Norway. Sweden. Finland (a bit of Berlin, Denmark and Estonia)

It was a good plan. 

In the hottest months of summer, we'd head far north. 

- Escape the heat of southern Europe.

To Scandinavia.

Land of moody mountains and windswept waterways. 

- I pictured sweater weather on lonely fjords - 

- misty mornings in a lakeside cabin -

However - Europe had other plans.

Scandinavia decided to have a record heatwave.

Summer shirts instead of Nordic sweaters.

A "Tom Sawyer" style raft.  Beating the heat in Copenhagen.

These are countries not used to hot weather.
There's no air conditioning.

Not in hotels.
Not in trains or buses.

Usually the windows are (painfully) not even designed to open.

It was HOT. 

And - I'm not even going to talk about the bedbugs.

With that disclaimer behind us, here's what we found:

Some things I didn't know about Scandinavia until we traveled through.
Via trains, ferries, bus, bikes, boats.

In fact, did you know they actually put WHOLE TRAINS onto a ferryboat?

And sail it across the Baltic Sea?

They did that for our trip from Hamburg to Copenhagen.

Son Erik said they did the same when he went from Berlin to Malmö.

That was a first for me.

Apparently, there used to be train ferries between England and France.

In the Baltic, they're still used, and quite common.
And efficient.

Who knew?

The whole area is so filled with water.
Lakes, seas, rivers, islands, whole archipelagos, so much water.

It's heaven for anyone interested in boats. 

All sorts, all shapes.

Harbors and marinas aplenty.

Helsinki - one of many harbors.

Water taxis and ferries everywhere.
And - they're big!

I thought these were cruise ships. 

No, just ferries.

In Norway, when we told the ferry captain that we lived on a boat in France, he handed the controls to us. 

Let us drive the ferry down the fjord.

It was early morning and there weren't many passengers.
Or other ships.

How cool is that?

(Neither Stan nor I were particularly good at keeping it straight.
But there really wasn't much traffic.)

The fjords in Norway DID fulfill my image.
Misty moisty mysterious mountains tumbling into cold water .

For a few days, it was even jacket weather.

They make cheese in this town - one of the farmers was our taxi driver.

Did you know that Norway is the richest country in the world? 

Unlike most places, they don't spend it.
They save it. 

The sovereign wealth fund in Norway is the largest in the world.

That's not per capita.
(they only have 5 million people). 

So people don't REALLY have to work.
And many don't.

Norway itself runs almost entirely on renewable energy. 

Yes, they make all their money selling oil and gas, and investing in oil exploration.

But Norway itself stays "clean". 

The Norwegians seem aware of the apparent contradiction.

Norway is spectacularly beautiful.

I asked our Norwegian friend why there weren't more people out sailing on the lakes.

It was perfect weather. Summer.
There weren't all that many boats out. 

She thought about it and answered,
"I think maybe we have too many lakes for not enough people."

- Cool.

At one point, we rented bicycles in the Swedish lake district.
(Yes, more lakes. More water.)

Farms and fields and the usual Swedish red houses.  

It felt like a Carl Larsson painting.

There were wild blueberries to pick.

Which - wound up mysteriously - on my birthday pie!

My grandmother's family was from Sweden. My grandfather's from Norway. Happy birthday, Trish!

Other than blueberries, the best meal anywhere in Scandinavia is easy:

Salmon.

Smoked salmon.
Salmon steaks.

Other fish too.
(although burgers were oddly popular-)

But - the salmon was exceptional.

On one day, I had salmon for all 3 meals.

Just so you know:
If there is bread and salmon at a Swedish buffet,
the salmon always goes on the white bread.
Not the rye.

(-There are a lot of unwritten rules in Sweden.)

Alcohol is government controlled.
It can only be sold in government-approved stores.
It's surprisingly expensive.

But sometimes an exception can be made for beer.
- Not that anyone goes overboard...

(Now that I live on a boat, that expression finally makes perfect sense.)

