In Moissac there is a double lock down onto the River Tarn where there are additional moorings run by the port, complete with water and electricity, and if you ask the local hotel nicely, free wifi. To encourage the bigger barges down onto the river the mooring rate is reduced. Needless to say we moved onto the river at the first opportunity and also had a fun cruise for 10k up river to the old abandoned lock then down to the confluence of the Tarn with the Garonne. We were the only boat on the river, or so we thought, until, returning, we met the restaurant peniche PORTHOS taking a trip up river as well - with 30 pensioners on board! Much waving and thumbs up.
While we were moored on the river, we were enjoying sitting in the sun one afternoon when a number of French army chaps came down the river in several small lightweight landing craft and we assumed they were on some sort of exercise. We thought we’d never know what they were up to, but next day, we set off up the double lock back onto the canal and on towards the west, and as we cleared the town a huge four-engined Hercules (or the like) flew overhead, and we were just in time to see about half a dozen parachutes opening in the sky behind it, right over the river confluence. So that’s what all the army boats were about – picking up the parachutists who were practising landing on water. We were treated to several more sorties while we travelled along as the plane flew round in circles dropping groups off each time.
We were also being entertained by a kingfisher which was flitting from branch to branch in front of the boat making it difficult to know which way to look, and sadly so fast it was impossible to capture such a lovely sight on camera.
We got to your next mooring, Malause, where there was water, leccy and nobody to take any money! We got the bikes out and rode the 6km or so west to Valence d’Agen for tea with Ken and Rhonda on SOMWHERE. Alex did some repairs to their generator bracket and we ended up staying for supper and were offered a lift back to Riccall in the car, leaving the bikes behind. The next day, Ken and Rhonda fetched us back to our bikes and we returned the long way round on the bikes in glorious sunshine, taking a closer look at Goltech power station and having a picnic lunch beside the Garonne near a village called Auvillar. As the centre was up a long and very, very steep hill, we decided to leave investigation of the abbey and apparently lovely village until we have the car.
The following day, in truly torrential rain Alex helped Ken bring SOMEWHERE up the three locks to our mooring point at Malause while Rhonda and Louise came by car (via coffee and a chat in a bar in Valence) – lucky them.
In the morning we said goodbye to SOMEWHERE and set off on the last leg of our trek westwards. A couple of days later we moored in Agen in a big basin in front of a boat called JAZZ. We were slightly surprised that they hadn’t popped out to take a rope, as we could see them in their wheelhouse, but a few minutes after we had moored up Ian and Jill came rushing over to us with total disbelief and apologies; we had arrived so quietly that they had just not noticed us at all till one of them turned round and there we were!
We had a good cycle round Agen - the old quarters, the old quay on the Garonne which was used when the river was navigable (just) before the lateral canal was built, and the aqueduct over it for the canal, all in lovely weather. While we were having drinks with Ian and Jill in the evening La Chouette sailed past – all 30 metres of her – with a cheery wave.
Our penultimate stop at Sérignac offered free moorings with water and electricity so that was good, but the inviting looking restaurant in the lovely village complete with ancient houses and church with a spiral steeple, had just closed for a month! So it was supper on board again, after we had cycled the 3kms to the Garonne in the mild evening sunshine just to have a look at it (and to get our afternoon exercise).
Finally we arrived at our winter moorings at Buzet-sur-Baïse where we found Bob and Bobbie of La Chouette already ensconced. Bob helped us moor up and they both came for tea, then Alex helped Bob reassemble his wheelhouse and we had evening drinks with them in it.
So that pretty well concludes this year’s cruising. We are moored here at Buzet with several other barges which we know and a few other boats we don’t. We will probably be the only couple living so much of the time aboard, so I guess when we get the car down here, we will doing our socialising by car, as we have friends moored about 50kms in each direction!
This winter, Alex is threatening to write the story of the finding, buying and conversion of Riccall in the blog, unless there is a vociferous howl of protest from the 6 people who read it. (Yes, we think it’s up to 6 this year!)
This year’s stats
Kilometres: 1,425
Locks: 301
Canals/rivers travelled: Canal du Marne au Rhin
River Moselle
Canal des Vosges
La Petite Saône
Saône
Rhône
Petit Rhône
Canal du Rhône à Sète
Etang du Thau
Canal du Midi
Canal Lateral a la Garonne
River Tarn
Saturday 6 November 2010
Thursday 21 October 2010
Toulouse to Moissac
We made an unscheduled stop two locks and 10kms before Toulouse, much to the indignation of the lockkeeper who had just prepared his lock for us, because we saw a perfect space to moor up - with two bollards. It was away from the autoroute, which follows the Canal du Midi with its monotonous roar throughout this section, and it looked like a nice quiet spot between two live-aboards. All this turned out to be true and that afternoon, in a very strong wind, we were blown in to Toulouse itself on our bicycles for a preliminary look at the town and the moorings. We inspected the latter at Port St Saveur and determined that the (free?) quay opposite the official port was the best place for us. We dropped into Lidl and picked up some stock then headed back against the now ferocious wind, to our mooring, in the quiet of the countryside. By the time we had battled the return 10k we were completely knackered!
In the evening as Alex fought with SFR to allow him to connect to a strong Neuf wi-fi signal (no luck as usual – lying sods!) he suddenly noticed that the power from the generator, which was on at that time, had dropped to zero. After much investigation, he had to conclude that now not only were the batteries on their last legs, but the generator had packed in as well – oh great!
After two days of continuous wind and/or torrential rain, both seemed to have subsided so we set off for Toulouse itself. Apart from anything it was imperative to run the engine to try and put a breath of life back into the dying batteries.
At Toulouse Port St Saveur, Sylvianne the Capitanière of the moorings soon told us that the official port was full but to moor opposite still incurred a charge, albeit with no water or electricity, and kindly suggested we move up in front of her own peniche, out of the charging zone. This we did, but it was much closer to a very noisy road, and we still had no electricity.
Alex’s daughter Alice and her boyfriend Mark were coming to visit us for a couple of days, flying into Toulouse, so we spent some considerable time trying to work out the best mix of trains and cruising (not to mention another French strike) which would tie in with their flights. That meant a two-night stay in Toulouse for us, with no shore power, meaning this blog was written by candlelight to conserve the batteries! (No lights, so no jigsaw-doing, no internet of course, no dishwasher, etc etc.)
On the plus side, however, Toulouse is a city which we have visited a couple of times by train or car for short visits, and it could definitely do with a longer perusal.
After a couple of days in Toulouse we lowered the roof for what we hoped would be the last time this year, and set off for the last few locks of the Canal du Midi and thence the Canal Lateral à la Garonne.
The bridge before the first lock (dwelt under by the itinerant population of Toulouse) proved to be one that definitely needed the roof down (ROFF). We have been marking all the bridge on the Canal du Midi in our book as either RONs or ROFFs ever since we started this canal. This will let us know how far we can go if it is pouring with rain on our return trip, before we need to lower the top. It was a nice day with high cloud and some sunshine so no problem to travel converted (as it were).
We moored up below a lock and cycled ahead to the local station where we had suggested Alice and Mark might meet us from the train, at a place fascinatingly and impossibly named Castlenau d’Estrétefonds!
The mooring opposite the station itself existed all right, but had no mooring bollards or rings but we thought we could ‘make do’. What we didn’t realise then was that there was simply no depth, so we had an interesting time when we moved down to this mooring attaching wire hawsers round bits of wooden edging to effect a reasonable mooring, albeit one metre away from the shore due to the shallowness of the water.
Alice and Mark duly arrived and a jolly evening was had by all. In the morning Alex and Louise were surprised to see a good sized barge coming upstream towards us. ANNA - a 27 metre Dutch barge - was the first ‘proper’ boat we had seen for ages. They stopped in midstream for a chat and we promised to look them up in Castelnaudary (some many kms behind us) where they are wintering, when we come back in the car!
So we had a lovely couple of days with Alice and Mark but a slight worry at the back of the mind was the continuing bloody industrial action grumbling on in the background. And sure enough, when we got to Castelsarrasin the trains, which we had been assured by Toulouse ticket office would be running, had been cancelled. Alex additionally managed to misread the revised bus timetable, and so we all arrived at the bus stop to see them off, 20 minutes after the bus has left!
In desperation to try to find an alternative means of getting them to their flight, we called into the first commercial enterprise we found, which happened to be a flower shop, to try to get the number of a local taxi firm. The number was provided, but Louise’s attempt to order said taxi failed through lack of understanding of the rapid gun-fire French which came down the line, so Alex sweet-talked the proprietor of the flower shop into ringing the taxi firm and arranging a taxi to catch the bus up at a bus station further down the line but by a more direct route, for €30. As it happened when they got to the station and checked for the bus, they discovered that it didn't exist at all for that day! so the taxi had to take them on to Toulouse and so, for an extra cost of about €20 or so, Alice and Mark finally managed to catch the Navette to the airport in time for their return flight. PHEW!
One interesting event while they were with us was when Alex handed over control of Riccall to Mark, and as we approached one of the many arched bridges, Mark asked Alex to help direct him under the bridge. But as the bridge got nearer it became apparent that it was lower than all the rest, so a quick re-taking of control was called for and a judicious slowing down, and in the event we got under the arch in the middle with barely inches to spare. Afterwards we noticed that the book highlighted this bridge as a low one: we just hadn’t noticed! Keeps you on your toes though!!
We were sorry that the weather hadn’t been so good for our visitors but the day after they left dawned bright and sunny, though cold. Then as we approached the arched bridge at the downstream end of the 3rd lock of the day, we suddenly realised that it was too was too low for the roof. Wot? Again?
Yes, the water level was up by about 20 cms and that just made the difference. So poor Alice and Mark not only missed the best of the sunshine, but also an emergency ROFF which we had to do before exiting the lock, expecting at any minute that the gates would close and trap us. We took consolation from the still shining sun which continued all the way to Moissac.
We decided to stay for a few days at Moissac and possibly meet up with friends Ken and Rhonda of SOMEWHERE who are due back in Moissac for their winter mooring some time soon. In the meantime however, we are luxuriating in ample water, electricity and wifi access!
In the evening as Alex fought with SFR to allow him to connect to a strong Neuf wi-fi signal (no luck as usual – lying sods!) he suddenly noticed that the power from the generator, which was on at that time, had dropped to zero. After much investigation, he had to conclude that now not only were the batteries on their last legs, but the generator had packed in as well – oh great!
After two days of continuous wind and/or torrential rain, both seemed to have subsided so we set off for Toulouse itself. Apart from anything it was imperative to run the engine to try and put a breath of life back into the dying batteries.
At Toulouse Port St Saveur, Sylvianne the Capitanière of the moorings soon told us that the official port was full but to moor opposite still incurred a charge, albeit with no water or electricity, and kindly suggested we move up in front of her own peniche, out of the charging zone. This we did, but it was much closer to a very noisy road, and we still had no electricity.
Alex’s daughter Alice and her boyfriend Mark were coming to visit us for a couple of days, flying into Toulouse, so we spent some considerable time trying to work out the best mix of trains and cruising (not to mention another French strike) which would tie in with their flights. That meant a two-night stay in Toulouse for us, with no shore power, meaning this blog was written by candlelight to conserve the batteries! (No lights, so no jigsaw-doing, no internet of course, no dishwasher, etc etc.)
On the plus side, however, Toulouse is a city which we have visited a couple of times by train or car for short visits, and it could definitely do with a longer perusal.
After a couple of days in Toulouse we lowered the roof for what we hoped would be the last time this year, and set off for the last few locks of the Canal du Midi and thence the Canal Lateral à la Garonne.
The bridge before the first lock (dwelt under by the itinerant population of Toulouse) proved to be one that definitely needed the roof down (ROFF). We have been marking all the bridge on the Canal du Midi in our book as either RONs or ROFFs ever since we started this canal. This will let us know how far we can go if it is pouring with rain on our return trip, before we need to lower the top. It was a nice day with high cloud and some sunshine so no problem to travel converted (as it were).
We moored up below a lock and cycled ahead to the local station where we had suggested Alice and Mark might meet us from the train, at a place fascinatingly and impossibly named Castlenau d’Estrétefonds!
The mooring opposite the station itself existed all right, but had no mooring bollards or rings but we thought we could ‘make do’. What we didn’t realise then was that there was simply no depth, so we had an interesting time when we moved down to this mooring attaching wire hawsers round bits of wooden edging to effect a reasonable mooring, albeit one metre away from the shore due to the shallowness of the water.
Alice and Mark duly arrived and a jolly evening was had by all. In the morning Alex and Louise were surprised to see a good sized barge coming upstream towards us. ANNA - a 27 metre Dutch barge - was the first ‘proper’ boat we had seen for ages. They stopped in midstream for a chat and we promised to look them up in Castelnaudary (some many kms behind us) where they are wintering, when we come back in the car!
So we had a lovely couple of days with Alice and Mark but a slight worry at the back of the mind was the continuing bloody industrial action grumbling on in the background. And sure enough, when we got to Castelsarrasin the trains, which we had been assured by Toulouse ticket office would be running, had been cancelled. Alex additionally managed to misread the revised bus timetable, and so we all arrived at the bus stop to see them off, 20 minutes after the bus has left!
In desperation to try to find an alternative means of getting them to their flight, we called into the first commercial enterprise we found, which happened to be a flower shop, to try to get the number of a local taxi firm. The number was provided, but Louise’s attempt to order said taxi failed through lack of understanding of the rapid gun-fire French which came down the line, so Alex sweet-talked the proprietor of the flower shop into ringing the taxi firm and arranging a taxi to catch the bus up at a bus station further down the line but by a more direct route, for €30. As it happened when they got to the station and checked for the bus, they discovered that it didn't exist at all for that day! so the taxi had to take them on to Toulouse and so, for an extra cost of about €20 or so, Alice and Mark finally managed to catch the Navette to the airport in time for their return flight. PHEW!
One interesting event while they were with us was when Alex handed over control of Riccall to Mark, and as we approached one of the many arched bridges, Mark asked Alex to help direct him under the bridge. But as the bridge got nearer it became apparent that it was lower than all the rest, so a quick re-taking of control was called for and a judicious slowing down, and in the event we got under the arch in the middle with barely inches to spare. Afterwards we noticed that the book highlighted this bridge as a low one: we just hadn’t noticed! Keeps you on your toes though!!
We were sorry that the weather hadn’t been so good for our visitors but the day after they left dawned bright and sunny, though cold. Then as we approached the arched bridge at the downstream end of the 3rd lock of the day, we suddenly realised that it was too was too low for the roof. Wot? Again?
Yes, the water level was up by about 20 cms and that just made the difference. So poor Alice and Mark not only missed the best of the sunshine, but also an emergency ROFF which we had to do before exiting the lock, expecting at any minute that the gates would close and trap us. We took consolation from the still shining sun which continued all the way to Moissac.
We decided to stay for a few days at Moissac and possibly meet up with friends Ken and Rhonda of SOMEWHERE who are due back in Moissac for their winter mooring some time soon. In the meantime however, we are luxuriating in ample water, electricity and wifi access!
Monday 11 October 2010
Carcassonne to Toulouse
Our stay in Carcassonne had to be for a few days because Louise’s son Robert was arriving on a surprise visit for his mother (an early birthday present). Maintaining secrecy for this had almost led to harsh words between us as Louise began to wonder if the series of unexplained texts between Alex and a-n-other were in fact Alex carrying out a clandestine text-affaire!
In the meantime we had been in touch with Alan and Gina Redhouse who live at Quillan, an hour by car or train south of Carcassonne, and who have been following our progress south for two and a half years! They had invited us to stay (in their impressive house above the village) so we caught the train up through the gorge and were treated to excellent food, wine and company. The following day they drove us back to Carcassonne taking in a detour to Rennes-le-Chateau perched high on top of a hill (Dan Brown took part of the strange legend of this place as his inspiration for one of his books) and we all had lunch on Riccall.
Robert duly arrived to great excitement from Louise and he and Louise set off after lunch to show Rob the Cité – the medieval walled town which is Carcassonne’s principal claim to fame, while Alex did other things on Riccall and sussed out train times for Rob’s return journey.
While we were moored in Carcassonne that evening we were treated to an hour or so of classic bumper boat mayhem. We had heard of this of course, but hadn’t experienced much of it thus far. So, while we relaxed under a warm sun in the well deck with our evening drinks, it was a bit like watching the dodgems at the fair! One boat tried to turn round and ended up travelling the full length of Riccall sideways. The lady crew apologised, explaining that her captain was an airline pilot and the boat had no wings, hence the problem! Another boat, travelling with another hire boat seemed to be having propulsion problems, and they tried roping the two together. Then the power appeared to be working again, so they took the ropes off and the next thing we knew the vessel was heading straight for us across the canal being driven by a ten year old. Alex gesticulated to put the thing into reverse but to no avail. The look of horror on the boy’s face when he realised what was about to happen was classic – a joy to behold – as was the sound of crashing plates, glasses, and other delicate objects from the shelves and table of the hire boat when it made contact with Riccall! Riccall brushed it off as though it was a fly, while pandemonium broke out between the parents! I mean, how stupid to give a ten-year-old control of a boat that is mis-behaving. They never even apologised, just asked if our boat was OK. Alex just shrugged. They were Mexican of course, we learned later, so what can you expect?!!!!
We were also rammed a couple of times in the locks but we don’t mind, we can take it. What we found hard to take was a Canadian foursome, who insisted on coming into the locks with us, with the most loudmouthed, no, foulmouthed ‘captain’ screaming and swearing at all his crew as they secured the ropes. It was so unpleasant that when we all stopped for lunch we let them go ahead of us to get rid of them, and waited till another set of bumper boats went through the lock and we went up alone.
