River Meuse
When we reached Verdun we had moored up in the old commercial port because there was room there and we knew that the Port de Plaisance would probably be pretty full. We were helped by the owners of a lovely Dutch tjalk (Arum) already there – Jack and Marieke. Later we cycled down to the town moorings and Alex spotted on the opposite bank a narrow boat. “Look!” he said, “it’s Lady Camellia”, and the next minute nearly fell of his bike as an unnoticed step in the quay got under his wheels! Sure enough, on reaching the other quay, we discovered Peep (pronounced pape) and Yvon moored up and having early evening drinks. Well, drinks for all followed, and they said that they intended to leave the next day at around 11 o’clock and if we timed it right, we could move into their space. Alex paced it out and, yes, there was just enough room.
As it turned out the boat behind them left at about 10.30am so we hightailed it down to the space and just made it ahead of a very determined hire boat coming the other way.
Yvon and Peep came for morning coffee and decided that as the weather was a bit iffy they would wait till the next day to leave, and accepted our invitation to come for supper with us that night.
We spent the rest of the day at the Tourist Information Centre where there was free wi-fi access allowing us to post the latest blog, and later at the various supermarkets in the area to restock.
We had a lovely evening, eating outside in the balmy weather, and the following day we had morning coffee on Lady Camellia, then waved them off on their continuing cruise, and we headed for the Tourist Office to catch the hop-on, hop-off bus up to the battlefields of Verdun.
The first stop was at the Verdun Memorial, where, inside an enormous monolith of a building was housed a fascinating historical exhibition of the 1914-18 period, as well as details of the events leading up to the outbreak of war.
Next stop was the Douamont Fort, which was an enormous, largely underground structure. The fort proved to be an unbelievably large rabbit warren of damp and dripping corridors and rooms which at one time were home to upwards of 3000 soldiers. Conditions must have been terrible, even allowing for the deterioration of the structure in the intervening years. The fort was one of several which had been built for protection after the Franco Prussian War when France was feeling jumpy about her position in Europe. In the event the French powers-that-be decided that fixed forts were not the way to fight this new war, and abandoned it to a force of only 60 or so personnel. The Germans were astonished to be able to take it so easily, and the French (for some unaccountable reason) were equally astonished that it had been lost so quickly.
Many, many French lives were lost retaking what they realised too late was an important strategic position.
The whole area round Verdun was turned into a sort of lunar landscape of absolute destruction – with nine villages totally destroyed and never re-built – by the massive thrust of the German army and the determined defence by the French and eventually the Americans. The total death toll for all nations in the Battle of Verdun was 700,000. Many of those killed had no known grave of course, and shortly after the end of WWI the authorities decided that it was right that all the remains of the dead be collected and housed in an ossuary, which they built on the top of a hill, another massive structure.
All these visits were, of course, very sombre – not the usual happy touristy day out, but we felt it was right to pay our own respects and in all cases, the sites were very suitably run – no food, drink, music, camping etc allowed.
It happens that Alex has just read, and Louise has just re-read ‘Testament of Youth’ by Vera Brittain. Alex has also just finished Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernière, both of which deal very much with this period of history and so the visit to the battlefield was even more poignant for us both.
The only amusing part of our visit to the museum, fort and ossuary was the hop-on-hop-off bus. The driver spoke no English at all and insisted on giving us and the only other two passengers a lengthy description of sights on the way up the hill, and when we would be able to ‘hop-on’ again. The first stop at the museum went OK and we did comprehend that he would be having his déjeuner and therefore would not be back for 2 hours. At the appointed time, we caught the bus up to the Fort. At this point we must have mis-understood because we emerged from the Fort to see the bus disappearing down the road!
It was only a 2km walk in the hot sun to the next stop and we made it OK to the little vastly over-priced bar/restaurant where we shared a ‘croque monsieur’ (ham and cheese toastie by any other name) choosing to visit the Ossuary next. As we set off we again saw the bus disappearing in that direction, but just beyond hailing distance and so had to walk the 1 km or so to it. After the Ossuary (complete with film and tower to climb) we walked the one and a half kilometres to the Trenchée des Bayonettes, (actually a bit of a disappointment as we had expected a real, if renovated trench, which this was not) and then, looking at our watch, realised that we were not absolutely sure if there was a last bus back to Verdun!
We took up position at a crossroads (another 1km walk in the evening heat of the sun) where the bus must pass if there was to be a bus, and sure enough, half an hour later and almost as we were giving up hope and making other plans to get back to Verdun (15 miles away) – hitch a lift, look for an English car in the car park, try to find a taxi phone number etc! – the bus hove into view. To ensure he didn’t just drive past, Louise got out our ticket and stood almost on the road waving it at the driver. Bus stopped! Driver and passengers laughed, Louise said “Halleluja, Halleluja” and spontaneously kissed the bus driver à la Francais, which caused great mirth both for him and the other two on board! We all laughed and agreed in our pigeon French that we were pretty exhausted and desperate not to miss our transport home.
