Bubbles fizz to the top of my champagne flute and burst in a ripple of gold as the sun sets ahead of us, burnishing the silken sheet of water to molten copper.
Either side of us, along the river banks, crickets tucked up in tall reed beds purr peacefully and water hens with white collars play duck-and-dive beneath our bow.
Twelve of us – five Americans, two Brits and a Frenchman, plus the captain and his three-strong crew – are sashaying through the South of France’s famed Midi canal aboard the Anjodi, a dapper Dutch-design barge boasting all mod-cons.
Throughout the journey Sonja, our Canadian hostess, plies us with delicious snippets of toasted caviar, chewy strips of salmon dewy with lemon juice and canapés of velvety foie gras.
“This is a truly privileged way to discover the south of France in high season,” says Rona, one of the American passengers. We raise our glasses in silent agreement.
Perhaps it cost $200,000 to convert this antique vessel into one of France’s first ever luxury hotel barges, but the expense was definitely worth it. Combining the comfort of a larger cruise ship with the manoeuvrability of a river cruiser, it’s like having a four-star hotel which moves around with you.
Six days previously we’d transferred from Béziers, a town famed for its rugby team, in overheated holiday season traffic which made us instantly appreciate the calm of our barge’s mooring outside the pretty fortified town of Aigues mortes.
Founded by Louis IX in 1240 as a base for Crusaders departing in quest of the Holy Land, we explored this ancient southern bastion and its chic designer stores thoroughly, before hurrying back aboard to compare our cabins like excited kids.
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Admiring the varnished teak, precious mahogany and gleaming brass fittings, we concluded that if they were a mite smaller than the bedrooms in most four-star hotels, this lack of space was amply palliated by well-equipped bathrooms and scenic portholes offering views straight out of Wind in the Willows.
Anchor was weighed for the first time the following day and heads turned along the tow paths as our magnificent barge glided past, navigating the Rhone canal via la Petite Camargue, on a level with high grassy banks, fields of glowing sunflowers and carefully tended vines.
Moored a few hours later beneath the massive mediaeval fortifications of Maguelonne abbey, captain Philippe hauled out mountain bikes and sent us racing along the sandy paths to discover shell-strewn beaches, a bath-warm unspoilt strip of Mediterranean and flocks of pretty flamingos which flew up in pink streaks, honking like geese.
Day three was a lazy glide across the 18km long, 5km wide strip of Etang de Thau, past pale fishing villages sandwiched between an azure line of sea and sky and an endless grid of oyster beds, whose wares we sampled at lunch, sprinkled with salty flakes of parmesan and washed down with a syrupy Muscat wine from nearby Frontignan.
Later that day, romance was on the menu as we set off on an evening cruise, heading for the canal commissioned by Louis the Sun King whilst Louis our chef served us a right royal dinner.
As night fell over fields of grazing Camargue bulls and candles flickered on the linen-clad table, a steamingly fragrant homemade fish soup arrived in a copper tureen.
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