Can 1,200 kcals a day be part of a luxury getaway? If you can go without alcohol and coffee for a week, then the answer is a resounding “Yes!” – and you’ll find it at the outstanding Brookdale Hydro.
Brookdale is located in a lovely part of South Africa’s rural KwaZulu-Natal Midlands. Not only was it just what the doctor ordered for a barging couple who’d spent the past four months bingeing on baguettes and butter – it was pure bliss.
Located just behind the famous old Oyster Box Hotel, our 11th floor flat in The Oysters complex has breath-taking views over that hotel, the iconic lighthouse, and the long, wide stretch of golden sand that stretches all the way south to Durban.
Indian Ocean waves dash against the fisherman-dotted rocks for which the seaside town of Umhlanga Rocks is named. And the Beverley Hills Hotel is right next to the Oyster Box – it’s a five-minute stroll from our front door to theirs.
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.
Seven years ago, Roy’s sister Lyndsay and her husband John – two energetic, optimistic and successful entrepreneurs – bought an old house in Saint-Geniès, near Sarlat in the Dordogne. Transforming it into their dream home has been a labour of love, and for three days last week we were invited to share the dream with them.
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.
Downhill all the way from Lauragais, caffeine deprivation en route to Ayguesvives, five nights in Toulouse with Digby and Allison… and we reach the end of the 240km-long Canal du Midi!
Marseillette; Cathars and cassoulet in Carcassonne; bam-bam-bam on the way to Bram; two nights in Castelnaudary
It was a long, long day from Homps (say “Omp“) – lock, double lock, double lock, stop for lunch before triple lock, and then the final lock at Marseillette, where we stopped for the night.
From Marseillan to Villeneuve-des-Beziérs, “wild”-moored at Colombiers, braving the low, low bridge in Capestang, Ventenac-en-Minervois, Homps
From Marseillan port, we set off at 8.30am back into L’Étang de Thau and to the start of the 240km Canal du Midi that will take us all the way to Toulouse.
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.
Petit Rhône, Canal du Rhône à Sète, L’Étang de Thau:
Fourque-all mooring, screwed at Saint-Gilles, celebration in Carnon, hello l’Etang de Thau
About 13km from Vallabregues, the last lock on the Rhône, we entered the Petit Rhône.
