Retired US couple's second home was a houseboat on the Seine (how romantic is that?)

On the Seine, Houseboat Dwelling – by ARIANE BERNARD /NY Times

When Jim Gieske retired for the first time 15 years ago, he and his wife, Judi, bought a sailboat and went on a two-year trip, sailing from Chesapeake Bay to Venezuela. In 2001, after he retired again, they bought a century-old converted barge and set out to cover some of the thousands of kilometers of canals and rivers around France.

“I had never been out of sight of land before we went on this sailing trip” to Venezuela, Mrs. Gieske said. “But I loved it. So when Jim came up with the barge, I thought, ‘I’d better not fight it.’ ”

The Gieskes bought the boat for about 200,000 euros, or $263,000, from a retired Dutch operator, who had transformed the barge into a home for his wife and later their two children, both of whom were born on the barge. Over the past five years, the Gieskes have spent the equivalent of about $46,000 on renovations, furnishings and enhancements.

The barge, called Joli Coeur, or Pretty Heart, is moored for the winter in Saint-Symphorien-sur-Saône, on the Canal du Rhône au Rhin near Saint-Jean-de-Losne, in the heart of Burgundy. It is a hub for pleasure boaters, who converge from the main waterways of the Rhône, the Seine and the Rhine through an intricate web of canals that run through the picturesque vineyard region of eastern France.

Instead of seeking a second home, the couple, who are from Easton, Md., felt they would rather take their house along with them.

“We’re retired,” Mr. Gieske said. “We don’t want to get old sitting at home. There’s nothing like being immersed in a system. You just can’t get it in a two-week vacation.” Mr. Gieske, 68, was a surgeon; his wife, 66, was a pediatrician.

With two bedrooms and a wood-paneled living room brightened by a sunny, yellow couch, the barge gives the impression of a small, but well-appointed cottage with somewhat low ceilings. The living area totals about 50 square meters, or 540 square feet.

Despite its 103-year-old history, Joli Coeur is deceptively modern. Its 40,000-liter, or nearly 10,600-gallon, water tank and its fuel tank both are so large that they have to be replenished only once a year, which allows for worry-free trips. Satellite TV and an Internet connection through a cellphone mean civilization is never too far, either. There is a even bathtub.

The Gieskes have spent about five months a year on the barge. They have used Saint-Jean-de-Losne as their hub, venturing onto the nearby Saône River and many others, like the Meurthe River. They loved the Meurthe so much they stayed five weeks in the city of Nancy. They have also traveled around the Champagne region, and they fell asleep in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower when they tied up at the Grenelle port in Paris. During their first summer aboard, in 2002, they cruised from Cambrai, in northern France, to Bruges, Belgium.

“When we bought the boat, we had intended to go everywhere in Europe with it,” Mrs. Gieske said. “We wanted to go to St. Petersburg and Moscow and every country in Europe. But we fell in love with France and we never wanted to leave. We fell in love with the food and the sights and the culture and the country. Everything.”

The Gieskes have discovered the French countryside gradually, almost by chance. “I generally make a rough itinerary for the summer, that’s as tight as it gets,” Mr. Gieske said. “If we like the place, we just stay. Otherwise, we leave the next morning.”

To get around on land, the couple use bikes that they keep on the barge; renting motorized scooters is another option. The boat moves at about 5 kilometers an hour, or a little more than 3 miles an hour, so it is possible for one of them to go into the nearest town to pick up fresh bread and later catch up with the boat.

The Gieskes tell stories of becoming friends with strangers strolling on the canal banks, and of being recognized by people who crossed their path several years before. They describe their Labrador, Honey, swimming in the canals, and Jim hugging a broken toilet bowl as he pedaled into the nearby village to look for a repairman.

Most of all, they tell stories about taking time to see where the river might go, of simple things enjoyed because they were not overlooked.

On the water, the couple said, they mostly meet other foreigners. The Dutch, Britons and Australians make up the bulk of their fellow barge dwellers, the Gieskes said.

“You see more Anglo-Saxons than you see French people,” said Bruno Tirmant of the development department at Voies Navigables de France, the public authority in charge of the country’s 6,700 kilometers, or 4,165 miles, of managed canals and rivers. “The river culture, going through the locks, it works for the British in particular. In all seasons, they love it. It’s a culture, a way of life.”

The agency is planning to take a census of houseboats in France, but the process will be tricky because most large ones are converted commercial barges and are not registered as houseboats. The disappearance of trade barriers within the European Union also means that E.U.-registered boats come and go unnoticed on the waterways of France. In fact, Joli Coeur, which was bought in the Netherlands, is registered as a Dutch ship, and the Gieskes fly the Dutch, French and Maryland flags.

Perhaps the most unexpected part of the cruising lifestyle is its very reasonable price, even in light of the current strength of the euro. “We find it is cheaper to live on a boat than to live at home,” Mr. Gieske said.

Maintenance and improvements average 1,200 euros, or $1,599, a year, and the barge burns through about 500 euros, or $666, in fuel each season — even though “we travel more than anybody we know,” Mrs. Gieske said.

They also have to have a cruising permit, which costs 400 euros, or $533, a year, to go through locks and to moor in designated areas.

The couple says private ports charge a reasonable fee; for example, the Grenelle port in Paris charges 30 euros, or $40, a night.

But living on a barge for an extended period may not be for everyone. “You have to be self-sufficient in every way, emotionally and mechanically,” Mr. Gieske said. “You have to be content with your companion because there’s not as much socialization as there is at home. And it’s not luxurious by the usual measure.”

The Gieskes recently put the boat up for sale with a broker in Saint-Symphorien because they want to spend more time in New York, where their first grandchildren, twins, were born this summer.

“I’m afraid to sell the barge,” Mrs. Gieske said, “because I’m afraid of what else Jim might come up with next.”