The Burgundy and North to Reims

It has been quite a few weeks since our last blog and what a few weeks it has been!  We did at one point contemplate not carrying on with blogging but having re-read some of our earlier stuff and the memories they kindled, we decided that we just had no option but to keep on writing.

So, we left Tonnerre after waiting a few days for the weather to improve (the very first bridge was going to be a ROFF – Alex had been up and measured it).  Our first attempt at mooring at Tanlay was rather hampered by a land and aquatic fun day for the village youngsters.  The best moorings were full of kids in canoes but we managed to squeeze in on the opposite side in the shallows – only 2ft from the quay.  The chateau at Tanlay was pretty impressive with some amazing trompe d’oeils.  Our very next mooring in the middle of nowhere left us so far from the shore even our 8ft gangplank wouldn’t reach, but we had no passing boats thankfully and enjoyed a spectacular thunderstorm overnight.

Another ROFF to start the next day but around lunchtime the day looked a bit overcast so we put the roof back on.  Lucky we did, because as we travelled up through the next few locks together with a hire boat full of lads, the rain began to fall in earnest and suddenly blew into a minor hurricane.  We all got absolutely soaked, as in ‘up’ locks we have to be on deck holding and adjusting our ropes, and while we all had a good laugh about it, the fat Madame Eclusiere couldn’t crack a smile.  She was of course soaked too but . . . miserable cow!

On exiting the lock and before the next suspect bridge Alex spotted a lone bollard.  We moored up for the night and there was even plenty of depth – a rarity on this canal.  That evening as the sun came out again we walked up to the local village.  But in the morning, the approaching hotel boat had one hell of a job getting past us and lining up for the lock: not that he seemed over concerned: all part of the job I suppose.

In due course we got to a mooring at Pouillenay, where the notice board offered us two delightful and historic villages and towns to visit, Flavigny at 5kms or Semur at 10kms.  Flavigny won for obvious reasons, but we didn’t realise that 3 of the 5kms was steeply uphill, and the rest steeply downhill.  The village itself was just great, totally unspoilt and complete with its protective surrounding wall intact.  We sat in a café in a square having drinks and pouring over our map for a better way back – longer but flatter – definitely better!

We also noticed that there was a bus to the town of Semur which also passed through our next proposed mooring at Marigny.  So the next day we moored up for the night and asked our kindly lockkeeper if the bus was still running to Semur.  (We had given him a jar of Riccall chutney for his efforts that day in working the locks.)  And he said (all in French of course) “Be ready at 12pm and I will give you a lift”!.  So he did just that in his lunch break, and collected us again just after 5pm – so kind.  We had a nice day in Semur but got soaked again when we ran into another rainstorm.  This time though we were trapped on the Petit Train, with no hope of keeping dry.

Our next mooring at Port Royal has to rate as another one of the best.  The moorings were adjacent to a beautiful Chambre d’Hote village house which operated them (water and electricity included) in what had once been a thriving village with charcuterie and boulangerie, now sadly all closed, but mine host happy to provide baguettes and croissants in the morning.  The restaurant across the road run by Basil Faulty’s French cousin did excellent Charolais steak and chips, with massacred French beans as the side veg! - surprisingly common in France.

A few days later we were finally at Pouilly with the 3km restricted-dimension tunnel to negotiate ahead of us.  Alex spent the day installing lengths of split plastic pipe over the handrails at the front to protect them from the tunnel walls (a good use of time as it turned out) and fixing some old 4 foot long 8” x 2” baulks of wood which we had once used as glissoires years ago, through the bollards front and back.  He used luggage ratchet straps to fix the wood at an angle between the bollards so that each protruded about 50cms each side to keep us near the middle of the tunnel.  As it turned out it all worked well, but the handrails only cleared the roof of the tunnel by about 6” each side so it was slow but steady as you go.

At Vandenesse we had to leave the lovely moorings after just one night as the town was about to hold a firework party, so we moved on a couple of kms and moored between locks on a post and a makeshift G clamp on the armaco just behind the barge IBAIA.  We met the new owners Richard and Lynda and we all walked up to Chateauneuf in the warm sunshine.

Our descent of the Bourgogne Canal from the tunnel went without many incidents, most of the bridges being JUST high enough, and with the number of hotel barges on this side, the depth was absolutely fine.

We did come across one unexpectedly low bridge between two locks near Epoisses, which were being worked for us by an eclusier and had to do an emergency stop.  The lockkeeper came scooting back on this VESPA and we explained we just had to take 5 minutes getting the roof off.  “Pas de problem” he said, and watched as we did it giving us a thumbs up when the job was done.  The fisherman beside this said bridge never raised his eyes!  (Of course, he’d seen it all before!  Yeah!  Typical!)

Finally we got down to St Jean de Losne and a long wait in the basin waiting for the lock out onto the Saone.  The town quay moorings were predictably full, but the ‘secret’ hidden ring on the sloping wall of the launch ramp which Jill and Robert of DANUM had told us about, was free so we hooked on there.

We had now completed the Canal de Bourgogne, one of the jewels in the crown of the French canal system, and we would be travelling north again by the Canal du Marne à Saone, now called the Canal entre Champagne et Bourgogne (we prefer the old name).  There is much to commend the Bourgogne with isolated stretches and few boats but the manual locks, operated by roving eclusiers make it difficult to make unplanned stops, as the VNF like to know what your movements are at all times, and you don’t know what you might like to do or see if you haven’t done that particular canal before!

At Auxonne we stopped for lunch on the town quay and Alex fashioned an ingenious (Louise says) system to get water from the push and hold tap close by.

