Alongside our wharf were a set of huge silos which had obviously once disgorged their product into waiting barges where we were now moored, but it was a long time since that had happened judging by the un-marked grass all around!
We set off in the morning, having given a slow moving fully laden barge plenty of time to get well ahead and spent another easy day barging down the Canal Saint Quentin and onto the Canal Lateral à l’Oise. Eventually, after some hours of searching we found a good mooring near a village called Varèsnes (near Noyon). We were slightly put off by the presence of a burnt out car in the lay-by alongside but decided it would be OK – it was early, but we were ready to stop and Louise had enough energy for a spot of painting. There was also a black 4x4 parked in the lay-by whose driver kindly helped us moor. We thanked him and he went back to his car. A few moments later he appeared at the side of the boat with a bottle of rosé which he insisted on giving us! How kind.
But in our typically cynical British way we pondered as to whether it was poisoned and he would return in the dead of night to capture Riccall, but we took the charitable view, drank it gratefully and were gratified to wake in the morning all intact! (In our musings later, we decided that he must have been the guy responsible for the fly-tipping of some top soil visible when he moved his car, and he was buying our silence!)
On the following day we had an uneventful trip to Compiègne where we hoped to pick up our debit card from HSBC and open an SFR dongle account. No such luck! Apparently because we hadn’t deposited any cash into the new account at Lille (we didn’t know we had to) the card had not been forwarded. They wouldn’t take cash at Compiègne, God knows why not, and when we tried to do money transfer from the UK via our internet banking, the bank blocked the request because it came from abroad! Bloody Hell! They are dead set on making this as difficult as possible. And of course still no chance of an SFR account. And even if we get cash into the Lille account it's another seven days before we get the card (and where do we ask them to send it??!!)
On the plus side, we are on good public moorings on the town quay in Compiègne quite close to the centre and the English narrow boat (yes, narrow boat) behind us. Santanna’s captain Julian is cruising the European waterways for his tenth year, and has found a free water supply hidden in the quayside. So with our genny and free water we could stay here till our fuel ran out. On that score, there is said to be canalside fuel available 1km further on. We shall see next week when eventually we move on.
We have however, decided to stay here until Louise has done her trip home early next week – better the quay you know and like than risk one you haven’t yet seen further on. It will give HSBC the chance finally to send our bankcard and then we can open our SFR account.
While we have been moored here we have had a succession of commercial barges mooring in front or behind and one was so big he asked us both to squeeze up along the quay for the night which has made for an interesting view of barge handling by the experts and of course a varied set of neighbours.
We have had a succession of people stopping to talk to us as they pass. On once occasion Alex spotted Watchtower magazine in time to say, “ Non! Non! Non! Merci beaucoup”. These jovial Witnesses get everywhere don’t they?! And anyway, how do you convert people if you can’t even speak the same language? But I suppose that’s how the missionaries did it years ago – persuading the indigenous populations to give up their colourful gods in favour of one rather austere one.
On another occasion the guy complimented the boat – not a word of English – then proceeded to try and sell us TABLECLOTHS and T SHIRTS (we think)!! Just a different type of salesman! But most are genuinely interested.
And we have been sightseeing in the environs of Compiègne. Our first trip was to the ‘Clairière de l’Armistice’ the clearing in the woods where the Armistice was signed after the First World War. A replica of the train carriage in which negotiations took place and the document signed was fascinating, as were thousands of photos mounted in ‘what the butler saw’ type machines all around. These were 3D images and gave an alarmingly realistic idea of life in the trenches and the catastrophic damage Belgian and French towns suffered, not to mention the horrendous loss of life.
Our next day out began as a 5 km bicycle ride through the forest to the top of the nearby ridge. Once there, the view back to Compiègne down a 100m wide grassy avenue with the magnificent chateau at the end of it was breathtaking. And – we were the only people there.
Having got that far though, we decided to venture further to the town of Pierrefonds with an even more stunning château. Our leaflet said it was free to view till the end of June. Our leaflet however, turned out to be last year’s (we hadn’t noticed) so at a hefty €7 each we decided the outside was good enough! In addition there was a UK film crew there who had added extra bits of castle round the outside for their sets. It was great fun going round tapping at bits of wall to see if they were stone or polystyrene! On the way back, and still in the forest, we stopped in a delightful little village – originally agricultural – surrounding a 13th century church. The church was rather plain but the surrounding refurbished cottages and gateways were charming.
