Well slept, freshly showered, and of course I enjoy the nicely served breakfast. What a start to the day. For once I don’t even have to lift my little finger. The host understands his role and interprets it excellently – I know my role as a guest, enjoy… and pay. Afterwards, I say goodbye to the freedom captains and their wives along the long-stretched pier, and on we go.
The story of the day is quickly told: I chug along. And lock now and then. Until I suddenly see a large grocery shop right next to the canal. I stop and dock, cross the road, and enjoy the enormous selection of regional products, especially the pies! – I buy more than I will ever be able to eat in the next few days, and feast on the way (while my ArgoFram drives dutifully along as if on a leash). A bite of this pie, another of that pie, and so on, all afternoon long. The fact that I don’t die of fat poisoning over the next few hours is nothing short of a miracle.
Shortly before Montbéliard, I leave the Doubs and a canal leads me to the centre of the city. The nicely designed harbour with its many different boats looks inviting, but it is over-engineered and sterile. Nevertheless, I stay the night. I pay the harbour fee electronically, but unfortunately not everything works as it should: I have also paid for the shower, but unfortunately the corresponding container house does not open. Obviously it doesn’t recognise the barcode, and I am left standing in front of the closed door with a receipt in my hand. Nobody can or wants to help. The city administration has long since closed, and the other boat owners, as so often in France, shrug their shoulders apathetically. So let’s not do it.
There are large Peugeot factories nearby (with tens of thousands of jobs), and an important automobile museum, but neither appeals to me. I decide to continue tomorrow at daybreak.