We hoped Robert would be able to come with us to Castlelnaudary – kms and locks further on. We thought it would be three easy days, but Alex discovered that the third day was going to be another strike day about the wretched retirement age, so we decided to push on and with Robert’s assistance, we could do it in two: which, thanks to him and his efforts leaping off the boat at locks and taking ropes, we did.
So we were moored in Castelnaudary for the day of the strike and it obviously was not as well supported as the last one. Trains and buses were running and the Tourist Information Office was open. The French Foreign Legion (yes, it still exists) was organising the running of a half marathon and a 10K run round the town area, so we had a bird’s-eye view from the Riccall wheelhouse as they ran past – with the refreshment tables on one side of the canal and the final leg on the other. It was very windy indeed and so was the next day when Robert caught the train back for his flight home, so we stayed put until it died down.
The next day dawned with little wind and a wan sun trying to break through the light cloud, so we lowered the roof and set off. As the morning wore on the clouds thickened and the wind started to blow up. At Ecluse Mediterranée (the last UP lock before the summit level) it started to rain, so we entered the lock and asked the éclusier if we could have 5 minutes to replace the roof, as we knew there were no bridges before our next moorings. ‘No problem’ he said and dashed into his house out of the rain. Louise was on the lock side manning the ropes and couldn’t get back on board, so the ‘lift on’ had to be down to Alex. The éclusier re-appeared with his CAMERA!!! (he must have known) and Alex lifted the roof back on. But as it was raining hard by now he was in more of a hurry than usual and when he disconnected the lifting wires, he failed to fully disengage one of them (Louise always does that side – his excuse) so when he tried to return the lifting arms there was a loud twang and the cross bar was forced out, shearing the bolts holding it in and bending it and various other bits and pieces! Not a very good demo for the lockkeeper (or us) and so when we emerged from the lock, we moored up and had lunch!
Alex surveyed the damage - then a tweak here, a forced re-arrangement there, a bend back to shape, a drill and easy-out device to remove the sheared-off bolts and reassemble the whole kit and caboodle, thankfully as good as new. We travelled a couple or three more kilometres to Le Ségala in a howling wind and flurries of rain and moored up in textbook style between two plastics with only one metre at each end to spare. But a free mooring and only €2 for electricity and €3 for water seemed like a good deal. The other good thing about this mooring is that we were within a few kilometres of the monument erected in memory of Paul-Pierre Riquet (the originator of the Canal du Midi) by his descendants: the site was specifically chosen as it was on the summit level and very close to the water source of the whole of the Canal du Midi.
We cycled off to look at the monument. Well signposted and impressive though it was, the gates to the inner sanctum were firmly locked and looked as though they had remained that way for some considerable time. Alex contemplated climbing over the gate (indeed as the photo shows, he contemplated it from some 4 feet up on the gate!) but chickened out at the top suddenly doubting his own ability to climb BACK over, should he take the plunge. (At 61 he is obviously feeling his age – damn it he never thought such a thing would ever happen!) We were very disappointed that we couldn’t actually get in to see the monument at close quarters, or even read the inscription, so badly mossed and dirty it was. But when our friends came a few days later, they said they had seen loads of men in orange high-viz jackets all round the monument and could only conclude that something was going to be done. We do hope so.
So we have had four visits within a few days – Alan and Gina first, then Robert, then Brian dropped by again when passing, and our boating friends Nick and Gail came over from their house and had lunch with us. We had such a good time chatting, that they didn’t leave till after 6!!
Lots of pictures this time, including some lovely ones from Robert, showing views of Riccall we can rarely get ourselves.
In the meantime we had been in touch with Alan and Gina Redhouse who live at Quillan, an hour by car or train south of Carcassonne, and who have been following our progress south for two and a half years! They had invited us to stay (in their impressive house above the village) so we caught the train up through the gorge and were treated to excellent food, wine and company. The following day they drove us back to Carcassonne taking in a detour to Rennes-le-Chateau perched high on top of a hill (Dan Brown took part of the strange legend of this place as his inspiration for one of his books) and we all had lunch on Riccall.
Robert duly arrived to great excitement from Louise and he and Louise set off after lunch to show Rob the Cité – the medieval walled town which is Carcassonne’s principal claim to fame, while Alex did other things on Riccall and sussed out train times for Rob’s return journey.
While we were moored in Carcassonne that evening we were treated to an hour or so of classic bumper boat mayhem. We had heard of this of course, but hadn’t experienced much of it thus far. So, while we relaxed under a warm sun in the well deck with our evening drinks, it was a bit like watching the dodgems at the fair! One boat tried to turn round and ended up travelling the full length of Riccall sideways. The lady crew apologised, explaining that her captain was an airline pilot and the boat had no wings, hence the problem! Another boat, travelling with another hire boat seemed to be having propulsion problems, and they tried roping the two together. Then the power appeared to be working again, so they took the ropes off and the next thing we knew the vessel was heading straight for us across the canal being driven by a ten year old. Alex gesticulated to put the thing into reverse but to no avail. The look of horror on the boy’s face when he realised what was about to happen was classic – a joy to behold – as was the sound of crashing plates, glasses, and other delicate objects from the shelves and table of the hire boat when it made contact with Riccall! Riccall brushed it off as though it was a fly, while pandemonium broke out between the parents! I mean, how stupid to give a ten-year-old control of a boat that is mis-behaving. They never even apologised, just asked if our boat was OK. Alex just shrugged. They were Mexican of course, we learned later, so what can you expect?!!!!
We were also rammed a couple of times in the locks but we don’t mind, we can take it. What we found hard to take was a Canadian foursome, who insisted on coming into the locks with us, with the most loudmouthed, no, foulmouthed ‘captain’ screaming and swearing at all his crew as they secured the ropes. It was so unpleasant that when we all stopped for lunch we let them go ahead of us to get rid of them, and waited till another set of bumper boats went through the lock and we went up alone.
We hoped Robert would be able to come with us to Castlelnaudary – kms and locks further on. We thought it would be three easy days, but Alex discovered that the third day was going to be another strike day about the wretched retirement age, so we decided to push on and with Robert’s assistance, we could do it in two: which, thanks to him and his efforts leaping off the boat at locks and taking ropes, we did.
So we were moored in Castelnaudary for the day of the strike and it obviously was not as well supported as the last one. Trains and buses were running and the Tourist Information Office was open. The French Foreign Legion (yes, it still exists) was organising the running of a half marathon and a 10K run round the town area, so we had a bird’s-eye view from the Riccall wheelhouse as they ran past – with the refreshment tables on one side of the canal and the final leg on the other. It was very windy indeed and so was the next day when Robert caught the train back for his flight home, so we stayed put until it died down.
The next day dawned with little wind and a wan sun trying to break through the light cloud, so we lowered the roof and set off. As the morning wore on the clouds thickened and the wind started to blow up. At Ecluse Mediterranée (the last UP lock before the summit level) it started to rain, so we entered the lock and asked the éclusier if we could have 5 minutes to replace the roof, as we knew there were no bridges before our next moorings. ‘No problem’ he said and dashed into his house out of the rain. Louise was on the lock side manning the ropes and couldn’t get back on board, so the ‘lift on’ had to be down to Alex. The éclusier re-appeared with his CAMERA!!! (he must have known) and Alex lifted the roof back on. But as it was raining hard by now he was in more of a hurry than usual and when he disconnected the lifting wires, he failed to fully disengage one of them (Louise always does that side – his excuse) so when he tried to return the lifting arms there was a loud twang and the cross bar was forced out, shearing the bolts holding it in and bending it and various other bits and pieces! Not a very good demo for the lockkeeper (or us) and so when we emerged from the lock, we moored up and had lunch!
Alex surveyed the damage - then a tweak here, a forced re-arrangement there, a bend back to shape, a drill and easy-out device to remove the sheared-off bolts and reassemble the whole kit and caboodle, thankfully as good as new. We travelled a couple or three more kilometres to Le Ségala in a howling wind and flurries of rain and moored up in textbook style between two plastics with only one metre at each end to spare. But a free mooring and only €2 for electricity and €3 for water seemed like a good deal. The other good thing about this mooring is that we were within a few kilometres of the monument erected in memory of Paul-Pierre Riquet (the originator of the Canal du Midi) by his descendants: the site was specifically chosen as it was on the summit level and very close to the water source of the whole of the Canal du Midi.
We cycled off to look at the monument. Well signposted and impressive though it was, the gates to the inner sanctum were firmly locked and looked as though they had remained that way for some considerable time. Alex contemplated climbing over the gate (indeed as the photo shows, he contemplated it from some 4 feet up on the gate!) but chickened out at the top suddenly doubting his own ability to climb BACK over, should he take the plunge. (At 61 he is obviously feeling his age – damn it he never thought such a thing would ever happen!) We were very disappointed that we couldn’t actually get in to see the monument at close quarters, or even read the inscription, so badly mossed and dirty it was. But when our friends came a few days later, they said they had seen loads of men in orange high-viz jackets all round the monument and could only conclude that something was going to be done. We do hope so.
So we have had four visits within a few days – Alan and Gina first, then Robert, then Brian dropped by again when passing, and our boating friends Nick and Gail came over from their house and had lunch with us. We had such a good time chatting, that they didn’t leave till after 6!!
Lots of pictures this time, including some lovely ones from Robert, showing views of Riccall we can rarely get ourselves.
Tuesday 28 September 2010
Homps to Carcassonne
We left Homps, passed Aurigny moored at La Redorte, which looked quite inviting, but we felt a bit early even for us to stop and moored instead at Puichéric – a couple of locks and kilometres further on We went into the village to suss it out. Everything was closed for Friday afternoon – the church, the shop, the wine cave, everything, so we returned to Riccall disappointed. We had another go on Saturday morning without much hope, but as it happened the shop and the wine cooperative were open (church still firmly closed) so we bought bread and wine and felt the trip fully justified.
The first floor office where we went to buy the wine backed onto the warehouse, which was a hive of industry. We could see rows of huge rectangular stainless steel vats with people darting about everywhere as the grape harvest was being weighed and unloaded from the steel farm trailers. Nobody was treading grapes or rolling wooden barrels about! In fact, it all looked so industrial you expected at any moment that steam would issue forth from the vats.
But the mooring we had found was a nice quiet spot and the weather was overcast and windy so we stayed another night, and on Sunday morning the sun came out, the sky was blue and we moved on.
The locks close between 12.30 and 1.30 hereabouts (pour le déjeuner don’t you know) and so we just squeezed through a triple lock by 12.30 and decided to stop for our lunch as well as we wouldn’t be able to get through the next lock anyway till 1.30pm.
As we struggled to moor up on an open section using tree roots to secure the boat, Alex suddenly noticed water on the back deck. As he slipped in it he realised - not water, but hydraulic fluid. Oh shit! So – stop engine, finish mooring up and do what we always do in a crisis – have lunch. Not the most relaxed of meals, but the sun was warm, the wind was gentle and fresh French bread and tapenade should have been fantastic.
After lunch Alex dived into the engine room to find a spare flexible hose for the hydraulic steering ram, the old one having disgorged a couple of litres of oil all over the deck from a pin prick fountain half way along its length. The replacement plus modifications was fitted, tested and passed OK so we were on our way again. At Marseillette we moored up on a nice new wooden quay with good wooden bollards and depth. Minor crises like the one we had just had always take it out of us and make us glad to stop for the day.
All day the plastic hire boats - bumper boats - whiz past us in both directions but from about 6 o’clock onwards, when we have settled down for our evening drinks, they start to roost.
They come past at about 10kmh, see that there is a mooring possible and put everything into reverse to stop. They moor up and then as likely as not, think, “It’s not perfect, let’s move on”, and off they go again.
At this mooring, for instance, we arrived at 3 o’clock. Since then one boat has left, three boats have arrived and subsequently left and there are now 3 boats in front and 3 boats behind us. One boat arrived, asked Alex if it was OK to moor. “Yes” said Alex, and five minutes later he left! Weird!
While we were at Palavas-les-Flots (seems about 10 years ago) we noticed a couple of guys walking along the side of the canal with a fishing net dipped into the water at the edge – sort of dredging! When we pulled in one of our buffer tyres there were a few mussels in it and tipping them out on the bankside we realised that this was what those guys had been ‘dredging’ for.
Imagine our surprise when today we noticed in one of our tyres, lying on the deck, a baby lobster! (We think.) We have no idea where we caught it or how long it had been trapped there, but it was good and dead now!
The plane trees which line both sides of the canal and give welcome shade in the height of summer, are now hiding the warmth we need from the sun, as the days settle into their cooler autumn pattern. Many of these aged trees have one or two bands of green painted on them and in many places there are notices indicating that boaters must not moor up nearby as the marked ones have a fungal infection. To our dismay we have learned that they are all to be felled, and even the roots removed this winter! We feel really lucky to have seen the Canal du Midi in all its glory before it happens. Of course these trees not only give the canal its character, but their roots protect the banks from the wash of the passing boats, and the falling leaves in autumn form a waterproof lining to the bottom of the canal. So when they are taken away VNF will also have to address the removal of both those benefits.
We stopped just shy of Trèbes and Alex moseyed up to take a look. Aurigny was there (snaffling the best place as usual – they get so lucky!). But we were invited to join them and their friends for drinks and good chat that evening. There was a space, along a bit, with two bollards just in front of a canalside restaurant. We moved Riccall forward and moored up, much to the interest of the restaurant clientele, cameras clicking, who were no more than three feet from the rather imposing Riccall flank!
Louise started to put together lunch while Alex looked for any untoward restrictions on the quayside. After a couple of minutes the restaurateur (somehow it was obvious who he was) came up to Alex and asked him to move Riccall forwards 20 metres. We were blocking his clients’ view! Alex said he couldn’t as there were no bollards further along: they both shrugged. He was not happy! And though we knew he had no right to ask us to move, after a lunch during the whole of which he stared daggers at us, we decided that mooring just through the town bridge where we had seen a good quay, would be quieter and less contentious, which it turned out to be. We cycled into Carcassonne to have a look at the mooring situation there, and actually managed to book a place on the quay for several days hence.
Our friends Gill and Brian popped in to stay overnight with us on their way home near Gaillac from Carcassonne airport and we had a lovely outdoor supper in a window in the weather giving warm sunshine and little wind.
The next day we set off for Carcassonne, but at the first lock, the éclusier came down to inform us that another strike was in progress that day (the retirement age again) and the locks were closed. Damn!
We moored up and in grey but dry weather cycled in to Carcassonne for the second time. As we arrived at the port we were amazed to see a sign on one of the moorings saying, ‘Reserved for Riccall’ and the date we were due to arrive! So now we really were committed (not like us). It poured with rain overnight but looked not so bad in the morning. Roof down – off we go!
First three locks OK but then a hint of rain. Next lock, two manoeuvring trip boats waiting, and raining harder now. We decided to moor up and put the roof back on, and a good thing we did. It started to pour. Off went the trip boats and after an age a couple of hire boats came down through the lock. The lock, of course, was now ready for us, but with a low bridge to negotiate to get in. The rain had eased, so – decision made – roof off and in we go. Just as we neared the top of the lock the rain started again in earnest and while Louise held onto the ropes on shore, Alex put the roof back into position, as the éclusier looked on in astonishment, smiled and gave us his approval. We knew that we could get through the next two bridges with roof on and that would get us to our quayside mooring, but the lockkeeper was very concerned to establish that we didn’t intend to go into the next lock whose bridge is also very low. No, we assured him, we are mooring before that point but good for him to warn us!
So, Carcassonne, here we are!
The first floor office where we went to buy the wine backed onto the warehouse, which was a hive of industry. We could see rows of huge rectangular stainless steel vats with people darting about everywhere as the grape harvest was being weighed and unloaded from the steel farm trailers. Nobody was treading grapes or rolling wooden barrels about! In fact, it all looked so industrial you expected at any moment that steam would issue forth from the vats.
But the mooring we had found was a nice quiet spot and the weather was overcast and windy so we stayed another night, and on Sunday morning the sun came out, the sky was blue and we moved on.
The locks close between 12.30 and 1.30 hereabouts (pour le déjeuner don’t you know) and so we just squeezed through a triple lock by 12.30 and decided to stop for our lunch as well as we wouldn’t be able to get through the next lock anyway till 1.30pm.
As we struggled to moor up on an open section using tree roots to secure the boat, Alex suddenly noticed water on the back deck. As he slipped in it he realised - not water, but hydraulic fluid. Oh shit! So – stop engine, finish mooring up and do what we always do in a crisis – have lunch. Not the most relaxed of meals, but the sun was warm, the wind was gentle and fresh French bread and tapenade should have been fantastic.
After lunch Alex dived into the engine room to find a spare flexible hose for the hydraulic steering ram, the old one having disgorged a couple of litres of oil all over the deck from a pin prick fountain half way along its length. The replacement plus modifications was fitted, tested and passed OK so we were on our way again. At Marseillette we moored up on a nice new wooden quay with good wooden bollards and depth. Minor crises like the one we had just had always take it out of us and make us glad to stop for the day.
All day the plastic hire boats - bumper boats - whiz past us in both directions but from about 6 o’clock onwards, when we have settled down for our evening drinks, they start to roost.
They come past at about 10kmh, see that there is a mooring possible and put everything into reverse to stop. They moor up and then as likely as not, think, “It’s not perfect, let’s move on”, and off they go again.
At this mooring, for instance, we arrived at 3 o’clock. Since then one boat has left, three boats have arrived and subsequently left and there are now 3 boats in front and 3 boats behind us. One boat arrived, asked Alex if it was OK to moor. “Yes” said Alex, and five minutes later he left! Weird!
