Vincent Van Gogh has something in common with Liz and me; the three of us quite liked the old Langlois bridge over the canal at Arles.

When Van Gogh was there, he was struck by the geometric pleasantness of the bridge, and the tranquility of the scene, and so captured it forever in oils, watercolours and sketches. Unfortunately, as we arrived at the famous bridge we discovered we'd just missed him by 126 years. Frustrating.

Still, it was worth the detour. Liz and I had driven in Van Rouge to take a look at Arles, a city that failed to welcome us when we arrived there on our boat back in October. Despite a prominent position on the Rhone river, Arles has no marina or pontoons for visiting plaisanciers, as we boaties in France are called. Both banks of the Rhone in the city are steeply walled, with old iron mooring rings that entice, but which are set so high on the walls as to make them impractical to use, since there would be no way to get off the boat unless your name was Spiderman.

So we were unable to stop there in October, and it was only last Friday that we managed to pay the place a visit, this time by road.

Like so many other old cities in these parts, the Roman influence is very evident, with a Colosseum-like amphitheatre that is still used today for festivals and events, such as bullfights. We were pleased to read that the bulls are not killed; instead the bullfighter has to deftly capture a couple of tokens hanging on the bull's horns, while keeping his own tokens out of harm's way. So the bull lives, the bullfighter gets adored (or gored if unlucky) and the crowd give the performance the thumbs-up, just as they would have done 2000 years ago.

Unfortunately on this particular chilly mid-winter Friday there were no performances, and the cold wind swept the sand of the inner ring and whistled through the surrounding tiered seating. But the place still looked good. There's a Roman theatre too, also still used for performances, and the old centre ville has many narrow cobbled streets to explore, which we will do when the weather warms up.

Meanwhile, before turning for home we decided to find the famed Van Gogh Bridge, partly because his paintings of it elevated it to star status, and partly because bridges over canals are something we deal with every day when cruising, so we've become the bridge equivalent of train-spotters.

In 1888 when Vincent was living in Arles, he probably would have walked or ridden on horseback to the bridge, maybe hitched a ride on a wagon. He certainly wouldn't have had to wrestle with multiple roundabouts, a section of motorway, and a lack of signage... nor would he have consulted a TomTom that steadfastly refused to acknowledge the existence of the bridge at all. In the end it was Liz's map-reading skills that got us there; so quaint, so... last century.

But at least the sun was shining, even if the trees were devoid of leaves, and the scene carried a little of the warmth that VVG captured in his renderings. The bridge itself is a lovely little example of engineering; a counter-balanced drawbridge that splits in the middle, each side rising up on hinges to enable tall or masted craft to pass through. It doesn't work any more, and instead is fixed in an open salute to the great artist.

The nearby lock house is now painted in 21st century style, unfortunately by taggers. Instead of being a nice little museum, a homage to Vincent who was so taken with the Arles area, the house is seemingly abandoned, and has become a canvas for young French graffiti artists, some of whom even have the gall (gaul?) to sign their names.

Still, we could see why Vincent liked the Langlois bridge, and so we captured it digitally, and enhanced it later on the boat so that, as Vincent did, the colours were more vibrant, and we diffused it somewhat as a nod to the impressionist style (see pic).

But that's cheating really. If time permits we hope to go back with sketch pad and pencils. When the weather warms up.