Kayaking unites kindred spirits

Martha Marino

PART 4: BEAUTY AND ROMANCE

Day 6 to 8: Saverne and Luzelbourg

When the rain finally stopped in the late afternoon, I crawled out

of my tent and coasted down the hill to have a look at Saverne.

Before sightseeing, I located a small bike shop to have my loose

handlebars repaired. The mechanic had no trouble finding the problem.

“Whoever assembled this bike,” he said, “didn’t know what they were

doing. They put the washer up side down and damaged it.” I knew, of

course, whom he meant. Darn details! They always get in my way.

After this ego-deflating incident -- somehow, I had the illusion

that I was mechanically gifted -- I headed for the center of Saverne,

an attractive Medieval, Renaissance town with a slight German flavor,

being near the border.

First I visited the 12th century, brick church with a Roman bell

tower. Then I wandered down the pedestrian-only Grand Rue past quaint

buildings with gables and pointed roofs, all festively decorated with

window boxes of pink and red Geraniums Along the way, I stopped at

the Katz Tavern. It was well known for its ornately sculptured facade

of dark, wooden beams and its comical-looking, six-foot, tin statue

of a cat, standing in the patio -- wearing a top hat, of all things.

This cat was in honor of the original owner; Henri Katz (katz means

“cat” in German) who lived here in 1605 while receiver general for

the bishop.

Later, I walked to the canal to gaze upon the imposing, red

sandstone castle with extensive flower gardens that faced the shore.

In 1790 the rich, privileged Bishop of Strasbourg lived here as his

second residence; today it’s a museum and youth hostel.

For three days, I hung around Saverne, before “hitting” the

towpath again. My ride through the valley of the Vosges Mountains was

exquisite. In the village of a Luzelbourg, snuggled between forested

foothills, I stopped to take some photos, then continued on to the

campground, three miles away. As soon as I pitched my tent, I pedaled

up the hill to Arzviller to see the famous

“barge-transverse-elevator.” Built in 1969, it joined two, different

canal-levels and replaced 17 locks, that used to take 12 hours to

pass through.

At the top canal, I bought a ticket for the tourist boat that

descended on the barge-elevator to the lower canal. When we were all

aboard, our boat entered an adjacent, barge-size tank filled with

water. Then, after they closed the heavy, metal lock-doors and our

boat was floating in a bathtub of water, we descended, facing

sideways. With the help of two counter weights, connected by cables

and drawn by electric winches, our tank moved slowly down two tracks.

Once we reached the bottom of the 132 feet, 41% degree incline, they

opened the tank’s lock-doors on the opposite end opened, and our boat

exited for a short excursion. Upon returning, we entered the

water-filled tank again to ascend to the top canal by the same

method. It was so much fun riding in a boat in an elevator that I

went up and down several times.

When I cycled back to my camping place, I found I had a new

neighbor with an inflatable kayak lying beside his tent. His name was

Marcus, a good-looking middle-aged man, born in Switzerland but

living in New York. Since I am a kayaker too, (Once I kayaked by

myself down France’s Dordogne and Cele Rivers.) I was anxious to talk

to him. He told me he was kayaking all the way to Paris, via the

Marne canal, an ambitious undertaking.

The more we became acquainted, the more we found we were like

kindred spirits, with the same lust for adventure and outlook on

life. So, for the next few days we spent most of our time together:

dining nightly in the campground restaurant, meeting in a cafe in

Luzelbourg for drinks and sharing stories of our adventures. I told

him about living in the jungle of Africa, and he entertained me with

the details of his four-month kayak trip from Lake Constance in

Germany to Spain, by way of the Rhone River and Mediterranean. I

loved having companionship again. I had forgotten how delightful life

could be when shared with someone you really like. Even our age

difference didn’t seem to matter.

Not only did Marcus have an inspiring zest for life but also a

super attitude: One morning, when I complained about the trains

running next to campground and keeping me awake at night, he said,

“Oh, they don’t bother me. I love trains.” After that, I realized

that I didn’t need a sleeping pill, but only a major change in

attitude.

I was impressed with Marcus’s thoughtfulness, too. The morning of

my departure, he surprised me with some fresh croissants for my

breakfast and an offer to help me pack.

It was hard leaving someone I liked so much, but he promised to

keep in touch. I hope he does.

Last Episode: “Bailing” on the Marne Canal

This is the fourth of five pieces on Marino’s travels by bike.