While we were at Palavas-les-Flots (seems about 10 years ago) we noticed a couple of guys walking along the side of the canal with a fishing net dipped into the water at the edge – sort of dredging! When we pulled in one of our buffer tyres there were a few mussels in it and tipping them out on the bankside we realised that this was what those guys had been ‘dredging’ for.
Imagine our surprise when today we noticed in one of our tyres, lying on the deck, a baby lobster! (We think.) We have no idea where we caught it or how long it had been trapped there, but it was good and dead now!
The plane trees which line both sides of the canal and give welcome shade in the height of summer, are now hiding the warmth we need from the sun, as the days settle into their cooler autumn pattern. Many of these aged trees have one or two bands of green painted on them and in many places there are notices indicating that boaters must not moor up nearby as the marked ones have a fungal infection. To our dismay we have learned that they are all to be felled, and even the roots removed this winter! We feel really lucky to have seen the Canal du Midi in all its glory before it happens. Of course these trees not only give the canal its character, but their roots protect the banks from the wash of the passing boats, and the falling leaves in autumn form a waterproof lining to the bottom of the canal. So when they are taken away VNF will also have to address the removal of both those benefits.
We stopped just shy of Trèbes and Alex moseyed up to take a look. Aurigny was there (snaffling the best place as usual – they get so lucky!). But we were invited to join them and their friends for drinks and good chat that evening. There was a space, along a bit, with two bollards just in front of a canalside restaurant. We moved Riccall forward and moored up, much to the interest of the restaurant clientele, cameras clicking, who were no more than three feet from the rather imposing Riccall flank!
Louise started to put together lunch while Alex looked for any untoward restrictions on the quayside. After a couple of minutes the restaurateur (somehow it was obvious who he was) came up to Alex and asked him to move Riccall forwards 20 metres. We were blocking his clients’ view! Alex said he couldn’t as there were no bollards further along: they both shrugged. He was not happy! And though we knew he had no right to ask us to move, after a lunch during the whole of which he stared daggers at us, we decided that mooring just through the town bridge where we had seen a good quay, would be quieter and less contentious, which it turned out to be. We cycled into Carcassonne to have a look at the mooring situation there, and actually managed to book a place on the quay for several days hence.
Our friends Gill and Brian popped in to stay overnight with us on their way home near Gaillac from Carcassonne airport and we had a lovely outdoor supper in a window in the weather giving warm sunshine and little wind.
The next day we set off for Carcassonne, but at the first lock, the éclusier came down to inform us that another strike was in progress that day (the retirement age again) and the locks were closed. Damn!
We moored up and in grey but dry weather cycled in to Carcassonne for the second time. As we arrived at the port we were amazed to see a sign on one of the moorings saying, ‘Reserved for Riccall’ and the date we were due to arrive! So now we really were committed (not like us). It poured with rain overnight but looked not so bad in the morning. Roof down – off we go!
First three locks OK but then a hint of rain. Next lock, two manoeuvring trip boats waiting, and raining harder now. We decided to moor up and put the roof back on, and a good thing we did. It started to pour. Off went the trip boats and after an age a couple of hire boats came down through the lock. The lock, of course, was now ready for us, but with a low bridge to negotiate to get in. The rain had eased, so – decision made – roof off and in we go. Just as we neared the top of the lock the rain started again in earnest and while Louise held onto the ropes on shore, Alex put the roof back into position, as the éclusier looked on in astonishment, smiled and gave us his approval. We knew that we could get through the next two bridges with roof on and that would get us to our quayside mooring, but the lockkeeper was very concerned to establish that we didn’t intend to go into the next lock whose bridge is also very low. No, we assured him, we are mooring before that point but good for him to warn us!
So, Carcassonne, here we are!
Thursday 16 September 2010
Beziers to Homps Canal du Midi
Today we tackled the flight of locks at Béziers. Not the best of days as it quickly turned very windy, but at least no rain. We were 11th in the queue so that should have meant we would be in the 4th set going up (two or three boats can go up together). But of course, two trip boats, which have priority, appeared and took the first two slots. Then as each set of three boats entered the first lock, the whole waiting queue shifted forward. So about every 15 minutes it was ropes off and move forward 50m or so. Not so easy with the wind. Then when we got to pole position we lowered the roof to accommodate the arched bridge over Lock 3, and almost got a round of applause. One boater thanked us for ‘marvellous entertainment’!
The first three locks in the staircase were OK as the male lockkeeper kindly helped us with our ropes – putting them over the bollards which were too high and distant for us to reach.
But then ‘Madame Eclusière’ took over for the next four locks and told us in no uncertain terms that her job was operating the lock controls and not putting ropes over bollards: one of us must get off the boat and do that ourselves. We had been forewarned about this attitude of course, but initially Louise refused, explaining that she would control the boat from the boat – it is better practice. Madame gave up arguing but her attitude was plainly offensive and designed to be just that. Louise has now perfected the phrase, “Madame, sans plaisanciers, pas d’emploi pour vous!”. All Madame wanted to do was press buttons, and of course she wouldn’t wait for us to be safely moored up before letting the water cascade in. Very dangerous behaviour in a so-called professional.
At one point the other boat in the lock with us was acting as a rather large fender for Riccall but no harm done! The flight was negotiated and we were on our way but stopped as soon as we reached a possible place as the wind was getting stronger and it had been a stressful day so far. We moored, to huge trees, beside what turned out to be a sort of gated holiday community, consisting of owned homes and holiday lets. The laptop indicated a very strong wifi signal which needed a name and code to access. Alex went in search of the operators of the development. At the locked entrance gate an English car appeared whose occupants invited him in! Reception said Non! to temporary wifi access and a second couple of Brits confirmed this was now the case, so after affable chats with two sets of English home owners on the site Alex returned empty handed.
The next day we moved to within 100m of the entrance to the Malpas tunnel where several mooring posts beckoned us to stop and moor up for the day, and glad we did, for the ancient settlement (the Oppidum d’Enserune) on top of the adjacent hill was fascinating. Its museum was bursting with artefacts which had been unearthed during excavation of the site, and the surrounding countryside where an inland étang had been drained in the 1300s, was a spectacular sight. The land had been drained and drainage channels had been dug which all converged on the centre. From here a deeper channel had been created leading back out of the étang and through the tunnel. This gave the landscape the appearance of a huge pie chart with the different crops giving different coloured segments!
The hillside through which the Canal du Midi runs actually has three tunnels running through it. Highest is the Canal du Midi: below this is the railway tunnel, and below that is the drainage tunnel from the etang! Responsibility for this last was given to a committee in the 1300s and the ‘descendents’ of that first committee are still responsible today for its upkeep, though judging by the state of the drainage channel, they may be neglecting their responsibilities somewhat.
After the inevitable night of a live band and fireworks just 100 m away from what we thought was a totally rural setting, we moved on next day, through the Malpas tunnel and towards our ‘bête noir’ the Capestang bridge. We moored up half a kilometre before the bridge and Alex cycled forward to recce the scene.
Moored just through the famous bridge were Balestra and Aurigny, plus a couple of hire boats and enough room for us. So we thought, let’s not hang about, let’s get on with it, and have lunch later! (The suspense was killing Alex – this has been in his mind as a potential turn-back spot for years!)
Alex set up extension leads to the front of Riccall, large and small angle-grinders, spare cutting discs, goggles, gloves etc just in case we came unstuck (or rather became stuck and needed to remove the forward handrails!) and we set off.
In the event we cleared the bridge with inches to spare and just touched one hand-rail, well towards the stern, when Riccall gently drifted over to one side. (At such slow speeds it is very difficult to maintain an absolutely straight line as there is no flow past the rudder.) Nevertheless, we got a round of applause from the watching boaters.
So we moored on tree roots (free) just beyond the bridge helped by Peter and Nicci, whose barge Aurigny had also squeezed through the day before. They came for celebratory fizz in the evening and we were still there in the dark at 9pm exchanging chat and stories, as you do.
We are at the time of year when the grape harvest is being gathered in. The weird-shaped, and very expensive, harvesters keep dashing back and forth together with grape carriers, and when we ride past the vintners, the smell of fermenting grapes is often overpowering (and not altogether pleasant) but that’s part of what this is all about!
Our batteries have been playing up lately. Alex checked them all when we were at Toul during the winter and they seemed OK, albeit showing signs of ageing. He hoped they would see this year out before being replaced – they’re about 6-7 years old. However, a recent check after several unexpected ‘low battery condition’ warning lights showed that three batteries were well down on performance. Removing these from the bank has improved things a bit, but not completely. We’re just hoping that we can survive the next couple of months or so until we get to our winter moorings and a steady supply of 240v electricity. Then we must decide how to get 10 heavy-duty batteries from the UK to the south of France. Do we do a car run and make an adventure out of it, or do we get them shipped? (No way could we afford to buy them in France – they would be four times the price!)
We are now moored at Homps (a much nicer mooring than it sounds!) where we are able to plug in to water and electricity for a couple of days and give the batteries a good long charge – not to mention doing all the cleaning/laundry and having long luxurious showers or baths. Hopefully plugging in for 48 hours will revive the batteries a bit.
The first three locks in the staircase were OK as the male lockkeeper kindly helped us with our ropes – putting them over the bollards which were too high and distant for us to reach.
But then ‘Madame Eclusière’ took over for the next four locks and told us in no uncertain terms that her job was operating the lock controls and not putting ropes over bollards: one of us must get off the boat and do that ourselves. We had been forewarned about this attitude of course, but initially Louise refused, explaining that she would control the boat from the boat – it is better practice. Madame gave up arguing but her attitude was plainly offensive and designed to be just that. Louise has now perfected the phrase, “Madame, sans plaisanciers, pas d’emploi pour vous!”. All Madame wanted to do was press buttons, and of course she wouldn’t wait for us to be safely moored up before letting the water cascade in. Very dangerous behaviour in a so-called professional.
At one point the other boat in the lock with us was acting as a rather large fender for Riccall but no harm done! The flight was negotiated and we were on our way but stopped as soon as we reached a possible place as the wind was getting stronger and it had been a stressful day so far. We moored, to huge trees, beside what turned out to be a sort of gated holiday community, consisting of owned homes and holiday lets. The laptop indicated a very strong wifi signal which needed a name and code to access. Alex went in search of the operators of the development. At the locked entrance gate an English car appeared whose occupants invited him in! Reception said Non! to temporary wifi access and a second couple of Brits confirmed this was now the case, so after affable chats with two sets of English home owners on the site Alex returned empty handed.
The next day we moved to within 100m of the entrance to the Malpas tunnel where several mooring posts beckoned us to stop and moor up for the day, and glad we did, for the ancient settlement (the Oppidum d’Enserune) on top of the adjacent hill was fascinating. Its museum was bursting with artefacts which had been unearthed during excavation of the site, and the surrounding countryside where an inland étang had been drained in the 1300s, was a spectacular sight. The land had been drained and drainage channels had been dug which all converged on the centre. From here a deeper channel had been created leading back out of the étang and through the tunnel. This gave the landscape the appearance of a huge pie chart with the different crops giving different coloured segments!
The hillside through which the Canal du Midi runs actually has three tunnels running through it. Highest is the Canal du Midi: below this is the railway tunnel, and below that is the drainage tunnel from the etang! Responsibility for this last was given to a committee in the 1300s and the ‘descendents’ of that first committee are still responsible today for its upkeep, though judging by the state of the drainage channel, they may be neglecting their responsibilities somewhat.
After the inevitable night of a live band and fireworks just 100 m away from what we thought was a totally rural setting, we moved on next day, through the Malpas tunnel and towards our ‘bête noir’ the Capestang bridge. We moored up half a kilometre before the bridge and Alex cycled forward to recce the scene.
Moored just through the famous bridge were Balestra and Aurigny, plus a couple of hire boats and enough room for us. So we thought, let’s not hang about, let’s get on with it, and have lunch later! (The suspense was killing Alex – this has been in his mind as a potential turn-back spot for years!)
Alex set up extension leads to the front of Riccall, large and small angle-grinders, spare cutting discs, goggles, gloves etc just in case we came unstuck (or rather became stuck and needed to remove the forward handrails!) and we set off.
In the event we cleared the bridge with inches to spare and just touched one hand-rail, well towards the stern, when Riccall gently drifted over to one side. (At such slow speeds it is very difficult to maintain an absolutely straight line as there is no flow past the rudder.) Nevertheless, we got a round of applause from the watching boaters.
So we moored on tree roots (free) just beyond the bridge helped by Peter and Nicci, whose barge Aurigny had also squeezed through the day before. They came for celebratory fizz in the evening and we were still there in the dark at 9pm exchanging chat and stories, as you do.
We are at the time of year when the grape harvest is being gathered in. The weird-shaped, and very expensive, harvesters keep dashing back and forth together with grape carriers, and when we ride past the vintners, the smell of fermenting grapes is often overpowering (and not altogether pleasant) but that’s part of what this is all about!
Our batteries have been playing up lately. Alex checked them all when we were at Toul during the winter and they seemed OK, albeit showing signs of ageing. He hoped they would see this year out before being replaced – they’re about 6-7 years old. However, a recent check after several unexpected ‘low battery condition’ warning lights showed that three batteries were well down on performance. Removing these from the bank has improved things a bit, but not completely. We’re just hoping that we can survive the next couple of months or so until we get to our winter moorings and a steady supply of 240v electricity. Then we must decide how to get 10 heavy-duty batteries from the UK to the south of France. Do we do a car run and make an adventure out of it, or do we get them shipped? (No way could we afford to buy them in France – they would be four times the price!)
We are now moored at Homps (a much nicer mooring than it sounds!) where we are able to plug in to water and electricity for a couple of days and give the batteries a good long charge – not to mention doing all the cleaning/laundry and having long luxurious showers or baths. Hopefully plugging in for 48 hours will revive the batteries a bit.
Saturday 11 September 2010
Etang du Thau to Beziers
Eventually the wind dropped and we set off for Frontignan – the last stop before the Etang du Thau. No-one should cross the Etang (a shallow inland sea) if winds are above Force 3 on the Beaufort Scale, so we had had to wait for several days while very strong winds abated.
Frontignan has a road bridge under which almost nothing can pass (except little open fishing boats) and which lifts twice a day – 8.30am and 4pm, to allow ‘proper’ boats through. We got there at about 12 o’clock thinking we would go through at 4 pm, but when 4pm arrived and we saw the plethora of hire boats etc jostling for position to pass through, we decided that as we had a good mooring where we were, we would wait till 8.30am the next morning and use that as our set-off time for the Etang du Thau.
So the 8.30am morning scrum was not as bad as the 4pm the day before, but it was made more complicated by a commercial vessel coming ‘upstream’ towards us (generally downstream traffic has priority) but commercials take priority over plaisance, so who should go first? The commercial appeared to wave us forward, but at that very moment a hire boat darted in front of the commercial and came through upstream, flouting all the conventions. Obviously it was driven by a French crew for whom not playing the game is ‘de rigeur’. (I have it on good authority that all young French kids are taught how to cheat at all games and it is not only expected of them, but encouraged!)
The 2 hour journey over the Etang was uneventful but interesting as the channel is 150m from the oyster beds which are huge and on the north side. We got to the first lock on the Canal du Midi at about midday and, as there was a lovely place to moor, we stopped there for the day and night. The young student working on the lock was quite happy for us to be there and so were we. We celebrated this first achievement with a bottle of fizz (any excuse!). We had finally reached not the end of our quest, nor the beginning of the end, but the end of the beginning. (I think that may be a Churchillian misquote!)
We navigated the round lock of Agde, passed under the first of the many arched bridges typical of the Canal du Midi and found our next mooring at Vias – a good spot with a rather complicated system of acquiring electricity and water.
On our way into the old town the next day we heard a lot of car horns tooting and spotted a group of people up on the raised embankment of the bypass, so we joined them to see what was going on. This turned out to be a Harley Davidson rally consisting of some 650 bikes. We had missed at least half but the remaining 300 or so were quite enough of a spectacle as they motored past waving at us as we waved to them. What a sight! And of course, as usual, we stumble on these things with total ignorance and were glad of an English family who could fill us in with what was going on!
In the Saturday market we bought lovely olives, local wine, tapenade and half price paella. In these local markets there is always a seller of paella who cooks the meal in a HUGE paella pan in front of your very eyes. As we had turned up at the end of the market, he was trying to get rid of the last of his paella at half price. So that did us for two evening meals, and very nice it was too!
This mooring at Vias is taken up by several British boats which have been here for some time and all know each other well. But this has the advantage that they are all really friendly to us newcomers to the Canal du Midi and we have been given lots of useful advice regarding these moorings and others further on down the line. Barry of Balestra has been most helpful in this respect.
We passed through the tightest bridge so far at Villeneuve-les-Béziers: only about 6" to spare on the handrails, and moored up in the shade of the plane trees at the upstream end of a row of long-term péniches. This part of the Canal du Midi from the Etang du Thau was upgraded to take full 40m barges in the 1970s, but only as far as Béziers, so there are still a few around, though almost entirely non-commercial now. When the decrease in commercial barge traffic occurred it meant that it would not be cost effective to upgrade the rest of the Midi. This is a great relief to the pleasure boater, as the original nature of Jean-Paul Riquet’s canal is still maintained for the great majority of the canal’s length. It also means that from here on the maximum length of barges is only 30m.
In Béziers, which I am afraid is a very unappealing town, we did another of our epic rides to an Aldi which we knew was in the north of the town. While there, Alex saw that they still had their ‘retro velos’ for sale and he and Louise had a good look at them. Although Louise’s lovely Dutch bike is great in many respects, the hub brakes hardly work now and it is impossible to get spare parts. Here in the south of France, we find ourselves on far more hilly terrain than we did further north (and of course none at all in Holland) and the lack of brakes is becoming an issue! Alex has been looking out for a replacement bike for some time and these at Aldi looked as though they would do the job.
