Cycle Chagny to Nolay

​It was to have been a bike ride down to Santenay for lunch at Le Terroir, but they are closed on Thursdays to give theirselfs some lonely time during the week. We’ll do that ride tomorrow. 

Instead, we took our bikes on the train to Chagny an thence along a ‘vélo verte’ to Nolay, a ride we hadn’t done before. I had difficulty orienting myself from Chagny station to the canal to start the ride, but happily DJ was all over it and we soon got going. Along the canal to Santenay, but turn left before going into the town. 

The route is a rail trail that rises slowly along a gently-rising valley with little villages nestling quietly down to our left as we rode along. [Don’t you just love the way some French villages nestle quietly in valleys?]. 

This photo was of a station for the village of Paris l’Hopital. A bit further on was a ‘sous terrain’ - a passage that ducked under the railway line for passengers to walk to the village. 

When we got to Nolay it was too late for lunch, but the proprietor was able to find one serve of tart tintin for us to share. Not as much as we could have eaten, but adequate. 

We continued along the route till we got to a couple of viaducts. The thing about your viaduct is that you can’t see and appreciate their splendor because you are riding across the top of them. I did manage to snag a photo from one end, however. 

We turned around at this point and hurtled back downhill to Nolay, Santenay and back to Chagny. Here are some snaps:

Back onto the train after a small glass of vin blanc in the Chagny square and home for a little goat cheese on baguette. Thank you, Dear Jude!

Toodles! 

Beaune

​So we are finally ‘at home’ in Beaune after quite some time away. We were happy to arrive, but it was late at night. The morning would reveal changes that have taken place since our last sojourn. 

The mandatory morning walk along the ramparts was gratifyingly the same as all other morning walks along the ramparts. Turning left where the Bouze river goes under the city always gives an opportunity to spy any trout in the water. It was pleasing to see one ‘truité’ languorously pointing itself upstream in the hope of snagging food as it drifted by. But only one trout this day. And the next. And the next. 

Walking through the park was only possible around the lake as the cute little bridge had been dismantled. It must have been way too dangerous. It was a good vantage point to observe the big fish in the water. Not possible now, I’m afraid. 

The great thing about post-COVID Beaune is the absence of annoying bells chiming the hour, the quarter-hour, half-hour and three-quarter-hour and hour again - continually from 7:00am every day (as it used to be). Nope. Not a clang!  No need to leap up in the morning to shut the sound out with double-glazed window. How wonderful. How DEVINE!  Sleep in till you want to.  THE BELLS HAVE BEEN TURNED OFF!

Café de l’Abattoir was still in full operation. We received a VERY warm reception from the waitress (ie broad smile of recognition) AND a cold glass of beer for both of us. DJ doesn’t drink beer, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her and it soon got gobbled down with our lunch of sausages and green beans. The price has gone up and it now costs €11 a head. 

Beaune is, happy to report, in full swing. Place Carnot is hopping and tour groups are back. It’s nowhere near as busy as it was and much, much quieter than we remember. Maybe it’s the time of year that’s different for us - a bit later in summer. 

All very enjoyable. 

Toodles!

Travel Day

​Yesterday was a blinder!  A whole day of travel. You just have to put your head down and suck it up. 

Day started on Santorini. Lovely island, but very busy.  On the tourist trail. Packed the room and double- triple-checked for anything left behind. Nothing. Just one more check under the bed, though. 

Breakfast at a hip little cafe. We both ordered pancakes, but really could have done with one between us. And coffee. Back to hotel to collect bags, then down to the bus station. €3.20 for two, compared with €25 taxi that we paid two weeks ago. 

Airport was busy and scary, as my ticket didn’t scan properly and we had to wait till all others were aboard before it was sorted out. I lost a tube of sunscreen in security (too big)!

Back in Orly, we had just on an hour to get to Gare de Lyon by 6:30 (we thought) for the train to Beaune. O how SLOWLY the minutes tick down! O how SLOWLY the RER stations tick down!  First the Orly train; then the RER to Châtelet; then the RER to Gare de Lyon. Turns out that we had more than the hour to get there and managed to scramble aboard with a croc monsieur each (way too much food again). 

Journey not complete yet, as we had to catch the local train to Beaune from Dijon. Now normally this is a very exciting trip, but two frazzled Australians who had been on the go from very early in the morning and a time zone away were not in the most elevated of spirits. It was dark when we arrived at 28 Rue de Lorraine and we were ROOTED!  And very tired as well. 

But that’s TRAVELLING!

Toodles!

Santorini

​Santorini is just a stopover place for us. It’s not a destination. Insofar as Greek Island go, it is absolutely gorgeous. The white line on the horizon looks at first like snow, but then, when one réalisés that the temperature is around 30 degrees Celsius, that cannot possibly be right. The band of dazzling white along the cliff tops is buildings - houses, hotels, restaurants. Not one single flake of snow. 

Strolling along the cliffs yesterday, from one village to another, took us past hotels whose prices for accommodation far outstripped our meager capacities. Some had swimming pools the size of our laundry tub, but we did se a resident haul herself out of one and proceed to stretch herself out on a lovely colour-matched sun bed. 

There was a wedding or two as well. Bride and groom coiffed and be-suited beyond normal recognition. This was their day and everything had to proceed smoothly. 

At a church on our path a very proud father was ushering in the last of his guests, a proprietary arm  looped purposefully around her back. 

We watched as huge groups of cruiseliner guests clambered onto the cable car to the port far, far below to get back to their cabin for the night. Each group had its very own tour leader carrying a pink 5 or a green 5 high on a stick. 

A line of donkeys streamed past us on the way home from lugging tourists up the mountainous cliff-face. A good, hard day’s work completed. 

Santorini, with all its points of attraction is not our dort of island because there is no swimming hole within a mornings walk from our digs. A great place as a stopover, but not really a destination. Maybe there are spots to discover on our next visit …

Toodles!

NOT ANOTHER FERRY RIDE!

​It seems that our ferry transfer from Milos back to Santorini is to be by another SeaCat. It’s probably the very same SeaCat at that brought us here. Same tortuous relegation of all passengers to the bowels of the vessel, having turned off all the lights and pulled the curtains across. Compulsory mask wearing only pops the icing on this particular type of torture. [This time I remembered to pop my mask in my back pocket, thus avoiding the embarrassment suffered last trip.]

A pall seems to have descended upon the waiting passengers as they anticipate the arrival of the ferry. They have had way too good of a time on Milos and now they have to make reparation. 

As I await the ferry, a diesel fuel truck pulls up. The driver lights a cigarette and takes a few puffs. He winds down the passenger window (electronically) and expertly flips the butt out onto the tarmac, where it blows over the edge of the dock. Now all of us know that the flash point of diesel fuel is particularly high - much higher than petroleum and nitro glycerine. However, irrespective of the minimal danger to all and sundry, IT IS NOT A GOOD LOOK TO FLIP LIGHTED CIGARETTES OUT OF A FUEL-CARRYING VEHICLE!  If you are ever tempted in this way, RESIST!

Oh NO!  Here comes the ferry!

Toodles!