The river was fifiteen to twenty times wider than the canal - so clearly it was easier to navigate. That was the thinking that led Henry to assign me the rudder and break out his crate of Sancerre. He and Wayne started sipping the wine and soon I was learning all kinds of things. First off, Henry - an engineer by training - was going into the boat building business at the end of the summer. He was starting a company with some buddies to go after the luxury racing sailboat market - whatever that is.
He's been all over the world - a truly adventurous guy who started young. He recounted how at the age of 17 he and a buddy traveled all around the US by train during their summer vacation. When they got to Los Angeles they'd run out of money. He phoned his dad for help and his dad told him "what do you want me to do, figure it out!" and hung up the phone. His buddy got a job as a waiter and Henry painted houses. The lived in Venice beach and after 6 weeks making money they continued on their journey.
He speaks French about as poorly as I do but applies his spotty ability with abandon. He showed no fear when sputtering half-broken sentences to any Frenchman or woman we met. This is the key to learning a language - not caring how many mistakes you make.
After about two hours I changed places with Wayne. He took over the steering so I could take a break. Within minutes some fishermen standing on the riverside started screaming at us and cursing us. They were jumping up and down and we couldn't figure out why until Henry put his wine down, grabbed the rudder and jerked it hard to turn us hard right. We'd been on the wrong side of the river and had dragged through their fishing lines and almost run over some swans. Henry shrugged and chuckled, “Well, that was a momentary lack of concentration, wasn’t it?”
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