So we returned to the boat with all the shopping and Alex had a suss of the buses and determined to travel back to Aldi the next day by bus, and ride back on a new bike.
Of course, the next day the French government sector workers were on strike! So – no lock keepers, no refuse collection, no BUSES!! And all because they were going to be asked to retire at 62 instead of 60! I mean, I ask you. In Britain we already work to 65 and know that that may be increased to 67 soon. What’s all the fuss about? I think they should think themselves lucky. No sympathy for them at all, especially as Alex had to walk all the way to Aldi to get the bike (all 5km of it mostly uphill) all the while negotiating his way through and round the hordes of marching demonstrators waving banners, blowing trumpets, letting off bangers etc. He kept muttering quietly in English, “No sympathy! No sympathy!” as he struggled past them.
Still it was an easy ride back! A few adjustments to seat and handlebar height and it looked as if the bike might be OK.
However, a ride round to look at the old locks onto and off the River Orb, now superseded by an aqueduct, demonstrated that this bike was perhaps not for Louise after all. So after a night of cogitation and discussion, we decided to return it for our money back (one of the joys of shopping at Aldi – a no-quibble returns policy) so we cleaned all trace of our test ride off the new bike and carefully rode back up to Aldi with Alex on it and Louise on Alex’s bike. Then leaving the old bike round the corner we pushed the new bike the last 50 yards to the shop (Have we ridden it? Of course not!) But a brief explanation that the bike was too big for Louise was fully accepted and the refund given – in cash, in fact, meaning that Alex got cash without a transaction charge from his bank!
The buses were running again that day, so Louise caught the bus back to the centre of town and walked the rest of the long way, while Alex rode the old bike back to the moorings! And onward goes the search for a replacement bike for Louise, but in the meantime, we have swapped bikes. (Both brakes work well on Alex’s Ricardo bike and he reckons he can manage better with poor brakes than Louise can on her old machine! But Louise is very sad; she loved her old Gazelle Dutch bike.)
Frontignan has a road bridge under which almost nothing can pass (except little open fishing boats) and which lifts twice a day – 8.30am and 4pm, to allow ‘proper’ boats through. We got there at about 12 o’clock thinking we would go through at 4 pm, but when 4pm arrived and we saw the plethora of hire boats etc jostling for position to pass through, we decided that as we had a good mooring where we were, we would wait till 8.30am the next morning and use that as our set-off time for the Etang du Thau.
So the 8.30am morning scrum was not as bad as the 4pm the day before, but it was made more complicated by a commercial vessel coming ‘upstream’ towards us (generally downstream traffic has priority) but commercials take priority over plaisance, so who should go first? The commercial appeared to wave us forward, but at that very moment a hire boat darted in front of the commercial and came through upstream, flouting all the conventions. Obviously it was driven by a French crew for whom not playing the game is ‘de rigeur’. (I have it on good authority that all young French kids are taught how to cheat at all games and it is not only expected of them, but encouraged!)
The 2 hour journey over the Etang was uneventful but interesting as the channel is 150m from the oyster beds which are huge and on the north side. We got to the first lock on the Canal du Midi at about midday and, as there was a lovely place to moor, we stopped there for the day and night. The young student working on the lock was quite happy for us to be there and so were we. We celebrated this first achievement with a bottle of fizz (any excuse!). We had finally reached not the end of our quest, nor the beginning of the end, but the end of the beginning. (I think that may be a Churchillian misquote!)
We navigated the round lock of Agde, passed under the first of the many arched bridges typical of the Canal du Midi and found our next mooring at Vias – a good spot with a rather complicated system of acquiring electricity and water.
On our way into the old town the next day we heard a lot of car horns tooting and spotted a group of people up on the raised embankment of the bypass, so we joined them to see what was going on. This turned out to be a Harley Davidson rally consisting of some 650 bikes. We had missed at least half but the remaining 300 or so were quite enough of a spectacle as they motored past waving at us as we waved to them. What a sight! And of course, as usual, we stumble on these things with total ignorance and were glad of an English family who could fill us in with what was going on!
In the Saturday market we bought lovely olives, local wine, tapenade and half price paella. In these local markets there is always a seller of paella who cooks the meal in a HUGE paella pan in front of your very eyes. As we had turned up at the end of the market, he was trying to get rid of the last of his paella at half price. So that did us for two evening meals, and very nice it was too!
This mooring at Vias is taken up by several British boats which have been here for some time and all know each other well. But this has the advantage that they are all really friendly to us newcomers to the Canal du Midi and we have been given lots of useful advice regarding these moorings and others further on down the line. Barry of Balestra has been most helpful in this respect.
We passed through the tightest bridge so far at Villeneuve-les-Béziers: only about 6" to spare on the handrails, and moored up in the shade of the plane trees at the upstream end of a row of long-term péniches. This part of the Canal du Midi from the Etang du Thau was upgraded to take full 40m barges in the 1970s, but only as far as Béziers, so there are still a few around, though almost entirely non-commercial now. When the decrease in commercial barge traffic occurred it meant that it would not be cost effective to upgrade the rest of the Midi. This is a great relief to the pleasure boater, as the original nature of Jean-Paul Riquet’s canal is still maintained for the great majority of the canal’s length. It also means that from here on the maximum length of barges is only 30m.
In Béziers, which I am afraid is a very unappealing town, we did another of our epic rides to an Aldi which we knew was in the north of the town. While there, Alex saw that they still had their ‘retro velos’ for sale and he and Louise had a good look at them. Although Louise’s lovely Dutch bike is great in many respects, the hub brakes hardly work now and it is impossible to get spare parts. Here in the south of France, we find ourselves on far more hilly terrain than we did further north (and of course none at all in Holland) and the lack of brakes is becoming an issue! Alex has been looking out for a replacement bike for some time and these at Aldi looked as though they would do the job.
So we returned to the boat with all the shopping and Alex had a suss of the buses and determined to travel back to Aldi the next day by bus, and ride back on a new bike.
Of course, the next day the French government sector workers were on strike! So – no lock keepers, no refuse collection, no BUSES!! And all because they were going to be asked to retire at 62 instead of 60! I mean, I ask you. In Britain we already work to 65 and know that that may be increased to 67 soon. What’s all the fuss about? I think they should think themselves lucky. No sympathy for them at all, especially as Alex had to walk all the way to Aldi to get the bike (all 5km of it mostly uphill) all the while negotiating his way through and round the hordes of marching demonstrators waving banners, blowing trumpets, letting off bangers etc. He kept muttering quietly in English, “No sympathy! No sympathy!” as he struggled past them.
Still it was an easy ride back! A few adjustments to seat and handlebar height and it looked as if the bike might be OK.
However, a ride round to look at the old locks onto and off the River Orb, now superseded by an aqueduct, demonstrated that this bike was perhaps not for Louise after all. So after a night of cogitation and discussion, we decided to return it for our money back (one of the joys of shopping at Aldi – a no-quibble returns policy) so we cleaned all trace of our test ride off the new bike and carefully rode back up to Aldi with Alex on it and Louise on Alex’s bike. Then leaving the old bike round the corner we pushed the new bike the last 50 yards to the shop (Have we ridden it? Of course not!) But a brief explanation that the bike was too big for Louise was fully accepted and the refund given – in cash, in fact, meaning that Alex got cash without a transaction charge from his bank!
The buses were running again that day, so Louise caught the bus back to the centre of town and walked the rest of the long way, while Alex rode the old bike back to the moorings! And onward goes the search for a replacement bike for Louise, but in the meantime, we have swapped bikes. (Both brakes work well on Alex’s Ricardo bike and he reckons he can manage better with poor brakes than Louise can on her old machine! But Louise is very sad; she loved her old Gazelle Dutch bike.)
Saturday 4 September 2010
Avignon - Palavas-les-Flots
We decided we had to give Avignon two nights despite the noisy road past the moorings and the cost of those moorings – even after Alex had managed to negotiate a reduced rate if we took no water and electricity!
But the town itself was great - lots of narrow winding streets in amongst the tall ancient housing in which it was more than easy to get lost. Alex set off on his bicycle to circumnavigate the protective wall, which, still largely intact, protects the town. Only two short sections had been closed to the general public: one a private block of flats, and the other the University of Avignon, which was closed for the summer recess. The rest was available, extant and impressive.
The Pont d’Avignon is not available without cost - €3.50 per person to walk out upon the remaining 4 arches and look into the remains of the burial chapel (in arch number 3) of ? responsible for its construction.
There is some confusion about the words of the song which celebrates the Pont c’Avignon. Some say it is ‘sur le Pont d’Avignon’, and some say it is ‘sous le Pont d’Avignon’. We decided it was cheaper to danse SOUS le Pont d’Avignon, and that’s what we did on one of our many bicycle trips under its first arch!
We also looked at many of the historical buildings and squares, which make up this intriguing city.
Eventually we cast off (and as usual the helping current flow had all but ceased!) and made our way down the last few kilometres of the Rhone before entering the ‘Petite Rhone’ and our hoped-for next mooring.
On the way we were amazed when the first lock waited at least ten minutes for us to arrive, forcing a commercial in the lock to wait for little us. Our surprise was only increased when on exiting the lock we saw that two enormous commercials were waiting to come up and were too big to go in together. So one minute they red-light us as we arrive and a couple of days later they hold the lock for 10 minutes to let us in. Weird!
We turned off onto the Petite Rhone and the first possible mooring had just been taken by a hire boat. We hadn’t downloaded the DBA mooring guide for this small section so were working on our own initiative at this point, but from a couple of sources we had been assured that we could moor on the banks of the Petite Rhone in several places. We spotted one such place which was a high commercial quay in front of which appeared to be a family of coypu swimming against the current. We made to turn round and a speedboat immediately appeared coming towards us so we waited while he went past then started again. Another speedboat appeared from the other direction so we aborted again. Typical! Nothing for hours then two at once when you least want them!
Meanwhile the strong current was taking us further and further away from the potential mooring, but eventually we turned and made our way back to the quay. Alex approached gingerly and suddenly it became apparent to Louise at the bow that the family of coypu were in fact the tops of a nasty set of steel posts set into the river to act as groynes. We backed off sharpish and continued on our way.
In fact, these groynes were just above, or worse, just below the surface all the rest of the way down this short section, but we did eventually spot a short official pontoon 2kms before the lock onto the Canal du Rhone à Sete, where we moored for a couple of nights: we were joined on the second night by GERMINAL with Rose-marie and Claude on board.
While there we rode into St Gilles town to restock and have a looksee. We hated it! Dirty, unkempt, slummy is what we thought, but on the plus side we found NOORDSTER moored there and had a cup of tea and a chat with Judith and Simon.
We set off hoping to moor at Aigues-Mortes but before we got there, Rose-marie phoned ahead for us and then texted to warn us that there was no room, so we took the Aigues-Mortes canal bypass and moored onto a short lightweight wooden pontoon with no obvious method of securing ourselves. Our lines eventually were tied to a stout bush, the structure of the pontoon and one ground anchor screwed into the soft ground but actually, despite numerous passing trip boats and commercial carriers, our mooring held remarkably well, though we did find ourselves aground a few times as the water level went up and down by some 20cms. We speculated that perhaps the Mediterranean tide was having an effect, there being no lock between us and the sea.
This whole area is amazing: water stretches everywhere on either side of the canal which is built right across the shallow inland seas or étangs. On either side of the canal is a ribbon of slightly raised land with a road on one side. A crumbling stone and earth wall on the other side denotes where the canal ends and the étang begins! Here and there there are ‘entrances’ into the étangs which only the tiny fishing boats are allowed to use. The étangs, canal and the Mediterranean are all linked, so as the small tide in the Med rises and falls, there is a slight flow into and out of the canal and the étangs. It is a most odd area and we have seen nothing quite like it, not even in Holland where some canals are built right across inland seas, but they are on a much bigger scale and usually there is no view as you cross because the banks are much higher than the boat.
Next we reached Palavas-les-Flots which is something of a ‘refined’ seaside resort: no kiss-me-quick hats, no amusement arcades, candy floss or fish and chips – at least not on the sea front, which is all good looking apartment blocks set in gardens! The canal is one kilometre from the sea front and we moored up ahead of a converted Dutch barge – MR PIP – which had gone past us on our moorings on the Petite Rhone. Philip, his ex wife Therese, daughter Stephanie and her boyfriend Andy all came for drinks that night and we had a return match the following night. Phil et al set off next day but he has booked his winter moorings in Buzet sur Baise, same as us, so hopefully we will see him again.
Being just a kilometre from the sea front a bike ride to it and a swim in the Med was a must. It was actually a bit colder than we expected but once we became acclimatised it was great fun.
Then a visit to the Abbaye de Maguelone, 5kms ahead of us and on the only ‘high’ ground in the area, proved to be well worth the effort and we also bought 4 bottles of its own domaine wine.
Brian Wall, a friend of many years, who now lives near Gaillac (4 hours away) happened to be passing our vicinity when we rang him, so he came for the night and we all enjoyed a bottle or three of the abbey wine, good food and chat.
The high winds over the last few days, whilst giving us the blessing of a bit of coolth, have also meant that we cannot proceed to cross the Etang du Thau, so we have just had to wait at Palavas-les-Flots until they die down. One of the plus sides of this is that we are at one of the few wide and deep spots on the canal and all the really big barges (up to 100m x 11m) stop here to let opposing barges pass. It makes for a great sight and although we will be glad to move on in due course, we will, no doubt, miss seeing these big boys doing their stuff. Once onto the Canal du Midi there will be no commercial craft at all.
We have also taken the opportunity, while stuck here, to catch the bus into Montpellier. Having lived in Harrogate the name ‘Montpellier’ is very familiar to us (it denotes a very chic part of town) and we found ourselves curious to know what the eponymous city itself was like. And it came up to expectations – a fabulous city with a mix of ancient and modern architecture any city would be proud of. The old part - narrow twisting streets and buildings with typical French frontages and cast iron balconies - was really intriguing, but even the newer parts have largely been built with a grandeur and style that perfectly complements what went before, with only a few 1960/70s horrors cropping up here and there. We really loved it – enough to treat ourselves to moules frites on the terrace of an upmarket restaurant in the main square, followed, after a ‘Petite Train’ ride round the old town, by the cheapest coffee in all France so far, just €2 for two cups! Brill!
Today we will ‘finish off’ Palavas by visiting the ‘old’ fortress, which many years ago was surrounded (literally) by a water tower. In recent times the water tower was dismantled, the fortress moved stone by stone to a new site and a magnificent, iconic tower (or carbuncle depending on your viewpoint) incorporating a conference centre, panoramic gallery and revolving restaurant was built on the old site.
By the time we have done all that, we will have been stuck here for nearly a week, so we are hoping sincerely that tomorrow the wind will have died down and we can get on. After all, the Canal du Midi is now only one day’s travel away!
But the town itself was great - lots of narrow winding streets in amongst the tall ancient housing in which it was more than easy to get lost. Alex set off on his bicycle to circumnavigate the protective wall, which, still largely intact, protects the town. Only two short sections had been closed to the general public: one a private block of flats, and the other the University of Avignon, which was closed for the summer recess. The rest was available, extant and impressive.
The Pont d’Avignon is not available without cost - €3.50 per person to walk out upon the remaining 4 arches and look into the remains of the burial chapel (in arch number 3) of ? responsible for its construction.
There is some confusion about the words of the song which celebrates the Pont c’Avignon. Some say it is ‘sur le Pont d’Avignon’, and some say it is ‘sous le Pont d’Avignon’. We decided it was cheaper to danse SOUS le Pont d’Avignon, and that’s what we did on one of our many bicycle trips under its first arch!
We also looked at many of the historical buildings and squares, which make up this intriguing city.
Eventually we cast off (and as usual the helping current flow had all but ceased!) and made our way down the last few kilometres of the Rhone before entering the ‘Petite Rhone’ and our hoped-for next mooring.
On the way we were amazed when the first lock waited at least ten minutes for us to arrive, forcing a commercial in the lock to wait for little us. Our surprise was only increased when on exiting the lock we saw that two enormous commercials were waiting to come up and were too big to go in together. So one minute they red-light us as we arrive and a couple of days later they hold the lock for 10 minutes to let us in. Weird!
We turned off onto the Petite Rhone and the first possible mooring had just been taken by a hire boat. We hadn’t downloaded the DBA mooring guide for this small section so were working on our own initiative at this point, but from a couple of sources we had been assured that we could moor on the banks of the Petite Rhone in several places. We spotted one such place which was a high commercial quay in front of which appeared to be a family of coypu swimming against the current. We made to turn round and a speedboat immediately appeared coming towards us so we waited while he went past then started again. Another speedboat appeared from the other direction so we aborted again. Typical! Nothing for hours then two at once when you least want them!
Meanwhile the strong current was taking us further and further away from the potential mooring, but eventually we turned and made our way back to the quay. Alex approached gingerly and suddenly it became apparent to Louise at the bow that the family of coypu were in fact the tops of a nasty set of steel posts set into the river to act as groynes. We backed off sharpish and continued on our way.
In fact, these groynes were just above, or worse, just below the surface all the rest of the way down this short section, but we did eventually spot a short official pontoon 2kms before the lock onto the Canal du Rhone à Sete, where we moored for a couple of nights: we were joined on the second night by GERMINAL with Rose-marie and Claude on board.
While there we rode into St Gilles town to restock and have a looksee. We hated it! Dirty, unkempt, slummy is what we thought, but on the plus side we found NOORDSTER moored there and had a cup of tea and a chat with Judith and Simon.