Of course, we have also visited other places of interest in Verdun itself – a rather disappointing visit to the Citadel, which we expected to be another labyrinth of tunnels, but which turned out to be a rather tacky ghost-train-like ride on a guided carriage with pre-recorded scenes from the war excruciatingly acted or displayed at various intervals and utilising only a tiny part of what is a massive installation. Poor show Verdun. The Cathedral of Notre Dame, the War Memorials which are everywhere, the beautiful covered market and of course the various canals and rivers branching off the Meuse were also part of our itinerary. So all in all, we have fair done Verdun!
Monday 24 August 2009
Friday 14 August 2009
Sedan to Verdun
(Nothing for ages then two postings in two days!) River Meuse
We felt a bit nervous about how we were going to extract ourselves from the moorings at Sedan when we left, but in the event we reversed out at high speed and spun Riccall in her own length and headed off up river like real professionals. It’s nice when it works out OK (even if Riccall did behave quite differently from what we expected).
We moored above the lock before a village called Mouzon. Our information told us there was a Halte Fluvial 800 metres further on, but it also mentioned the very narrow entrance and we were concerned we might not get in (or out). We were glad we had stopped where we did, because looking at the moorings by bike it was clear we would have had no chance. Mouzon is a lovely small town with a fantastic church, beautifully cobbled streets, and an air of peace and tranquillity.
Unfortunately, our mooring a kilometre before the village was downwind of a 24-hour factory producing God knows what, but a continual oppressive factory noise was punctuated every so often by a let-off of steam or something at high volume!
In addition to that, the farmer decided that 10.30pm was just the right time to harvest his crop of corn directly across the canal and, with headlights blazing, in moved the combine harvester, bailer and grain pick up wagons. Louise was glad that by 2.00 am they had finished! Alex, asleep and oblivious with the help of French wine, was awakened by yet another let-off of steam at 7.00 am.
The next mooring, arrived at within a couple of hours of setting off from Mouzon, has to rate as another 9.5 out of 10 spot. Miles from anywhere, another idyllic deserted lock cottage, shade from a few trees, picnic tables, bollards at a sensible distance apart, and to cap it all, in the hot sunshine a display from four individuals with paragliders of how to ride the thermals. They threw themselves off a clearing high up in the woods opposite and after the first attempts in late morning when they were only up for about 15 to 30 minutes, they all managed to get airborne in the afternoon and stayed up for hours, the last one only landing after 6.00 pm. We watched him flying back and forth and up and down for a full four and a half hours, at one point disappearing over the horizon only to reappear 90 minutes later. Incredible!
As evening approached we were joined on the mooring by Roger (DBA Continental Events Coordinator) and Louise Lamothe on ‘The River’ who we must thank for many of the mooring suggestions which appear in the DBA mooring guide.
We left Mouzon at about 10 o’clock which is as early as we ever do, and after another uneventful but picturesque day, arrived at Mouzay where we moored on peniche spaced bollards above the lock.
The water in the canal, at this stage, had become almost completely clear, which gave us the chance to look at the propeller and check that all was well. We had suffered some overheating of the stern tube and were looking for possible reasons. As far as we could see there was no obvious reason and in the end Alex just loosened the packing glad a bit and this seemed to do the trick.
We stayed two nights at Mouzay, taking advantage of the nice weather and clean water to finish off the roof above the saloon: scraping off all the old paint, sanding down and re-undercoating, hoovering up all the loose dust then washing off the remainder from every exterior surface. What a job!
We are in an intensely rural area at the moment and this is brought home to us time and time again by the number of combine harvesters, tractors and trailers etc. which are buzzing around the countryside beside the canal at the moment, which is of course the height of the harvest.
Like Mouzon, Mouzay is no exception in this respect, and tractors and trailers were trundling back and forth across the bridge over the lock till well after 10 pm leading huge mountains of rolled up straw.
We stopped for lunch on a very ancient quay, where we used a distant fence post and tree (Sacré Bleu!) to secure lines fore and aft, in the sure and certain knowledge that this canal has not seen any commercial péniches for years. Well, of course, we had barely started our post-meal coffees when one appeared lumbering down the canal! Fortunately, the ropes held as it slid past but it did give us some concern, not to mention Monsieur et Madame on the péniche!