Did you know - you have to wait for your host to lift his/her glass to say Skøl before you can drink?

And - you NEVER clink glasses when you toast in Scandinavia.

 It's just - not done.
Another unwritten rule.

Outside Stockholm there are over 30,000 islands. 

That's right.
The Stockholm archipelago.

The ferry from Stockholm to Helsinki or Tallinn takes 3 hours to sail through them. 

3 hours! A huge ferry! 

That's a LOT of islands.

I had rented a small wooden house on one of the islands for a week.

A tiny house.
A tiny island.

With a tiny dock and a tiny rowboat. 

Next door, a tiny old Swedish woman who had grown up on the island.

She spoke with such a wonderful lilting accent.
A bit like the Swedish chef on the Muppets.

The Swedes are big on equality.

But - some of the houses on this island were sure a lot more "equal" than other places we'd seen!

That's just the boat house. 

Everything manicured and perfect.
And splendidly beautiful.

Everyone with a boat.
Or three.

Just 40 minutes from Stockholm.

For us, our "tiny house with a dock" was just perfect.

Always take your shoes off in a Swedish house. Another rule.

Another thing I hadn't considered when making these plans for Scandinavia.
Cruise ships.

Apparently, cruise ships are VERY popular here. 

Since it's a very pricey part of the world, being on a cruise ship is a good way to control costs.

However, these huge ships even come up the fjords to tiny towns.

Look at the size of the town! And the size of the boat! 

There were cruise ships in every port.

In the mornings (and in evenings) the streets were ours. 

Tallinn, Estonia, by morning...

But - by 10 am, the cruise crowds arrived. 

And the streets were packed.

Tallinn by afternoon.

Copenhagen during the day.

On the subject of Finland:

Did you know the most famous Finn seems to be a small fat creature called a Moomin?
I read Moomin stories to the kids when they were small.

Moomins are still around.

Also, I thought that this particular restaurant chain must be very popular. 

There were so many with the same name in Helsinki!

Then I figured out that "Ravintola" means "restaurant". 

Oops.

A couple other things I learned: 

The Norwegians are proud of their heritage as fishermen and farmers.

Scandinavians like their flags - on walls, roofs, cakes, pet bowls.

 (and maybe a few proud Vikings)

They enjoy the folk-tales and old stories.
Traditional costumes.

Festivals. 

The Swedes, in comparison, think it's mildly embarrassing.
They prefer being modern.

This is about as "folksy" as Sweden gets. Very tidy.

(By the way, did you know that "Bluetooth" was named for a Viking?
King Harald Bluetooth. 980 AD)

Helsinki is expensive.
Alcohol is particularly expensive.
And - Finns like to drink.

However, Estonia is just a 2 hour ferry away.
And in Estonia, alcohol is cheap.

And they like saunas. There are more saunas than cars in Finland.

So - the ferries run often.
And there is a LOT of serious drinking.

Impressive, world-class drinking.

Stan. Looking Estonian.

In Tallinn, drinking locales go all night.
They promote themselves as "where parties go to die".

(which I THINK is supposed to mean "party heaven")

In Helsinki, all the signs are in Finnish.
And in Swedish.

But - Finnish is related to Hungarian.
Go figure.

- This certainly makes reading maps a challenge.

And the Danes? 

Apparently, among Scandinavians, the Danes are considered the Wild Bunch: 
companies hire Danes to come in if there is restructuring to be done-!

After spending time in Berlin, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Oslo, Bergen, Lillehammer, Stockholm, Helsinki and Tallinn, this comic by Mikey is surprisingly spot-on: 

Courtesy of Itchy Feet Comic.

Speaking of Mikey, did I mention we started the trip in Berlin?

And ended it - back in France.

So - 5 new countries for Stan. 

2 new countries for me.

New experiences.
New people.

- Even if it WAS hot.

It was also - pretty cool.

Storm on the Canal du Midi-!