We set off hoping to moor at Aigues-Mortes but before we got there, Rose-marie phoned ahead for us and then texted to warn us that there was no room, so we took the Aigues-Mortes canal bypass and moored onto a short lightweight wooden pontoon with no obvious method of securing ourselves. Our lines eventually were tied to a stout bush, the structure of the pontoon and one ground anchor screwed into the soft ground but actually, despite numerous passing trip boats and commercial carriers, our mooring held remarkably well, though we did find ourselves aground a few times as the water level went up and down by some 20cms. We speculated that perhaps the Mediterranean tide was having an effect, there being no lock between us and the sea.
This whole area is amazing: water stretches everywhere on either side of the canal which is built right across the shallow inland seas or étangs. On either side of the canal is a ribbon of slightly raised land with a road on one side. A crumbling stone and earth wall on the other side denotes where the canal ends and the étang begins! Here and there there are ‘entrances’ into the étangs which only the tiny fishing boats are allowed to use. The étangs, canal and the Mediterranean are all linked, so as the small tide in the Med rises and falls, there is a slight flow into and out of the canal and the étangs. It is a most odd area and we have seen nothing quite like it, not even in Holland where some canals are built right across inland seas, but they are on a much bigger scale and usually there is no view as you cross because the banks are much higher than the boat.
Next we reached Palavas-les-Flots which is something of a ‘refined’ seaside resort: no kiss-me-quick hats, no amusement arcades, candy floss or fish and chips – at least not on the sea front, which is all good looking apartment blocks set in gardens! The canal is one kilometre from the sea front and we moored up ahead of a converted Dutch barge – MR PIP – which had gone past us on our moorings on the Petite Rhone. Philip, his ex wife Therese, daughter Stephanie and her boyfriend Andy all came for drinks that night and we had a return match the following night. Phil et al set off next day but he has booked his winter moorings in Buzet sur Baise, same as us, so hopefully we will see him again.
Being just a kilometre from the sea front a bike ride to it and a swim in the Med was a must. It was actually a bit colder than we expected but once we became acclimatised it was great fun.
Then a visit to the Abbaye de Maguelone, 5kms ahead of us and on the only ‘high’ ground in the area, proved to be well worth the effort and we also bought 4 bottles of its own domaine wine.
Brian Wall, a friend of many years, who now lives near Gaillac (4 hours away) happened to be passing our vicinity when we rang him, so he came for the night and we all enjoyed a bottle or three of the abbey wine, good food and chat.
The high winds over the last few days, whilst giving us the blessing of a bit of coolth, have also meant that we cannot proceed to cross the Etang du Thau, so we have just had to wait at Palavas-les-Flots until they die down. One of the plus sides of this is that we are at one of the few wide and deep spots on the canal and all the really big barges (up to 100m x 11m) stop here to let opposing barges pass. It makes for a great sight and although we will be glad to move on in due course, we will, no doubt, miss seeing these big boys doing their stuff. Once onto the Canal du Midi there will be no commercial craft at all.
We have also taken the opportunity, while stuck here, to catch the bus into Montpellier. Having lived in Harrogate the name ‘Montpellier’ is very familiar to us (it denotes a very chic part of town) and we found ourselves curious to know what the eponymous city itself was like. And it came up to expectations – a fabulous city with a mix of ancient and modern architecture any city would be proud of. The old part - narrow twisting streets and buildings with typical French frontages and cast iron balconies - was really intriguing, but even the newer parts have largely been built with a grandeur and style that perfectly complements what went before, with only a few 1960/70s horrors cropping up here and there. We really loved it – enough to treat ourselves to moules frites on the terrace of an upmarket restaurant in the main square, followed, after a ‘Petite Train’ ride round the old town, by the cheapest coffee in all France so far, just €2 for two cups! Brill!
Today we will ‘finish off’ Palavas by visiting the ‘old’ fortress, which many years ago was surrounded (literally) by a water tower. In recent times the water tower was dismantled, the fortress moved stone by stone to a new site and a magnificent, iconic tower (or carbuncle depending on your viewpoint) incorporating a conference centre, panoramic gallery and revolving restaurant was built on the old site.
By the time we have done all that, we will have been stuck here for nearly a week, so we are hoping sincerely that tomorrow the wind will have died down and we can get on. After all, the Canal du Midi is now only one day’s travel away!
Friday 27 August 2010
Vienne - Avignon
At Vienne Alex asked the man at the bike shop, where he was buying a new brake cable, ‘How do I get up to the ancient chateau on the hill?’ ‘Oh’ he replied, ‘Right at the roundabout, then next right at the hospital and up you go.’ So Alex set off and 40 minutes later he had reached the end of the road at a large hospital – but nowhere near the chateau, so it was back down the hill – only 5 minutes to get down, and back to the McDonald’s where Louise was still trying – unsuccessfully - to get all her emails answered. The link had just irredeemably failed!
We both gave up and went back to supper on Riccall.
The following day we discovered that the château on the hill was in private ownership and not possible to visit anyway! But the Roman amphitheatre was spectacular (though it had been renovated in the 1940s) and the views from the church on the adjacent hill were impressive. The Saturday market spread through most of the town (the 2nd largest in France apparently) and was well worth a couple of hours perusal as was the Saint Maurice Cathedral with its spectacular entrance stonework.
We left next morning at about 8.30 and ended that day’s cruise moored up on a high ex-sand quay with slipway adjacent down into the water. This turned out to be an excellent mooring for us, despite the ever present fishermen, and at about 6.40pm we were joined by VAGABOND a Swedish sailing boat with Lars and Ingrid on board who we invited to moor on us.
Next day the couple of provisional moorings we had in mind were either full or impossible, and so we eventually came upon a Port de Commerce quay, and after a very quick late lunch, Louise went off to ask the Chef du Port if we could stay the night. ‘Oui’, he said, ‘pour un nuit’. But later in the evening, long after he and the other workers had left, and 10 minutes before our supper was ready, ARTEMIS – 110m x 10m – arrived to moor up behind us. Blimy! Are we OK? Do we need to move? Or what?
Alex went up to ask. ‘Well, we are going to load up in the morning at 7am and will need to move forward into your position, so it might be better if you moved behind us now’. ‘OK, OK anything you want. We know this is a commercial quay and we are just so grateful for somewhere to spend the night’. So a quick manoeuvre to moor behind with their Polish crewmen helping with our ropes and all is well again – we hope! But we are now right under the sign that says ‘Port de Commerce. Stopping forbidden. All pleasure boats to go 3 kms up the river to the Port de Plaisance’. Funny though, but having the agreement of the ’Chef du Port’ gives one a certain confidence . . .!
The following day while waiting for a huge commercial to come out of a lock, we realised it was one we had seen a couple of times before and the captain actually came out of his wheelhouse to give us an enthusiastic wave of greeting as he went past. How nice!
That evening we moored up behind GERMINAL (a boat we had met in a lock) on a hugely high quay (about 6m to the top). The ‘girls’ did the climbing up the vertiginous ladders to place all the ropes while the men manoeuvred the boats into place against a strong current, but although it was a very high quay indeed and not usually recommended, it gave us a reasonable night.
We set off first thing in the morning and later moored as arranged on a rather lightweight pontoon at St Etienne des Sorts early that afternoon with GERMINAL alongside. Not a marvellous stop, but the village did have a good wine co-op and a wonderful, close view of passing TGV (high speed) trains! Later, a Canadian sailing boat, which we had also seen a number of times, called DO-LITTLES, insisted on trying to moor on the last 5ft of the pontoon. Alex moved Riccall a few feet off the end of the pontoon to give them some more room and they squeezed in with a tangle of ropes and a loud American-sounding woman barking instructions, all above the background barking of 3 dogs and shouting of 3 other people! A small boat, four people, 3 huge dogs – Phew! Alex joked with Rose-marie of GERMINAL that he was glad we were upwind of their boat! They were desperate to moor there, and it became evident why - to take on crates of wine from the co-operative, which were delivered by van.
So after another uncomfortable night with hotel barges and large commercials passing at irregular intervals, we decided that day to turn up an arm of the old Rhone, which ended in a couple of commercial quays and a Port de Plaisance ‘Port 2’ to see if the mooring up there in the protected ‘dead-end’ might give us a quiet night.
The current against us up the 6 km of the old arm was amazingly high – about 4-5 kph. This meant we were only making 5.5 – 6 kph ourselves, but eventually we got there and booked a night’s mooring at €24 including wi-fi, water and electricity – not too bad for hereabouts! The capitaine-ess explained that the river level had been up by nearly one metre that morning and the powers that be were draining it all off through the weirs, which was why the current was so strong. So we settled down for a peaceful night - no motorway, no trains, nearby factory closed down at 9.30 – bliss. Then at 4 o’clock in the morning the heavens opened. The rain lashed down – we both shot up to ensure that all portholes and roof openings were firmly closed, and then the sheet lightning lit the sky above our heads in a continual series of flashes, with an almost continuous rumble and crash of thunder to go with them. Then suddenly, Alex, who was up in the wheelhouse marvelling at all this, saw a single spear of lightning about 1000ft high strike behind the trees on the opposite bank with simultaneously the most incredible clap of thunder. What a show of energy! So much for a peaceful night.
Avignon is another port up an old arm of the river and they were still running off excess water so our trip up it next day was very slow, not made any easier by firstly a trip boat racing down river just as we made our turn and giving us more rock and roll than we had had on the sea crossing (everything flying everywhere) and secondly a hotel cruise ship which pulled out behind us and harried us towards the remains of the Pont d’Avignon, of children’s song fame. We were nearly flat out and only making 3kph against the flow. Well, he just had to follow in our slow wake! and as it transpired he was going only as far as the famous bridge so that his passengers could have a bird’s eye view of it for their photographs before he turned round!
Here at Avignon the sound of the road right next to the expensive mooring means we shall only stay one or two nights. Amazingly, there are five other boats here which we either know well or have exchanged pleasantries with!
We have also discovered that Ken and Rhonda of SOMEWHERE (now off the Canal du Midi and onto the Canal Lateral de la Garonne beyond Toulouse) have been following our progress down the Rhone on a website called www.inforhone.fr. Each lock logs the names and times of passing of all the boats going up and down the Rhone (commercial and plaisance). This information is open to anyone who looks at the site. So Ken and Rhonda know pretty well to the nearest lock where we are in real time. The powers of the internet!
We both gave up and went back to supper on Riccall.
The following day we discovered that the château on the hill was in private ownership and not possible to visit anyway! But the Roman amphitheatre was spectacular (though it had been renovated in the 1940s) and the views from the church on the adjacent hill were impressive. The Saturday market spread through most of the town (the 2nd largest in France apparently) and was well worth a couple of hours perusal as was the Saint Maurice Cathedral with its spectacular entrance stonework.
We left next morning at about 8.30 and ended that day’s cruise moored up on a high ex-sand quay with slipway adjacent down into the water. This turned out to be an excellent mooring for us, despite the ever present fishermen, and at about 6.40pm we were joined by VAGABOND a Swedish sailing boat with Lars and Ingrid on board who we invited to moor on us.
Next day the couple of provisional moorings we had in mind were either full or impossible, and so we eventually came upon a Port de Commerce quay, and after a very quick late lunch, Louise went off to ask the Chef du Port if we could stay the night. ‘Oui’, he said, ‘pour un nuit’. But later in the evening, long after he and the other workers had left, and 10 minutes before our supper was ready, ARTEMIS – 110m x 10m – arrived to moor up behind us. Blimy! Are we OK? Do we need to move? Or what?
Alex went up to ask. ‘Well, we are going to load up in the morning at 7am and will need to move forward into your position, so it might be better if you moved behind us now’. ‘OK, OK anything you want. We know this is a commercial quay and we are just so grateful for somewhere to spend the night’. So a quick manoeuvre to moor behind with their Polish crewmen helping with our ropes and all is well again – we hope! But we are now right under the sign that says ‘Port de Commerce. Stopping forbidden. All pleasure boats to go 3 kms up the river to the Port de Plaisance’. Funny though, but having the agreement of the ’Chef du Port’ gives one a certain confidence . . .!
The following day while waiting for a huge commercial to come out of a lock, we realised it was one we had seen a couple of times before and the captain actually came out of his wheelhouse to give us an enthusiastic wave of greeting as he went past. How nice!
That evening we moored up behind GERMINAL (a boat we had met in a lock) on a hugely high quay (about 6m to the top). The ‘girls’ did the climbing up the vertiginous ladders to place all the ropes while the men manoeuvred the boats into place against a strong current, but although it was a very high quay indeed and not usually recommended, it gave us a reasonable night.
We set off first thing in the morning and later moored as arranged on a rather lightweight pontoon at St Etienne des Sorts early that afternoon with GERMINAL alongside. Not a marvellous stop, but the village did have a good wine co-op and a wonderful, close view of passing TGV (high speed) trains! Later, a Canadian sailing boat, which we had also seen a number of times, called DO-LITTLES, insisted on trying to moor on the last 5ft of the pontoon. Alex moved Riccall a few feet off the end of the pontoon to give them some more room and they squeezed in with a tangle of ropes and a loud American-sounding woman barking instructions, all above the background barking of 3 dogs and shouting of 3 other people! A small boat, four people, 3 huge dogs – Phew! Alex joked with Rose-marie of GERMINAL that he was glad we were upwind of their boat! They were desperate to moor there, and it became evident why - to take on crates of wine from the co-operative, which were delivered by van.
So after another uncomfortable night with hotel barges and large commercials passing at irregular intervals, we decided that day to turn up an arm of the old Rhone, which ended in a couple of commercial quays and a Port de Plaisance ‘Port 2’ to see if the mooring up there in the protected ‘dead-end’ might give us a quiet night.
The current against us up the 6 km of the old arm was amazingly high – about 4-5 kph. This meant we were only making 5.5 – 6 kph ourselves, but eventually we got there and booked a night’s mooring at €24 including wi-fi, water and electricity – not too bad for hereabouts! The capitaine-ess explained that the river level had been up by nearly one metre that morning and the powers that be were draining it all off through the weirs, which was why the current was so strong. So we settled down for a peaceful night - no motorway, no trains, nearby factory closed down at 9.30 – bliss. Then at 4 o’clock in the morning the heavens opened. The rain lashed down – we both shot up to ensure that all portholes and roof openings were firmly closed, and then the sheet lightning lit the sky above our heads in a continual series of flashes, with an almost continuous rumble and crash of thunder to go with them. Then suddenly, Alex, who was up in the wheelhouse marvelling at all this, saw a single spear of lightning about 1000ft high strike behind the trees on the opposite bank with simultaneously the most incredible clap of thunder. What a show of energy! So much for a peaceful night.
Avignon is another port up an old arm of the river and they were still running off excess water so our trip up it next day was very slow, not made any easier by firstly a trip boat racing down river just as we made our turn and giving us more rock and roll than we had had on the sea crossing (everything flying everywhere) and secondly a hotel cruise ship which pulled out behind us and harried us towards the remains of the Pont d’Avignon, of children’s song fame. We were nearly flat out and only making 3kph against the flow. Well, he just had to follow in our slow wake! and as it transpired he was going only as far as the famous bridge so that his passengers could have a bird’s eye view of it for their photographs before he turned round!
Here at Avignon the sound of the road right next to the expensive mooring means we shall only stay one or two nights. Amazingly, there are five other boats here which we either know well or have exchanged pleasantries with!
We have also discovered that Ken and Rhonda of SOMEWHERE (now off the Canal du Midi and onto the Canal Lateral de la Garonne beyond Toulouse) have been following our progress down the Rhone on a website called www.inforhone.fr. Each lock logs the names and times of passing of all the boats going up and down the Rhone (commercial and plaisance). This information is open to anyone who looks at the site. So Ken and Rhonda know pretty well to the nearest lock where we are in real time. The powers of the internet!
Thursday 19 August 2010
Macon - Lyon - Vienne
We left Macon, still on the River Saône, not knowing exactly what the scene was with John and Martha and arrived at Port de Belleville where we hailed one of the English boats on the pontoon. Vic told us he was leaving within the hour, so we hung onto some hotel barge Duc D’Albes (huge mooring piles) until he did, then snuck in to the space provided.
We did a quick suss of the town, found the McDonalds with free wifi and thereafter posted the blog. The link was so slow it took 2 hours to upload the photos – what we do for you readers!
We decided that the mooring, safe, free, and with water and electricity, would be a good place to leave the boat while we caught the train into Lyon for a bit of sightseeing and to look at the mooring possibilities. Occasionally, our mooring guides are somewhat confusing and a proper look-see seems the best way to proceed.
We also decided it would be a good idea to take our bikes!
The ticket office cashier said the bikes go free, and we even got a reduction ‘pour le vieux homme’ – Alex who could prove he was over – shush!! 60! The ticket man assured us that there was no problem with bikes on the train and as it turned out, the door by which we boarded the train had a bicycle (or velo as they call them now) logo on it and with a lot of huffing and puffing, we managed to get the bikes on board and hung by the front wheels to the ceiling hooks.
Getting off at Lyon was more of a problem as lots of people were getting off at this stop and a full contingent of passengers were waiting to board for their onward travel to Grenoble. But we managed and got ourselves out of the huge and heavily crowded station to look for a Tourist Information Office or at least a town map showing where we were. No luck in either department, so while Alex watched the bikes next to a local map showing the nearest 100 metres of streets, Louise returned to the station where she found a station assistant who could manage a bit of English. This didn’t help in fact, as she had no idea of even which direction the city centre was in. Can you believe it? (Her best suggestion was that we take a further train from this outlying station – Part-Dieu – to the city centre station - Perrache.)
