logis and restaurant set in a 17th-century former convent that’s about a 10-minute walk from the halte nautique.

Though fairly formal, the service was a bit erratic to start with, but we forgave them once we had generous glasses of delicious champagne (€10 each) in our sweaty paws.

We chose the three-course menu (€35) and shared everything: for starters, foie gras, and oeufs cocottes with mushrooms; then rack of piglet (yes, again), and herb-crusted cod; and finishing with profiterole-style cannelettes and Armagnac-soaked prunes with ice cream. Including 750ml of house rosé, it came to €112.

The best thing, honestly? Being given a tortuously translated English version of the menu, and then ordering from it in French. (I’m easily entertained.)

Back to Boé (1 night)

The four locks (Rosette, Chabriéres, Marianettes and Agen) and the 580m-long aqueduct into Agen were hot work, as the sun was already scorching down by 8.30am and we left Fourques only after 11am.

What’s more, we’re montant (going up the canal), meaning I have to climb lock-ladders. One of these was so slimy, spider-webbed and generally revolting that I almost couldn’t bring myself to get onto it.

Once moored at the new wooden quai at Boé – they were still working on it when we stopped here on our way west, remember (or click here) – we settled down to endure the heat of the day. The tourist office kiosk was closed without explanation, depriving us of ice cream.

Needing a mission, I set off to find a boulangerie. It should have been less than a kilometre away, but I took the wrong option at the roundabout (but of course!) and ended up trudging for a full hour in 36-degree heat.

So hot was the ground that I thought my Havaianas were disintegrating, but no – the tar was melting under my feet! Never mind, I found what I was looking for, so we had a fresh baguette to go with pork rillettes, olives and cheese for dinner.

In this heat, you can’t think of cooking; even wielding a tin-opener is a trial. And thank goodness for the air-conditioning in the bedroom; I don’t know what we’d do without it.

Rosa pitched up just too late to find room at the nice new quai, and ended up mooring against the bank, right behind us – belching smoke and making a noise for a good 15 minutes. (Why?)

Golfech (2 nights)

The Rosa sent off her seven passengers with much smartphone photography and many Chinese-accented thank-yous, and then – to spoil everyone else’s breakfast – proceeded to discharge into the canal her black-water (sewage) tank, in preparation for her next group of passengers.

Two locks today: St Christophe and Le Noble. In case you’ve forgotten what Roy looks like in a lock, here’s a picture from last September.

Lamagistére had no signs of mooring, either past or present; but we found a space with shade at Golfech and, with the kind help of a couple from Bordeaux, hammered in our pins.

Our neighbours at Golfech, Maggie and Nigel on heritage barge Gesina, have been stuck here for a week with electrical problems that have now finally been solved.

I found Golfech village, but again got a bit lost in parks and public building complexes. Golfech has quite a lot of that sort of thing, no doubt in return for having sold its soul to allow the erection of two huge nuclear cooling towers nearby.

Surprisingly, the village was buzzing the next day, a Sunday. We had a coffee at the café at Les Arcades, and then bought some incredibly fatty goose rillettes at a deli, along with a bottle of similarly greasy lentils in a glass jar. Yum!

Last stop Pommevic (1 night)

After setting off around 9.15am, we were happy to find the Pommevic mooring vacant and waiting for us. With the mercury still up in the high thirties, shade was a priority and Pommevic has a lot of that. Maggie and Nigel on Gesina came up behind us a couple of hours later.

We know Pommevic, of course, and there was definitely no chance of anything being open on a Monday. But just when you think you understand what’s going on, you’re reminded that you know nothing, can predict nothing. Le Bar Drop was open at midday, and the friendly lady patron said it would be open into the evening.

When Roy and I returned to Le Bar Drop around 8pm, it wasn’t open. I was beyond being surprised. All’s well that ends well: we had a draft beer and some tasty duck confit with fluffy golden chips and ratatouille at two-star hotel and restaurant La Bonne Auberge down the road.

Return to Moissac

I’ve enjoyed our five weeks of pootling along the Garonne with no fixed agenda, stopping at will and doing as we liked. Next up, a three-day boat festival at Moissac!

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