Barge Luciole
Tripping Through Burgundy
France

The canals of France float fancier and more expensive barges. They have larger barges—and smaller ones. It is even possible that one or two of them have food as good as The Luciole. Most of the barges even have vans that take passengers on side trips. None of them, however, have the gentle and humorous Captain Neil Gorrie. That makes them all second class compared to the first class experience of traveling with Captain Neil.

Neil brought Burgundy alive. A resident of the medieval village of Clamecy, Neil has a broad, eclectic curiosity. Over the years he’s researched whatever grabbed his interest. Hearing the results was never pat, never boring.

"Look here, you can see exactly when the Pope declared that it was not this church, but the one in Provence, with the real remains of Saint Mary Magdalene," said Neil, pointing to a spot where the elaborate and expensive carvings gave way to much plainer stuff. "When the pilgrims stopped, the money stopped," he added. At last, the relic fund-raising strategy of Europe’s massive cathedrals was clear to me.

Neil showed us how Vézelay’s pilgrims were routed through the basilica—in one door, past the relic, and out another—enabling the basilica to get the most possible pilgrims through in the least possible time. "After you touch the relic, your prayer comes true only if you put two pence in the box," he added, dryly and without comment.

"Over here is one of my favorite carvings," Neil said, bounding off towards one of Vézelay’s fascinating carved pillar capitals. "These carvings were done to entertain the people," he commented. Then explained that no one paid attention to the service, "The priests couldn’t be heard and there was lots going on in the basilica. People talked, ate and sold things. Prostitutes worked."

"As the priest raised the host," Neil added, "the Sanctus bell rang and everyone—even the people outside—were saved."

Back outside, we looked at the stupendous views over rural Burgundy from Vézelay’s Sainte-Madeleine’s hilltop location. Left to ourselves, we rambled through stone lanes where geraniums covered Romanesque houses. And we browsed Vézelay’s artisan shops. The town requires all of its shops to sell locally-sourced produce and products.

Time to wander was including on every side trip. We loved traipsing through the centuries of timbered houses, and wonderfully higgledy-piggledy cobbled streets with gossiping locals, and eye-candy fruit markets. Then, just as we got a little peckish, it was time to return to The Luciole for lunch.

Daily outings ranged from visiting villages, churches, a basilica, one chateau, one local market and wine tasting in Chablis. It was a pleasant, but not overwhelming amount of "to-doing." Driving through vineyards, Neil explained some of the entanglements of French winemaking. Like the divided ownership situation. Before the revolution, the eldest male inherited the whole estate, leaving many a younger son for church or army fodder. The revolution passed a law requiring the estate be divided equally. "A person might own only one row of grapes," Neil said.

"There are the remains of a hidden German nest" pointed Neil as we stopped on an old logging road. This, we learned, had been part of occupied France and "there were Germans tromping around everywhere." We got out to look at the remains of a hidden German tank-making operation.

And so it went. Whatever we passed or wherever we went, if we got Neil talking, he’d have a tale to tell.

Without Neil, a hotel barge—no matter how ultra—would not be as rich.

Kate Crawford  October 2010