A long time ago I heard of a cave hidden behind a waterfall. A masked stranger on a horse called Hero with a dog called Devil used it as his lair. Only those who were in his inner circle (or read Phantom comics) knew of its existence.
Just a few hundred metres into our journey today we came across such a cave, although pretty much any one who has visited the local tourist office would know of its existence.
The tunnel at Thoraise is not very long as these things go, at barely two hundred metres it's more of a long bridge than a tunnel, but it is quite entertaining. It has a waterfall for a door at either end, which magically turns itself off for just long enough for a boat (or two) to pass. Once inside, lights snake around the ceiling and walls chasing boats or pedestrians as they make their passage through. In other places this would be called a waste of money, elections would be fought over whether it was a worthwhile contribution to society.
Here, it's just called art.
We left a bit early again this morning too, because the light beckoning at the end of our particular tunnel was Besançon, where perhaps we would find ice cream, and the magic of the morning once again unfolded as our route took us from river to canal and back again, successfully testing Mr Perkins new found strength in water running faster than we could have dealt with just a few years ago.
He deserves an ice cream too.