Winter in the South of France - Quiet Beaches and Sleepy Vineyards

Friends Ron and Fiona sent this of their boat "The Swan" this winter.

I LOVE the way the canal looks in winter! 

This is the top of "The Swan".
A beautiful old Dutch tjalk.

Ron and Fiona have a snuggly free-standing stove in their boat.

It keeps everything cozy and warm inside the boat, despite the layers of snow outside. 

It's winter in the south of France.

Nothing moving on the water.

No bicyclists in fancy day-glo clothing. 

No rental boats.

The nearby beaches - empty. 

Luckily, a few restaurants are still open.

This is from our bedroom cabin window. Cool - even in winter.

Of course, some days look like this.
So it's probably understandable.

To us, from dry New Mexico, rain is pretty wonderful. 

It's a bit - even - exciting.

Hearing the rain pounding on the boat.
While we're safe and dry inside. 

(Rain FILLED a bucket I had on the aft deck - several times over.

-That's way more than we get in a YEAR in New Mexico.)

New Mexico Christmas decorations. Candles in sand-filled paper bags. Doesn't work with rain. 

But: people from New Mexico aren't good at dealing with rain.

Our shoes were soaked right away. 

Puddles! 

I forgot about puddles. 

My boat crocs have HOLES in them. 

So my socks got drenched! 

Well, of course. 

Our dinky little travel umbrellas? 

The wind laughed at them. 

Blew them inside out. 

Pfft. 

Our backpacks and clothes got soaked. 

Rain is a good excuse to visit museums. 

So - we headed south, toward the Spanish border.

Found a rainy castle to stay in. 

Between the mountains and the Mediterranean.

The nearby Pyrenees are spectacularly snow-covered - so much snow! 

That is, when they even appeared between the clouds.

View from the castle window. There ARE mountains there. Big ones. Somewhere.

Winding mountain roads. 

Filled with camper vans in summer. 

Now empty.

It just feels so darn - atmospheric. 

There's something about being in a place - most any place - out of season. 

It reminds me that out of season is often the best time to travel. 

Towns are empty.
Parking is easy.

People have time. 

"Boat People of Poilhes". We don't have to reserve a table in advance.

And the winter vineyards-!

They're just gnarled and bare stumps.

Hard to believe they'll be bursting full - very soon.

No, not snow. Rocky soil, apparently good for holding in heat.

Some vineyards in Languedoc seem to be pure rocks.
Other vineyards are filled with wildflowers between the rows of grapes.

I think it's planned.
There's a lot I don't really know.

Soon, it'll be busy.
It's a popular place in summer.

We'll enjoy that, too.

But - there's something special about being here right now.

And: there's still time for a small glass of rosé.

And one of Stan's famous salads on the aft deck.

Even in winter.

JOURNAL ARTIST - published! Winter in New Mexico

Back in New Mexico, in winter.

I published another book.

This one is a capsule version of all the thousands of colorful journal pages I've made.
However - I forgot how much WORK it is to finish up a book! 

Holy cow.

I loved making this one.
Even if it took FOREVER.

Hundreds of illustrated journal pages.

(I LOVE doing journal pages. They just make me feel good-!)

Watercolors, photos.
Ideas, quotes.

A few tips.

It's filled with color and creative experiments.

Essentially, it's a personal record of a way of capturing some of the wonderful details of life.

Journal Artist. 

My watercolors all originated in my books, too. 

I have over ten thousand illustrated journal pages scanned. So far. 

But - you can read the rest of the story in the book itself. 

It's on amazon.com.

JOURNAL ARTIST - Trisha Ray.

I got the final proof the day before leaving to return to France. 

Yikes! Talk about last minute.

 (When I have a paintbrush in my hands, anything goes. There are now colorful things all over the garden.)

So - Stan and I spent the winter months in sunny New Mexico.

It wasn't really planned.

But: It was surprisingly dry and warm.
Hard to argue with that.

All the migrating birds escaping from the cold of the north spent the winter in our neighborhood.

-Couldn't really blame them.

Hundreds of sandhill cranes, geese, ducks - all sorts of birds.

Erik and Kilian - an unexpected pleasure - were also in New Mexico this winter.

Stan was productive, too.
He recorded several (!) new CDs.

They're ALL available on his website - for free downloading:

www.stanhirsch.com

Stan's CDs and DVDs - the entire collection

Me - I worked on this book.
It took a LOT of work.

And another one about my family history.

I spent pretty much every day happily tucked away in a sunny Studio.

But as usual, it wasn't all work. 

Anywhere in life - there's ALWAYS time for - just a little celebration.

Right?

And now, we're outta New Mexico.
Bound for the boat in France.

But more about that soon.

Autumn in the South of France

Autumn in the south of France.

The wine harvesting machinery is quiet. 

The fields are turning red and golden.

Our village of Poilhes. Between the Mediterranean and the Pyrenees.

The boats are slower.
They take their time.

Most of the tourists have gone home. 

And yet - it's probably the most beautiful time of the year. 

The light is low.
The shadows are long.

The days are growing shorter.