Then at the next lock just before our turn on to the Marne à Saone, the rain started again.  We took pity on a middle-aged couple of cyclists, who were sheltering under the bridge over the lock, and invited them on board for a warming cuppa and shelter.  They gratefully accepted and we took them with us through the next couple of locks to our mooring at Maxilly.  We managed quite a good chat with our limited French and they were delighted to have spent a short time on a barge for the first time in their lives.

The next day the first thing we met was a fully laden peniche.  Crikey!  We thought they had pretty well stopped using this canal!  But it was one of very few we met up with on the canal.

That night we moored in front of an Australian couple on a cruiser, who had seemingly moored right in the middle of the long quay, leaving us just enough room to get in in front of them.  The guy took a rope for us, as the moorings were rings and that is helpful, and we motored forward on that to get the stern into shore and our other rope on, whereupon Mrs came out very flustered and said in no uncertain words, that we were too close to her boat.  Fine!  We’ll move back a bit to give you 2 metres clear instead of one – not a problem, if that’s what you want.  No need to get your knickers in a twist!

She was just as twitchy the next morning when we left, convinced that we would scratch her precious cruiser.  Needless to say, we didn’t fraternise with them, but thought it unusual behaviour for Ozzies, who are usually so friendly.

We now had more of a target for meeting Mary and Martin who were due to visit us for a few days’ cruising.  There was definitely a station at Joinville, where two trains a day still stop on the line that runs down this canal. We had plenty of time to get there for their arrival, but in the meantime we found ISKRA at the Chaumont mooring, together with a South African boat called SEA HAWK.  We had kept in touch with John and Hilary since we met them 4 years ago on the Canal du Centre and had even visited them at home near Nottingham, so it was great to catch up.  And we also got to know Alan, Liz, Richard and Lorraine of SEA HAWK and had drinks with them.

We spent the next few days leapfrogging with these two boats till Friday when we got to Joinville at lunchtime.  We knew in advance from them that there was room for us on the quay so that was a relief.

Louise had been longing to have her hair cut and on Friday afternoon went into town and had the job done.  Liz and Lorraine coincidentally had also gone into town for the same purpose though to a different hairdresser.  Seeing Louise’s new short hair, Alex decided he had better try on Saturday morning for a ‘coupe normal’ too.  Having ridden all round the town twice looking for the best deal (!) he suddenly saw a little coiffure on the corner which looked his kind of place.

‘C’est combien pour un coupe normal?’ €11.  Great, and she could do it now.  Best haircut he’s ever had so when he got back to the boat and told John about it, John set off hotfoot for the same place.  A great deal for Chaumont – 12 boaters and 5 of them had spent money on hairdressing in the town!!

Mary and Martin duly arrived late on Saturday night and the next day we set off for the mooring at Bayard which only had room for one boat. Unfortunately SEA HAWK had beaten us to it so we motored on to Chamouilly.  The next day was a short one into St Dizier, though this did require a quick ROFF at the railway bridge (not unexpected) and a treat for Mary and Martin who had never seen the procedure before.

St Dizier is not a bad place despite the rather dilapidated moorings, and we had a nice amble round and lunch courtesy of Mary and Martin (another thank you to them) in one of the pleasant squares.  It is the birthplace of Hector Guimard who designed those famous cast iron entrance porticos for all the Metro stations in Paris in the 20s, and also many balconies, gates and other functional or decorative ironware in St Dizier and elsewhere.  Much of this was evident, not unnaturally, in the town and we waited till 9.30 the following morning to have a look at the town museum where some of his work and other artefacts are held.

Apart from ISKRA and SEA HAWK, we saw only a handful of other boats on the canal, so we were not surprised to see them at Orconte when we arrived.  What did surprise us though was that by 7pm that evening another FOUR boats had joined us on the quay and a hotel barge which had wanted to moor up had to decide to motor on a couple of kms up the canal for his mooring spot.  Weird!  Amongst those four boats was another we knew of old - AILSA - with Mike and Sally aboard.

Finally we got to Vitry-le-Francois and managed to moor behind a VNF workboat above the lock into the town.  This was an excellent spot as it was close to the station for Mary and Martin to catch their return train next morning and peaceful being away from the town centre, the only downside was the loss of the sun behind a huge silo in the evening.

Vitry marks the end of the Canal de Marne à Saone and we had loved it.  In some ways it is better than the Bourgogne partly because all the locks are automated and therefore don’t need roving lockkeepers watching your every move, and also because the canalside vistas of countryside seem wider and more spectacular.

From here we are on the Canal Lateral a la Marne - a more industrialised waterway – but attractive nonetheless.

We gave Chalons en Champagne a miss, as since the last time we were there, the moorings have been updated with a new capitainerie, finger pontoons, water, electricity, and of course costs, and much less quay space suitable for barges.  SEA HAWK and ISKRA had managed to squeeze in but there was no room for us, so we carried on to one of our favourite moorings at Condé.

At Condé we were joined by Hubert on his barge DEWAALST whom we had first met at Auxerre and later at Clamecy, and he came for drinks with us.  We saw him again a couple of days later when he pulled in to our mooring north of Reims just before we set off for a morning shopping trip.  His new inverter had stopped working: so Alex had a look and managed to get it going again, and also suss what had caused the problem.  One very happy Hubert went on his way, and we went off and did our Lidl and Leclerc shopping.

We are now about to join the Canal Lateral à L’Aisne to Compiègne, another new canal for us, and then head north for our winter moorings back in Seneffe.

