CRUISE CONTROL LETS YOU CHOOSE
Scheduled — and unscheduled — activities make for a great vacation. On a river cruise, you can relax when you want, join excursions when you want — or not. France’s castles and other scenery come to you as you sit on the sundeck, sipping your wine, writes
I wake from a deep sleep and slip over to the french doors to open the curtains. Outside, the sun is glistening off the Saone River and a group of swans glide past the window.
I’m in the small French city of Mâcon, aboard a seven-night ARosa river cruise through Burgundy and Provence. The night before, I boarded the ship in Lyon with my friend Catherine, and we sipped wine on the sundeck as we floated out of France’s second largest city, nestled at the confluence of the Rhône and Saône rivers.
This morning, I’m set to visit Cluny Cloister, the 12th-century headquarters of the largest monastic order in the West.
First, however, I sit and revel in the simple knowledge that my bags are unpacked — dresses on hangers, makeup in the bathroom, books on my bedside table — and I won’t have to repack them for the entire week. This basic comfort brings me untold pleasure.
Typically, my European vacations go something like this: Shlep bags from airport to train station to hotel to train station. And repeat. If you’re familiar with that routine, you’ll know at some point you get fed up with all the hauling and rummaging and start looking for a different kind of vacation.
By all indications, I’ve hit that point a little earlier than most — approaching 30, I’m one of the youngest guests on board. That said, as a youthful river cruiser, I’ve certainly selected the right boat. With an average age of 55, ARosa attracts a younger clientele than most river cruises, notorious for their grey-haired passengers. A boisterous group of 40-something culinary aficionados from Palm Springs, Calif., keep things lively during our journey.
I don’t see why more people under 50 don’t consider travelling this way. Essentially, river cruising is like staying at a luxury resort — complete with pool, spa and sauna (with a fabulous view to the world outside) — that deposits you in the centre of a different European city each day.
The days begin with a full breakfast buffet to fuel our morning out- ings. We’re typically back at the boat by noon to partake in a barbecue on the sundeck and, after an afternoon of exploring, there’s time for a cocktail in the waning sunlight before dinner. On five of seven nights we’re treated to gourmet, five-course, wine-paired meals. Think: beef filet and lobster.
Indeed, food and wine take pride of place on this cruise (this is France, after all). We tour the vineyards of châteauneuf-dupape, home to four soils, 13 grape varieties and 200 wine producers. The mistral wind, which gives the area a special growing climate, is blowing strongly as we amble along a hillside beneath a castle that was once the summer palace of the popes of Avignon. We walk through the village before arriving at a wine-tasting.
With all the food and wine, it comes as somewhat of a relief that we have a 15-kilometre bike tour planned in Avignon. With the cruise’s active crowd, the bike tours are consistently oversubscribed.
Our guides lead us along the Rhône River, past the ruined bridge of Pont St-Bénézet — the bridge that inspired the song Sur le pont d’Avignon — and around Île de Barthelasse, the largest river island in Europe.
We pedal through farmers’ fields and orchards, stopping to crunch on fresh apples straight off the tree.
That night, we enjoy dinner with our new friends, Sarah from London and Susan from Florida.
With just 82 cabins on our ship and three meals together every day, we come to know many of the people on board. Given this is our only night in port, we plot to see the nightlife of Avignon.
But first: Drinks in the lounge, where we meet up with all our new friends. Soon we’re singing and dancing, letting our hair down with people we’re unlikely ever to see again. The crowd is a hilarious mix of wealthy gay men from Palm Springs, North American baby boomers and a sedate group of German seniors.
The eclectic crowd can best be summed up by the evening’s karaoke lineup, which ranges from Edelweiss to Dancing Queen. We have so much fun we don’t leave the boat after all — instead opting for a middle-of-the-night pool party. Yup, this isn’t your grandma’s river cruise.
In the morning, we’re feeling a little worse for wear, and regret signing up for a 9 a.m. excursion. Catherine glances over at me, still lying in bed at 8:45, and says: “I don’t suppose we’re going to see the famous Pont du Gard then.” No, I don’t suppose we are. As the trip unfolds, we come to realize a big part of making the river cruise experience more our style involves bowing out of some of the scheduled excursions to, say, sleep in a bit, explore a city by ourselves or enjoy cruising down the river instead of heading off on a coach tour.
I love the peacefulness of being on board. The very nature of travel by boat slows down the often-frenetic pace of touring the continent. My favourite thing to do is to sit at the front of the sundeck, sipping a drink as the boat moves down the river, watching the world come to me.
We come around a bend, and Vienne, a city colonized by the Romans more than 2,000 years ago, pops up on the riverbank. I pull my nose out of a book to see a castle on the next hillside. A shadow is cast over the pool as we enter a lock.
After Avignon, the river widens into a placid waterway, surrounded by greenery reminiscent of a Vincent van Gogh painting. We’re approaching Arles, just 45 kilometres north of the Mediterranean Sea. It’s a place many painters (including van Gogh) have flocked to. Walking through the ancient city, it’s like a dreamy haze has descended upon us.
We’ve traversed more than 400 kilometres of southern France in five days, and it’s time for our ship to start heading north again.
The next day, we wake in Viviers amid a vastly different landscape and climb aboard a bus, which carries us through the towering limestone cliffs and lavender farms of Ardèche.
We crane our necks to catch the view as our bus creeps alongside the Ardèche Canyon, referred to as the “Grand Canyon of France.” Hopping out to savour the view, we watch in envy as hundreds of kayakers float beneath a grand limestone arch. On the bus there’s the constant hum of chatter as friends, old and new, make the most of their last day together.
Back on the boat, we’re making our way toward Lyon now, passing through dozens of locks and picturesque villages as we soak up some final rays by the pool.
We savour every bite of our last five-course meal, then visit the lounge, where we sing and dance into the wee hours of the morning.
At one point, Catherine texts her mom to say: “We’re not coming home. We’re staying on the boat forever.”
Indeed, you could say these two young ’uns had a pretty good time on board. And I didn’t have to rummage through my suitcase or shlep my bags once.