Of all Europe's waterways, the Canal du Midi, meandering from Toulouse in southern France to the Mediterranean, is perhaps the best known. A UNESCO-listed World Heritage Site, it was built in the 17th century by Pierre-Paul Riquet of Beziers. In the holiday season it's lively with visitors who come to enjoy the scenery, food and wine of the Languedoc Roussillon region, as well as the cosmopolitan camaraderie of the canal.
It's customary to fly your national flag from your barge, not only to identify 'home' when you stagger back to your mooring after a decadent dinner on shore, but to give you an instant conversational opening to fellow travellers as they drift past you on the water. 'Hallo Sweden! G'day, Australia!' inevitably leads to sharing a companionable drink at the next stop-over point.
In June 2011 we raised the South African flag on our top-of-the-range, self-drive Penichette 1500 FB, which we boarded at Negra, about 40km from Toulouse. The boat had a fly bridge, internal and external steering, a well-appointed kitchen and a spacious deck with table and chairs for al fresco dining. The four double cabins, all en suite, each boasted an electric flush toilet, which was a bonus I hadn't expected.
Negra's landscape is typically Mediterranean. We moored among vineyards or wheat fields, in the dappled shade cast by leafy plane trees that line the banks of the canal. For more than 200km this famous avenue forms a cool green arch above the water. However, the signature trees of the Canal du Midi are now, literally, under the axe. A deadly fungus, Ceratocystis platani, introduced during the Second World War via contaminated wooden ammunition boxes from the US, has taken hold. Over the next 20 years the planes will be felled and burned. New, disease-resistant varieties will be planted, but it will be decades before the grandeur of the canopy is recreated.
The gracious trees stand for now, home to the birds whose songs, mingled with the chirping of cicadas, woke us early each day.
On our first morning a deer leaped into the canal, swam to the opposite bank, scrambled out and disappeared into the thick foliage. I thought I'd had another lucky wildlife sighting when I spotted a sleek black 'otter' chasing a family of ducklings; it turned out, however, to be one of the giant water rats - about 35cm in length - that grow fat on left-over baguette and other pickings from waterside restaurants and boats.
The canal is an extraordinary feat of engineering. Tons of water pass through the locks - many of them original - that raise or lower the barges on their journey through the undulating countryside. There were bikes on board so each day I cycled along the tow path, stopping to help secure the boat during the 20-minute locking procedure. The locks on this section of the canal are automatic and operated by lock-keepers, some of whom have done this work for 20 years. The highlight of my day was practising my French with them. Our conversations ranged from the quality of South Africa's rugby and football teams to France's current drought - the worst in a century.
Our first big town was Castelnaudary, which has a beautiful grand bassin with moorings right in town. Castelnaudary is renowned for cassoulet, a dish made with white beans and chunky pieces of pork and duck. We bought an earthenware dish filled with the delicacy and ate it on deck, with chilled rosé and fresh baguette. In the evening some of our crew sat with a glass in one hand and a fishing rod in the other, hoping to catch something other than a duckling for our supper, but the midday meal was often ashore.
The locks close for an hour, for la digestion, which gives you the chance to stop and buy fresh food at the local market or sample a restaurant's plat du jour. At one of the locks we passed an inviting café with tables set under a vine-covered pergola. Within minutes we had moored our boat and were enjoying a glass of wine while our feast was prepared: a choice of foie gras and terrines, salmon with pomme frites or steak and sauce Béarnaise, with light salads and crepes.
As we approached Carcassonne the canal became busier. Among the self-drive boats were hotel barges carrying bored-looking Americans. From the canal there is a spectacular view of La Cité, Carcassonne's many-turreted fortified town, which we visited in the late afternoon. As we strolled over the bridge that crosses the River Aude the sight of this restored medieval fortress took our breath away. Inside the towering walls we found cobbled streets thronging with noise and activity. After the buzz of tourist shops and cafés it was a relief to return to the quiet seclusion of our boat and prepare a meal from the treats we'd bought at the market.
Both Carcassonne and Narbonne have magnificent markets. We took a taxi to Narbonne, about 16km from Port de la Robine on the canal. There's good shopping for those in need of retail therapy and the Museum of Art and History in the Archbishop's Palace is worth a visit. However, the daily food market in Les Halles is the real drawcard: the fish stall, alone, gleamed with oysters, scallops, mussels, shell fish, squid, tuna and skate. Quality, variety and presentation made food shopping a delightful ritual rather than a chore. We topped up our larder with the springtime abundance of berries and cherries, available along the route and even from a little stall set up by a lock-keeper.
It's these simple pleasures that make barging so appealing. Aside from the advantage of unpacking once, so that you waste no time as you move from place to place, there's a blessed freedom from a tight schedule. As long as you deliver the boat to the end destination at the appointed time, you can dally here and there, soaking up the atmosphere so that you go home with a little piece of rural France forever in your soul.
How to go barging
