Champagne Tour

It's July and we have 10 days off. Not much time and in the peak season. Sea beaches and high mountains are thus out of the question. So how about a trip to Champagne?

A few years ago, the journey took us through the region towards La Rochelle, and a night among the champagne vines and gentle hills left a lasting impression. It's not that far away, and we can also find a flea market there.
Romantic vineyards and relaxed paddling trips on the still largely unspoiled river Aube, walks through picturesque villages, and bathtubs full of champagne in sight, we set off on the little journey.

We arrive at Aube and it's hot. Very hot. The temperatures are aiming for new records, the drinks are room temperature, the cheese is melting. Even the famous Chaource from the region, which Margarete of Burgundy already appreciated in the early 14th century. No wonder, with 50% fat in the dry matter. But maybe the summers weren't that hot back then.

Today, the paddling tour is cancelled because with temperatures reaching 40°C in the shade, the accompanying hike simply falls into the impossible range. In the absence of a second vehicle, we bring the inflatable boat to the starting point of the water tour. There, we hide all the accessories in the bushes. As a precaution, we take the valves with us, as you never know what clever people might come up with.

Then we drive to the end point of the paddling tour with the getaway vehicle and leave it there. We also take the car key with us, safely and waterproof.  

Now we set out on the hike to the boat. With good conditions, we walk 4-6km, only to cover double the distance in the winding and curving chosen body of water.

But not today. Today, we move along the water's edge meter by meter in the walking shadow of a small willow tree. The heat is suffocating, we stare holes into the heavy, sultry air, every now and then we drag ourselves into the ice-cold water of the Aube. It's so cold that I can only bring myself to briefly submerge, then the cold tingles on my skin and I have to reach the safe shore, where I immediately start sweating again.

In the evening, we experience the Park4Night effect. The spot on the riverbank in the shade of tall poplars quickly becomes populated by disoriented young people with various camping options. Pop-up tents, sleeping bags in Clios, converted giant vans with travel cats, or simply the VW bus, they all stare at their phones and are surprised that the small spot is already quite crowded. We admire the spectacle for a while. But the temperature in the getaway vehicle is still 30°C, the air movement has decreased with every new camper arriving, and the number of mosquitoes has increased in contrast.
We flee to the next hill. Here, the wind blows the bloodsuckers and the heat out of the car.

The spot by the river is listed on Park4Night, which can certainly be helpful for some. But with such influxes, the locals can one day become annoyed and lock up and barricade these beautiful places with signs, barriers, or chains, prohibiting overnight stays.
We have already experienced cycling retirees at a Park4Night spot that we found using a map and intuition, just like 25 years ago. During a small rest on our journey, they insulted us as 'those black campers' again.
No - for both of us, it is clear that none of our over 300 natural sleeping spots throughout Europe will be published on this app.

Champagne has some surprises in store for us. Where we expect romantic vineyards with noble grapes, we are greeted by vast fields that stretch endlessly into the distance, as far as the eye can see, to the horizon. Mature wheat ears sway in the gentle wind, potatoes and beets grow in lush green, the rape has already been harvested, sunflowers, alfalfa, and poppies decorate the picture with colorful blooms, and hugely enormous fields of hemp emit ethereal scents.

We feel transported to the Magdeburg Börde, but on an even more gigantic scale. Not even the picturesque wind turbines distributed on the gentle hills of the vast landscape are missing here, as in France they are not as open to renewable energies as in other places.

What a contrast to the small plots of land in the Saarland that we crossed on our way, where Grandpa Achim would have left his tractor behind and would have worked the soil with his own strength and a spade - here, he would have to rally his old brigade!

After the unsuccessful search for vineyards, we learn that we have arrived in the 'Dry Champagne', which is also called the 'Lousy' or the 'Chalky'. The chalky soils can easily be recognized by the snowy white earth and the many rocks, which have been made fertile by strong fertilization. Monumental grain silos in the smallest villages are clearly visible and make even old collective farming structures sink into their shadow.