In the late afternoon we arrived at Consenvoye where we had hoped to moor for the night and stopped before the lock. We were now on a section where the locks are all manually operated by VNF éclusiers, but this one wasn’t ready for us and appeared deserted. Alex spotted the lock keeper and his entire family group of about 20 just tucking into that typical French meal on tables under the trees so didn’t disturb him. On further investigation, the Halte Nautique above the lock would have been very difficult for us to get into (or out of) so we were happy to stay put below.
We got the bikes out to investigate our surroundings and decided that the Cimitière Américaine might be worth a visit. Having crested one summit after another and still no sign of it, and yet another summit in the distance, we decided to give up on that jaunt, but on the way back we discovered an old railway line with an unmanned crossing. Alex noticed that the lines showed some signs of use, but not much. A few minutes later a couple of ‘velo-wagons’ appeared. These are peddle-operated bogeys that were available for hire to ‘cycle’ down a 3 km stretch of redundant railway line. It did all look rather fun and the families using them were a jolly lot – much laughter. A short time later we were at the depot ‘gare’ investigating cost etc when a cavalcade of motorcycles rode past on the nearby road. At the junction, each one blew his ‘horn’, and each had a different sound – the first a whinnying horse, followed by a donkey, Colonel Bogey, a police siren and then Tarzan. What a joke!
The next day, at one of the manual locks, we noticed fours cars parked and six adults waiting around. The éclusière here was a young girl of about 18. Her grandmother explained that she was just starting her vac. job and the whole family was helping her out, till she learnt the ropes – father and uncle on the sluices, mother and aunt on the gates, granny and grandpa watching! It was wonderful but today, of course, they’ll all be at work and she’ll be on her own!
As we passed through the locks, heading for Verdun, we hadn’t seen any other boats till suddenly at one lock a British owned barge called Kikkervis (tadpole) emerged and we passed each other with friendly waves, then out of the next lock Varlyon emerged. Alex and Lenny had a brief chat on the radio (much to the chagrin of some unknown French person who kept butting in). I mean, honestly, there hasn’t been a peep out of the radio for two weeks! We were hardly taking up valuable air-time.
But it was impossible to stop and catch up properly so we just waved and carried on, eventually reaching Verdun’s old Port du Commerce to moor at about 4.30pm – a long day for us.
We felt a bit nervous about how we were going to extract ourselves from the moorings at Sedan when we left, but in the event we reversed out at high speed and spun Riccall in her own length and headed off up river like real professionals. It’s nice when it works out OK (even if Riccall did behave quite differently from what we expected).
We moored above the lock before a village called Mouzon. Our information told us there was a Halte Fluvial 800 metres further on, but it also mentioned the very narrow entrance and we were concerned we might not get in (or out). We were glad we had stopped where we did, because looking at the moorings by bike it was clear we would have had no chance. Mouzon is a lovely small town with a fantastic church, beautifully cobbled streets, and an air of peace and tranquillity.
Unfortunately, our mooring a kilometre before the village was downwind of a 24-hour factory producing God knows what, but a continual oppressive factory noise was punctuated every so often by a let-off of steam or something at high volume!
In addition to that, the farmer decided that 10.30pm was just the right time to harvest his crop of corn directly across the canal and, with headlights blazing, in moved the combine harvester, bailer and grain pick up wagons. Louise was glad that by 2.00 am they had finished! Alex, asleep and oblivious with the help of French wine, was awakened by yet another let-off of steam at 7.00 am.
The next mooring, arrived at within a couple of hours of setting off from Mouzon, has to rate as another 9.5 out of 10 spot. Miles from anywhere, another idyllic deserted lock cottage, shade from a few trees, picnic tables, bollards at a sensible distance apart, and to cap it all, in the hot sunshine a display from four individuals with paragliders of how to ride the thermals. They threw themselves off a clearing high up in the woods opposite and after the first attempts in late morning when they were only up for about 15 to 30 minutes, they all managed to get airborne in the afternoon and stayed up for hours, the last one only landing after 6.00 pm. We watched him flying back and forth and up and down for a full four and a half hours, at one point disappearing over the horizon only to reappear 90 minutes later. Incredible!
As evening approached we were joined on the mooring by Roger (DBA Continental Events Coordinator) and Louise Lamothe on ‘The River’ who we must thank for many of the mooring suggestions which appear in the DBA mooring guide.
We left Mouzon at about 10 o’clock which is as early as we ever do, and after another uneventful but picturesque day, arrived at Mouzay where we moored on peniche spaced bollards above the lock.
The water in the canal, at this stage, had become almost completely clear, which gave us the chance to look at the propeller and check that all was well. We had suffered some overheating of the stern tube and were looking for possible reasons. As far as we could see there was no obvious reason and in the end Alex just loosened the packing glad a bit and this seemed to do the trick.