The Forêt de Compiègne is huge and criss-crossed by hundreds of cycle paths. We loved riding through it and had a super day, though we had forayed much further than we had set out to do, and consequently had no cold weather gear with us when the day turned a bit chilly. Another lesson learned – keep those saddle bags well stocked.
Friday 24 April 2009
Friday 17 April 2009
Cambrai to the junction with the Somme Canal
The thought of the 5640-metre tow tunnel had started to give us sleepless nights! but we found a good overnight mooring spot just below the penultimate lock, which gave us plenty of time to be at the tunnel entrance well before the 11 o’clock tow-through. But as we loosened the ropes to set off a heavily laden barge rounded the corner, so we had to give it precedence of course, and it lumbered slowly through the lock ahead of us. At the next and last lock (all doubles) we were both penned up at the same time and we got chatting to the bargee who turned out to be Dutch, so of course, he could speak 6 languages and English fluently. He gave us some hints on going through the tunnel and in the event there was only his barge and Riccall there on the starting line.
We were ages early, which was fine, and we spent the time collecting baulks of timber, which, we had been advised, would help to fend us off from the walls of the tunnel if they could be attached so that they projected beyond the boat.
It was raining, so we had to leave removing the wheelhouse roof until the last minute and we had stayed well back from the Dutch commercial in case other commercials arrived. The order for the tunnel tow is laden commercials first, then unladen barges, then the bigger bateaux de plaisance like us and the tiddler jelly moulds at the back each tied to the boat in front.
Because there is no running of engines in the tunnel we had to make a choice between using the usual wheel which would of course be un-power- assisted and thus very heavy, or using the emergency tiller system for steering. Alex chose the tiller system, which in the event was definitely the right choice, but this did require last minute disconnection of the hydraulic ram and insertion of the tiller and adaptor at much the same time as removal of the roof! We were doing it all almost as we set off.
Roping to the barge in front was done using a double cross rope system, the beauty of which was that Louise could alter the tension on each rope after we had set off to get our bow into the right place. To start with the tensions weren’t right and we were scraping along the side of the tunnel. doing damage to our handrails and snapping one of our hastily acquired timber fenders. We are glad to say that we got our own back and took a great chunk out of the tunnel wall!
The trick is to get the ropes so that the bow is tending towards the towpath side (port if going south) the edge of which is smooth timber, nice to rub against, and well away from the brick/stone side. The timber fenders need to be on the other side and rather stouter than ours!
But once we had got the tow tensions right things became easier. Alex still had to watch like a hawk and take corrective action with the tiller for the whole of the two and a half hours! Judicious use of a bucket was necessary on several occasions: fortunately the tunnel was well lit by strip lights so he could see where to aim!
Having emerged from the tunnel we quickly stopped to reassemble the steering but as we thought the next tunnel (self-propelled and only 12000m) was close enough, we didn’t bother putting the roof back on. We hadn’t reckoned with the Dutch barge which progressed ahead of us at no more than 3km/hr. The rain became more earnest and even though we had done a thorough job of clearing the wheelhouse, we covered all the surfaces to keep the worst off and stood under our golf umbrella.
At last the second tunnel appeared and we stopped just inside to let the commercial get ahead. But even on tickover we slowly caught him up and by the other end of the tunnel his exhaust fumes (fortunately not toxic) had filled the entire space we were travelling in and turned the whole atmosphere a ghostly orange. The air was becoming steadily worse and worse and we were very glad indeed when we emerged into daylight and clean air. We stopped briefly to replace the roof (at last!) then as soon as we were out of the tunnel approach narrows we stopped for a well deserved and very late lunch, which also allowed the Flying-Dutchman (not) to get ahead.
By five o’clock we had had more than enough for one day and, unable to find a suitable official mooring, we asked a lock keeper if we could moor just before the unused 2nd lock in front of his house. “Oui. When will you leave?" “Neuf heure demain” we said. “OK”
The next day we were ready to go by 9.30 but a commercial appeared and from then on it was rush hour in slow motion at our lock until 11.30 when at last the lock keeper took pity on us and let us through but this time he operated the normally unused 2nd lock, which he could presumably have done at any time in the preceding two hours!!!!
The rest of the rather grey day passed with no problems and only a few passing commercial barges, and we found a pleasant place to moor for the night on an unused wharf at a little village called Jussy.
We were ages early, which was fine, and we spent the time collecting baulks of timber, which, we had been advised, would help to fend us off from the walls of the tunnel if they could be attached so that they projected beyond the boat.