The Nivernais, the Yonne and the Bourgogne

Clamecy is a lovely little town and was once one of the assembly points for the gathering of wood to be floated down the river Yonne to Paris which had run out of local wood for building and burning.  There is a picture of Clamecy taken in the late 1800s, showing the river chock-full of logs so that you could have walked from one side of the other without getting your feet wet!

The logs were assembled and tied together into log ‘barges’, then steered down the river by one or two men using the natural flow as their motive power.  The photo attached may help to explain.

We travelled to the outskirts of the town on our bikes to the usual Lidl and Leclerc to stock up and on our return found Phil and Terrie of barge MR PIP waiting to say hello.

They were travelling in their campervan in the area when they received our last blog and realised we were just ‘round the corner’ from them.  So we had a good catch up with them before they had to rush off to see to their two new kittens, which they’d left in the van.

When we looked round the cathedral in Clamecy Alex found one of the doors to the tower had not been locked. (He always tries every possible door just in case and usually no luck, but this time - result!)   So he climbed to the very top and out onto the square roof which had a parapet all round.  It was blowing a gale up there and as he shouldn’t have been there anyway he had to keep his head well down as he squatted around admiring the views and snapping them from between the balustrades.

Our trip back to Auxerre was now on a known canal/river so we knew, or thought we did, where most of the shallow bits were and where it was a ROFF situation.  Despite this previous knowledge though, we managed to go aground twice – once giving a boat plenty of room to enter a lock and once moving over to allow another boat to overtake.

On the way we encountered four ‘adventure boats’ on several occasions, which had been moored at Clamecy, and were now moving slowly along the Nivernais on an outward-bound-type trip with a million teenagers aboard!  Not a job for the faint-hearted!

We took the Vermenton branch this time and moored up for the night in Accolay. It wasn’t quite wide enough to turn Riccall round so on leaving we continued through the second and last lock, turned in the Vermenton basin and retraced our steps back to the Nivernais and one of our favourite moorings so far, at Bailly.  This time we spent the afternoon walking right up to the top of the vineyards for a magnificent view of the Yonne valley.  Our friends Jean and Mike were due to drop in again on their way north so this was the perfect spot, as they now knew where we’d be, having stayed there with us on their way south.  We had another lovely evening with them and they agreed if they could leave some of their luggage for us to bring back to the UK shortly, there was room in the car for Alex to be given a lift to Seneffe to collect our own car.  It would only add about half an hour to their journey to Zeebrugge for their ferry, and thanks very much Mike and Jean for that.  Alex got back with our car late in the evening.

We spent the next night on the shallow moorings upstream of Auxerre as we knew the following day was going to be tricky and Alex cycled the 10kms back to Bailly to collect the car and parked it in Auxerre.

Next day we lowered the roof before setting off, so the Paul Bert bridge in Auxerre town (limited height and depth noted in our canal book and on the bridge itself!) was actually no problem, and when it came to the turn and reverse into our arranged mooring place, communication was much easier with the roof off and the whole manoeuvre went without a hitch (amazingly as Riccall is usually virtually uncontrollable in reverse).

So now we had a safe place with electricity to leave Riccall for a couple of weeks, and someone to keep an eye on the boat – perfect!  Again thanks are due to David, our friend on his barge CARMEN, for acting as intermediary to get us the temporary mooring and checking on Riccall in our absence.

We drove back to the UK, spending a lovely evening and night with Peter and Nicci on AURIGNY in Deinze in Belgium, then two nights with Julia in Bedford, one night with Michael and Sylvia in Harrogate, where we could admire all the preparations for Le Grand Depart of the Tour de France and finally home to Newton Aycliffe.  Unusually for us we spent all of the Saturday watching alternately the women’s tennis final and Le Grand Depart from Harrogate on television, and Sunday watching more Tour de France and the men’s tennis final!

Our main reason though for this return, the christening of Louise’s first beautiful little granddaughter, Sophie, was not for several days, so we had the usual dashing about collecting together everything we needed to bring back to France with us and fitting in a visit to brother and sister-in-law David and Bun in Wedmore, and Emily and Ric in Bristol.

The christening itself was just perfect, and we spent a further great night with friends from way back, Max and Judith in Kent, before catching a morning ferry and the 6 hour drive back to Auxerre.

We decided to spend a few more days on the mooring in Auxerre as it was just so lovely. We were due to be joined by friends Sylvia and Michael in a few days time in Migennes, a few kilometres downstream on the Yonne and just onto the start of the Canal du Bourgogne – but not such a nice mooring.

When we finally got to Migennes we still had a day before our visitors arrived so we sussed the station, train times, did a bit of shopping and were amused to see a pair of elderly scavengers who dropped by every hour or so to see if anything had been left by hirers in the rubbish bins! 

Alex was also suffering a slight hangover because when we had arrived the night before we had been joined for post-dinner drinks by four multi-national hirers John, Viv, Grant and Itati who were about to leave their boat the following morning.  We all finally got to bed about 1am but in the morning they very kindly gave us all their leftovers, including a full crate of beer and two bulging carrier bags of goodies!  Many thanks to them and bad luck the scavengers! 

The night Michael and Sylvia arrived in Migennes, the local bar had become the centre for an all-night party!  M and S were tired enough after their day-long journey to us to sleep through it all but we had a fitful night until 5.30am when the last of the partygoers eventually stopped chatting and drove off.  The goods trains, which ran all night on the opposite side of the port, didn’t help either!