We stayed two nights at Mouzay, taking advantage of the nice weather and clean water to finish off the roof above the saloon: scraping off all the old paint, sanding down and re-undercoating, hoovering up all the loose dust then washing off the remainder from every exterior surface. What a job!
We are in an intensely rural area at the moment and this is brought home to us time and time again by the number of combine harvesters, tractors and trailers etc. which are buzzing around the countryside beside the canal at the moment, which is of course the height of the harvest.
Like Mouzon, Mouzay is no exception in this respect, and tractors and trailers were trundling back and forth across the bridge over the lock till well after 10 pm leading huge mountains of rolled up straw.
We stopped for lunch on a very ancient quay, where we used a distant fence post and tree (Sacré Bleu!) to secure lines fore and aft, in the sure and certain knowledge that this canal has not seen any commercial péniches for years. Well, of course, we had barely started our post-meal coffees when one appeared lumbering down the canal! Fortunately, the ropes held as it slid past but it did give us some concern, not to mention Monsieur et Madame on the péniche!
In the late afternoon we arrived at Consenvoye where we had hoped to moor for the night and stopped before the lock. We were now on a section where the locks are all manually operated by VNF éclusiers, but this one wasn’t ready for us and appeared deserted. Alex spotted the lock keeper and his entire family group of about 20 just tucking into that typical French meal on tables under the trees so didn’t disturb him. On further investigation, the Halte Nautique above the lock would have been very difficult for us to get into (or out of) so we were happy to stay put below.
We got the bikes out to investigate our surroundings and decided that the Cimitière Américaine might be worth a visit. Having crested one summit after another and still no sign of it, and yet another summit in the distance, we decided to give up on that jaunt, but on the way back we discovered an old railway line with an unmanned crossing. Alex noticed that the lines showed some signs of use, but not much. A few minutes later a couple of ‘velo-wagons’ appeared. These are peddle-operated bogeys that were available for hire to ‘cycle’ down a 3 km stretch of redundant railway line. It did all look rather fun and the families using them were a jolly lot – much laughter. A short time later we were at the depot ‘gare’ investigating cost etc when a cavalcade of motorcycles rode past on the nearby road. At the junction, each one blew his ‘horn’, and each had a different sound – the first a whinnying horse, followed by a donkey, Colonel Bogey, a police siren and then Tarzan. What a joke!
The next day, at one of the manual locks, we noticed fours cars parked and six adults waiting around. The éclusière here was a young girl of about 18. Her grandmother explained that she was just starting her vac. job and the whole family was helping her out, till she learnt the ropes – father and uncle on the sluices, mother and aunt on the gates, granny and grandpa watching! It was wonderful but today, of course, they’ll all be at work and she’ll be on her own!
As we passed through the locks, heading for Verdun, we hadn’t seen any other boats till suddenly at one lock a British owned barge called Kikkervis (tadpole) emerged and we passed each other with friendly waves, then out of the next lock Varlyon emerged. Alex and Lenny had a brief chat on the radio (much to the chagrin of some unknown French person who kept butting in). I mean, honestly, there hasn’t been a peep out of the radio for two weeks! We were hardly taking up valuable air-time.
But it was impossible to stop and catch up properly so we just waved and carried on, eventually reaching Verdun’s old Port du Commerce to moor at about 4.30pm – a long day for us.
Wednesday 12 August 2009
Rethel to Sedan
Canal des Ardennes
We left Rethel after Will and Laura’s visit for an entirely uneventful day to Attigny, where we moored on the town moorings in a downpour at about 4 o’clock, the only boat there. However, at about 5.30 a Dutch cruiser joined us and on talking to them we learned that they also intended to tackle the flight of 27 locks the next day, but whereas we had been asked by the lockkeeper to start at 9 o’clock they were not going to begin before 9.30.
This suited us both as we agreed going through a chain of locks is quicker if you are alone than if you are going through each lock together. This is because you can’t start each lock operation until both of you have entered and both tied up etc, which takes nearly twice as long as if you were alone. So if water is not an issue (and at the moment there is masses) it is quicker alone. Sounds a bit strange, but it is true.
In this particular case there were a couple of hitches with the automatic operation of two locks and we had to radio VNF to fix the problems, but in the end we ascended the whole flight in just under 5 hours.
The Dutch cruiser behind us had rather more problems and it took them 8 hours! (The following day we learned one of the more troublesome locks was closed for repair, meaning that several of the descending boats had to wait at least another day.)
There was no room at the official town moorings at Le Chesne when we arrived but 100 metres further on we were able to moor on a disused quay, with the help of one Dutch guy who moved his cruiser forward the moment he saw us coming, to let us in. Our Dutch helpers (from the incident where Concordance had been such an arsehole) were also on hand, as was Englishman Richard from a moored Linssen boat who had seen us arrive, so with all their help and cooperation we were quickly tied up safely. Our faith in the help and camaraderie of other boaters is nearly restored!!