You wouldn't think that a mild-mannered canal would ever get too wild, would you?

This is La Redorte during the recent storm.

It's a town just up the canal from us.

We cruised Maggie May through it last year at this time.

This is what La Redorte looks like normally.

The restaurant is completely destroyed.
Lost everything.

All wine into the canal and down the river.

There are hundreds of stories like that.

Our region got hit with a MASSIVE storm.
From Carcassonne to the Mediterranean.

Several rivers overflowed.
Some breaking banks into the canal.

The canal, being higher, enthusiastically rushed down into the rivers.

That WAS the road - between those 2 narrow lanes of trees. 

Water levels in Trèbes - another town along the canal - rose 8 meters in 5 hours.

That's over 26 FEET-!

Bridges out.
Roads washed away.

Extensive flooding. 

Rescues. Dead and missing.

A disaster.

The view from our boat - normally.

Fortunately, our village was just at the edge of the storm.
Also, there are no major rivers near us.

But this is what it looked like during the storm.

(The waterfalls reminded me a bit of Norway...)

And Maggie May -? 

Not a leak.

Cool.

There was so much damage to the canal banks, weirs, locks and bridges -
they've closed down the canal.

Until "at least" next spring.

After the headlines are gone, everyone is left to clean up the mess.

And what a muddy mess it is.

So how did we wind up on a canal boat in the south of France?

This wasn't really the original plan. 

Part of the story is here:

How This Sailing Stuff got Started.

And - why?
One of the reasons is here - the social life.

Or - things we've learned: Boat Life.

What's it like - living on the canal -
in summer?
in autumn?
in winter?


What's the surrounding area like?

How to deal with friends and family on board a boat?


What about cruising in other places in France?

The Lot River?
The Yonne and the Nivernais in Burgundy?

And what about the brother with the wine cellar in Bordeaux?

 Here's hoping that things get back on track quickly.

For everyone affected by the storm.

What is the Boating Community Like? Friends and Visitors on the Canal.

One of the best things about living on this boat:

The great community we've got going here.

It's so easy to wander by someone's boat. 

Get involved in a conversation. 

If they're up for it, a glass of wine.
A cup of coffee. 

Or one of Stan's famous salads. 

And - it's also easy to say no.
Come by later.

It's all so close.
And casual.

Ron came by with a kilo of shrimp.

"They had a 2-for-1 sale at Intermarché.
-Want a kilo of shrimp?"

Patrick brought us a sack of freshly picked green beans.

Luc brought sweet onions from his garden.

And then invited us to a paella party.
On the towpath.

So many of them are talented musicians. 
Artists. 
Writers. 

They aren't all French. 
We have a wide variety of nationalities.

There's always a lively discussion going. 

They aren't all "boat people".
They're also from the village itself. 

Anton and Hugues. In Hugues' wine cellar.

Hugues called down to us from his terrace: 

"Isn't it time for an apéro? 
Yes? 
Okay, I'll bring the wine!"

And he clambers down the canal bank with a chilled bottle of good rosé.

Turns out, he's a wine distributor, who's become a friend. 

Lives in the house where his grandmother grew up. 

A friend with a LOT of good wines. 
Right next to our mooring.

This is very handy.

The owner of the local top restaurant came by. 

Would Stan consider playing guitar for the National Fête de la Musique? 

Bien sûr. 
Of course.

We wound up dancing - again.

There are village festivals.
Celebrations.
Events. 

Plus - people come visit us. 

Which inspires us to explore even further.

Wolfgang and Monica came from their ranch in New Mexico. 

Bob and Sharon visited from Albuquerque.

Oddly enough, we even went to a snail farm (!) during their visit.

And last year, Chris and Tim. 
Charlene. 

All the kids.

It's great.

Yes, some of the people on boats take off.
They throw off their lines and go up the canal for a week or a month.

But eventually - they usually return. 

Each boat needs to have its official mooring spot.
A place where it belongs.