We set off for St Florentin with Michael and Sylvia, stopping for the usual enforced lunch on the way (the locks here shut 12 to 1pm).  At Maladerie we got to our first ROFF.  This gave M and S a treat, as it was the first time they had ever seen the roof being lowered into the well deck.

After a thankfully peaceful night we all went by train to see Auxerre, as we knew M and S would love it as much as we had.  Had a great day, a super lunch and spent another quiet night back in St Flo.

The following day we came to our second ROFF at Germiny – the lockkeeper just had to wait for us while we completed the manoeuvre.  But she was quite happy to do so, and we got a thumbs-up from her and two passing lady walkers when all was completed.  We finally moored up at Flogny where we had free water, and ate an excellent barbecue cooked by Michael on our new barbecue.  (We have rarely bothered with barbecues in the past because the old-fashioned charcoal-burning type is such a trial, so we had finally used the opportunity of M and S’s visit to treat ourselves to a new gas type, which was a great success.)

Another good quiet night at Flogny and on to Tonnerre, where we had an evening and morning to view the town with its amazing ancient wash-house and interesting cathedral on the hill.  We also learnt that Tonnerre had been subjected to a serious mis-directed bombing by the American Air Force in May 1944 in the lead up to D-day.  Can’t think quite what their proper target might have been so far south! but it left the town in ruins. Sad, sad pictures of the time were on display in the cathedral.

M and S left us after a great few days together: the weather had been perfect – flawless blue skies and just not TOO hot!  Just a bit of a pity we hadn’t been able to show them either a French chateau or a typical French market – each town we visited had had its market on another day, and the main chateaux are further up the canal and higher into the hills!  Another time we hope? . . .

On the Nivernais

Finally the weather has warmed up!  In fact it’s so hot now we can hardly bear it – 38C the other day and 34C for four days in a row!  Typical!  From one extreme to the other in a matter of 2 or 3 days.   We Northerners need time to acclimatise!

We left Sens while it was still cool and took our time (5 days) getting to Auxerre, staying at various places on the way including Villeneuve which was nice enough and Joigny, an interesting little town set on a hillside, with some very old and interesting timbered buildings.  The moorings however, were unfortunately rather poor and we did gently make our views known to the Tourist Information Office staff.

At Auxerre we saw David Almond’s boat CARMEN, and went for a catch up and news of the possibility of a mooring there while we return to the UK for Sophie’s christening.  We had last seen David on the Canal du Midi two years ago when we were both waiting to get through a lock, with a dozen other hired plaisances (bumper boats!).   He had good news for us: yes, a mooring was available at reasonable cost just behind his own boat.  Great relief, as a safe spot for Riccall with electricity is pretty hard to find.

We had moored on the town quay at Auxerre which shows signs of a recent, very comprehensive upgrade, but sadly the water and electricity bournes have not yet been connected.  However, it was a lovely town and an excellent place for our boating friends Keith and Louise of SALTIRE to spend the night with us on their way south to their boat at Moissac.  They arrived around 2pm so we had a wander around the beautiful, ancient town of Auxerre with its little winding streets and alleyways on steep inclines surrounded by timber framed houses everywhere, and we even managed to squeeze in an excellent stop for liquid refreshment! These towns are quite amazing: there must be at least three spectacular churches in Auxerre as well as the Cathedral, and we duly went and saw the rest the following day.  After a further night we felt we must move on and decided our next mooring would be at the Caves de Bailly.

We are now on the Nivernais canal proper and here the locks close for lunch from 12pm - 1pm. This is fine for us as we like to stop for lunch ourselves, though sometimes it can be somewhat difficult if there are no moorings at the next closed lock!  On one occasion we came off a river section and entered a very short sloping sided entrance to the lock.  The lockkeeper wasn’t there, the lock was full, and it was lunchtime.  There were no mooring possibilities of any kind, and the sloping side meant we couldn’t get off to take a line to anything ashore.  We ended up sticking the boat hook across the wide gap into the ground and tying up to that!

As it happened, on the way to Bailly, again the last lock before the mooring was closed for lunch when we got there and this time we had to use a totally inadequate quay about 4 metres long (admittedly with two good bollards) but loads of rocks just below the water surface.  We managed to hang on while we had lunch and Alex leapt off Riccall to scout ahead and see if there was room on our planned mooring.  Yes!  Just 3 boats and plenty of room for us.  When we finally got there two of the boats had already gone and the third left half an hour later, so we had the place to ourselves: a really excellent mooring with water and leccy by jeton.

A short walk up the hill were the Caves de Bailly- a cooperative wine organisation which had taken over the underground excavations formed during stone quarrying work many, many decades ago.  Really stone mines rather than coal mines.  The underground caverns run to about 4 hectares and maintain an ideal temperature for the production and storage of the millions of bottles of wine made there.

One of the most amazing things about this underground facility was the sheer size of some of the areas without support.  The roof wasn’t domed or supported by pillars, but completely flat 12 feet above our heads, spanning an area sometimes more than 30 x 60 metres.  When you think of the weight of the hill above, some 200m in height, you wonder how it could possibly be self-supporting

We took the €5 guided tour and were lucky enough to be joined by only one other couple (British) and so the guide was able to speak only English to us all – and excellent English she had too.  It was a fascinating tour, well worth the money and at the end we got a glass of two types of Cremant to taste and to keep the glasses afterwards!  Needless to say we did buy a couple of bottles at the typically slightly inflated cave prices but it was all worth it.  We also bought the jetons for the electricity and water at €1 each – for 12 hours electricity or half an hour of water.  The mooring itself was free!

