Winding through to the detour

Martha Marino

Part 5: Bailing on the Marne Canal

Day 11-15: Luneville and Nancy

Sometimes travel plans just don’t turn out the way you expect.

That’s what happened on my Marne Canal trip. After I left Luzelbourg,

the towpath had so many ruts, weeds and barriers that cycling became

more work than pleasure. Finally, I left the canal and followed the

quiet, rural roads marked on my Michelin map with thin, white lines.

If the hills were gentle and I didn’t get lost, I didn’t mind

zigzagging through the countryside. My route today, for instance, led

me past rows of tall, green, corn stalks, through forests and over

slopes of golden fields, filled with the scent of freshly cut hay. It

was a great ride.

By afternoon, I pulled into Luneville to visit the Petit

Versailles, a replica of the castle of Versailles. Its stately

buildings surrounding a stadium-size courtyard, was an impressive

sight, even though it looked out-of-place in such a small, rural

town.

This castle was built in 1702 by the Duke Leopold I, a German, who

lost his throne in Nancy as the Duke of Lorraine to the French. I had

hoped to see the interior, but all tours had been canceled, due to a

recent fire.

From Luneville I took back roads to the city of Nancy, about 30

kilometers away. When I arrived at its Royal Square (a world heritage

site), its beauty dazzled me. Large golden gates, covered with

sculptures and fountains, decorated the four corners and in the

center stood a tall statue of Stanislas, the former Polish king who,

strangely enough, became a duke in France.

Usually in cities, I stay in a hotel. This time, though, the

tourist office so highly recommended the out-of-town campground, that

I changed my plans. They even gave me a bike-trail map and explained

the way, failing, however, to mention one important thing: a “killer”

hill. It was the longest, steepest hills I had ever seen near a

campground entrance. For more than a half an hour I trudged along,

pushing my heavily loaded bike slowly up the hill, while a fierce,

scorching sun beat ruthlessly on my back. The European 2002 heat wave

had just begun -- the worst in 400 years, killing, in France alone,

more than 14, 000 people.

By the time I arrived at my camping site, I was, of course,

completely exhausted as well as angry. I immediately revived myself

with a few cold beers in the restaurant and after seeing how spacious

and shady the campground was -- and learning about a bus back to

Nancy -- I felt better.

The next day I took a bus into the city to see the sights. Since

Nancy had made an impressive contribution to the artistic Art Nouveau

movement, I first visited its Musee de l’Ecole de Nancy, which

displayed carved wood paneling, furniture and glasswork from this

period. Afterward, with a special map in hand, I directed a taxi

driver to take me around town to see all the Art Nouveau-styled

buildings. Most had heavy-looking, ornate facades and windows

decorated with roses and butterflies -- a bit strange looking but

interesting.

Before leaving Nancy, I had to make an important decision. Should

I try to continue down the Marne and Soane Canals, hoping the towpath

would improve, or change my plans entirely?

While undecided (a state I hate to be in), I met a couple of

bikers in the campground who, after hearing my dilemma, suggested

that I cycle in Germany along the Mosel River. “It’s a gorgeous

ride,” they assured me, “and there’s a paved towpath all the way. You

just take the train from Nancy to Luxembourg, and then transfer to

Trier. You’ll be there in less than four hours.”

It had been 30 years since I lived in Germany, and though I speak

German, I was hesitant about leaving France. After weighing my

options, though, the next morning, I decided to pedal to the train

station and buy a ticket to Germany, a decision I never regretted. My

cycle trip along the Mosel and Rhine Rivers was fabulous.

Sometimes the best part of a trip is the part you don’t plan.

THE END

This was the last of five articles on Marino’s travels by bike.