We got ourselves out onto the river at a very civilised and somewhat astonishing “first thing”, in time to catch the lock opening time at nine as a matter of fact.
There, we let Mr P off his leash, giving him his head for much of the day and he responded admirably, charging along at almost nine kilometres per hour when he could find the current, stopping only at the locks and at Port-sur-Saone when lunch o’clock appeared suddenly and without warning.
There we could variously marvel at just how many leaves had appeared on the trees overnight, just how dense the forest had become in the background (also overnight), how deserted the streets and waterways were, and how wonderful it was that the best delicatessen in town had a rotisserie rolling away on the footpath with one of those stupendously delicious and no doubt very good for one’s overall wellness little ham joints, slowly basting and awaiting our arrival.
In an equally fortuitous manner, the baker next door had a sensationally fresh loaf still warm and waiting for us to deposit ninety cents on the counter, and thereafter to deposit slices of ham on the bread.
Thus gloriously fortified we continued our merry way with Mr P humming his dulcet tunes until just before dusk, where we found ourselves moored, tired but happy, seventy-five kilometres from whence we had begun.
In one day, we had travelled the same distance we had taken weeks to cover last year, but that's just an aberration, cruising starts tomorrow!