Our friends Mike and Jean from our UK narrowboating days had arranged to spend a night with us on their drive to Spain and this was a perfect spot for them to find us: quiet road right beside the mooring and even a safe car park.

We had a great evening with them, then the following day, after they had set off we were joined on the mooring by a small British barge called Unique (well they all are pretty well unique, aren’t they? – almost as bad as us calling our narrowboat ‘The Boat’!!)  We had pleasant apéros with Tony and Heidi and the next day we were on our way again.

One other notable thing about the Canal du Nivernais (apart from its lack of depth) is the height of the bridges.  Our Breil Guide tells us that they all have 3.4m clearance, expect a few which it marks up as specially low.  In fact most of them are more than 3.6m high (our wheelhouse height) but the ones marked as low are usually the wrong ones!!!  So, for a lot of the time, we are cruising ROFF and marking up each bridge in our book as we come to it, as to whether we needed to be ROFF or RON.  So far there have only been three that were definite ROFFs so as it’s so hot we have done the last couple of days with the roof on and going very slowly when approaching the bridges.  And no problems as yet.

Our last mooring was at a pleasant little village called Chatel-Censoir, in an ex-hire-boat basin.  The hire company, Le Boat, had closed down but the water and electricity were still on and all free so that was nice and we stayed a couple of days.  The basin was a bit tight for our boat but we knew there would be no trouble turning when the overnighting hire boats had left in the morning. However, one particularly large one was still there at 10.00 on the day we wanted to leave, so Alex asked the English hirers when they might be leaving.  They said they were just going up to the village for shopping and they would be away by 11 o’clock.  Fine!  We were in no hurry.  So at 11am they got back on board, released the ropes, THEN started the engine.  We could see immediately that they had a problem as they started to drift away from their pontoon in the light breeze, without any power, in our direction.  The captain then tried again and got forward thrust but no steering and no reverse.  By this time they were heading straight for us!  However we managed to deflect them and took a rope so they could moor up behind us.  Perfect!  Now we could get out of the basin and they could ring Le Boat to try and sort their all-electronically-controlled boat!

We moored up for that night, nestling on the mud a metre away from the edge of a little off-line divit in the canal.  And then we set off for our last stop before the water depth runs out(!)  Clamecy would have to be the end of the line for us, as we have heard dire tales of empty pounds a short way upstream.  So then it will be time to turn round and do it all again in the other direction!

However getting to Clamecy presented its own problems. First, a lock was turned against us where the river crosses the canal and we had to back off into the flood lock to avoid being swept to the weir.  The next flood lock was at a very sharp angle and Alex suddenly decided he was going too fast and did an emergency stop! Which of course disturbed all the water and made getting through all the harder!  Then we went the wrong side of an island in the river (Louise mis-read the map!) and then to cap it all, we took the wide, high, middle arch of the bridge into Clamecy and immediately went hard aground.  This time it was not our fault, as neither the bridge nor our canal guidebook showed the correct arch to use.  Normally, at this stage, we settle down and have lunch, and it WAS nearly 12 o’clock, but the lock keeper eventually saw our plight, and explained which arch we should have used, and said he would lower the sluice on the weir ahead to raise the water level and sweep us back through the bridge arch.  This duly happened with remarkably little turmoil (either for the boat or the captain and crew!)  So then it was through the right arch, into the lock and up into the mooring basin.

On the Way Again

Well here we were back in Pontoise after almost exactly 5 years and the place was much improved.  The public quay had been completely renewed and there is now a long floating pontoon up river of the restaurant boat with water and electricity for €14 per night, any length.  On the opposite bank they’ve refurbished the banks and installed another long floating pontoon, around 100 metres or so, offering no facilities but free to stay.

The town itself also showed signs of investment with the cathedral half cleaned, the squares newly paved and fresh flowers planted in borders and planters all over town.

Our journey there from Seneffe was largely without incident and much of it covered old ground.  We moored at many places we had moored at before which always brings a sense of familiarity and ease.  But one, to our amazement, was completely taken up with commercials and that was at Mortagne du Nord, just over the Belgian border into France.  We struggled our way through the silt to the small plaisance quay on the opposite bank: a bit of shimmying back and forth got us close enough to the quay to get the mooring lines on.  The next day, however, getting away from this mooring and back into the main channel was a bit of a challenge.  We were ploughing a furrow in the mud and just had to let Riccall choose the best route for our escape!  No sharp turns advisable here!

From Peronne southward we were onto new territory on the Canal du Nord until we rejoined the Oise (which was the route we had taken 5 years ago from the Canal St Quentin).

We spent a few nights at Compiègne and this time actually did a tour of the Palais – unfortunately we were a little underwhelmed considering the write-up in the tourist literature though the photos make a good show.  The Fête des Muguets (lily of the valley) occurred on a very wet May Day, and we watched the typical French parade squelching past for hours!

Then a couple of nights in Creil from where we cycled the impossible roads to Chantilly, to view the splendid gardens of the Chateau.  We felt the cost of visiting the house itself was not justified, and this time our Lonely Planet said as much.  Maybe we should have discovered for ourselves, but it was such a lovely day that we decided to stay al fresco.  In retrospect however, although the gardens were not included in the tour of the chateau itself, it would have allowed ample views of the best bits of the gardens anyway, so that would, perhaps, have been the better option.  Despite the fact that it was a lovely day, the 10km bike ride to get there had been so fraught with the presence of 40 ton lorries and fast cars on the roads that we decided to take the train back to our moorings.  As usual we were assured by the ticket office that there was no problem taking our bikes on the €1.70 per person train ride back to Creil.  It was no easy task lugging our heavy Dutch Gazelles onto the train, but there is no doubt it was better than facing the juggernauts and racing cars on the road.

