A Family Meanders By Barge Through Southwest France

BORDEAUX, France - Our barge pushed slowly through the still canal, under a canopy of trees whose reflection in the water created a scene as spectacular and spiritual as the painting of a French Impressionist.

An old man who sat fishing at the canal's edge, his old dog by his side, looked askance at us from beneath his beret as we passed.

It was our first afternoon on the canal. We opened a bottle of the local wine, cut a few wedges of cheese and headed for nowhere in particular.

The villages along the canal in this remote, steamy area of Southwest France called the Aquitaine are small, perhaps a couple of thousand people. Each has a small city center, a few old-timers rolling bocci balls in the late afternoon sun, a grocery store, maybe a restaurant, perhaps a hotel.

Our only sense of urgency was to get on the market schedule; each town had its special day of market, often in the city square. Flowers, and local mushrooms, goat cheese, prunes and pears all are spread out in front of women with whom you couldn't speak, but would quickly find a way to communicate.

Our daughter, Nicole, was preparing the evening meal. Pasta boiled on the small stove in the galley, covered with rich, almost muddy, duck comfit. At the ready were some fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, bread, and a rustic red wine.

Daughter Lisa and her husband, Eiron, set the table and would do the dishes.

After dinner, son D. Jay, who had piloted the barge most of the day, would sit on the bank sketching the bend of the canal and a bridge over it.

Once again, a family reunion on the road was working. And I wondered to myself: What was it about travel that made us get along better in some far off country than we did at home?

"You're thrown completely out of the context of the daily grind," said Nicole. "You're forced to cooperate to survive. No one is simply relegated to their everyday family role (the quiet one, the rabble-rouser, etc.)

"Instead, each one reveals new strengths and interests. You get to practice having fun together; you get to enjoy meal times, free of the stress of the day."

Once again, our family was choosing choosing to spend money on thoughts and experiences instead of things.

It began in 1984 when we took the kids to Europe for their first time.

Our choice then was either Paris or a new station wagon. To us, the trip made more sense - the dollar was at an all-time high, and the kids were 15, 14 and 10, particularly good ages for this type of experience.

We rented a car in Paris and drove to Geneva, Venice, Florence, Rome, Nice, Avignon, Barcelona, and then back to Paris via Caracassone and the Loire Valley.

Four weeks. Our savings was gone. But none of us would ever be the same.

Nicole would go to college in Paris and London. She travels today, at 29, for pleasure and profession; she is a documentary film maker.

Her sister, Lisa, took a trip with us two years later to England, where she made imaginary rounds through the countryside with "All Creatures Great and Small." Today, she's a veterinarian working in Kingston.

Last summer, after the barge trip, D. Jay, spent the summer in Prague working at a youth hostel where he met Linda, a graduate student from Sweden. They are engaged.

Reunion afloat

Last spring's barge trip through Southwest France made for a perfect reunion: a floating home away from home for a week, a place and time to get reacquainted, to remember how much Europe had meant to us the first time and yet, this time, to be both more comfortable and daring.

We covered only about 60 miles. We picked up the barge at Le Mas-d'Agenais, traveled the Canal Lateral, which parallels the Garonne River, stopped off at the town of Nerac, just off the canal on the Baise River, then to Agen and returning to Le Mas-d'Agenais.

Our boat wasn't sexy. It was similar to a houseboat one might rent on Lake Roosevelt in Eastern Washington or on Lake Shasta in California, but lower and narrower so it could let a large industrial-strength barge pass in a canal.

We were among only a few Americans who rent the kind of wooden boats that plied the canals in the 1800s. Ours was 42 feet long and would sleep 10. That allowed Joanna, my wife, to invite her sister and her husband and their 19-year-old son to go along.

We didn't shy away from being with French folks, although only Nicole speaks the language. We gestured and smiled our way through markets all across a region. There's nary a copy of USA Today or the International Herald Tribune. Forget about finding someone to speak English as you'd expect in Germany, the Netherlands or Scandinavia.

Near the town of Buzet-sur-Baise, where, perhaps a dozen boats were bobbing to and fro, we saw a sign for a local wine tour. We ended up being hauled on a horse-drawn cart up the hill for some tasting.

Rear admiral

Though I'd organized our trip, I wanted no part of driving the boat. Our son took the controls, the same kid who lost his passport in 1984 as we were about to cross the Swiss-Italian border, the same kid who stuck his head in every old cannon he could find.

Second-in-command was my brother-in-law, Dick. It took them only a time or two to master the canal's system of locks. In this area of France they were primarily automatic.

About 100 yards before each lock, what looked like a piece of garden hose would be hanging from a cable strung across the river. The idea was to maneuver the boat into position, grab and twist the hose which would send a signal to the locks and a green light to proceed.

Unlike locks in other areas of France which can fit several boats, these were small, and easy. The Acquatine region is relatively flat so there wasn't as much water changing levels. We routinely went through six or seven locks a day as we meandered eight or nine miles.

