FROM PARIS TO NORMANDY ON THE SEINE

This is the sixth in a series of articles about cruising on the Seine

LES ANDELYS

By Charles N. Stevens

Photos by Dolores Seidman

Our ship slips out of Vernon before dawn, the rippling of our movement sounding in our cabin. On deck I watch barges laboring upstream, first a white light and then a green one moving through the night.

Dawn reveals a gray, rainy sky, the river ahead of us the same murky color. High on a cliff stand the crumbling remains of a medieval castle dimmed in mist, the Chateau Gaillard. Ordered built by Richard the Lion Hearted in 1196, it was constructed to protect the city of Rouen and the army of the French king, Philip Augustus. Looking at its cold, stony profile on the hill gives me the shivers.

Soon after docking at Les Andelys, a number of our group elects to trudge up the mountainside to tour the castle. Due to the walk’s difficulty we remain behind, our faraway look at it being good enough. Rain drops continue dappling the Seine while dark wisps of clouds drift lazily over the river, wallow in the canyons and hide the hilltops.

Until the weather improves, we choose the warmth and comfort of our ship where we have a talk and demonstration about the cheeses and aperitifs of Normandy. Whereas vineyards and wine are famous in many parts of France, Normandy specializes in apples and cider. We sample two types of cider, both of them containing alcohol. Five cheeses are offered for tasting—Camembert, Pont L’eveque, Roquefort. Sainte Maure de Touraine and Comte. All are delicious! We also try a bit of foie gras, a paste made of fattened goose liver, but decide it is not for us.

After lunch Dolores and I walk into town, a steady ticking of rain on our umbrellas. We look up once more at the castle, more distinct now that low clouds have moved away from it, but still appearing sinister. The river appears silver-gray under the overcast sky, the ducks looking black on its surface. Five swans cruise across the river toward us, leaving long Vs behind them.

As it is early afternoon many of the shops in town are closed, an old tradition. Watching our step on the wet cobbles of an old alley, we step into the old Church of St. Sauveur, its large door creaking, the gothic sanctuary empty of tourists or parishioners. It is like being in the stony silence of a tomb. Again, our footsteps are the only sounds.

On our way back to the ship the rain finally tapers off.

Back in the room, I notice a curious swan gliding close to our window. What strange but magnificent birds they are— huge and white as snow, silent and graceful as they slide through the water. No wonder they have inspired music and been so prominent in ancient mythology. Not only have they found their way into operas, but have been immortalized in the winter constellation, Cygnus.

Our ship leaves Les Andelys in the late afternoon, on its way to Rouen. A blue heron perches on top of a navigation sign as though directing traffic on the river. As we pull away we note how thick the autumn-red ivy is around the windows of some of the houses. More pure white cliffs appear, some of them looking like castles or fortresses. Fall begins to paint the trees along the river with shades of red, yellow and russet.

Note: Since it was dark and rainy in Les Andelys, we took no photos. The photos presented here are from the day before in Vernon, described in the previous article.

This old mill house on the Seine teeters on its ancient bridge pilings.

The town of Vernon still retains some of its 17th century half-timbered houses.

We are taken to this fine old house just outside of Vernon for a home visit.

Our host pours sparkling cider into our glasses, a specialty of the Normandy area.