The day before our planned departure for Paris we had a bit of excitement as a huge commercial moored up in front of us.  So far so good, but while the family went off shopping, the barge managed to slip its rear mooring line – Madame had merely attached the rope with a large hook to the armaco of the quayside, very low down.  We were sitting quietly in the wheelhouse, sudoku-ing and crossword-ing when Louise looked up and spotted the back end of the barge gently floating out into the river.  We shot to the barge and Louise shouted to anybody who might still be on board but to no avail.  So Alex ran all the way down the quay to the front end (still attached) and then back down the full length of the boat - 80m+, threw their rope to Louise who secured it round a bollard.  Then we bowsered the boat back in and made it properly secure.

An hour later Madame and the children returned and Alex explained to a mystified Madame what had happened.  She then phoned hubby (who had apparently been on board the whole time!) and gave Alex a rather curt ‘Merci’.  Perhaps she was embarrassed.  Oh well, you can’t win them all!

As well as local government spending on Pontoise, a couple of building firms are about to build several blocks of modern flats along the banks of the river.  The temporary sales office for one of these was right next to our mooring.  After two days Alex could stand it no longer.  Here was a good, strong, but locked wifi signal – so he braved the tall chic lady salesperson who ‘manned’ (‘womaned’) the office each day and asked ever-so-politely, if she could give us the code.  ‘Mais oui’ she said.  Fantastic!  Definitely worth the little prezzie of a pack of choc nibbles we had ready for her, but we had to leave them in a plastic carrier bag on her office door with a note as she didn’t open up before it was time for us to leave for Paris.

The trip to our next mooring at Rueil Malmaison took far longer than we remembered and when we got there at 5.30pm, thank goodness it was empty, unlike 5 years ago when it was packed with cruisers.  But then we noticed the sign, erected since our last visit, which said, ‘NO MOORING BETWEEN 9am AND 6pm!’  What a swizz!  Well, with just half an hour to go, we reckoned it was OK and if we slept in in the morning – bad luck!

We arrived at the first lock on the St Denis Canal at 11.45 am but for some reason the radio wasn’t transmitting our request to the lockkeeper to go up the flight, or at least we were getting no response from him, so Alex tried the hand-held radio to which the response was – about a 20 minute wait.  4 hours later we started the flight!  Every time we thought this is it, another commercial appeared.  Finally after two and a half hours and seven locks, we managed to moor up in the ‘circulating basin’ as they call it at the top of the flight.  We were unable to get to La Villette as the temporary passerelle (pedestrian) bridge they have installed while the automatic lift bridge is repaired, had stopped operating for the day.

The next day we went as far up the Canal de l’Ourcq as a barge of our size can, about 11kms, just to have a look at it and the bankside improvement works.  Then we returned to pass the temporary passarelle into the port of La Villette, where we now discovered that it only opened at pre-determined times of day (mainly to let the trip boats through actually).  So we moored up and had lunch while we waited.  Finally we got into La Villette, which now has a total of 250 metres of mooring spread over three different areas, allocated to plaisance boats over 15m where you are allowed to moor for up to 7 days.

Our last trip to La Villette (2009) had cost us around €17 for the use of the 7 up and 4 down locks and nothing for the overnight mooring, so we sort-of-assumed it wouldn’t be too far off that, allowing for inflation and so stayed for 4 nights.  We did a bit of sightseeing, as you do, met up with Stewart and Lesley of ENDELLION who were moored in the Arsenal Port for a coffee and a catch up, then the next day went to pay the bill at the Paris office (rather than let it be sent to our home address, where we aren’t!!)

Well!!!  Inflation or what?!  €52 for a Paris vignette (lasts a year but we are unlikely to be back this year) and the first night free to moor, then €14.75 per night thereafter, so nigh on €100.  Bit of a shock to the system, but actually I suppose, an average of €25 per night for central Paris is not too bad!

The trip down the St Martin Canal was a bit slow, what with waiting for the trip boats and not getting started as early as we had hoped (paying the bill had taken ages) but we got to our hoped-for little mooring at the junction with the Marne in time for lunch.  Then it was onto entirely new ground, or should I say ‘water’ as we travelled up the Seine.

We managed to find pretty good moorings at the locks for a couple of nights, then in Melun, a very good long quay with water and leccy at one end.  We decided to make full use of the facilities and were charged €12 the next morning.  However, the capitaine said the downstream end of the quay was free to moor (no facilities) so, as the éclusiers were on strike yet again, we moved there for the next night.  Melun itself was a nice town: 13^th century church, numerous other monuments of antiquity, a very helpful Tourist Information Office and a working prison!

A few days on, and we are now in Sens, which has good mooring, free water and leccy and very few big commercials blasting past.  Peter (Mastenbrook) lives here on what appears to be a variety of vessels so he came for lunch with us when we arrived and we had a good catch up chat.  Peter seems to know everything about the barging world and is a positive mine of interesting information so we had lots to talk about.  The last time we saw him was when we were in dry dock a year ago.  Regular readers may remember that we kept being floated, even when we still had holes in the bottom of the boat, so we were rather pre-occupied when Peter dropped by, expecting an inundation any minute.  It was a shame we couldn’t do justice to his visit on that occasion, but have made up for it in his home town we hope.

