French Triangle Part 2: Beautiful Burgundy – Esbarres, Dole and Dijon

Before reading about beautiful Burgundy, please check out French Triangle Part One, where we said goodbye to our boat, Karanja; gorgeous gîte in Esbarres, near St Jean-de-Losne; homage to crossing the Channel on Karanja with David; flashback to cassoulet in Carcassonne; lamb shank and lavish scenery in Dole; by train to Dijon for lunch at Le Gourmand; onward to the Dordogne!

So, when we weren’t busy tearfully clearing our personal possessions off Karanja, prior to handing her over to her new owners at the St Jean-de-Losne Salon Fluviale, what were we doing? Exploring beautiful Burgundy while drowning our sorrows in duck-fat and Chablis, it would seem.

Framed! Verne in Dijon

French Triangle Part 1: Farewell to Karanja, 20-30 April

Goodbye to boating in France; dirty minds and a pretty map; shamelessly nostalgic Karanja flashback; 18 Pipers piping; celebratory sake with Masako and Yoshi; apéro, gorgeously Gorgonzola-ey pizzas and Toshi’s sushi; sterling beef tartare, and whitebait with too many eyes

For any dirty minds out there, no – this French triangle of which I speak is nothing nearly as exciting as a ménage á trois in a French farce. In fact, it’s mostly about the breaking up of the triangle that was Roy, me and our Dutch barge Karanja.

St Jean-de-Losne, Piper barge, travels with Verne and Roy
The last photo taken of us on Karanja, May 2023

In addition, it roughly describes the route from St Jean-de-Losne in Bourgogne, where we said goodbye to Karanja; southwest to the Dordogne to visit Roy’s sister Lyndsay and brother-in-law John; down to daughter Wendy in Provence; and back to Bourgogne.

How We Got Here

As luck would have it, I’m terribly prone to seasickness

Why a boat?

It’s a long story, but now that my husband is retired – and I’m doing a lot less writing and editing work – I have some time to tell it.

Three or four years ago, I gently hinted to Roy that perhaps he should find a hobby to occupy himself with after retirement. This was mostly with a view to his future happiness, but also with the idea of keeping him busy when he no longer had minions to boss around. Perhaps he could take up pottery, or macramé – or we could join a choir together once again (in preparation for the inevitable).

To my surprise and alarm, he started Googling boats. Surprise because he’d shown zero interest in boating of any sort since we met in 1992, discounting the odd cruise on a floating five-star hotel. Alarm because the boat-builder he had in mind was Nordhavn, purveyor of ocean-going, trawler-style motor yachts that start from around a million-and-a-half US dollars. (Everyone knows that there are two happy days in the life of a boat-owner – the day you buy it and the day you sell it.)

As luck would have it, I’m terribly prone to seasickness. His Nordhavn file was already a couple of inches thick with brochures, and Roy’s customised wheelhouse design almost complete, when the cruise we did on the lovely Silver Shadow from Singapore to Hong Kong proved conclusively that I was not a suitable mate with whom to cross the ocean on 40 to 120 feet of vessel. Phew!

Which boat?

I married a tenacious man, it must be said. When he came up with the idea of a canal barge – a Dutch barge, specifically – designed to ply rivers and canals, I thought: why not? It would at the very least keep him busy. Roy is a man who needs a project; and his most recent one, the gutting and redesign of our Singapore apartment, was finally complete.

If you ask Roy, he’ll tell you he’s been interested in barges ever since he was a boy growing up in in the English Midlands. He even recalls doing a detailed barge design in his early teens. (Who’d have guessed?)

And what an absorbing project it has been! To test the waters (so to speak), we hired a wide-beam barge called the Serenity for a ridiculously warm and sunny week in September 2014, and tootled up and down the Grand Union Canal between Milton Keynes and the charming old canal village of Stoke Bruerne. After some trepidation I mastered the windlass and conquered the locks, together with any doubts I may have had.

(Read more about our week on Serenity in this article, published in Expat Living Singapore in April 2014: Serenity Trip April 14)

Finding the right boat-builder (Simon Piper of Piper Boats in Stoke-on-Trent) was the next step. Debating the size (49 feet, rather than the physically daunting 75 feet that Roy was inclined to go for) and the number of bedrooms (just one, so as to maximise living space) took several visits to Piper’s offices and quite a lot of verbal stamina on my part.

TV

I’ve always wanted a TV that disappears from view

Traditionalists might regard the Karanja with perturbation. For one thing, we dispensed with the traditional stove in the corner of the saloon. Instead, we have a concealed TV that glides up and down at the touch of a button on the remote.

Bath

Is life without a bath worth living?

For another, I have a full-size bath. What’s more, we’ve maximised the deck space by shifting the dog-box (ceiling hatch) as far aft as possible, surrounded the deck with stainless steel yacht stanchions and  covered it with gorgeous flexi-teak. Perfect for my sun-lounger!

And here are a couple more great photos, courtesy of Piper Boats:

Wheelhouse

From Kitchen

Saloon view

Bedroom

 

Why Karanja?

Karanja was the ship Roy remembers most fondly from his nine years with BI (The British India Steam Navigation Co.) – a passenger cargo vessel that plied the Indian Ocean with stops at Bombay, Karachi, the Seychelles, Mombasa, Dar Es Salaam, Beira, Lourenço Marques (now Maputo) and Durban. A picture of the original ship now hangs in her namesake’s saloon, and the engraved silver mug that was a 21st birthday gift from his fellow officers gleams from a nearby shelf. (How long it will continue to gleam in the absence of domestic help is a question.)

Karanja pring

The original Karanja, which Roy sailed on during the early 70s

As for her black-and-white exterior, every BI ship had a black funnel painted with two white bands, and our baby Karanja’s paintwork is a sort of homage to that.

Roy BIEC flag

The flags tell their own story: the one at the back is the Singapore ensign, showing that we’re registered in Singapore. The small one at the front is the house flag: fairly quirkily, Roy chose the flag of the old British East India Company, which would have been flown by Stamford Raffles as he sailed into Singapore in January 1819.