But mainly, we came for paddling, and that's what we do on Lac d'Orient in the 'Mangrove forests'. The Office de Tourisme promises micro-adventures among trees that are surrounded by water in the summer. Here, we don't have to plan a hike in the summer heat, the boat can embark at the free parking lot, and off we go on the tour.

We quickly cross the crystal-clear waters of France's third largest artificial lake, covering 24km2, which is the only one of the three local bodies of water that is under protection. It really is an experience to paddle through the sunken trees and admire the underwater plant world down to the bottom of the lake. Like in an aquarium, all kinds of fish frolic in the green underwater jungle around us. It is indescribable how clear the water is, and of course, with the high summer temperatures, it invites us to take a swim.

For a little break, we look for a spot on the shore. The first one is inhabited by the Swan family, who are not amused by visitors. The second one is home to many mosquito families, they find it amusing, but quickly make us flee. The third one makes a good impression, we land with the boat and Zappa sends me with an innocent look into the lake. The clear water changes dimensions, and despite the muddy bottom, I am confident that I can stand here. But as soon as my feet touch the lake bottom, they sink into the mud. I quickly sink up to my knees in the sticky muck, and I can't get my right foot out anymore. Oh no, not another hopeless struggle for a precious sandal!
No matter what I do, my footwear is stuck. I could pull my foot out, but then the sandal would be lost forever, because the stirred-up mud has made the water's visibility impenetrable. Diving attempts are hopeless.

Meanwhile, Zappa starts to complain about what I'm doing, after all, he wants to go into the refreshing water too, and I'm hindering his exit! I moan, I don't want to give up my rubber shoe. By now, I am sunk up to my belly button. While Zappa reluctantly glides out of the boat, a considerable amount of that refreshing water splashes into it.

My situation is hopeless. I try to remember how Münchhausen pulled himself out of the swamp by his own hair, and I begin to grab the thickest parts of my hair. But then I come up with the idea of using my free left foot and digging in the sticky mud with it. I dig deeper and deeper, and the water becomes more and more murky. I hold onto the slippery shore and the resident green frog seems very surprised about what is happening in his cozy spot.

Zappa is also surprised, especially that several liters of water have landed in the boat, and he will get a wet butt again. Mine is more than that, and I'm still rummaging around in the depths of the lake. Then finally: a loud schmack! and my right foot is free, and my sandal with it! Infinitely relieved and blissful, I shout hurray and swim out into the clear waters. I drag behind me a trail of mud and thick clumps of clay stick to me, which my hero lovingly washes out between my toes with a stick - without tickling!
Quickly, the mosquitoes are back, ending our micro-adventure in the mangrove forest.

The paddling tour on the Aube the next day is a similarly exciting experience. Even though we cover the mile in the scorching midday heat and run in circles, thus extending the short hike to the starting point where we left the inflatable boat by a few kilometers. The effort is rewarded. Swift currents and whirlpools, sharp bends, rugged shorelines, crystal-clear water, the jungle-like chirping of the yellow oriole, venomous green snakes with garden hose patterns, iridescent kingfishers, leaping trout, cormorants on the branches, 20-meter-long water plants, fallen trees, treacherous sandbars, pitch-black clouds, and eerie thunderous rumbling require skill and provide us with an exciting afternoon.
It's a shame that we won't manage another tour in this vacation.

Despite the feeling of being in the Magdeburg Börde, we are thrilled with the dry Champagne. Even though bathing in the noble drink is out of the question, this region has its own charm with endless, deserted expanses, quaint little towns with traditional narrow, tall half-timbered houses, and few tourist attractions, which have given us a balanced, relaxed, and carefree journey away from crowds in the middle of the summer season. The sound of the tour is the perpetual, penetrating drone of combine harvesters, and the whole region smells like dung.

We will definitely come back.