It was raining, so we had to leave removing the wheelhouse roof until the last minute and we had stayed well back from the Dutch commercial in case other commercials arrived. The order for the tunnel tow is laden commercials first, then unladen barges, then the bigger bateaux de plaisance like us and the tiddler jelly moulds at the back each tied to the boat in front.
Because there is no running of engines in the tunnel we had to make a choice between using the usual wheel which would of course be un-power- assisted and thus very heavy, or using the emergency tiller system for steering. Alex chose the tiller system, which in the event was definitely the right choice, but this did require last minute disconnection of the hydraulic ram and insertion of the tiller and adaptor at much the same time as removal of the roof! We were doing it all almost as we set off.
Roping to the barge in front was done using a double cross rope system, the beauty of which was that Louise could alter the tension on each rope after we had set off to get our bow into the right place. To start with the tensions weren’t right and we were scraping along the side of the tunnel. doing damage to our handrails and snapping one of our hastily acquired timber fenders. We are glad to say that we got our own back and took a great chunk out of the tunnel wall!
The trick is to get the ropes so that the bow is tending towards the towpath side (port if going south) the edge of which is smooth timber, nice to rub against, and well away from the brick/stone side. The timber fenders need to be on the other side and rather stouter than ours!
But once we had got the tow tensions right things became easier. Alex still had to watch like a hawk and take corrective action with the tiller for the whole of the two and a half hours! Judicious use of a bucket was necessary on several occasions: fortunately the tunnel was well lit by strip lights so he could see where to aim!
Having emerged from the tunnel we quickly stopped to reassemble the steering but as we thought the next tunnel (self-propelled and only 12000m) was close enough, we didn’t bother putting the roof back on. We hadn’t reckoned with the Dutch barge which progressed ahead of us at no more than 3km/hr. The rain became more earnest and even though we had done a thorough job of clearing the wheelhouse, we covered all the surfaces to keep the worst off and stood under our golf umbrella.
At last the second tunnel appeared and we stopped just inside to let the commercial get ahead. But even on tickover we slowly caught him up and by the other end of the tunnel his exhaust fumes (fortunately not toxic) had filled the entire space we were travelling in and turned the whole atmosphere a ghostly orange. The air was becoming steadily worse and worse and we were very glad indeed when we emerged into daylight and clean air. We stopped briefly to replace the roof (at last!) then as soon as we were out of the tunnel approach narrows we stopped for a well deserved and very late lunch, which also allowed the Flying-Dutchman (not) to get ahead.
By five o’clock we had had more than enough for one day and, unable to find a suitable official mooring, we asked a lock keeper if we could moor just before the unused 2nd lock in front of his house. “Oui. When will you leave?" “Neuf heure demain” we said. “OK”
The next day we were ready to go by 9.30 but a commercial appeared and from then on it was rush hour in slow motion at our lock until 11.30 when at last the lock keeper took pity on us and let us through but this time he operated the normally unused 2nd lock, which he could presumably have done at any time in the preceding two hours!!!!
The rest of the rather grey day passed with no problems and only a few passing commercial barges, and we found a pleasant place to moor for the night on an unused wharf at a little village called Jussy.
Friday 10 April 2009
Lille to Cambrai
Well today we got a taste of the famous French temper!
We left Lille heading for Douai on the Canal du Deule. All was well, lovely sunny day again, no wind, until we were approaching the first lock. We noticed we were going to be overhauled by a coupled of loaded barges, one medium size (38 metres), one large (70 metres). So we pulled into the bank to let the outgoing barge leave the lock and allow the other two to pass us and go in first. The large one entered first, then the medium and then we noticed another unladen barge racing up behind. He was clearly not going to let this lock close in front of him as that would mean a wait of at least 40 minutes till he got his turn, and time’s money of course on the canals here. Alex asked the lockkeeper if we could enter and we were told we could. So we started in before him and had to go alongside the medium sized barge. Of course at the last minute the wind or swirl of water blew the front of Riccall to the wrong side. Desperate manoeuvring and the placing of a strategic tyre were just not enough and we kissed the rear quarter of the barge. Eh bien! The capitaine went bonkers! He shouted at Louise, he glared at Alex and then proceeded to have a 15-minute rant at the lockkeeper. Meanwhile we quietly worked our way forward and tied up. The last barge came in behind us. Quite a squash.