The town has a (poor) supermarket but we found a friendly internet café which let us use our own laptop to post the next blog (great) and a local ‘coiffure pour hommes’ where Alex had a ‘coupe ordinaire’ for €10.40. Despite the price Alex decided he just had to do it, even though it was around double the price of his English haircuts, but two-thirds of anything else he had seen in France!
One of the interesting features of the haircut (we can’t believe that we are discussing haircuts in this blog; what are things coming to?) was that the guy used hand clippers to do 80% of the cut, finishing off with three pairs of scissors and finally a cut-throat razor!! During that last bit Alex dares’n’t move a muscle. But at the end of it all it was an excellent haircut (if a little short). The result is to be seen in the pics below.
The Brits Richard and Jane were delayed by the lock closure and invited us for sociable drinks that evening where as usual we exchanged boaty stories.
We moved on to our quietest moorings so far, at a place called La Cassine, where the countryside stretched for miles around with no road, rail or airport within hearing.
Another short day and we were in Pont-à-Bar at the end of the Canal des Ardennes (River Meuse ahead) where we sensibly moored at the first available place, so we could go on by bike to suss the scene ahead. This turned out to have been a good move despite some lack of depth, because moorings above the lock were non-existent where the much needed fuel and water are on offer, and it would have been a pain to have had to go through the lock and then turn round and come back up for fuel and turn round … you get the picture!
On our way down here from the top of the 27 lock flight we encountered a couple of unladen commercials and just squeezed past them. How two laden commercials get past each other we have no idea. And while we have been moored here two fully laden commercials have sidled past one after the other so the canal is still used commercially, even if intermittently.
We have also met a German couple, Andy and Petra (Centurion) who have been here at this boatyard since September 2008, reworking a 14m barge, which they bought specifically to do the French canals. They love this area, The Ardennes, which is apparently largely overlooked by the French who prefer to go much further south, as it offers some of the most stunning scenery in France. We have loved the part we have passed through so far and shall see more as we venture further up the River Meuse.
However, on the 27 lock flight up the Le Chesne we did note (and take photos of) quite a number of abandoned lock cottages. We have yet to contact VNF to find out if it is possible to buy any of these, but none of them, so far, surpasses the one we saw just north of Reims, which we thought was just the bees’ knees. Unfortunately (can you believe it?) we neglected to take a photo of it, so stunned were we with its charm and beautiful setting. We really must ring the Reims branch of VNF where there is a lady who speaks good English, to find out if any deal is possible!
The River Meuse makes such a change from the Canal des Ardennes. It is so wide and river-like that it presents a different world, the like of which we haven’t seen since we turned off the Marne some months ago. However, the downside of this river is the lack of places to moor. You can usually rely on something either above or below each lock but on this stretch even these seem non-existent or pretty inaccessible.
In due course we arrived at Sedan and allowed the light current and wind to sweep us onto the pontoon moorings, which fortunately had a space that was Riccall sized available for us to moor on (even though our weight presented a testing time for the pontoon’s securing system – strong chains down to the river-bed – but they survived).
We liked Sedan, despite Marcel’s (Djamilar) description of it as a ‘focking city’! We found an SFR shop where the manageress spoke good English and helped us try to access Neuf wi-fi and she may have been successful! The tourist information shop had a free wi-fi connection where we could use our laptop as much as we wanted. The castle - a fortified chateau - is the biggest in Europe, and for €7.50 each we spent half a day looking round it with a hand-held guide in English to tell us all about it.
In addition to all that, within biking distance of the moorings were the ubiquitous Aldi, Lidl and a huge Leclerc hypermarket to build up our stores.
The mooring fees, which we would normally prefer to avoid, were €12.50 per night inclusive of water and electricity. Quite a lot, but every so often we like to give the batteries a long equalise charge to bring them back to best performance, which is something they don’t get from a few hours engine running or one and a half hour’s generator charge.
We left Rethel after Will and Laura’s visit for an entirely uneventful day to Attigny, where we moored on the town moorings in a downpour at about 4 o’clock, the only boat there. However, at about 5.30 a Dutch cruiser joined us and on talking to them we learned that they also intended to tackle the flight of 27 locks the next day, but whereas we had been asked by the lockkeeper to start at 9 o’clock they were not going to begin before 9.30.
This suited us both as we agreed going through a chain of locks is quicker if you are alone than if you are going through each lock together. This is because you can’t start each lock operation until both of you have entered and both tied up etc, which takes nearly twice as long as if you were alone. So if water is not an issue (and at the moment there is masses) it is quicker alone. Sounds a bit strange, but it is true.
