Legends from our own lunchtimes

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Time for a rest it seems.

I can't remember the last time I woke to an alarm, and it is my fervent hope that after today I will have forgotten the last time by the time the next time comes around, but today it had to be.

As we watched the sun rise over the station in Saverne, Cheryl and Ian were already travelling at 300 kilometres per hour, in direction Paris, and not having been out of bed at such an unseemly hour in quite some time, we wondered what we were supposed to do next.

Somewhere in the back of our minds we knew we were due back in Lagarde on Tuesday for the electrical surgery, and by our quick calculations, that gave us ample time to do three week's washing, stock up on supermarket produce, and gently cruise back. We started to tick off the chores one by one. Shortly after lunch we decided that we had done enough, and cast off our moorings to commence slowly heading west.

At least we thought it was slowly. Our engine speed was substantially lower than at our cruising speed of last year, but as the locks rolled by, each one thoughtfully open and waiting for us, it became apparent that thanks to the new efficient transmission, we were covering substantially more distance per hour than we had actually intended. The other thing that was apparent was that there were large numbers of boats heading in the opposite direction, yet we seemed to be alone in our travels.

At the last lock taking us into the harbour in Lutzelbourg though, the truth was revealed. The Plan Incline, the great moving bathtub that takes us over the mountain, is broken, and is destined to remain that way until Tuesday.

There are worse places to spend a Sunday or two we thought.


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