Barging in Burgundy, France: the first day

By Sarah Gilbert Fox Like a good book, where you know by the first paragraph that you don’t want to get to the last page, the Luciole has you lamenting, upon first entering, the day you must disembark.  You’ll feel as if you are visiting friends on their boat for the week; friends who have wanted you to visit for many years and are so glad that you’ve finally arrived that they will do anything to pamper you.  There’s so much activity going on around you upon first embarking, that it’s hard to imagine how relaxed one can be, but relaxed is the operative word.  All the new guests gather on the decks to sit on green deck chairs (with lovely yellow and blue Provincial seat cushions) around a wooden table, while the staff welcomes you with smiles, cold glasses of Kir Royale (Burgundy’s Champagne equivalent called Crement, with the Casis Liqueur made from black currants, Kir, added), and canapés (that promise more really excellent food to come).  Meanwhile, Neil, the incredibly amiable driver of the large, white Mercedes bus (that picked you up at the Hotel Regina in Paris and brought you to the small, medieval town of Auxerre), unloads your luggage onto the barge.  Somehow, magically, every bag is placed into the corresponding cabin of its owner, without once anyone asking “to whom does this belong” – the finishing touch, really, to letting you know that you are in the best possible hands.



Giles Grenville, the Captain of the Barge, sits on the corner of the wooden deck table and asks everyone to introduce themselves; then proceeds to give the history of the barge.  Richard Parson, the founder of hotel barging, constructed the Palinurus (the first hotel Peniche) in 1967. At the time, there were crude amenities for 22 people.  Later, the hull was built in 1973.  In 1985, John Liley bought the Palinurus and changed the name to the Luciole – meaning “firefly” in French -- and eventually the vessel was updated and renovated to be what it is today: a luxury barge that sleeps 14 very comfortably, with 5 star service in food, wine and customer service (but I hesitate to use the term “customer,” because you simply don’t feel like a customer!).  The barge weighs 150 tons, goes under some bridges from time to time that beg tall men to duck or be decked, has 220 volt outlets in each cabin that run day or night (hair dryers are offered), toilets that work very well, thank you very much, but please don’t flush any towels down them, and the kitchen is available for anyone to knock when hunger calls.  Of course there is talk of safety, but one doesn’t feel there is an issue with danger with Giles at the helm.  The man is informative and funny, has a high voltage smile, and you can tell he really loves his job (and the crew seems to have a mutual Giles-fan-club about them, as well).


Then everyone is off to discover their cabins.  The smallest cabins are, indeed, small, but still very cozy.  The larger cabin don’t lose the coziness when the extra roominess comes into play, because the owners, John and Penny Liley, have done everything to make these cabins as cozy and inviting as possible.  The mattresses are sink-into yummy, and the duvets are high and of a high quality luxury something or other; the pillows are sweetly plump and fluffy (you have an assortment, actually, which is rather nice for a change, for those who have foggy or crooked necks!).  Each cabin has its own air conditioner, with its own control knobs, that actually works and actually pumps out cool air (in fact, as of this writing, the air conditioner system has been completely overhauled since June of this month).  You’d never guess that the carpets are made to be wet, because their blue-green lushness overtakes the rugged purpose of boat carpeting.  The walls are a soft southern France yellow.  The doors have a full-length mirror.  The windows open so you can get the French Burgundy air flowing in, and you can even stick your arm out to touch the water (I know, because I just tried it – lovely).  There are fabulous little reading lamps above each bed, hand-sewn curtains, hand-picked artwork and “oh, do go on!”, I think, but I’ve yet to tell about the bathrooms! 

They are, by Paris hotel standards, huge!  Note first the amenities from London: Molton Brown’s ziao jao healthy hairwash; Molton Brown’s ultrasmooth coco de mer body lotion; Molton Brown’s invigorating suma ginseng bath and shower douche.  I’ve no clue what ziao jao or suma are, but I know Molton Brown, and I want to get into the shower and stay in there based on these simple delights, alone.  The bathrooms really are substantial.  Lots of silver chrome and soft sea green tiles meet up with the white porcelain Victoria 1980 fixtures and white toilet (a throne for a King… long gone are the days of those horrid bathroom pots).  Water glasses sit next to a standing bottle of Evian, and the towels beckon with their thickness.  One really does have to tear themselves away from the bathroom in order to do what one really does on a barge.

And what does one do on a barge?  They go up to the deck and talk and meet the other passengers, and relax and play games, and talk and eat and talk some more.  They take photographs and laugh and have drinks and sodas (one more extra, wonderful amenity: when you ask for a sod -- you actually get ice, and you get a lot of it!).  Then you watch the Burgundy countryside and imagine what day two will bring, as the barge slowly floats away from Auxerre to view the rolling farmyards and country life of the Bourgone. 

More tomorrow, when we present to you: Day Two (floating down the Waterways of Burgundy).