While Louise handled the forward rope, Alex then went back to apologise to the bargee, who had, by this time, finished his rant. And suddenly he was all smiles, saying it was not our fault and agreeing it was difficult with no bow thruster etc. etc. And then he said we should leave the lock first, which we did, and when he overtook us he was again all smiles and waves!
We think he must had just had an argument with his wife, or she had said ‘Non’ last night to his advances or something, and he just wanted to get it all off his chest. I mean, we had not actually done any damage to his precious barge, or at least nothing visible beyond what was there already. But there you are! There’s no accounting for people anywhere, but while it’s happening, it’s uncomfortable.
The rest of the day passed pretty well without incident but we started to look for moorings from 2.30 pm onwards and eventually found a couple of rings on a quay close enough together for our short length at 4 o’clock just short of Douai.
We stayed a couple of nights at the Douai moorings because there was thick fog when we woke and no desperate urgency to move on. We cycled into the town, which was pretty unimpressive (good town hall though) and stocked up at a Champion (Carrefour).
We set off the next day and asked at the first lock for water. We had seen the tap on our bike ride but ‘Non’ it was ‘Caput!’ We could get water two locks further on and sure enough we did. Hurrah! After the lock had raised us and the other barge and he had left, we moved across the chamber to the side where the tap was and just sat there for 20 minutes while we filled up – other barges using the other lock! We were glad of the delay actually because we had been sharing the locks with a Freycinet 38.5m barge which is always a bit daunting – especially after our telling-off, but no bumps this time.
We turned off the large waterway in the afternoon onto the start of the canal leading to the St Quentin and moored up on a rather shallow but pleasant sports basin off the main line (Bassin du Rond).
In the morning we set off in light mist for the first lock. On arrival, the gates opened automatically to let us in (!) and there was a notice in three languages telling us to pick up a remote control zapper. Alex could see the container where they were kept but it appeared to be locked. So we flailed about a bit and eventually pushed the button to ring an éclusier. The disembodied voice from the speaker babbled a load of unintelligible French but eventually the zapper door was released and a zapper obtained.
The keeper said something about the green and blue button on it. We pressed the ‘up’ button – nothing. The gates at the bottom, behind us, were still open. The keeper came on again – more unintelligible babble – Alex replied ‘Je pousse le button – et rien’.
Then a man from the nearby house came over and pointed to a blue rod hanging by the side of the lock (together with a red one for emergencies) and indicated that you needed to pull it up to start the lock operating. “Oh, je comprend!! Merci beaucoup.”
As we slowly discovered, from then on it is all automatic. You only use the zapper as you approach the lock to let it know you’re there. Then when you’re in and tied up, you lift the blue rod and everything starts - the lock gates behind you close, the sluices ahead open, water enters at a terrific rate, you rise up. When the lock is full the top gates open, out you go and then they close behind you. Magic! But if they have sufficient English speaking visitors to require a sign in English telling you to pick up your remote control zapper, wouldn’t you think a sign in English telling you how to use it once you’ve got it might be a good idea??!!! After all, you only need one notice at each end of the stretch where you pick up your zapper, not at every lock.
However, we have moored for the evening above a lock in the country and Alex has achieved one of his aims - we are basking in warm spring sunshine!
We have seen an English Dutch-barge-look-alike belonging to a New Zealand couple who we may see again, and we encountered a Dutch barge with English ensign approaching us who gave us useful tips on going through the tunnel ahead. We thought the name of the boat looked familiar – Friesland – then later as we had a long informative chat with a Dutch ex-bargee, Peter, who lives hereabouts and speaks perfect English, he mentioned who they were – the well-known Tam and Di Morrel of Dutch Barge Association fame who advertise their barge handling and ICC Cevni lessons in the DBA magazine! Oh well! Ships that pass in the flight!
We left Lille heading for Douai on the Canal du Deule. All was well, lovely sunny day again, no wind, until we were approaching the first lock. We noticed we were going to be overhauled by a coupled of loaded barges, one medium size (38 metres), one large (70 metres). So we pulled into the bank to let the outgoing barge leave the lock and allow the other two to pass us and go in first. The large one entered first, then the medium and then we noticed another unladen barge racing up behind. He was clearly not going to let this lock close in front of him as that would mean a wait of at least 40 minutes till he got his turn, and time’s money of course on the canals here. Alex asked the lockkeeper if we could enter and we were told we could. So we started in before him and had to go alongside the medium sized barge. Of course at the last minute the wind or swirl of water blew the front of Riccall to the wrong side. Desperate manoeuvring and the placing of a strategic tyre were just not enough and we kissed the rear quarter of the barge. Eh bien! The capitaine went bonkers! He shouted at Louise, he glared at Alex and then proceeded to have a 15-minute rant at the lockkeeper. Meanwhile we quietly worked our way forward and tied up. The last barge came in behind us. Quite a squash.