Ron and Fiona pass by us on "The Swan".

I don't think I've had this good a social life since college.
Can that be true? 

Whatever it is, it's fun. 

The connection with people. 
It's one of the very best things about being here. 

-Or maybe - that's true anywhere.

How to Handle Manual Locks? Cruising the Lot River.

Rollin' Down the River ...
Wait, that's not the Canal du Midi!

We're on a river in the middle of France.

There are a LOT of rivers in France. 
This one - is actually called - the LOT.

Rivers are different from canal cruising. 
They have a current. 

They can be big. 
Wide. Unruly. 

Okay, so rivers aren't always terribly wild and woolly. 

The Lot River is beautiful.
But - it doesn't have much boat traffic. 

So all the locks are manual. 

There just aren't enough boats to warrant full time lock keepers.

So we do the locks ourselves.

It's a ridiculously picturesque region.
Dripping with medieval villages, châteaux, caves and castles.

And - as they say - a river runs through it.
(A couple of big rivers, actually.)

Underneath all these cliffs are masses of caves.
Some with prehistoric drawings from 30,000 years ago.

Some with rivers.
But that's another story.

So here's our system while cruising the Lot:

Stan gets to do the locks.

I drop him off, and he cranks the machinery.

Close one side of the lock.
Open the sluices.

It takes about a hundred turns of each crank.

When the water equalizes, open the gates.

One gate at a time.

I drive the boat in slowly. 

Toss the lines up to Stan.

I hold the boat while the water rushes in.
Or out.

Inside the lock, with the waterfall / dam beyond.

He finishes the maneuver.
Opens the exit gates.

Not always easy.
Chunks of logs sometimes get wedged into the gates.

But it works.
No electricity, no engines, no batteries.

Just the weight of the water.
Gravity.

Then, he climbs back down onto the boat with help of ladders built into the lock walls.

And - off we go. 

On the Lot River, you can fit 2 boats max in a lock at a time. 

Normally, there aren't any other boats.
It's pretty quiet.

Driving the boat isn't hard. 

There's plenty of space, and plenty of time to get it right.

If you don't get it the first time, just - try again.

Nobody's waiting. 

Just miles of scenic beauty.

And a few herons.

The Lot River is lined with cool villages, châteaux, caves and castles.

However, unlike the Canal du Midi, the strong river current is a factor in mooring. 

Upriver is easier.
Against the current.

Bring it in close and slow, so Stan can jump off just right. 

Then secure it quickly.
Before it starts drifting downriver.

Pay attention to the signs and buoys.

This small arrow is the only sign that says, "Enter lock here". 

If you miss it, that's a big waterfall to go over. Yikes.

One night, a fellow fell overboard in the dark. (splash!) 

Not from our boat.

He was trying to moor not far from us. He thought there was a pontoon. 

There wasn't. It was just branches. 

It was nearly 10 pm.
Too late for rental boats to be moving.

There might have been some wine involved. 

Someone pulled him out of the water. They cruised off - at night.
Looking for someplace to moor.

Who knows what happened to them after that?

We never saw them again.

Why rent a boat when we live on one? 

Well, you can't get from the Canal du Midi to the Lot River. 

There are waterfalls and dams in between. 

But what an incredible region!

Each town is a medieval gem.
History everywhere.

It's ridiculously beautiful.

The villages we passed were very rural. 

They were amazed when I told them we were American.

 "You came HERE?
From America?

How did you find the Lot?" they asked.

A couple of fishermen came by.
They baked us a camembert cheese in the wild one night.
On an open fire.

With a fresh baguette.
Offered us a wiggling catfish as well.
Just caught.

Talked to a few teens.
Bored on a Sunday afternoon.

Dreaming of the big city, Toulouse.

It's another world here.

This is a small corner of a beautiful country.

Okay by me if it isn't too exciting.

 I like that.

The story of cruising the Yonne - another time - is here.

Life - is amazingly good.