We’ve fallen in love with Moissac – the small town in the Tarn-et-Garonne department of the Occitane region of southern France that has become our new home for the European summer. We’ve just left our Dutch barge Karanja in Moissac port for the winter and migrated like geese to the Southern Hemisphere.

In case you were wondering, the pink umbrella installation in Moissac’s Rue des Arts appeared a few days ago in honour of Pink Ribbon October.

This isn’t our first time here. Exactly three years ago, Roy and I came to Moissac to do the boat-handling course and get the ICC and CEVNI qualifications that you need to navigate the inland waterways of Europe on your own boat.

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Last bit of Le Canal du Midi, then on to Le Canal de Garonne:

Hot and grumpy in Grisolles, electrical wizardry and magnificent munchies in Montech, chatted up in Castelsarassin, journey’s end in Moissac

It’s a long, long way to Grisolles

Tenderly, I asked my husband: “Do you still like boating?” It was a loaded question.

Under the scorching sun, sweating like a beast, he’d just hammered the second mooring pin into what sounded like concrete under the patchy grass. It would have been 35 degrees in the shade in Grisolles – had there been any shade. And my Roy does not like to be hot.

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Marseillan is by far the biggest, most glamorous port we’ve visited so far, thronged with French and international tourists and lined with bars and restaurants. Best of all, we met up with new friends and made some even newer ones.

Day 1

This feels like the South of France! And yet we almost gave it a miss, turned around and left straight for the Canal du Midi. I’m so glad we didn’t.

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You’ll never get a better view of le pont d’Avignon than from the boat, warned Roy, so I snapped away.

Two points to clarify here: (a) it’s actually called Pont Saint Bénézet, and (b) though the people actually danced sous (under) the bridge, the words of the famous song go, “Sur (on) le pont d’Avignon l’on y danse etc.” (Not that we want to be anal about this, or do we, Roy?)

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