While he was there an American sounding couple consulted the map to try to find their hotel. They had no luck either, and so we all four consulted to find a way forward. The couple said (when asked) that yes, indeed, they were American but sometimes they pretended to be Canadian, depending on where they were and who they were talking to! We let you draw your own conclusions to that; but we think that maybe, at last, some Americans are realising that they might not be as popular as they had always imagined themselves to be.
We eventually found the Tourist Information Centre (no thanks to the station staff) got a map and were advised that the old quarter was the best part to visit. This we did, then Alex was approached by an enthusiastic operative who showed him how to get tickets for the funicular railway up to the basilica overlooking the town and said yes we could take the bikes and we could later ride down by the footpath. Load of rubbish! Louise nearly demolished a young family on the escalator as her bike slid back down into them, the carriage of the funicular was far too small for large bikes like ours but fortunately was nearly empty, and the ‘footpath’ back banned rollerblades, skateboards and bikes and had steps on it! However, at least the basilica was amazing and the road down was OK.
We returned to the station and spent our time waiting for the train to arrive by worrying if the incoming train would deposit a ‘velo’ carriage near where we were standing. By this time, we had realised that we had been really lucky coming into town as there only seem to be a very few carriages with bicycle facilities. As it turned out, we were standing right opposite the 1st class carriage when the train stopped and it did have a velo sign on the door. So we hopped on, loaded the bikes into the rack and dashed off into the 2nd class carriage to find a seat for the return journey! (Easy! No-one else travelling 1st class.)
We are now at the moorings at Lyon which are a bit busy with trip boats, water taxis, hotel cruise ships etc but having moved to a new position all is well. (We discovered after mooring up in the first position, that there was an underwater shelf 900 mm below the water which stuck out 500mm from the quay, just waiting to punch a hole in our turn of the bilge if a large boat went past.)
So, satisfied that the boat was now on much safer moorings, we did the usual stock up of items from Lidl and then had lunchtime drinks with a very nice English couple, Nick and Gail, on MAGELLAN, just prior to their setting off south. NOORDSTER pulled in during our chat – and we haven’t seen Judith and Simon since we all set off three years ago from Goole! We warned them about the underwater cill and they too moved to a safer spot. So then we were free for the remainder of the day. What to do?
Alex pulled out all the maps we had and said ‘Look! I don’t think it’s too far to Aldi after all’. We already had the address and had asked in the T.I.O. just where it was. The assistant there had been appalled that we thought we might go by bicycle and was unprepared to give us any info to help.
So we set off on the scenic route – at first along the river bank road which turned out to have been blocked by a mini avalanche which had landed slap bang on top of an unsuspecting car, now a completely flattened wreck – judging by the lack of blood we assumed there had been nobody in it and later learned it had occurred at 2.00am – phew!
So we climbed the bikes over the barriers and proceeded on our way. At least there was almost no traffic!
Eventually we got to the Saone/Rhone junction and started on our way to Aldi – up and up, and up and then some more up and up . . . At long last and at altitude of about 2000ft (!), having asked directions from 6 different people, we found the Aldi store. Now although the principle aims were cashew nuts and tonic, Alex did have another agenda. He had in mind that a replacement camera now being imperative, Aldi was without doubt the cheapest place to get one in France, prices being what they are here. And sure enough, there was a choice of 5 different cameras reduced to under €50. And the assistant was an Anglophile! – loves England and spoke excellent English. She was happy to help us choose the best value for money camera. Magic!!
So after a short up-and-up bit, it was down, down, down, back into Lyon and our moorings. The whole journey only took three hours (and about 5000 calories) – a mere nothing! And you should see our leg muscles!
We set off from Lyon, taking on fuel at one of the very few bunker barges in France on the way, and joined the mighty Rhone: wide river, variable flow, not much traffic (yet) and beautiful panoramic views!
After 3 to 4 hours, we arrived at Vienne: plenty of space to moor and a town with interesting heritage. We had only planned to spend one night here but immediately felt so beguiled that we decided to make it two. The Roman amphitheatre beckons, as does the ancient castle on the highest point of the hill. Alex has already made one unsuccessful foray in that direction – courtesy of misdirection by the bike shop proprietor, so another try tomorrow.
PS Latest news!!!! Have finally found out that John and Martha’s car blew a heater hose on the motorway and had to be towed off! Car not repaired until mid week but are enjoying their stay in Cap d’Antibes anyway. Phew!
We did a quick suss of the town, found the McDonalds with free wifi and thereafter posted the blog. The link was so slow it took 2 hours to upload the photos – what we do for you readers!
We decided that the mooring, safe, free, and with water and electricity, would be a good place to leave the boat while we caught the train into Lyon for a bit of sightseeing and to look at the mooring possibilities. Occasionally, our mooring guides are somewhat confusing and a proper look-see seems the best way to proceed.
We also decided it would be a good idea to take our bikes!
The ticket office cashier said the bikes go free, and we even got a reduction ‘pour le vieux homme’ – Alex who could prove he was over – shush!! 60! The ticket man assured us that there was no problem with bikes on the train and as it turned out, the door by which we boarded the train had a bicycle (or velo as they call them now) logo on it and with a lot of huffing and puffing, we managed to get the bikes on board and hung by the front wheels to the ceiling hooks.
Getting off at Lyon was more of a problem as lots of people were getting off at this stop and a full contingent of passengers were waiting to board for their onward travel to Grenoble. But we managed and got ourselves out of the huge and heavily crowded station to look for a Tourist Information Office or at least a town map showing where we were. No luck in either department, so while Alex watched the bikes next to a local map showing the nearest 100 metres of streets, Louise returned to the station where she found a station assistant who could manage a bit of English. This didn’t help in fact, as she had no idea of even which direction the city centre was in. Can you believe it? (Her best suggestion was that we take a further train from this outlying station – Part-Dieu – to the city centre station - Perrache.)
While he was there an American sounding couple consulted the map to try to find their hotel. They had no luck either, and so we all four consulted to find a way forward. The couple said (when asked) that yes, indeed, they were American but sometimes they pretended to be Canadian, depending on where they were and who they were talking to! We let you draw your own conclusions to that; but we think that maybe, at last, some Americans are realising that they might not be as popular as they had always imagined themselves to be.
We eventually found the Tourist Information Centre (no thanks to the station staff) got a map and were advised that the old quarter was the best part to visit. This we did, then Alex was approached by an enthusiastic operative who showed him how to get tickets for the funicular railway up to the basilica overlooking the town and said yes we could take the bikes and we could later ride down by the footpath. Load of rubbish! Louise nearly demolished a young family on the escalator as her bike slid back down into them, the carriage of the funicular was far too small for large bikes like ours but fortunately was nearly empty, and the ‘footpath’ back banned rollerblades, skateboards and bikes and had steps on it! However, at least the basilica was amazing and the road down was OK.
We returned to the station and spent our time waiting for the train to arrive by worrying if the incoming train would deposit a ‘velo’ carriage near where we were standing. By this time, we had realised that we had been really lucky coming into town as there only seem to be a very few carriages with bicycle facilities. As it turned out, we were standing right opposite the 1st class carriage when the train stopped and it did have a velo sign on the door. So we hopped on, loaded the bikes into the rack and dashed off into the 2nd class carriage to find a seat for the return journey! (Easy! No-one else travelling 1st class.)
We are now at the moorings at Lyon which are a bit busy with trip boats, water taxis, hotel cruise ships etc but having moved to a new position all is well. (We discovered after mooring up in the first position, that there was an underwater shelf 900 mm below the water which stuck out 500mm from the quay, just waiting to punch a hole in our turn of the bilge if a large boat went past.)
So, satisfied that the boat was now on much safer moorings, we did the usual stock up of items from Lidl and then had lunchtime drinks with a very nice English couple, Nick and Gail, on MAGELLAN, just prior to their setting off south. NOORDSTER pulled in during our chat – and we haven’t seen Judith and Simon since we all set off three years ago from Goole! We warned them about the underwater cill and they too moved to a safer spot. So then we were free for the remainder of the day. What to do?
Alex pulled out all the maps we had and said ‘Look! I don’t think it’s too far to Aldi after all’. We already had the address and had asked in the T.I.O. just where it was. The assistant there had been appalled that we thought we might go by bicycle and was unprepared to give us any info to help.
So we set off on the scenic route – at first along the river bank road which turned out to have been blocked by a mini avalanche which had landed slap bang on top of an unsuspecting car, now a completely flattened wreck – judging by the lack of blood we assumed there had been nobody in it and later learned it had occurred at 2.00am – phew!
So we climbed the bikes over the barriers and proceeded on our way. At least there was almost no traffic!
Eventually we got to the Saone/Rhone junction and started on our way to Aldi – up and up, and up and then some more up and up . . . At long last and at altitude of about 2000ft (!), having asked directions from 6 different people, we found the Aldi store. Now although the principle aims were cashew nuts and tonic, Alex did have another agenda. He had in mind that a replacement camera now being imperative, Aldi was without doubt the cheapest place to get one in France, prices being what they are here. And sure enough, there was a choice of 5 different cameras reduced to under €50. And the assistant was an Anglophile! – loves England and spoke excellent English. She was happy to help us choose the best value for money camera. Magic!!
So after a short up-and-up bit, it was down, down, down, back into Lyon and our moorings. The whole journey only took three hours (and about 5000 calories) – a mere nothing! And you should see our leg muscles!
We set off from Lyon, taking on fuel at one of the very few bunker barges in France on the way, and joined the mighty Rhone: wide river, variable flow, not much traffic (yet) and beautiful panoramic views!
After 3 to 4 hours, we arrived at Vienne: plenty of space to moor and a town with interesting heritage. We had only planned to spend one night here but immediately felt so beguiled that we decided to make it two. The Roman amphitheatre beckons, as does the ancient castle on the highest point of the hill. Alex has already made one unsuccessful foray in that direction – courtesy of misdirection by the bike shop proprietor, so another try tomorrow.
PS Latest news!!!! Have finally found out that John and Martha’s car blew a heater hose on the motorway and had to be towed off! Car not repaired until mid week but are enjoying their stay in Cap d’Antibes anyway. Phew!
Sunday 8 August 2010
St Jean de Losne to Macon
We set off from St Jean de Losne with a set of several moorings places in mind as we travelled down the Saône.
The first, at Ecluse Ecuelles, was as we suspected, completely impossible, as was the second at Seurre. Before the next, at Verdun sur le Doubs, were a couple of obsolete locks upriver of the town and as we passed them we thought, ‘Oh well, they might do’. We turned up the old river Doubs but the Port de Plaisance was packed and the only moorings left were impossible for us. We turned back up onto the main river, to look at the old locks but at the approach to the first one we immediately ran aground in the build up of silt, and realised this was going to be impossible as well. Luckily we managed to abort just before we became completely stuck.
We had one more unlikely possibility of a mooring on a pontoon at a place called Gergy, and failing that, it would be another three hours to the Canal du Centre and what was said to be a good spot about 8 kms and one lock up it! By this time we had decided a diversion onto the Canal du Centre would be a good idea anyway and it would also put in a bit of time so we would get to the Canal du Midi after the worst of the bumper boats had gone.
As we rounded the bend in the River Saône above Gergy, we could see the pontoon - and there was only one small boat on it! Halleluiah! Somewhere to moor and it’s still only 3.30 pm. There must be a god after all!
We moored up – plenty of depth – on a good solid pontoon: the other boat was moving off in an hour: it seems to be free. What ‘s the snag? No snag, it appears, apart from early morning fishermen clattering up and down the access ramp at 6.00 am!
One day further down the Saône and the mooring 7kms up the Canal du Centre at Fragnes is excellent – €6.20 per night including the all-important water and electricity and a free wi-fi connection. We decided to stay here for a few days and visit Chalon-sur-Saône by bicycle – a good decision as it turned out, as the moorings were again impossible for us.
The first day we ventured into Chalon at was at the weekend and there was a street festival taking place: hundreds of scruffy fans thronged the streets with their tents lining the banks of the river as far as the grass would allow. Stages were set up in all the squares and any other open space and people were milling about in anticipation. It was a colourful scene, but we had no idea what was going off where and when, and felt we would rather see Chalon when everything had calmed down. We had a drink on the waterfront and people-watched for a bit. This included watching a hotel barge come in to moor – amazing, all 110m of it, and all controlled by the captain standing outside his wheelhouse using a tiny joystick to control his monster.
We were sitting on the back deck having tea when a French couple stopped by to have a chat. Pierre spoke quite good English, Aveline his wife could understand English but not speak it. She did, however, speak French to us very slowly and clearly and we could understand most of what she was saying. They invited us to have a drink at their house and said they would collect us at 11.30 (it was then 10.30). Then Pierre said, ‘You have two hours to learn French”! So we wondered if he or we had the time wrong, but sure enough he arrived to collect us at 11.30 sharp and off we went for Premier Cru wine and nibbles for a couple of hours.
We, of course, invited them back for a return visit the next day and agreed on douze heure (12 o’clock’. Well, 12 o’clock came and went and we had lunch, assuming they had forgotten or something had cropped up. Then at 2 o’clock – deux heure they arrived!! Lost in translation evidently.
We also met a great couple called John and Hilary from the barge ISKRA (Russian for something but unfortunately we can’t remember what it was!). They had bought it as a sailaway and then fitted it out themselves. We had drinks and a meal together and found we had a lot in common. They come from the Nottingham area and of course, wouldn’t you guess – John knew our friend Brian Holdsworth who together with his wife Jill are the only people we know in Nottingham!
ISKRA and Riccall left Fragnes to cruise up the Canal du Centre to Chagny separately, we leaving a bit before them. We had decided to take two days to get there, stopping en-route. As we passed under the motorway bridge, Alex noticed that there was about 4" to spare above the height marker at the front of the boat. But as the boat travelled under the bridge he could see that the gap was reducing – the bridge was cambered. He knocked the boat into reverse to slow down, but knew it wouldn’t be possible to stop completely before the wheelhouse roof reached the lowest part of the bridge, so it was ram it into full ahead (which digs the stern in) and duck!
The front edge of the PV panel on the wheelhouse roof just grazed the white salts off the bottom of the concrete lintel of the bridge. No further damage, thank goodness, but it was close. The bridges on that as with every canal are all given a specific height clearance, but this one was lower. We did, of course, remove the roof for the rest of the journey to Chagny and back a couple of days later.
Back in Fragnes a couple from New Zealand Raelene and Malcolm Arthur who are touring France by car, bicycle and tent stopped for a chat. We invited them on board for tea and cakes while the heavens opened for the most tremendous storm. We only hope that their tent, which had been left at their campsite some 5 miles away with the flap open, had survived the tempest!
Our next stop was in the town of Tournus, which Rhonda on SOMEWHERE had said was a lovely town, worth a visit, and she was right. We did the usual town circuit but were quite enchanted by its medieval streets and the truly lovely Eglise Saint Philibert. Napoleon awarded the town the Legion d’Honneur for its success in seeing off the Austrians in 1814!
So it has been a very sociable time this last week or so, with a bit of tourism thrown in for good measure, with more to come. Martha and John from DE GROENE LEEUW (The Green Lion) are hoping to drop by and stay over with us on Friday, and we are now moored up in Macon which is a good place for them to find us and park their car.
And find us they did: we had a fantastic evening with them and were entertained by the Charles Aznavour sound-alike performing on a stage on the quay. Not only that, but we watched the comings and goings of several hotel cruise ships, and we had a ringside view of the 14th century bridge as it was lit up.
The following morning we said goodbye to John and Martha, and started to prepare to leave ourselves. Just a few minutes later, they reappeared in some agitation, to tell us that their car had been towed away. It appeared that it had been parked in a space reserved for the Saturday market which we could now see spreading in every direction on the quayside.
Louise went with them to the Tourist Information Office as a first port of call for help, the Police Station being closed. They were told to take a taxi to the holding compound out of town to pay for it and pick it up. So we waved goodbye again as they left in the taxi and got back to Riccall to resume leaving, which we did.
Alex fired off a quick text to Martha to check progress, and we set off. A few minutes later, we received a reply text to say that the tourist office information was all wrong and they had had to return to town to go to the police station first. Poor John and Martha were in the police station going through endless documentation, along with huge amounts of fines and recovery costs, not to mention all the taxi fares.
Then much later we learnt, to cap it all, that having got away at 11 am, a water hose on the car had blown and they were being towed off the motorway! What a catalogue of disasters for them, poor things. We hope they arrived eventually at their daughter’s rented villa at Cap d’Antibes, but at the time of writing, we haven’t had confirmation of that!
The first, at Ecluse Ecuelles, was as we suspected, completely impossible, as was the second at Seurre. Before the next, at Verdun sur le Doubs, were a couple of obsolete locks upriver of the town and as we passed them we thought, ‘Oh well, they might do’. We turned up the old river Doubs but the Port de Plaisance was packed and the only moorings left were impossible for us. We turned back up onto the main river, to look at the old locks but at the approach to the first one we immediately ran aground in the build up of silt, and realised this was going to be impossible as well. Luckily we managed to abort just before we became completely stuck.
We had one more unlikely possibility of a mooring on a pontoon at a place called Gergy, and failing that, it would be another three hours to the Canal du Centre and what was said to be a good spot about 8 kms and one lock up it! By this time we had decided a diversion onto the Canal du Centre would be a good idea anyway and it would also put in a bit of time so we would get to the Canal du Midi after the worst of the bumper boats had gone.
As we rounded the bend in the River Saône above Gergy, we could see the pontoon - and there was only one small boat on it! Halleluiah! Somewhere to moor and it’s still only 3.30 pm. There must be a god after all!
We moored up – plenty of depth – on a good solid pontoon: the other boat was moving off in an hour: it seems to be free. What ‘s the snag? No snag, it appears, apart from early morning fishermen clattering up and down the access ramp at 6.00 am!
