Capestang

 It's always a bit windy by the time we pass through Ventenac and Capestang. I amused myself by wondering whether Ventenac is called that because of the wind (vent). What do you reckon?

Capestang was the finish of our journey this year - we didn't finish at Bezier because it was just too hot in the afternoons. We chose the hardest place possible to disembark just to really leave perfect memories of the canal with the rowers (they must have thought that, but there were so many barges moored that there were no other options) - this involved a steep bank to lift the boat up before it could be placed on the chariot, and then de-rigged and washed the boats down. When I suggested the washing part to the teams (instructions from above) I had to be clear because it seemed a little crazy - take water from the canal (we have talked about the quality of this water) to wash the canal water and debris from the boat. Yes. Makes sense. 

Capestang has a beautiful central square, towered over by a gothic St Etienne church which is an absolute thing of beauty. 

The mayor presented us with coke to drink (great in the heat - cold, caffeine and sugar), which two from the Irish team and I followed with a chaser of panache, then another to pass the time until the meal was ready. One must justify continuing to sit in a cafe and using the toilet...

For those of my old rowing team, you will remember fondly the curried octopus, yes indeed. I ate two salads (entrees) with a little rice and the curried sauce. I just couldn't do it.

One of the buses had decided not to start so we were transported back to Bezier in relays, which meant I had time to check out St Etienne and to have a coffee. For this (coffee) you ask for a black coffee and a glass of ice, voila, iced coffee.

I took this photo because I thought he could be my next husband - he was just so very happy with his outfit, his jeans were snug, and added to that the bandana matched his motorbike... he did a sort of John Wayne cowboy walk across the plaza, very happy with himself.

In Bezier we stayed at Premier Class - which isn't. At all. No class. Awful. Perhaps when it isn't filled by smelly rowers it is a shorttimelongtime hotel. Never seen such small rooms, even smaller than Formula 1. I bid a fond goodbye to my smelly runners, they have served me well over the years. It's become a bit of a tradition dumping running shoes in Bezier, one less thing to carry home.

And from there to Tribeca which is a restaurant/ night club - not a lot of class there either. Waitresses who scrape the plates at the table.

Andre insisted on having the prize giving with the thump of the DJ music making it difficult to hear. Over the years there have been a few different venues for this final night. That's all I need to say on that one.

Saturday has traditionally been the last day, a bit of short racing and a lunch - but the water in canal at Bezier was low, nearly everyone had opted to jump on early buses or trains (including me) so without formality we left Premier Class and disbanded. So that's that. Amazing people, amazing accomplishment, amazing memories.

(Can't resist these last few photos of a black bee - not a honey bee and I think it is called an onyx. It was quite big and I didn't want to annoy it - you never know in a foreign country.