In this particular case there were a couple of hitches with the automatic operation of two locks and we had to radio VNF to fix the problems, but in the end we ascended the whole flight in just under 5 hours.
The Dutch cruiser behind us had rather more problems and it took them 8 hours! (The following day we learned one of the more troublesome locks was closed for repair, meaning that several of the descending boats had to wait at least another day.)
There was no room at the official town moorings at Le Chesne when we arrived but 100 metres further on we were able to moor on a disused quay, with the help of one Dutch guy who moved his cruiser forward the moment he saw us coming, to let us in. Our Dutch helpers (from the incident where Concordance had been such an arsehole) were also on hand, as was Englishman Richard from a moored Linssen boat who had seen us arrive, so with all their help and cooperation we were quickly tied up safely. Our faith in the help and camaraderie of other boaters is nearly restored!!
The town has a (poor) supermarket but we found a friendly internet café which let us use our own laptop to post the next blog (great) and a local ‘coiffure pour hommes’ where Alex had a ‘coupe ordinaire’ for €10.40. Despite the price Alex decided he just had to do it, even though it was around double the price of his English haircuts, but two-thirds of anything else he had seen in France!
One of the interesting features of the haircut (we can’t believe that we are discussing haircuts in this blog; what are things coming to?) was that the guy used hand clippers to do 80% of the cut, finishing off with three pairs of scissors and finally a cut-throat razor!! During that last bit Alex dares’n’t move a muscle. But at the end of it all it was an excellent haircut (if a little short). The result is to be seen in the pics below.
The Brits Richard and Jane were delayed by the lock closure and invited us for sociable drinks that evening where as usual we exchanged boaty stories.
We moved on to our quietest moorings so far, at a place called La Cassine, where the countryside stretched for miles around with no road, rail or airport within hearing.
Another short day and we were in Pont-à-Bar at the end of the Canal des Ardennes (River Meuse ahead) where we sensibly moored at the first available place, so we could go on by bike to suss the scene ahead. This turned out to have been a good move despite some lack of depth, because moorings above the lock were non-existent where the much needed fuel and water are on offer, and it would have been a pain to have had to go through the lock and then turn round and come back up for fuel and turn round … you get the picture!
On our way down here from the top of the 27 lock flight we encountered a couple of unladen commercials and just squeezed past them. How two laden commercials get past each other we have no idea. And while we have been moored here two fully laden commercials have sidled past one after the other so the canal is still used commercially, even if intermittently.
We have also met a German couple, Andy and Petra (Centurion) who have been here at this boatyard since September 2008, reworking a 14m barge, which they bought specifically to do the French canals. They love this area, The Ardennes, which is apparently largely overlooked by the French who prefer to go much further south, as it offers some of the most stunning scenery in France. We have loved the part we have passed through so far and shall see more as we venture further up the River Meuse.
However, on the 27 lock flight up the Le Chesne we did note (and take photos of) quite a number of abandoned lock cottages. We have yet to contact VNF to find out if it is possible to buy any of these, but none of them, so far, surpasses the one we saw just north of Reims, which we thought was just the bees’ knees. Unfortunately (can you believe it?) we neglected to take a photo of it, so stunned were we with its charm and beautiful setting. We really must ring the Reims branch of VNF where there is a lady who speaks good English, to find out if any deal is possible!
The River Meuse makes such a change from the Canal des Ardennes. It is so wide and river-like that it presents a different world, the like of which we haven’t seen since we turned off the Marne some months ago. However, the downside of this river is the lack of places to moor. You can usually rely on something either above or below each lock but on this stretch even these seem non-existent or pretty inaccessible.
In due course we arrived at Sedan and allowed the light current and wind to sweep us onto the pontoon moorings, which fortunately had a space that was Riccall sized available for us to moor on (even though our weight presented a testing time for the pontoon’s securing system – strong chains down to the river-bed – but they survived).
We liked Sedan, despite Marcel’s (Djamilar) description of it as a ‘focking city’! We found an SFR shop where the manageress spoke good English and helped us try to access Neuf wi-fi and she may have been successful! The tourist information shop had a free wi-fi connection where we could use our laptop as much as we wanted. The castle - a fortified chateau - is the biggest in Europe, and for €7.50 each we spent half a day looking round it with a hand-held guide in English to tell us all about it.
In addition to all that, within biking distance of the moorings were the ubiquitous Aldi, Lidl and a huge Leclerc hypermarket to build up our stores.
The mooring fees, which we would normally prefer to avoid, were €12.50 per night inclusive of water and electricity. Quite a lot, but every so often we like to give the batteries a long equalise charge to bring them back to best performance, which is something they don’t get from a few hours engine running or one and a half hour’s generator charge.