One day further down the Saône and the mooring 7kms up the Canal du Centre at Fragnes is excellent – €6.20 per night including the all-important water and electricity and a free wi-fi connection. We decided to stay here for a few days and visit Chalon-sur-Saône by bicycle – a good decision as it turned out, as the moorings were again impossible for us.
The first day we ventured into Chalon at was at the weekend and there was a street festival taking place: hundreds of scruffy fans thronged the streets with their tents lining the banks of the river as far as the grass would allow. Stages were set up in all the squares and any other open space and people were milling about in anticipation. It was a colourful scene, but we had no idea what was going off where and when, and felt we would rather see Chalon when everything had calmed down. We had a drink on the waterfront and people-watched for a bit. This included watching a hotel barge come in to moor – amazing, all 110m of it, and all controlled by the captain standing outside his wheelhouse using a tiny joystick to control his monster.
We were sitting on the back deck having tea when a French couple stopped by to have a chat. Pierre spoke quite good English, Aveline his wife could understand English but not speak it. She did, however, speak French to us very slowly and clearly and we could understand most of what she was saying. They invited us to have a drink at their house and said they would collect us at 11.30 (it was then 10.30). Then Pierre said, ‘You have two hours to learn French”! So we wondered if he or we had the time wrong, but sure enough he arrived to collect us at 11.30 sharp and off we went for Premier Cru wine and nibbles for a couple of hours.
We, of course, invited them back for a return visit the next day and agreed on douze heure (12 o’clock’. Well, 12 o’clock came and went and we had lunch, assuming they had forgotten or something had cropped up. Then at 2 o’clock – deux heure they arrived!! Lost in translation evidently.
We also met a great couple called John and Hilary from the barge ISKRA (Russian for something but unfortunately we can’t remember what it was!). They had bought it as a sailaway and then fitted it out themselves. We had drinks and a meal together and found we had a lot in common. They come from the Nottingham area and of course, wouldn’t you guess – John knew our friend Brian Holdsworth who together with his wife Jill are the only people we know in Nottingham!
ISKRA and Riccall left Fragnes to cruise up the Canal du Centre to Chagny separately, we leaving a bit before them. We had decided to take two days to get there, stopping en-route. As we passed under the motorway bridge, Alex noticed that there was about 4" to spare above the height marker at the front of the boat. But as the boat travelled under the bridge he could see that the gap was reducing – the bridge was cambered. He knocked the boat into reverse to slow down, but knew it wouldn’t be possible to stop completely before the wheelhouse roof reached the lowest part of the bridge, so it was ram it into full ahead (which digs the stern in) and duck!
The front edge of the PV panel on the wheelhouse roof just grazed the white salts off the bottom of the concrete lintel of the bridge. No further damage, thank goodness, but it was close. The bridges on that as with every canal are all given a specific height clearance, but this one was lower. We did, of course, remove the roof for the rest of the journey to Chagny and back a couple of days later.
Back in Fragnes a couple from New Zealand Raelene and Malcolm Arthur who are touring France by car, bicycle and tent stopped for a chat. We invited them on board for tea and cakes while the heavens opened for the most tremendous storm. We only hope that their tent, which had been left at their campsite some 5 miles away with the flap open, had survived the tempest!
Our next stop was in the town of Tournus, which Rhonda on SOMEWHERE had said was a lovely town, worth a visit, and she was right. We did the usual town circuit but were quite enchanted by its medieval streets and the truly lovely Eglise Saint Philibert. Napoleon awarded the town the Legion d’Honneur for its success in seeing off the Austrians in 1814!
So it has been a very sociable time this last week or so, with a bit of tourism thrown in for good measure, with more to come. Martha and John from DE GROENE LEEUW (The Green Lion) are hoping to drop by and stay over with us on Friday, and we are now moored up in Macon which is a good place for them to find us and park their car.
And find us they did: we had a fantastic evening with them and were entertained by the Charles Aznavour sound-alike performing on a stage on the quay. Not only that, but we watched the comings and goings of several hotel cruise ships, and we had a ringside view of the 14th century bridge as it was lit up.
The following morning we said goodbye to John and Martha, and started to prepare to leave ourselves. Just a few minutes later, they reappeared in some agitation, to tell us that their car had been towed away. It appeared that it had been parked in a space reserved for the Saturday market which we could now see spreading in every direction on the quayside.
Louise went with them to the Tourist Information Office as a first port of call for help, the Police Station being closed. They were told to take a taxi to the holding compound out of town to pay for it and pick it up. So we waved goodbye again as they left in the taxi and got back to Riccall to resume leaving, which we did.
Alex fired off a quick text to Martha to check progress, and we set off. A few minutes later, we received a reply text to say that the tourist office information was all wrong and they had had to return to town to go to the police station first. Poor John and Martha were in the police station going through endless documentation, along with huge amounts of fines and recovery costs, not to mention all the taxi fares.
Then much later we learnt, to cap it all, that having got away at 11 am, a water hose on the car had blown and they were being towed off the motorway! What a catalogue of disasters for them, poor things. We hope they arrived eventually at their daughter’s rented villa at Cap d’Antibes, but at the time of writing, we haven’t had confirmation of that!
Thursday 22 July 2010
Corre to St Jean de Losne
We had barely seen another boat for miles (kilometres) and we had decided that our end of day mooring would be at Fontenoy le Chateau. Imagine our surprise to find the place pretty well packed. But there was a space just beyond the boat hire company finger moorings which looked possible. Will and Mike helped us to moor. They were, it turned out, an Englishman and an Australian (no, no joke follows – rather the contrary) in a little wooden yacht which Will had bought last year and which he had left in the ‘capable’ hands of the hire boat company while he returned to the UK for 6 weeks paying for his mooring of course. Meanwhile the hire boat company had ignored his boat (despite requests to keep an eye on it) and it had sunk!!
So having started to pump the boat out and got it afloat, the chaps had removed everything from the interior and put it all on the bank side in the sun to dry out, and were doing their best to complete the pumping of all the excess water and drying everything out before setting off on the rest of their journey to the Med! We sympathised and gave them drinks and nibbles, but as we still had no cooking gas on board we couldn’t offer much more and off they went to eat. Later we met a land-based partnership, Oscar and Marie-Laura who had late evening drinks with us until well after our bedtime. Oscar was the son of an English mother and a Dutch bargee father, so his English was superb.
A couple of days later, we arrived at Corre where, at last, we were able to replenish our gas bottles and much else at the local Intermarché, 1km from the mooring. We actually made three trips in all with Alex wobbling dangerously on his bike with 15kg of gas bottle on the back – twice!
The following day we stopped for lunch on a mooring which we knew was a mere 400 metres from an Aldi where we stocked up on all our favourite bits that we couldn’t get from the bigger supermarket then travelled on to a mooring at Conflanday.
We decided that an early start and finish (in the cool of the morning) was better for Alex, still in a rather feeble condition, so we set off at 8am and moored up near Soing at 12.30. During the rest of the day, the wind got up and at least one tree was blown down across the road to the village, but by the time we cycled past, it had been moved off the road. We could see several other trees which had suffered the same fate either that day or within the very recent past. The village was rather nice and had, of all things, a miniature Eiffel Tower on the camping/playground area: when we rode through at 3pm, they were in the midst of celebrating Bastille Day with games for the children and a barbeque in preparation. Much later, after dark, Louise (Alex was asleep) had a fine view of the fireworks from our moorings.
We ultimately arrived at Gray where we were hoping to take on fuel. Our first attempt to stop above the lock to enquire of VNF where we could get it, was on a quay reserved for commercial craft but the only possible space for our boat. And of course a fisherman who was unloading his car ready to start fishing there gave us such a mouthful of abuse. For once Alex got cross himself and said in French – “Look, you have all day everyday to fish here: we are only here for 5 minutes! What is your problem?” He just couldn’t manage to find the French for, “You nasty little man”!
VNF told us where to moor and where to get the fuel so we moved below the lock onto the town moorings. Depth is a problem in pretty well all moorings on the Petite Saône but we managed OK until our fuel was delivered by tanker the next morning: then we were able to move across to the long quay where we also got free water and electricity. Bliss! But still very shallow – having to hold ourselves off some 2 metres at the stern.
Louise went off to top up fresh veg supplies but on her way she spotted the Tourist Information Office and dropped by to get a town map – the usual. The lady in charge, Claudine, was a real boat enthusiast, loving barges in particular, and Louise promised to call by later with photos of Riccall. When she saw our pictures, she said she would like to take some photos herself for her monthly magazine and we arranged for her to drop by at 8.15 am the following morning (!) before we left and before her 9 am appointment, as later in the day she would be travelling north to visit a sick friend.
So that visit all went well, we said goodbye and off she went at 8.50 am. We started to prepare to leave: we even had our first ropes off, when a lady boater spoke to us, warning us that the moorings we were aiming for that night were closed for the village fête and in any case the noise would be appalling, even if we could get in. Change of plan – we will stay another day. We re-moored ourselves and a few minutes later Claudine re-appeared with her husband Christoph, and they both came aboard for coffee and more chat. When she learned that we were staying she invited us to their home for lunch – they weren’t leaving for the north until 3pm and would have to travel back through Gray anyway, so it was no trouble to drop us back. They were both so keen for us to go, so we accepted the invitation. A light salad for lunch was promised, which suits us fine. So off we went to their house in the countryside.
Having greeted their son Armand and Claudine’s mother, who sadly spoke no English at all, we all sat down to lunch – couscous, bread, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, gherkins and radishes. Not perhaps what we might have offered but we thought, just perfect, our size of lunch. We should have known! Suddenly fried white sausages (veal) and apple slices appeared, with boiled rice and more bread. Having partaken of a token helping of that, out came the cheese and more bread. Then finally (you’ve guessed it) the dessert arrived! - a huge bowl of fresh fruit salad with cold semolina. At this point Alex said, “Non Merci” patting his already full tummy. (He doesn’t do fruit, and he certainly doesn’t do cold semolina!!) Finally coffee. How can anyone fail to become overweight with meals like that?
Claudine’s father had run a cheese manufacturing operation employing 15 people, at this very place for many years before the rise of the supermarkets made it no longer viable. They sent lorry loads of their cheese – Le Charmeur – to Paris twice a week. The old factory was crumbling away next to the house but Claudine still had great pride in what it had been. She gave us a cheese wrapper from the old business with the name of the company and the cheese. (We wondered how many wrappers she had left!) But Christoph, who gave us a tour of the quite extensive grounds, said that Claudine’s father had died only two years ago and the whole subject of what to do with the old creamery was still very much up in the air.
Some time after our return to Riccall we were delighted to see Will and Mike going past in their once-sunken sailing boat, having dried it all out and got it working again. Lots of waves and hellos and goodbyes as they went.
We left Gray the next day and still couldn’t moor where we had hoped, because although the fête had finished, today it was Brocante Day – car boot sale!!! and the mooring was still cordoned off. But we did find a very good spot not much further on – our size and depth, quiet and peaceful.
Much later that night a Danish sailing boat appeared and asked to moor on us. Of course – not a problem. Susanne and Per were heading for the Med then the Atlantic to explore the islands of Madeira and the Canaries and at 1.8m deep, they really struggled to find suitable moorings. Having done 24 locks and twice as many kilometres that day, they were very tired indeed and more than ready to moor up. They were hugely grateful and we managed a bit of chat after their meal before we all turned in.
When we got to St Jean de Losne the place was packed, but we had noticed a couple of boats moored up in the trees just north of the town, so we headed back to them and managed to nestle in to the shallow bank ourselves, with a boater’s help tying to one bollard and three trees, our new gang plank being just long enough to reach the shore.
Last year we had bought two big plastic torpedo-shaped fenders in case we needed them, at Pont à Bar, and had been disappointed when one of then had developed a leak after about a month. The plastic seemed to have a fault in it. Then a month ago the second one developed a leak in the same way. Neither of these fenders has ever actually been used, so we felt a bit cheesed off about it. As we can’t possibly return them to Pont à Bar which is hundreds of kms away, we went into St Jean de Losne which has two chandleries (one the expensive H2O, and one the more reasonable Blanquarts). Not unreasonably we went to Blanquarts and explained about the fenders and our problem.
The assistant was very nice and said they had had a number of the self-same fenders last year with the same fault, and she would exchange them for us and send them back, even though we hadn’t bought them from her. Really kind of her. Alex had also felt different types of fender called ‘glissoires’ would be better for Riccall anyway to replace our worn-out wooden ones, and she was quite happy to sell us 4 of those and take off the value of the faulty plastic fenders.
What she never actually asked was how much we had originally paid for the fenders at Pont à Bar! She essentially refunded us what Blanquarts charge - nearly twice the price of Pont à Bar, and charged us for the four plastic ‘glissoires’ which were on special offer!
So all in all we did very well on the deal, and we also managed to buy the next two canal books we need, both of which were in stock.
On the way back to Riccall we spotted ‘Cinclus’ moored up on the passenger boat quay. They can do this as they are indeed a passenger boat, licensed as such. We had met Sasja and Ekko twice last year and when we appeared by their boat they were delighted to see us and asked us aboard for drinks and a catch-up chat. They were having a week’s ‘holiday’ from paying guests and had family there instead: children swimming in the river, adults relaxing. Lovely people, lovely boat.
So here we are, sitting in a (so far) 18 hour deluge of rain, but we are now ready for the next stage in our journey south – onto the Basse Saône to Lyon.
Tales of few moorings, huge commercial traffic and locks, fast river etc etc. (Louise- Aarghhh)
So having started to pump the boat out and got it afloat, the chaps had removed everything from the interior and put it all on the bank side in the sun to dry out, and were doing their best to complete the pumping of all the excess water and drying everything out before setting off on the rest of their journey to the Med! We sympathised and gave them drinks and nibbles, but as we still had no cooking gas on board we couldn’t offer much more and off they went to eat. Later we met a land-based partnership, Oscar and Marie-Laura who had late evening drinks with us until well after our bedtime. Oscar was the son of an English mother and a Dutch bargee father, so his English was superb.
A couple of days later, we arrived at Corre where, at last, we were able to replenish our gas bottles and much else at the local Intermarché, 1km from the mooring. We actually made three trips in all with Alex wobbling dangerously on his bike with 15kg of gas bottle on the back – twice!
The following day we stopped for lunch on a mooring which we knew was a mere 400 metres from an Aldi where we stocked up on all our favourite bits that we couldn’t get from the bigger supermarket then travelled on to a mooring at Conflanday.
We decided that an early start and finish (in the cool of the morning) was better for Alex, still in a rather feeble condition, so we set off at 8am and moored up near Soing at 12.30. During the rest of the day, the wind got up and at least one tree was blown down across the road to the village, but by the time we cycled past, it had been moved off the road. We could see several other trees which had suffered the same fate either that day or within the very recent past. The village was rather nice and had, of all things, a miniature Eiffel Tower on the camping/playground area: when we rode through at 3pm, they were in the midst of celebrating Bastille Day with games for the children and a barbeque in preparation. Much later, after dark, Louise (Alex was asleep) had a fine view of the fireworks from our moorings.
We ultimately arrived at Gray where we were hoping to take on fuel. Our first attempt to stop above the lock to enquire of VNF where we could get it, was on a quay reserved for commercial craft but the only possible space for our boat. And of course a fisherman who was unloading his car ready to start fishing there gave us such a mouthful of abuse. For once Alex got cross himself and said in French – “Look, you have all day everyday to fish here: we are only here for 5 minutes! What is your problem?” He just couldn’t manage to find the French for, “You nasty little man”!
VNF told us where to moor and where to get the fuel so we moved below the lock onto the town moorings. Depth is a problem in pretty well all moorings on the Petite Saône but we managed OK until our fuel was delivered by tanker the next morning: then we were able to move across to the long quay where we also got free water and electricity. Bliss! But still very shallow – having to hold ourselves off some 2 metres at the stern.
Louise went off to top up fresh veg supplies but on her way she spotted the Tourist Information Office and dropped by to get a town map – the usual. The lady in charge, Claudine, was a real boat enthusiast, loving barges in particular, and Louise promised to call by later with photos of Riccall. When she saw our pictures, she said she would like to take some photos herself for her monthly magazine and we arranged for her to drop by at 8.15 am the following morning (!) before we left and before her 9 am appointment, as later in the day she would be travelling north to visit a sick friend.
So that visit all went well, we said goodbye and off she went at 8.50 am. We started to prepare to leave: we even had our first ropes off, when a lady boater spoke to us, warning us that the moorings we were aiming for that night were closed for the village fête and in any case the noise would be appalling, even if we could get in. Change of plan – we will stay another day. We re-moored ourselves and a few minutes later Claudine re-appeared with her husband Christoph, and they both came aboard for coffee and more chat. When she learned that we were staying she invited us to their home for lunch – they weren’t leaving for the north until 3pm and would have to travel back through Gray anyway, so it was no trouble to drop us back. They were both so keen for us to go, so we accepted the invitation. A light salad for lunch was promised, which suits us fine. So off we went to their house in the countryside.
Having greeted their son Armand and Claudine’s mother, who sadly spoke no English at all, we all sat down to lunch – couscous, bread, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, gherkins and radishes. Not perhaps what we might have offered but we thought, just perfect, our size of lunch. We should have known! Suddenly fried white sausages (veal) and apple slices appeared, with boiled rice and more bread. Having partaken of a token helping of that, out came the cheese and more bread. Then finally (you’ve guessed it) the dessert arrived! - a huge bowl of fresh fruit salad with cold semolina. At this point Alex said, “Non Merci” patting his already full tummy. (He doesn’t do fruit, and he certainly doesn’t do cold semolina!!) Finally coffee. How can anyone fail to become overweight with meals like that?