Friends Chris and Tim from New Mexico stop by.

Chris picks up a fresh baguette from our local shop, ordered the day before.

Wine and evenings with friends on the aft deck.

A little exploring.

We may look like a bunch of 'greys', but - these are ALL surprisingly cool people.

French kids are all back in school now.

So - we head down to the coast with fellow boaters Fiona and Ron.
The beach is beautiful - and almost empty.

The Mediterranean is a totally different atmosphere from canal life. 

- Even though we're only a few miles from the coast!

In between, a short trip up to Berlin.
Visit son Mikey and Iris.

See how Noah is growing.

Great fall weather in Berlin, too!

Stan gives Noah his first ukulele lesson.

(He's 10 months old now, obviously ready to start serious training-)

I visit Mikey's "Funkhaus".
He runs a film school there.

The city of Berlin even has islands.
Which we explore.

Back in France, we explore Avignon.
The summer crowds have gone.

 Aigues-Mortes.

Both incredibly cool and impressive.

It's a totally walled city - and what amazing architecture!

You always wonder - what was the rest of the story?

Then - it's back to Maggie May.
Late autumn.

That's Maggie May, with the dark blue hull. In the village of Poilhes.

With the days getting shorter and cooler, it's time for longer walks. 

From a hill above our village, we can see both the Mediterranean - and - the Pyrenees. 

The vineyards are colorful.
The light - the air - just right.

I enjoy seeing the "baguette bags" on people's doorways.

I had fun drawing a series of these.

The bread van delivers fresh baguettes.

Directly to your house each morning.
On your front door.

Of course.

(He'd probably deliver them to the boat.
If we asked.)

Details of a life - thoroughly enjoyed.

Canal du Midi Odyssey - Taking Maggie May out for a Cruise

September! It's cooler. 

Time to take Maggie May out for a REAL trip on the canals - and see how she does.

However, we were both mildly terrified at the thought.

Suppose we ran into one of THESE as we were trying to negotiate our way through a narrow port? 

Or what if we met one under a bridge?

Clearly, THOSE boats have priority. 

Would we be able to handle a boat of 25 TONS - with water and fuel - through all the twisty bends of the canals, squeeze precisely into locks with other boats, slide easily through crowded towns - with some degree of expertise? After all, Maggie May doesn't exactly turn on a dime.

We stowed the bicycles and the extra fenders. 

Cleaned up the lines and checked everything. Twice.

Heart hammering just a little bit - off we went. 

The first bridge, in Capestang, is one of the tightest on the canal. 

How precise would our aim be going through it? 

(And of course, Capestang being our main town, we know all sorts there. 

Would we totally embarrass ourselves?)

Capestang bridge - a tight squeeze. Some boats DO get stuck there.

We made it, but we DID scrape a corner of the bimini.

Adjustment #1: Lower it as LOW as we can get it.

Now we know.

Before we lowered it - even further.

But after the first bridge, all the 49 others went smoothly.

A lot of bridges are small. 

Stone and hundreds of years old. 

Often at an angle to the canal.

We practiced accurate mooring. 

Stopping. Reversing in a straight line. 

Making corrections. 

Turning around in a narrow canal. 

In the evenings, we moored between vineyards and fields.
(They call it "wild" mooring.) 

Stan's excellent handmade gang plank.

(It WAS kind of wild, when Stan and the gangplank didn't agree at one point.

Good thing his shoes are waterproof.)

Beautiful autumn weather - the whole trip.

After our first day cruising, we noticed water in the engine room. 

Where was it coming from? 

Mystery. 

Not a good one.

We mopped it up every morning.

 (Too hot down there after the engine had been running all day-) 

Hoping it didn't get any worse.

Then, we began going through the locks.

With only 2 of us, out of practice, going through a couple of the big locks was HARD work! 

At one point, we had to enlist the help of 2 kids passing by on bikes.

After the first one, the locks also went smoothly. 

Slowly in - and slowly out - of them. 

The locks are shared with other boats. 

At one lock, the lock keeper told us there was an accident up ahead. 

A rental boat had caught an edge and SUNK - in the lock. 

They needed a crane to get it out.

The boat in the lock wasn't the only one that had sunk-

So we moored overnight. 

Waited for the backlog of boats to clear the following morning.
(Like everything else in France, the locks CLOSE for lunch.)

Sometimes we found a bollard, sometimes we hammered stakes into the ground. 

In all, we handled 14 locks, 50 bridges, 8 days of cruising.

In summary, Maggie May handles well. 

However, she doesn't make sudden changes. 

She requires CONSTANT vigilance. 

You have to plan your turns WELL in advance.

But: she's eminently manageable, once you get used to her. 

By the end of each day, we were sore and tired after hours of full concentration.

Avoiding reckless rental boats.

Securing moorings.
Managing locks and lines. 

Learning all sorts of new stuff.

Dinner on the aft deck helped. Usually one of Stan's stellar salads.

Yes, we had our usual wine with meals. 

But - the emergency bottle of Armagnac that we brought along came in very handy. 

Just in case.