On Litter Scey-sur-Saone to Conflandey

Having already seen the sights of Port-sur-Saone twice this year, there seemed little point in stopping once again to appreciate the absence of things to appreciate, although we could have watched the workmen dismantling the stands used for the grand international fete of music and dance which naturally had wound up the day before yesterday, we moved a little further up the river.

This time with serious luncheon intent we moored in the forest opposite a chateau,  at a private quay belonging to the restaurant "Moulin Rouge", (no not that one).  Ron had assured us despite our misgivings, that the restaurant was not closed when we passed last, just sleeping for winter.   If restaurants do sleep for winter, this one was sleeping very soundly indeed, and appears set to go on sleeping for the foreseeable future and beyond, but the signs on the dock welcomed us none the less, provided that we respected the property, stuck to the paths and lit no fires,  and kept our litter to ourselves.  So there we stayed.

This part of the world was once the centre of wire and nail manufacture, there is a village not far from here called exactly that "Manufacture" in fact, and the area is littered by the skeletons of buildings which once held factories of sufficient size to finance the chateaus that their owners seemed to litter the countryside with alacrity.    I suspect there are as many chateaus (Private property our dog is malicious and vindictive) adjoining defunct factories in this neck of the woods as there are "Moulins Rouge" or churches of "Notre Dame", but all are equally as fascinating to peek into even in their ruined states.

We were sitting discussing just that on our private dock, over a quiet ham baguette when a gentleman with a large hungry looking dog appeared welcoming us to the place, but seeking assurance that Ron and Robin would not leave behind the yellow plastic bag they'd tied to mark a bollard trip hazard.  Suitably assured he bad us farewell and went off in search of other things.

Unless one has a factory or barn in ruins to leave lying around, or perhaps a large dog on a small footpath, littering is simply not acceptable.