We have decided to stay here in Sens for the weekend.  It’s a really fine town and Alex needs to service the engine anyway.  We are in no hurry to move along but we could do with some better weather.  When it’s sunny, it’s lovely and warm, but then we keep getting these torrential showers!  . . .

New Zealand and OZ winter holiday

For some years we have been promising ourselves a trip to New Zealand and now the time was right!  Having decided to go as far as New Zealand we felt we had to have a taste of OZ as well, so  . . .

This update is an attempt at a brief resume of what we did this winter, but even so it is quite long!  For those of you who have the time, we’ve picked some nice pics out of the millions we took!

We arrived in Auckland 26 hours after leaving Birmingham, having travelled on three planes and having had almost no sleep, but managed to cook supper in our hotel room and stay up till 8pm.  We got up at 9 am the next day feeling fine, despite dire warnings of jet lag and picked up our hire car.

We spent a couple of nights with friends Pierre and Anna in Auckland who had been Alex’s tenants in Harrogate.  We’d all become very friendly and we’d met Anna’s parents Ric and Jenni, in the UK too.  Pierre and Anna showed us around the city and took us for an amazing Asian-style barbi at a friend’s house. They also booked us a trip up the Sky Tower where we had lunch and watched people throwing themselves off the top!  Yes, really – a 300feet vertical free-fall which people pay hundreds of dollars to do!  Then we spent a night with Ric and Jenni who treated us to a lovely evening meal at the local fishing port, and lunch the next day (so kind). Then we travelled on to the Bay of Islands where our good friends Ken and Rhonda ex-owners of the barge SOMEWHERE now live, to spend a few days with them.

While we were there we drove to the very northern-most tip of the North Island – Cape Reigna – and to Russell and Keri Keri.  It was great to see K and R again, catch up with their new landlubbing life, and bring them up to date with the French canals. But ‘rain god’ Alex was weaving his usual spell and rain and showers were the order of the days.

Then Rhonda kindly helped us plan our trip down to Wellington at the southern end of the North Island.  We stayed a night at Rotorua in a motel with a hot sulphur pool where Alex languished for half an hour or so, relishing the 42C heat and the smell of sulphur!  The following morning we saw the hot springs, boiling mud and water geyser. And sun!

We spent a night at Napier which is a town built during the art nouveau period, where there happened to be a historic car weekend just coming to a close, which was great.  Everybody was dressed in 1920s clothes and that, together with the old cars, was quite a sight.

At Wellington, in the short time available, we took the cable car up the hill for a great view of the town, and drove round the harbours.

Early the next day, we dropped the hire car at the ferry terminal and caught the Inter-Islander ferry to Picton on the South Island.  Halfway there the ship was joined by a school of dolphins much to everybody’s excitement.  The weather though was not so good again with a strong wind and the ever present threat of rain.

At Picton we caught the train for the 5-hour trip south to Christchurch.  For half of the journey the line runs beside the Pacific coast, which provides some excellent scenic views before it heads off inland crossing many wide dry ‘braided’ river beds on its way to Christchurch.

At Christchurch, we were met by Alex’s cousin’s son Ghazi, who gave us a bed for the night and whose wife Rebecca gave us a delicious supper.  The following day we borrowed Rebecca’s car and drove to the campervan depot at about 10 am.  They apologised and said we would have to wait about an hour while our vehicle was prepared.  At 3.00 pm!! we eventually drove out of the depot with not the booked 4-berth van but a 6-berth (complaint letter is on its way) in convoy with Rebecca’s car, to drop it off for her.  Having done so we returned to the depot forthwith, to point out that the handbrake didn’t work even on level ground and the van pulled to the left.  They agreed to sort the problems while we waited – again!  So finally, just after 4.00 pm we set off!  Our destination for the first night was to have been the town of Akaroa on Banks Peninsular, about 90 mins from the depot but in the event we didn’t go quite so far, and parked up on the verge between the road and the beach at Wainui on the opposite side of the bay to Akaroa. It was a lovely spot for our first night ever in a campervan (and Louise’s favourite).

We made our way down the east coast visiting and or stopping at towns of interest, such as Timaru, Dunedin and Invercargill.  Throughout this though the weather wasn’t brilliant with at least one night of torrential rain.

Having reached the southern-most tip of the South Island, we turned north to Te Anau and pre-booked a boat trip on the fjord at Milford Sound, then parked up overnight in the last permitted campsite on the way.  (Camping is strictly controlled in this highly guarded ecological area.)  This Department of Conservation site was beside a lake and fortunately we arrived early so there were only a couple of other vehicles already there, and we were able to park our huge van in a good spot.  By evening, the place was packed with cars and vans and more were coming in to have a look, and driving off again disappointed to find no space at the inn.

We were up very early in the morning for the spectacular one-hour drive up to the tunnel and the pass through the mountain ridge, and down the other side to the Milford Sound cruise quays.  The only other thing at Milford Sound is a hotel, staff quarters and a pay-to-stay private campsite which was fully booked when we had asked.

The rain of the previous day had passed and we had a warm and sunny cruise out to the fjord entrance which was great:  we saw seals basking in the sun on the rocks and were again joined by dolphins swimming beside the boat.  We had also paid for a visit to the underwater viewing pod, which was very interesting but just a little disappointing, as we didn’t see any of the large fish, including sharks, which are said to sometimes swim past.

