I am sipping Champagne in a hot tub aboard a teensy barge and floating, aptly, through the heart of Champagne. Swans glide by, and birdsong drifts from the leafy chestnut trees swaying overhead. A fellow passenger opens a door, and the luscious scent of searing pork spills from the kitchen. It is almost too idyllic, but moments like this are part of the daily rhythm of my six‑night Kir Royale sail.
I discovered the cruise through luxury travel company Abercrombie & Kent, which arranges journeys on European Waterways vessels like the Kir Royale (which, yes, is named after the famed French party drink). The company also offers the option of a “guardian angel,” an escort who will smooth every travel detail from airport arrival to private tours and post‑cruise stays.
The Kir Royale is a study in reinvention. Once a World War II beach landing craft, it’s now a floating boutique hotel, offering space for just eight lucky guests, with airy staterooms, a flower-accented lounge, and a chef whose resume includes a stint on Top Chef France. The ship sails from March to October, drifting down the Marne River and the Canal Latéral à la Marne between Château-Thierry and Châlons-en-Champagne.
The five-person crew seems determined to spoil us. They are led by the witty, energetic cruise manager, Louisa, who whisks us to Champagne houses, the majestic Reims Cathedral where kings were crowned, and a local late-night Bastille Day fireworks celebration in Épernay. Her good humor bubbles over like, well, a glass of Champagne.
Courtesy of European Waterways
As we drive through storybook villages past rolling, vine-covered hills, we spot Champagne houses at every turn. We tour the cellars of La Maison Ayala, Champagne Boizel, and Frerejean Frères, learning precisely how bubbly goes from grape to bottle. From the many pours, our group crowns Frerejean Frères Blanc de Blancs Premier Cru as the standout.
Back on board, chef Léo Renusson crafts exceptional wine-paired lunches and dinners. His menus are polished and taste delightfully unfussy, with sauces so exquisite we shamelessly request spoonfuls. Renusson likes to experiment as he goes, spending days tweaking sauces, like one with truffle essence that is paired with a scallop crudo bowl. The inky, glistening sauce on his 24-hour slow-cooked pork belly, made with pork jus, soy, and vinegar, demands another round of spoons.
On the final morning, the air fills with the scent of fresh, buttery pastries, and as we prepare to disembark, three swans, a parent and two cygnets, paddle beside the barge. I want to think they have come to say adieu, but they are probably seeking baguette crumbs. I toss in a few and leave a few more crumbs along my path away from the ship for good measure. My hope is that I can follow their trail back one day soon.