Claudine’s father had run a cheese manufacturing operation employing 15 people, at this very place for many years before the rise of the supermarkets made it no longer viable. They sent lorry loads of their cheese – Le Charmeur – to Paris twice a week. The old factory was crumbling away next to the house but Claudine still had great pride in what it had been. She gave us a cheese wrapper from the old business with the name of the company and the cheese. (We wondered how many wrappers she had left!) But Christoph, who gave us a tour of the quite extensive grounds, said that Claudine’s father had died only two years ago and the whole subject of what to do with the old creamery was still very much up in the air.
Some time after our return to Riccall we were delighted to see Will and Mike going past in their once-sunken sailing boat, having dried it all out and got it working again. Lots of waves and hellos and goodbyes as they went.
We left Gray the next day and still couldn’t moor where we had hoped, because although the fête had finished, today it was Brocante Day – car boot sale!!! and the mooring was still cordoned off. But we did find a very good spot not much further on – our size and depth, quiet and peaceful.
Much later that night a Danish sailing boat appeared and asked to moor on us. Of course – not a problem. Susanne and Per were heading for the Med then the Atlantic to explore the islands of Madeira and the Canaries and at 1.8m deep, they really struggled to find suitable moorings. Having done 24 locks and twice as many kilometres that day, they were very tired indeed and more than ready to moor up. They were hugely grateful and we managed a bit of chat after their meal before we all turned in.
When we got to St Jean de Losne the place was packed, but we had noticed a couple of boats moored up in the trees just north of the town, so we headed back to them and managed to nestle in to the shallow bank ourselves, with a boater’s help tying to one bollard and three trees, our new gang plank being just long enough to reach the shore.
Last year we had bought two big plastic torpedo-shaped fenders in case we needed them, at Pont à Bar, and had been disappointed when one of then had developed a leak after about a month. The plastic seemed to have a fault in it. Then a month ago the second one developed a leak in the same way. Neither of these fenders has ever actually been used, so we felt a bit cheesed off about it. As we can’t possibly return them to Pont à Bar which is hundreds of kms away, we went into St Jean de Losne which has two chandleries (one the expensive H2O, and one the more reasonable Blanquarts). Not unreasonably we went to Blanquarts and explained about the fenders and our problem.
The assistant was very nice and said they had had a number of the self-same fenders last year with the same fault, and she would exchange them for us and send them back, even though we hadn’t bought them from her. Really kind of her. Alex had also felt different types of fender called ‘glissoires’ would be better for Riccall anyway to replace our worn-out wooden ones, and she was quite happy to sell us 4 of those and take off the value of the faulty plastic fenders.
What she never actually asked was how much we had originally paid for the fenders at Pont à Bar! She essentially refunded us what Blanquarts charge - nearly twice the price of Pont à Bar, and charged us for the four plastic ‘glissoires’ which were on special offer!
So all in all we did very well on the deal, and we also managed to buy the next two canal books we need, both of which were in stock.
On the way back to Riccall we spotted ‘Cinclus’ moored up on the passenger boat quay. They can do this as they are indeed a passenger boat, licensed as such. We had met Sasja and Ekko twice last year and when we appeared by their boat they were delighted to see us and asked us aboard for drinks and a catch-up chat. They were having a week’s ‘holiday’ from paying guests and had family there instead: children swimming in the river, adults relaxing. Lovely people, lovely boat.
So here we are, sitting in a (so far) 18 hour deluge of rain, but we are now ready for the next stage in our journey south – onto the Basse Saône to Lyon.
Tales of few moorings, huge commercial traffic and locks, fast river etc etc. (Louise- Aarghhh)
Tuesday 20 July 2010
Thaon to Corre
When we had come in to moor at Charmes a guy from a large Dutch barge called WILLIAM helped us with our ropes. He had helped us at the end of last year in the Port de France in Toul as well. It seems he sort of takes over as the ‘mooring commandant’ wherever he moors, but very helpful with it. He said he was staying at Charmes for 6 months, and we commiserated with him over the QUADRUPLING of the mooring costs at Port de France, Toul (the main reason he moved on).
He warned us that ahead in Thaon there was a rat run of 4 commercials through 4 locks between a gravel source and a gravel distribution depot/port, 4 kilometres apart on the canal. He also warned us that the depth on the branch canal to Epinal a few kilometres beyond Thaon was very limited.
He was dead right in both respects – we met three of the commercials returning unladen and followed a laden one through two locks. But what he didn’t warn us about was that one of the lock bridges in Thaon had a variable water level giving a clear air draught of between 3.5 m and 3.7 m. With our roof on we are 3.6 m and as we arrived at this bridge our height marker on our bow showed we couldn’t get under without removing the roof!
Emergency stop! Back off! and lower the wheelhouse roof. This is not a problem, only a surprise, as our book tells us that that all the bridges on this canal have a clear height of 3.7m.
Alex couldn’t believe this particular one and, after we moored up, he walked back to it, with a measuring tape. When he arrived, his first measurement showed 3.7 m. What’s going on? But as he took subsequent readings over the next 15 minutes or so, the water level rose till the air draught was down to 3.5 m. Scary!
We later spent a very interesting time at our mooring, observing the water level rise and fall by as much as 20 cms as these monsters passed through the locks.
A couple of days later and the branch canal to Epinal was signed at 1.6m depth but we could see that the water level was at least 300mm below normal: therefore the depth was actually 1.3 m. At our draught of 1.4 m we would surely have struggled. We had the same advice from VNF at their office at the junction where we moored up, and from the harbourmaster when we cycled into Epinal to have a looksee.
As we cycled past the moored boats there we suddenly saw a name we recognised - ‘VLINDER’, and on close inspection there were Rita and Eloy under their snazzy new canopy on top of their cabin roof. We had not seen them since our winter stay in Ghent Centrum, so it was great to be asked aboard, given drinks and snacks and to catch up with all that had been going on for the last year and a half, and most importantly, exchange mooring information.
We eventually left to ride back to Riccall just as it started to pour with rain. It stopped about half way back and though we were thoroughly soaked by this time, the weather was so warm that we had dried out by the time we got back to the boat.
While we were moored outside the VNF office we saw several boats pass this way and that – one of which stopped to moor on the VNF work boat next to us: a 15ft canoe with a small outboard! Ganot, a German, was spending 4-6 weeks cruising the Canal des Vosges and hoped to end up back at his home moorings on the Lahn River, off the Rhine near Koblenz in that time. He had everything he needed in his small canoe: tent, primus stove, food, plastic chair to sit in while steering or on the bank, plus leeboards for stability: altogether a simple but efficient way to travel and so easy to moor! He also managed a far faster speed than we can do!
He came for a drink with us in the evening and we learned how, with such a small boat, he paid no French licence fee, but because of this, the VNF were not always keen to let him use the locks unless there was another boat going too (a waste of water for such a small boat they said). We were going the next day so agreed that he was welcome to accompany us in the locks. It made a peculiar sight – us at the front of the lock towering over this tiny canoe tucked in behind with Ganot holding onto the lock ladder to keep his vessel in place. Some of the locks here are in such poor shape that here and there, there is no cement left between the stones which make up the walls, and they look as though they could fall out altogether at any time. In two locks, some of the teetering stones had been removed altogether and put on the lock side! Equally some of the lock ladders (there are at least two in every lock) to which Ganot was clinging, were only held on by the last two bolts at the top!
We found a place to moor on the summit level at a short new wooden quay with good rings. This was opposite a house on the other side of the canal which had a swimming pool in the garden. We were forced to listen as all the teenagers and adults kept leaping into the pool to cool down while we sweltered in the hot sun – temperature 36C. However, the following day Alex had a treat as Madame emerged and wandered around topless (and almost bottomless) for most of the morning!
Alex decided that this would be a good place to do a spot of painting on the back deck. We have, for some time, realised that the dark green paint absorbed the heat of the sun and radiated it off again – often too hot to touch, just when we wanted to sit there for our supper. So we set about painting a large proportion of it cream. (Good excuse to stay another day or so – you never know your luck – Alex!)
Our next mooring was just through the first lock down from the summit level. As the bottom gates started to open we could see a laden peniche about to enter! He was more than a little surprised to see us, as VNF had told him there was nobody coming through. (They had obviously forgotten all about us, as we’d been stopped for so long!)
The péniche jiggled about a bit and eventually signalled us to come past him on the ‘wrong’ side, which we started to do, but half way past we went aground. So there we were, locked hard up against Madame and Monsieur’s péniche ALAIN, with all of us pushing and pulling to get us past and off the bottom while protecting both boats. We would have been in real trouble if we had met him in the narrows above the lock. Up there it was like a tunnel but without a roof, for about one and a half miles, very twisty and only one and a half barges wide. One of us (US) would have had to back off!
However, this mooring allowed us to put on the first top coat of paint on the back deck and at a poor quality small supermarket, euphemistically named Ecomarché, the opportunity to stock up.
The next few locks, from 3 down to 8 are manually operated by VNF staff, (mostly student labour drafted in during the summer). As we reached the last of these Louise popped into the bedroom for something and spotted water all over the floor. Having to get back up on board to man the ropes, she assumed at first glance that the air con unit we have just installed was leaking. As it happened, a mooring which we had been looking out for was available just through Lock 8 so we stopped to investigate. When Alex got down to the bedroom he realised very quickly that it was not the air con leaking, but that water had been directed clean through the open porthole from one of the fountains of water that you often get from the leaky sides of a lock when it has recently been emptied (or in this case as we were descending).
So another trap for small children – always remember to close all the portholes when travelling through leaky locks.
However, the plus side was that the mooring was so idyllic, peaceful and remote, that we decided to stay the rest of the day. And . . . within an hour two cyclists turned up at the adjacent picnic table, then a cruiser to join them, and then the whole VNF mowing team – 6 men and machines - turned up to cut the grass. Goodbye peace and tranquillity! (but happily not for too long).
We set off again descending the locks and as we were about to emerge from one, Alex noticed our height marker on the front of Riccall showed lack of clearance under the bridge. He stopped, we looked again and it looked OK, so we started slowly forward. But the wave of water which happens when the lock empties must have been reflected back into the lock and raised the level again and the roof just started to catch – back off, and off with it, and two nasty scratches in the paint. When will we learn? And today we ran out of gas! We have a spare bottle of course but it too was empty. How did that happen? Someone said that gas can evaporate when it is hot, but we can’t believe that’s what happened!
To make up for it we found one of the most rural and ‘away from it all’ moorings so far; pity a German sailing boat decided to moor up in front of us an hour after we stopped there! But you can’t have it all!
We have meandered on, stopping where the mooring look nice, and have at last reached Corre, though not before another unexpected roof removal! We have restocked with gas, wine beer, and food ready for the trip south down the Saône. We have also realised that we need to get a bit more of a move on – after all, we’ve recently had a text from Paul and Diane saying they have just met Ganot in his canoe – 300kms ahead of us!!
He warned us that ahead in Thaon there was a rat run of 4 commercials through 4 locks between a gravel source and a gravel distribution depot/port, 4 kilometres apart on the canal. He also warned us that the depth on the branch canal to Epinal a few kilometres beyond Thaon was very limited.
He was dead right in both respects – we met three of the commercials returning unladen and followed a laden one through two locks. But what he didn’t warn us about was that one of the lock bridges in Thaon had a variable water level giving a clear air draught of between 3.5 m and 3.7 m. With our roof on we are 3.6 m and as we arrived at this bridge our height marker on our bow showed we couldn’t get under without removing the roof!
Emergency stop! Back off! and lower the wheelhouse roof. This is not a problem, only a surprise, as our book tells us that that all the bridges on this canal have a clear height of 3.7m.
Alex couldn’t believe this particular one and, after we moored up, he walked back to it, with a measuring tape. When he arrived, his first measurement showed 3.7 m. What’s going on? But as he took subsequent readings over the next 15 minutes or so, the water level rose till the air draught was down to 3.5 m. Scary!
We later spent a very interesting time at our mooring, observing the water level rise and fall by as much as 20 cms as these monsters passed through the locks.
A couple of days later and the branch canal to Epinal was signed at 1.6m depth but we could see that the water level was at least 300mm below normal: therefore the depth was actually 1.3 m. At our draught of 1.4 m we would surely have struggled. We had the same advice from VNF at their office at the junction where we moored up, and from the harbourmaster when we cycled into Epinal to have a looksee.
As we cycled past the moored boats there we suddenly saw a name we recognised - ‘VLINDER’, and on close inspection there were Rita and Eloy under their snazzy new canopy on top of their cabin roof. We had not seen them since our winter stay in Ghent Centrum, so it was great to be asked aboard, given drinks and snacks and to catch up with all that had been going on for the last year and a half, and most importantly, exchange mooring information.
We eventually left to ride back to Riccall just as it started to pour with rain. It stopped about half way back and though we were thoroughly soaked by this time, the weather was so warm that we had dried out by the time we got back to the boat.
While we were moored outside the VNF office we saw several boats pass this way and that – one of which stopped to moor on the VNF work boat next to us: a 15ft canoe with a small outboard! Ganot, a German, was spending 4-6 weeks cruising the Canal des Vosges and hoped to end up back at his home moorings on the Lahn River, off the Rhine near Koblenz in that time. He had everything he needed in his small canoe: tent, primus stove, food, plastic chair to sit in while steering or on the bank, plus leeboards for stability: altogether a simple but efficient way to travel and so easy to moor! He also managed a far faster speed than we can do!
He came for a drink with us in the evening and we learned how, with such a small boat, he paid no French licence fee, but because of this, the VNF were not always keen to let him use the locks unless there was another boat going too (a waste of water for such a small boat they said). We were going the next day so agreed that he was welcome to accompany us in the locks. It made a peculiar sight – us at the front of the lock towering over this tiny canoe tucked in behind with Ganot holding onto the lock ladder to keep his vessel in place. Some of the locks here are in such poor shape that here and there, there is no cement left between the stones which make up the walls, and they look as though they could fall out altogether at any time. In two locks, some of the teetering stones had been removed altogether and put on the lock side! Equally some of the lock ladders (there are at least two in every lock) to which Ganot was clinging, were only held on by the last two bolts at the top!
We found a place to moor on the summit level at a short new wooden quay with good rings. This was opposite a house on the other side of the canal which had a swimming pool in the garden. We were forced to listen as all the teenagers and adults kept leaping into the pool to cool down while we sweltered in the hot sun – temperature 36C. However, the following day Alex had a treat as Madame emerged and wandered around topless (and almost bottomless) for most of the morning!
Alex decided that this would be a good place to do a spot of painting on the back deck. We have, for some time, realised that the dark green paint absorbed the heat of the sun and radiated it off again – often too hot to touch, just when we wanted to sit there for our supper. So we set about painting a large proportion of it cream. (Good excuse to stay another day or so – you never know your luck – Alex!)
Our next mooring was just through the first lock down from the summit level. As the bottom gates started to open we could see a laden peniche about to enter! He was more than a little surprised to see us, as VNF had told him there was nobody coming through. (They had obviously forgotten all about us, as we’d been stopped for so long!)
The péniche jiggled about a bit and eventually signalled us to come past him on the ‘wrong’ side, which we started to do, but half way past we went aground. So there we were, locked hard up against Madame and Monsieur’s péniche ALAIN, with all of us pushing and pulling to get us past and off the bottom while protecting both boats. We would have been in real trouble if we had met him in the narrows above the lock. Up there it was like a tunnel but without a roof, for about one and a half miles, very twisty and only one and a half barges wide. One of us (US) would have had to back off!
However, this mooring allowed us to put on the first top coat of paint on the back deck and at a poor quality small supermarket, euphemistically named Ecomarché, the opportunity to stock up.
The next few locks, from 3 down to 8 are manually operated by VNF staff, (mostly student labour drafted in during the summer). As we reached the last of these Louise popped into the bedroom for something and spotted water all over the floor. Having to get back up on board to man the ropes, she assumed at first glance that the air con unit we have just installed was leaking. As it happened, a mooring which we had been looking out for was available just through Lock 8 so we stopped to investigate. When Alex got down to the bedroom he realised very quickly that it was not the air con leaking, but that water had been directed clean through the open porthole from one of the fountains of water that you often get from the leaky sides of a lock when it has recently been emptied (or in this case as we were descending).
So another trap for small children – always remember to close all the portholes when travelling through leaky locks.
However, the plus side was that the mooring was so idyllic, peaceful and remote, that we decided to stay the rest of the day. And . . . within an hour two cyclists turned up at the adjacent picnic table, then a cruiser to join them, and then the whole VNF mowing team – 6 men and machines - turned up to cut the grass. Goodbye peace and tranquillity! (but happily not for too long).
We set off again descending the locks and as we were about to emerge from one, Alex noticed our height marker on the front of Riccall showed lack of clearance under the bridge. He stopped, we looked again and it looked OK, so we started slowly forward. But the wave of water which happens when the lock empties must have been reflected back into the lock and raised the level again and the roof just started to catch – back off, and off with it, and two nasty scratches in the paint. When will we learn? And today we ran out of gas! We have a spare bottle of course but it too was empty. How did that happen? Someone said that gas can evaporate when it is hot, but we can’t believe that’s what happened!
To make up for it we found one of the most rural and ‘away from it all’ moorings so far; pity a German sailing boat decided to moor up in front of us an hour after we stopped there! But you can’t have it all!
We have meandered on, stopping where the mooring look nice, and have at last reached Corre, though not before another unexpected roof removal! We have restocked with gas, wine beer, and food ready for the trip south down the Saône. We have also realised that we need to get a bit more of a move on – after all, we’ve recently had a text from Paul and Diane saying they have just met Ganot in his canoe – 300kms ahead of us!!
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