Tuesday 4 August 2009
Sillery to Rethel
Canal des Ardennes
All is not harmonious on the French canals !!!
Saturday dawned fair and wind-free. We started the preparations for setting off from Sillery.
The day before, two cruisers, one German and one Dutch, had arrived together. The German had moored in the finger mooring directly behind us (like us, next to the quay) and the Dutch guy moored between the two of us (also on the quay). Alex had mentioned to the Dutch fellow that we were moving off the next day and asked him if he would move his cruiser to let us out, to which he agreed.
So, as we made ready, his cruiser was still there, as he wandered up and down the quay watching us getting ready.
Alex said that we would like to leave now and could he move please. “I already have,” he said, indicating that he had moved a couple of metres nearer the German cruiser.
Alex pointed out that there still was not enough room for us to get Riccall out without a lot of shimmying about and going the whole distance past all the other (er …Tupperware) boats backwards. The Dutch guy then proceeded to tell Alex how to handle Riccall, and Alex pointed out that it was a hell of a sight easier for him to move his cruiser next to the German, where there was a proper mooring space. Dutchy wasn’t having it, whereupon Jeff from Whisper 1700 put in his two-penn’orth much to the distress of his wife Jane who advocated keeping well out of it! Louise then adopted her resolute tone and confronted him with a question, “Are you saying that you refuse to move your boat?” All the other boaters around were glaring at him by now, and with massive ill grace he stomped off and moved it!
Roger and Ann of Thirza, moored next to us, gave Alex 11/10 for diplomacy and not losing his temper and everybody else heaved a sigh of relief that sense had prevailed.
We made a safe and controlled exit and Alex made a point of thanking Dutchy very much for his help. (You can’t really afford to make serious enemies out of total wallies, because you tend to run into them again and again!)
At Reims we had a noisy mooring for the first night but there was a bill to pay at VNF and yet another trip to an SFR shop to sort out some more paperwork, which apparently hadn’t been sent on by the SFR shop in Mantes-la-Jolie where we set up the original contract. We also wanted to fit in more sightseeing in Reims including a visit to the tomb of St Remi in the Basiliqu de St Remi and a roof tour of Reims cathedral.
Then we moved a couple of ks to moor up beside Aldi where we could wheel the fully laden trolley right to the boat for unloading. We ended up at the end of a commercial mooring quay on the edge of town for a totally peaceful second night in Reims.
The following evening provided another mooring contretemps. We had eschewed a couple of possible moorings, it being still too early to stop, and set our sights on one said to be at Variscourt. When we arrived there were two cruisers there already, albeit moored well apart, but we thought there was just room for us behind the nearest one, a Belgian boat called Concordance. So we nosed in, and with the help offered by the other cruiser crew got our front rope onto a good bollard shared by Concordance. The back rope was going to have to go round a tree, and Alex and the helper were in the process of doing that when the front end of Riccall started to edge out a bit. This meant the front rope was going to tighten and touch the back of Concordance. Her ‘captain’, who had been sitting watching all this from a picnic table 25m, away with no intention of helping, or moving his boat forward a bit to make room, was up like a shot and across the grass quicker than you could say ‘Jack Rabbit’! He then proceeded to shout a torrent of abuse, we think in Flemish, and PHYSICALLY REMOVED OUR FRONT ROPE from the bollard. I mean, that is just not done. The rope had touched his boat but as it’s soft and silky while strong, hadn’t made so much as a scuff, much to the owner’s disappointment.
Alex took the decision that to start the whole manoeuvre again, with such a hostile little shit waiting to hurl abuse at the slightest excuse was not worth the hassle so we reluctantly left and carried on.
Little did we realise that we would not find anything suitable until after the locks had closed for the night, and then the next lock mooring place was pretty shallow and the bollards, when we eventually unearthed them from the undergrowth, were spaced far apart. We did however, finally moor up safely some three hours after our ‘difficulties’ with Concordance, and retreated to supper and bed totally exhausted.
In all the time we have been cruising until now we have found all the other boaters helpful and often prepared to go out of their way to be so. It’s a pity that we should come across a couple of horrors so close upon each other.
However, we arrived at Rethel in plenty of time to meet Alex’s son Will and girlfriend Laura and a pleasant weekend ensued, trundling back a short way to a brand new mooring above a lock in the depths of the country, shady trees to shelter from the hot sun and a pleasant little village a kilometre away. There we had a barbeque and spent a quiet second night before returning to Rethel to pop them on the train back to UK.
In true Riccall style however, we happened upon the town fete as we returned to Riccall after the train left, and included in the pics below is a flavour of the event.