We took turns cooking and cleaning. The rotation of duties seemed to take a natural course and, best of all, there were no arguments of where to go or what to do. We took the day and the canal as they came.

On one warm day, D. Jay and Eiron jumped into the canal for a swim. On an overcast day, we tied the barge to the bank and followed signs to the studio of a local glassblower.

One night we'd head into town to find a restaurant; another night we'd cook in the small aisle-wide kitchen and eat on the forward deck to the setting sun and the music of a portable CD player.

There was no telling what kind of restaurant, if any, we'd find in a town. In one, we found a great meal in the French chili served in what was basically a tavern and horse-betting parlor.

The local bread and wine were always good, and in this part of the world you could never fail with the local version of cassoulet, the bean stew, which often came with duck.

The Colonists arrive

One morning, we walked up a hill to the town of Valence, site of one of the region's celebrated pigeon lofts, and a 19th century pavillion where villagers gathered to wash their clothes on the bank of the canal.

We were a long way from the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. Indeed, a long way from the U.S. As our boat docked at Valence, a silver-haired woman stood, tall and British, on the rail of her wooden sail boat and announced our arrival by saying, "I detect the Colonists have arrived."

The Colonists, indeed.

All along the canal we met people, most of them British because they still believed this area of France, often under siege in territorial wars, belonged to them. One man and his wife were spending the entire summer going back and forth in the canal in their sea-worthy sailboat. They preferred the pace and peace of the canal vs. more open water.

Our favorite town, Nerac, was a bit off the canal, up a river called the Baise. The river had locks at each town, but was still a river, wider in some places than the canal, narrower in others, meandering past banks covered with dense vegetation.

Nerac is a Gallo-Roman town, where Shakespeare is said to have written "Loves Labor Lost." The arch of a Roman bridge announced arrival into the ancient town, which sprang steeply up the banks form the river. We had a beer at a cafe overlooking the river, and got a recommendation for dinner.

In the morning we had coffee and pastries in the city square, watched the old men of the village gather to talk politics, bought groceries for the next night's dinner, and hit the museum on the way back to the boat.

Just another nice day in a beautiful place, with the people we cared most about.

Unlike our first trip to Europe, the time on the barge was more about family than travel. When the week ended, we drove to the train station in Bordeaux and dropped off the kids. Nicole headed for Greece, Lisa and Eiron went to Italy, and D. Jay took his backpack east.

Joanna and I drove north, along the Atlantic Coast of France, ultimately to Brittany and Normandy. Later, at home, we shared slides and stories of all our travels, but agreed our best time was spent on the canal. Together. ------------------------------- IF YOU GO Barging in Europe

Think a barge trip might fit your travel notion? Here are some things to consider:

-- Canals and the rental pleasure craft to ply them are available in France, Germany, Holland, England and Ireland. Spring and fall offer better rates and less competition for the water than does summer. Consider the Canal du Midi in the south of France if you want to go early spring or late fall.

-- Our 42-foot long self-drive barge for a week in France cost $2,800. The charge included fuel. Smaller barges for two and four people run around $1,000-$1,500. The 42-foot boat handled nine people snugly. There were two small bedrooms, which slept four of us (the rest hit bunks in the kitchen area or at the stern of the boat); two small bathrooms; a shower; a small kitchen; and ample area up front for dining and sunning.

-- Previous boating experience is nice, but not necessary. Barges are well padded with rubber bumpers, and their speed is restricte to 7 miles per hour in the canals. navigation is straightforward except for passing through the locks, which takes some experience or instruction.

-- The beauty of a barge trip is that for the most part there is no schedule for mooring. Or charge. You simply tie up to the bank of the canal using ropes and stakes. Some towns offer marinas with showers and supplies. Stop when you need to fill up with water for showers and washing dishes, or for local wine and local bread.

-- The boats come with linens and towels. You bring the food: Buy before you board or along the way. Every town has a bakery; most had wonderful restaurants.

-- You'll want to cruise no more than five or six hours a day. A week's trip usually covers 50-75 miles, five or six locks a day, either out-and-back, or point-to-point if that kind of trip is offered. Locks are generally open 8 a.m.-7 p.m. and closed for an hour during lunch.

-- For a trip on the Canal du Midi, we took the train from Paris and then a cab to get to the boat harbor. For the Aquitaine trip, we drove a rental car from Paris to Agen, and then took a cab to Mas D'Agenais where we embarked.

-- Two U.S. companies - LeBoat, (800-992-0291 or e-mail barge@leboat.com) in New Jersey, and Bargebroker (800-275-9794 or e-mal bargebroker.com) in Boulder, Colo. - can help you get started. They represent various European boat rental companies, of which Blue Line, Locaboat, Rive de France, are three of the largest.

Blaine Newnham's column appears in The Seattle Times sports section.