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.
All the latest on Orange County from Orange County.
Get our free TimesOC newsletter.
You may occasionally receive promotional content from the Daily Pilot.