With our new fenders not due to arrive at the Port Technique Chandlery until mid – morning, it was a relaxing start to the day. No locks for some distance, an easy commencement to life upon the canal for Jamie who had arrived two days prior.

It was only a short distance, but there was still a great deal to see.

Barges with massive rudders,

a massage parlour on water,

crossing the motorway via the aqueduct,

a marina full of weed,

and interesting murals along the way.

Being informed the said fenders weren’t arriving at the company’s depot until today, and that it would be mid – morning tomorrow before we saw them, to say we were peeved was an understatement!!!!! Bob had provided them with our phone number for just this reason.

Our mooring pontoon being the spot where a group of canoeists regularly placed their craft in the water, it was imperative Gratis be moved onward.

In our girl we continued, with dragonflies lazily buzzing through the cockpit. Having one gently alight upon one’s fingers was a wondrous sight.

Jamie was out taking happy snaps

as we passed by a flood gate.



and yet more green.

The colours made the atmosphere so surreal, so I had a bit of a play.

Castanet – Tolosan, just six kilometres down the road from our Toulouse base, was our night’s anchorage. The brilliant plan decided upon was to walk into the township, hire some bikes on the morrow, and cycle to collect the fenders. A great idea in theory, but upon carrying out a reconnaissance the three of us discovered it was not to be. Middle of the heat drenched afternoon and 20 minutes in, the church steeple – in the centre of town, of course – was still some distance away. The group decision: hiring bikes was not practical.

To plan B we proceeded, and on thinking, a much more practical one time wise when compared to the bikes had they been available. With Jamie bringing the bungs for the dinghy, it was now possible to use her once more. (A couple of weeks past, Bob discovered the original had disappeared – presumed lost in one of the lock entries when Little G2’s stern scraped against its wall. What a sight would have been seen of Little G2 disappearing beneath the murky polluted canal waters had he not done so……..). Down will go the dinghy, on put the outboard, and up the canal will head Little G2.

The loud thrum of traffic deafened our ears as the vehicles zoomed their way past and people whizzed by upon their bicycles. Cicadas sang, dragon flies fluttered, spiders waited patiently for their next meal:

one brave male hovered close by a female multiple times his size, and we now had a resident gecko on board.