Updated: Apr 3, Introduction from a letter home :. When I last scribbled you that card, we had found ourselves quite unexpectedly in France. Last week I accosted a sturdy steel Dutch fishing boat which had stopped for a brief rest at the Gibraltar Marina on its way to Sete.
When the crew, a bunch of would-be red coral divers, said we and our sixteen foot lifeboat could go along with them, we had about twenty minutes to make the decision as to whether to jump onto this vessel or stay on "The Rock. October 16, Sitting on the east bank of the Rhone with one wet foot. Gray skies, no traffic; muddy brown water racing south. We are going north. Last night it rained, but not until we were safely tucked into the tent with a big meal in our bellies: stewed vegetables and boudin.
This morning we rowed valiantly if with a bad grace against the current of the Petit Rhone, stopping often, once to glean grapes out of a field. They were English, bound for Avignon for the night. So for an hour or two we sat back and watched the river go by.
Then we met up with Le Grand Rhone. Plenty of current, the river is high. Our hosts decided to turn back to Arles rather than buck the current, so we were cast off and rowed furiously for shore.
Two commercial barges have gone by since, north bound, and we are contemplating ways of hooking up with them. This is a big, fast river. Louis and Fos. We spent two nights in the hunting cabin, very glad for its protection as it rained and rained. Spent one day sitting in Manza in our foul weather gear waiting for a barge or any traffic to go by so we could dart out and ask for a tow as we were swept by them by the current.
