Barging Through Burgundy, France By - Brian Buchanan Dawn glows in through curtained windows. A gentle rocking, and a slapping rhythm creeps into consciousness. The distant sound of small motorbike whines off into the morning void. Road traffic's faint growls creep into the soundscape, first on a bridge spanning the canal and mending the canal's bisection of a small stone-walled French town into two halves. The muted cough of a boat engine now enters.
Ducks quack along the edge of the boat.
A distant incoherent voice floats up. Another bright, quiet morning on the Burgundy canals has begun its intrusion into one's dreamworld. In hazy morning recollection, cruising Burgundy's canals in high summer is a dreamworld. Each morning's awakening reminds one again just how alien an experience this is for a soul used to the frantic hurly-burly of a North American city. Our 15 metre canal cruiser lies quietly at misty anchor alongside an odd collection of fellow-travellers.