Early in the morning I go to the bakery here too – at least a sign of life in this paralysed village. The freshly baked bread tastes delicious. Only bread and nothing else (for now). A dream. But I don’t stay, pack my things and drive on.
Near Besançon, I am amazed to see that the canal is a navigable tunnel under a mighty rocky outcrop: What a masterpiece of the engineers of the 18th century. At the same time, we see here how quickly it can happen that something as rigid (as a canal) becomes superfluous due to progressive development – motorisation made the transport of goods through a water canal obsolete, and today this canal is nothing more than a testimony to economic daring and flop at the same time. Roads became new, far cheaper and more flexible transport routes, while these canals were stuck in the capacity trap; ships towed by the power of horses could not exceed a certain size, so the canals and especially the locks did not need to be built any bigger than necessary, consequently neither did the tunnels. And as soon as horses were replaced by engines, the maintenance of a rigid canal system became a financial bottomless barrel.
But I am happy that at least the most necessary is being done to keep these testimonies of an era halfway maintained – and that my ArgoFram is so agile that it can get through everywhere without any problems: I sail on the open sea just as I do in the inner-European canal system (well, I make progress, just not quite as fast). And here, too, I easily pass through this tunnel.
In the late afternoon I reach the long harbour of Baume-les-Dames and find some enthusiasts of canal navigation who have taken up a life in canal boats – not at last to preserve at least some freedom from this encroaching state for themselves and their loved ones. Because here they don’t look so closely, they allow people (because there are only a few in total, who are considered ‘a bit weird’ anyway) a certain amount of space. The converted old barges are correspondingly colourful, or the new canal ‘yachts’ luxurious, which also cut a good figure on lakes or in waters close to the coast.
To my pleasant surprise, an unofficial harbour master is present; he runs a restaurant with an attached hotel. I introduce myself, ask if I can have a shower and something to eat here, and treat myself to a hotel stay – also because hotel guests are exempted from masks. And he is so busy that, with a wink, he forgets to check my ‘passe sanitaire’ (I am his only guest today).