After enjoying the live music and the general atmosphere of Auxerre, we continued on south in Liberty, but knew we wouldn't be able to go any further on the Canal du Nivernais than a place called Clamecy.

The Englishman who runs the port office at Auxerre had warned us that our boat's draught would be too deep for the canal waters beyond That point, and said that even some of the hire boats he rented out with one-metre draughts had been scraping the canal bottom.

It didn't matter too much to us because we'd arranged to meet friends from New Zealand at Clamecy anyway, but this confirmed it as our turnaround point.

Clamecy, dating back to at least the 7th century, was as pretty as everyone had said - narrow streets, cobbles, some lovely old buildings, and a nice small port. We scored a great mooring on the quayside beside electricity and water, and had wifi on board for a change, a rare event.

Our Kiwi friends, Cleve and Dinah, turned up as expected in their rental car next day and we installed them in the boat. They were keen to try out the Bond Lounge, the circular banquette and sleeping area in the bows, and promptly lay down on it to see if it would accommodate them. It did, in a roundabout way, and to our surprise they elected to sleep there that night. But they're veteran campers, so...

We had a very enjoyable evening catching up, drinking too much and watching the International Space Station as it glided silently overhead in the night sky. It's only a bright dot of light, but is actually the third brightest object in the sky after the sun and moon. It doesn't follow a set orbit, so you need an expert to know where it will be, but you can sign up here: http://spotthestation.nasa.gov/index.cfm and the experts at NASA will send you alerts telling you when you can see it from your place. It comes as a surprise to many people to discover that the ISS is only about 350 kilometres above the Earth. With a decent telescope you can even make out its 'H' shape.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the following day Cleve drove the rental to Auxerre and caught the train back. We meanwhile had gone through the lock in town to get a head start, and waited for his return on the other side. The lock is beside a weir that carries some local importance as it was here the 'flottage du bois' (floating of wood) was marshalled before the thousands and thousands of logs continued their journey downstream.

The timber came from the forests of the Morvan national park. The trees were processed into logs and floated down the river to Paris, a massive undertaking. The flottage lasted from the 16th century until the early 20th century, with the last flottage being prodded on its way in 1923.

On the quayside are photos showing the heyday of the flottage when the river would be just logs from bank to bank. In the end the practice fell out of favour as it restricted too many other commercial users of the river, so today it is just a memory.

We cruised the afternoon to Chatell-Censoir, a pleasant journey back along the park-like Nivernais. It is lovely countryside. Bucolic is the word, though not one I use often. It's always sounded to me like something unpleasant, yet it means the exact opposite.

C and D seemed to enjoy the boat and the rigmarole at the locks, and it was nice to have extra 'crew' on board to help with the ropes. The weather was quite good too, though the forecast wasn't spectacular, and we wondered how long we'd get away with it before we experienced a predicted spell of unsettled weather.

On the Nivernais it appears it's okay to help the lock keepers open and close the gates and paddles, and most seemed grateful for it. Cleve particularly enjoyed helping the female eclusiers, who were mainly students working during their summer break. They ranged from architecture and design students to one who was a violinist and another a cellist, the latter aiming to pull strings and get a job in the French health system. Performing music on a casual contract basis wasn't conducive to make a living, she explained, and she had been unable to secure any permanent position. We didn't mind - her eclusier skills were fine

Most of the locks were quite shallow so didn't take long, and nearly all were set ready for us to sail into, which made the journey a lot more satisfactory than having to wait at every lock (which has happened to us many a time).

At Chatel-Censoir we tied up at the little port and walked into town to stock up at the grocery in the town square. Cleve had read that there was a highly-regarded local restaurant, so that evening we went back and searched for it. It wasn't in the main square, or even central; it was in a minor side road leading out of town, and, as we approached, it looked - like so much of France - to be closed. And yet it wasn't; as soon as we stopped outside the front door to read the menu (a great feature of Fance - most cafes and restaurants have their menus displayed outside) we were greeted with a friendly 'Bonjour messieurs-dames!' by a smiling dark-haired woman.

The dining room was unpretentious and small, and also empty, but the welcome so warm and bright that we went in. Within five minutes another group had arrived, followed by two more, and before we'd got our starters we were surrounded by two tables of Australians and one of Germans (we think).

It was a lovely meal, and the food was presented with flair, the chef obviously being something of an artist. Liz and I chose an entreé called a Cannelloni de jambon du Morvan et Bavarois Melon (see pic). As I write this, quite some days later, I find it hard to describe, other than we agreed it was absolutely superb. It certainly wasn't cannelloni in the Italian sense, and we weren't sure where the chef had got that word from. In fact it was more like a melon-flavoured cheesecake, with prosciutto, and a simgle delicious parmesan crisp. There was so,ething else too, but we've forgotten what it was. In the photo it looks like a mushroom, except it wasn't. Anyway, we raved about it at the time.

Breast of Duck, whole trout, we devoured them, and polished off a couple of bottles of Chablis in the process. The quality and presentation certainly made up for the rather pedestrian ambience, and our waitress couldn't have been nicer. Well done Cleve!

We bumped into the chef outside as he took a break from his kitchen for a smoke, so we shook his hand and told him we'd give him five stars on Trip Advisor. He seemed humbly surprised at the fuss.

It was a full and happy group that meandered slowly back to Liberty later that evening, as we looked forward to our next challenge: eight million bottles of wine...