Back at Mantes-la-Jolie/Limay we had gone straight up to just below the ‘water’ pontoon. But after a couple of days we realised that the outfall just in front of the boat, i.e. upstream of us, was in fact a raw sewage outfall and all down the side of the boat was the product of the same. URGGGHHH …! We moved forward onto the rather flimsy pontoon as we just had to get away from that load of s . . t!
The next day we set off again going up river. The 6 or 7 km per hour difference between going downstream and going upstream was very noticeable. We just seemed to get nowhere fast, but looking at all the amazing houses along the banks put in the time!
Eventually we arrived back at the moorings at Meulan and within half an hour a guy came down the steps to the side of the boat asking for some tissues for his nose!
We couldn’t believe it! There must be a conspiracy here or they are just puling our legs. Maybe word had got round that we were a good source of tissues. Anyway you have to humour these guys so a further handful was handed out and gratefully received.
The next morning the VNF were out in force clearing the blockage of small broken boats, trees, bushes, driftwood etc which was blocking two of the arches of the old bridge in front of us. ‘Great’, said Alex, ‘Now we can go through the arch and up this side of the island on our way back upstream’. Louise was not convinced. PC Navigo said the arch was 6m wide and 4 high but it didn’t look it. Alex eventually decided acquiescence was the better part of valour and agreed to go the short way back to the gap between the islands and take the main route.
Unfortunately, as we made the about turn, the rudder caught on something and then the joint which Alex had painstakingly made a few weeks ago failed. Damn and blast! When he inspected his welding he discovered that it left a lot to be desired and started to try and rebuild it then and there. However, the shore power supply available here was not up to the job so the ‘old’ joint was reassembled and fitted and we set off again.
At Poissy we saw Santanna (again) but Julian was away (we think this was his family day at Disneyland poor chap) so we left him a note and travelled on. At the Andresy lock we had open gates and a green light but asked anyway if it was OK to enter. We received a long reply of unintelligible French, the only word of which we recognised being ‘commerce’ so we entered anyway and sure enough a few minutes later a huge barge entered behind us. Given the maxim that ‘plaisances’ should always give way to barges we felt perhaps we shouldn’t have gone in ahead, but never mind, there was plenty of room for us both, though we were tucked up at the front over the fast-incoming water, giving us a bumpy ride up.
As soon as the top gate opened we shot out and over to the side to let the commercial past, then picked our way down the old lock arm to find enough depth of water to moor somewhere along the 300m of good quay which is available and labelled as the ‘Halte de Plaisance d’Andresy’.
We felt they would get a lot more business into the town if they just spent 2 days dredging the quayside and repainting the signs. And of course so would the local economy, although it didn’t look in need of further investment. It was a very up-market area, so maybe that’s the problem – they don’t want us boaters.
Eventually we attached ourselves to another rather flimsy floating pontoon. But as there was no passing traffic whatsoever, and the depth was OK and free electricity and water were available, we felt we had found our perfect spot for the night. (Almost perfect that is – no wifi!)
Just a couple of nights at Andresy and then we set off again for Pontoise. We still had a couple of days in hand before Rob and Kerry were due to arrive, despite our concerns at Vernon that we had barely enough time to get to our rendezvous, and we arrived easily after a couple of hours cruising.
Later that same day, after our trip to the l’Eclerc hypermarket (awful) Waterdog had appeared and was moored immediately in front of us. Long chat, glasses of wine and beer, exchange of stories – the usual boating imperatives! The following day, who should appear but Julian, so we all had a sociable evening on Riccall, eating and making merry until the ‘kids’ arrived later that night.
So, the next instalment will reveal just how on earth we coped with moorings approaching Paris –and in the city itself.
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