While Louise handled the forward rope, Alex then went back to apologise to the bargee, who had, by this time, finished his rant. And suddenly he was all smiles, saying it was not our fault and agreeing it was difficult with no bow thruster etc. etc. And then he said we should leave the lock first, which we did, and when he overtook us he was again all smiles and waves!
We think he must had just had an argument with his wife, or she had said ‘Non’ last night to his advances or something, and he just wanted to get it all off his chest. I mean, we had not actually done any damage to his precious barge, or at least nothing visible beyond what was there already. But there you are! There’s no accounting for people anywhere, but while it’s happening, it’s uncomfortable.
The rest of the day passed pretty well without incident but we started to look for moorings from 2.30 pm onwards and eventually found a couple of rings on a quay close enough together for our short length at 4 o’clock just short of Douai.
We stayed a couple of nights at the Douai moorings because there was thick fog when we woke and no desperate urgency to move on. We cycled into the town, which was pretty unimpressive (good town hall though) and stocked up at a Champion (Carrefour).
We set off the next day and asked at the first lock for water. We had seen the tap on our bike ride but ‘Non’ it was ‘Caput!’ We could get water two locks further on and sure enough we did. Hurrah! After the lock had raised us and the other barge and he had left, we moved across the chamber to the side where the tap was and just sat there for 20 minutes while we filled up – other barges using the other lock! We were glad of the delay actually because we had been sharing the locks with a Freycinet 38.5m barge which is always a bit daunting – especially after our telling-off, but no bumps this time.
We turned off the large waterway in the afternoon onto the start of the canal leading to the St Quentin and moored up on a rather shallow but pleasant sports basin off the main line (Bassin du Rond).
In the morning we set off in light mist for the first lock. On arrival, the gates opened automatically to let us in (!) and there was a notice in three languages telling us to pick up a remote control zapper. Alex could see the container where they were kept but it appeared to be locked. So we flailed about a bit and eventually pushed the button to ring an éclusier. The disembodied voice from the speaker babbled a load of unintelligible French but eventually the zapper door was released and a zapper obtained.
The keeper said something about the green and blue button on it. We pressed the ‘up’ button – nothing. The gates at the bottom, behind us, were still open. The keeper came on again – more unintelligible babble – Alex replied ‘Je pousse le button – et rien’.
Then a man from the nearby house came over and pointed to a blue rod hanging by the side of the lock (together with a red one for emergencies) and indicated that you needed to pull it up to start the lock operating. “Oh, je comprend!! Merci beaucoup.”
As we slowly discovered, from then on it is all automatic. You only use the zapper as you approach the lock to let it know you’re there. Then when you’re in and tied up, you lift the blue rod and everything starts - the lock gates behind you close, the sluices ahead open, water enters at a terrific rate, you rise up. When the lock is full the top gates open, out you go and then they close behind you. Magic! But if they have sufficient English speaking visitors to require a sign in English telling you to pick up your remote control zapper, wouldn’t you think a sign in English telling you how to use it once you’ve got it might be a good idea??!!! After all, you only need one notice at each end of the stretch where you pick up your zapper, not at every lock.
However, we have moored for the evening above a lock in the country and Alex has achieved one of his aims - we are basking in warm spring sunshine!
We have seen an English Dutch-barge-look-alike belonging to a New Zealand couple who we may see again, and we encountered a Dutch barge with English ensign approaching us who gave us useful tips on going through the tunnel ahead. We thought the name of the boat looked familiar – Friesland – then later as we had a long informative chat with a Dutch ex-bargee, Peter, who lives hereabouts and speaks perfect English, he mentioned who they were – the well-known Tam and Di Morrel of Dutch Barge Association fame who advertise their barge handling and ICC Cevni lessons in the DBA magazine! Oh well! Ships that pass in the flight!
Wednesday 1 April 2009
Ghent to Lille
We have now arrived in Lille in France. We are moored on an old commercial wharf a little way from the centre of the city. It is a lovely spot, quiet but with barges (and canoeists) gong past on a regular basis, not to mention lorries pulling up to spend the night in the car park next door.