P.S. Concordance, of course, means ‘agreement’. We don’t think we have ever come across a boat so inappropriately named!!!
All is not harmonious on the French canals !!!
Saturday dawned fair and wind-free. We started the preparations for setting off from Sillery.
The day before, two cruisers, one German and one Dutch, had arrived together. The German had moored in the finger mooring directly behind us (like us, next to the quay) and the Dutch guy moored between the two of us (also on the quay). Alex had mentioned to the Dutch fellow that we were moving off the next day and asked him if he would move his cruiser to let us out, to which he agreed.
So, as we made ready, his cruiser was still there, as he wandered up and down the quay watching us getting ready.
Alex said that we would like to leave now and could he move please. “I already have,” he said, indicating that he had moved a couple of metres nearer the German cruiser.
Alex pointed out that there still was not enough room for us to get Riccall out without a lot of shimmying about and going the whole distance past all the other (er …Tupperware) boats backwards. The Dutch guy then proceeded to tell Alex how to handle Riccall, and Alex pointed out that it was a hell of a sight easier for him to move his cruiser next to the German, where there was a proper mooring space. Dutchy wasn’t having it, whereupon Jeff from Whisper 1700 put in his two-penn’orth much to the distress of his wife Jane who advocated keeping well out of it! Louise then adopted her resolute tone and confronted him with a question, “Are you saying that you refuse to move your boat?” All the other boaters around were glaring at him by now, and with massive ill grace he stomped off and moved it!
Roger and Ann of Thirza, moored next to us, gave Alex 11/10 for diplomacy and not losing his temper and everybody else heaved a sigh of relief that sense had prevailed.
We made a safe and controlled exit and Alex made a point of thanking Dutchy very much for his help. (You can’t really afford to make serious enemies out of total wallies, because you tend to run into them again and again!)
At Reims we had a noisy mooring for the first night but there was a bill to pay at VNF and yet another trip to an SFR shop to sort out some more paperwork, which apparently hadn’t been sent on by the SFR shop in Mantes-la-Jolie where we set up the original contract. We also wanted to fit in more sightseeing in Reims including a visit to the tomb of St Remi in the Basiliqu de St Remi and a roof tour of Reims cathedral.
Then we moved a couple of ks to moor up beside Aldi where we could wheel the fully laden trolley right to the boat for unloading. We ended up at the end of a commercial mooring quay on the edge of town for a totally peaceful second night in Reims.
The following evening provided another mooring contretemps. We had eschewed a couple of possible moorings, it being still too early to stop, and set our sights on one said to be at Variscourt. When we arrived there were two cruisers there already, albeit moored well apart, but we thought there was just room for us behind the nearest one, a Belgian boat called Concordance. So we nosed in, and with the help offered by the other cruiser crew got our front rope onto a good bollard shared by Concordance. The back rope was going to have to go round a tree, and Alex and the helper were in the process of doing that when the front end of Riccall started to edge out a bit. This meant the front rope was going to tighten and touch the back of Concordance. Her ‘captain’, who had been sitting watching all this from a picnic table 25m, away with no intention of helping, or moving his boat forward a bit to make room, was up like a shot and across the grass quicker than you could say ‘Jack Rabbit’! He then proceeded to shout a torrent of abuse, we think in Flemish, and PHYSICALLY REMOVED OUR FRONT ROPE from the bollard. I mean, that is just not done. The rope had touched his boat but as it’s soft and silky while strong, hadn’t made so much as a scuff, much to the owner’s disappointment.
Alex took the decision that to start the whole manoeuvre again, with such a hostile little shit waiting to hurl abuse at the slightest excuse was not worth the hassle so we reluctantly left and carried on.
Little did we realise that we would not find anything suitable until after the locks had closed for the night, and then the next lock mooring place was pretty shallow and the bollards, when we eventually unearthed them from the undergrowth, were spaced far apart. We did however, finally moor up safely some three hours after our ‘difficulties’ with Concordance, and retreated to supper and bed totally exhausted.
In all the time we have been cruising until now we have found all the other boaters helpful and often prepared to go out of their way to be so. It’s a pity that we should come across a couple of horrors so close upon each other.
However, we arrived at Rethel in plenty of time to meet Alex’s son Will and girlfriend Laura and a pleasant weekend ensued, trundling back a short way to a brand new mooring above a lock in the depths of the country, shady trees to shelter from the hot sun and a pleasant little village a kilometre away. There we had a barbeque and spent a quiet second night before returning to Rethel to pop them on the train back to UK.
In true Riccall style however, we happened upon the town fete as we returned to Riccall after the train left, and included in the pics below is a flavour of the event.
P.S. Concordance, of course, means ‘agreement’. We don’t think we have ever come across a boat so inappropriately named!!!
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