Before we left Ghent, Emily and Ric came for the weekend which was great. We all went and looked round the castle (excellent), went for a boat trip round the medieval part of the city (interesting but a bit perturbing when stoned or rather pebbled, by the local riffraff) then Emily and Ric treated us to supper at a nearby bistro – great! (Alex had snails and frogs legs for the first time as part of a shared starter.) The following morning we all climbed the Belfry for a fantastic, if breezy view of the city.
The only fly in the ointment in all this, for Alex anyway, was that the root of one of his teeth had started to play up a few days before so he had put himself on Flucloxacillin. This did not help much after 3 days so he changed to Metronidazole (downside – no alcohol!) This began to work but he felt he ought to take professional advice. The outcome was a trip to the medical school/hospital, dental clinic, for a consultation - €50! They said as the root had already been filled and capped (twice) the last hope was to fill from the inside: i.e. cut away the gum, lift up a flat, drill through the bone to the root, fill from below, put all back together. Aaaaargggghhh. But an appointment was duly made for 9.20 the next day. So after pre-paying €1060 the consultant had a look and a chat. ‘Oh well, if it has only flared up twice before let’s give it another go with the Metronidazole before we decide to operate’. PHEW! No drink for 10 days, a small price to pay. But getting the pre-paid money back is another battle. And yes, the tooth does seem to have settled down!
So we left Ghent, saying our fond farewells to all those still moored there and headed off into the unknown of Wallonia and France.
We quietly snuck onto some moorings ‘de Plaisance’ near Sluis Sint Baafs-Vijve on the first night but nobody came to demand money before we left.
We had decided we would moor near the second lock in France the next night but when we got there, it was all under repair and chaotic – nowhere to moor. The next place – a deserted quay – proved to be too shallow for us so we ended up moored beside another live-aboard who was not at home, but others said it would be OK. We are not used to just dropping onto somebody else’s boat yet, but it does seem to be fairly common here in France. So we left a thank you note and a bottle of wine by their entrance door should they return in the night. They did, and we ‘chatted’ next morning, but no mention of the wine (maybe it should have been French, not Argentinian, but we didn’t have any of that – a mistake soon to be rectified!).
Then we got to this lovely mooring on the commercial wharf. We think we might just spend the whole year here!
Before we left Ghent, Emily and Ric came for the weekend which was great. We all went and looked round the castle (excellent), went for a boat trip round the medieval part of the city (interesting but a bit perturbing when stoned or rather pebbled, by the local riffraff) then Emily and Ric treated us to supper at a nearby bistro – great! (Alex had snails and frogs legs for the first time as part of a shared starter.) The following morning we all climbed the Belfry for a fantastic, if breezy view of the city.
The only fly in the ointment in all this, for Alex anyway, was that the root of one of his teeth had started to play up a few days before so he had put himself on Flucloxacillin. This did not help much after 3 days so he changed to Metronidazole (downside – no alcohol!) This began to work but he felt he ought to take professional advice. The outcome was a trip to the medical school/hospital, dental clinic, for a consultation - €50! They said as the root had already been filled and capped (twice) the last hope was to fill from the inside: i.e. cut away the gum, lift up a flat, drill through the bone to the root, fill from below, put all back together. Aaaaargggghhh. But an appointment was duly made for 9.20 the next day. So after pre-paying €1060 the consultant had a look and a chat. ‘Oh well, if it has only flared up twice before let’s give it another go with the Metronidazole before we decide to operate’. PHEW! No drink for 10 days, a small price to pay. But getting the pre-paid money back is another battle. And yes, the tooth does seem to have settled down!
So we left Ghent, saying our fond farewells to all those still moored there and headed off into the unknown of Wallonia and France.
We quietly snuck onto some moorings ‘de Plaisance’ near Sluis Sint Baafs-Vijve on the first night but nobody came to demand money before we left.
We had decided we would moor near the second lock in France the next night but when we got there, it was all under repair and chaotic – nowhere to moor. The next place – a deserted quay – proved to be too shallow for us so we ended up moored beside another live-aboard who was not at home, but others said it would be OK. We are not used to just dropping onto somebody else’s boat yet, but it does seem to be fairly common here in France. So we left a thank you note and a bottle of wine by their entrance door should they return in the night. They did, and we ‘chatted’ next morning, but no mention of the wine (maybe it should have been French, not Argentinian, but we didn’t have any of that – a mistake soon to be rectified!).
Then we got to this lovely mooring on the commercial wharf. We think we might just spend the whole year here!
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