We retraced our steps to Te Anau and thus to Queenstown.  When we arrived there, the weather improved markedly, and we were able to have drinks outside at our overnight stop at Wanaka with a magnificent view of the lake.  We walked up close to Fox Glacier but decided the cost of a guided tour on the ice itself was not good value for money for us.  But Alex had a plan!! And the next morning we drove to a campsite north of the Franz Joseph glacier, which was shared with a helicopter over-flight outfit.  The 4-person helicopter was just taking off on a trip as we arrived, but the ground staff said we could have an 18-minute trip when it got back.  But as it happened, another couple arrived just after us and also wanted a trip.  We left them to discuss.  Shortly after that, Alex got into conversation with the organiser who said the second couple wanted a longer trip than us, and could we come to an arrangement?  So we ended up with a half hour trip with the other couple for a lot less than they were paying!  And it was worth it too.  Quite spectacular and arguably the most impressive bit of the whole holiday.

Our next night was spent in another Department of Conservation campsite which was, for Alex, quite the best we had stayed in so far.  It was about 3kms off the main road down a dirt track with the parking places spread out between bushes and trees.  And, best of all, a lovely stream running beside the site  with permission to pan for gold in it if you wanted (provided you didn’t use any mechanical devices).  There was a father with his 10 year old son already trying when we arrived so Alex asked him how you actually did it.  The father told Alex that his son was terribly excited as they had already recovered 3 slivers of gold.  (Not enough to buy a cup of coffee, the father assured us, but something, none the less.)  Alex was stripping down to his shorts and grabbing the frying pan and a bucket before you could blink!

However, what he failed to do was to cover himself in anti-sand-fly spray. Within minutes of trying to pan, his legs were covered in sand flies, then in blood from all the punctures left by the little devils.  He suffered on for a bit, but had to give up in the end and felt it was too much to spray up and try again: but for all that, it was a good laugh, in lovely weather.

Next day we dropped the van off at the depot and made our way back to Ghazi and Rebecca’s house for the next couple of nights.  But between those nights we had booked the Trans Alpine train from Christchurch to Greymouth and back over Arthur’s Pass.  When we got on the train we were a bit disappointed to learn that the tunnel at Arthur’s Pass was no longer allowing passengers to be taken through (something to do with health and safety – pah!).  Instead we would all have to disembark and travel the 15kms by bus.  But in practice this was a very good thing, because instead of 10 minutes in a tunnel in the dark on the train, we got a 20-minute ride over the top, with a running commentary from the driver, complete with the usual feeble jokes, but amid glorious scenery.  Despite the fact that the journey both ways took the whole day, we weren’t bored at all.  The track itself and the scenery were just so amazing.

During the day before our flight to Sydney we managed a couple of hours in Christchurch city centre.  This was a very sad experience, because what looked literally like a bombsite had been in fact the epicentre of the 2011 earthquake.  The city was in ruins: most damaged buildings had been torn down already, leaving huge gaps in the cityscape, but the cathedral, subject of great discussion as to whether to demolish or repair, was still standing, propped up with huge girders: a sorry sight indeed. 

We arrived in Sydney for our 4 night stay and look around, taking in a ferry trip to Manley, the usual open top bus tour around the city and out to Bondi beach, and another ferry trip to Cockatoo Island, which has been many things in its existence, including a prison, a girls’ school, a naval dockyard and now is an open museum and organised camping and glamping ground.

Then on to Melbourne by air, where, after a night’s stay, we picked up our hire car to drive the Great Ocean Road to Adelaide.  Of course, we happened to be in Melbourne on the weekend of the Grand Prix so the place was packed, but we managed to avoid the worst of the crowds and traffic and the F1 cars, and made our way to the outskirts and the road to Apollo Bay, our first stop.  But as usual we took the ‘long’ way to get there by driving to the opposite side of the huge sea lake where Melbourne is situated.  Apollo Bay itself and the surrounding area has lots to see including the lighthouse at Cape Otway and The Twelve Apostles or is only Eleven now? and ‘London Bridge’ (half of which has fallen down) – all rather spectacular sea stacks.  So we arrived in Portland a bit later than we had intended and after an abortive search for somewhere to eat, we bought a cheap microwave meal, and regretted it!!

But actually in the sunny light of the next morning, we discovered that Portland was a lovely place and there were places to eat, though much further away than we had walked the night before.  It had a great harbour, vibrant commercial shipping docks, an old tram and several other noteworthy objects of interest.  We discovered at the Tourist Information Office that we were about to cross from Victoria into South Australia and that we would not be allowed to carry certain foodstuffs across the ‘border’.  Fines are heavy and the rules strictly enforced.  We reviewed our stocks – tomatoes, asparagus, mushrooms, plus butter and garlic.  Well, we couldn’t throw all that away could we? And the Tourist Information Office had pointed out the free-to-use electric barbecues in the park.  So we turned one on and barbied the whole lot on skewers and very good it was too, if a bit eccentric.  (Louise was a bit sceptical at first, but Alex persisted that it would be great – and it was!)

We left Portland and dipped off the road to see a ‘petrified forest’ and yet another spectacular viewpoint but wanted to arrive early at our next overnight stop, because after booking in haste we had noticed that some of the reviews were terrible: “lakeside location spectacular, shame about the room” etc.  They were right but we decided to make the best of it and stay anyway.  We did a drive round the lake, crossed by the free ferry where we had an interesting chat with the ferryman and took pictures of pelicans on posts. Then back to the motel where we watched the sun set over the lake through our window, and ate in the town hotel. In the morning we were greeted by several pelicans swimming not 10 feet away past our window. So it was a great setting – the best in fact of any of the motels we stayed in, but the room itself, and particularly the bed, was a disgrace. (Warning to self – always read the reviews carefully before booking!!)

We diverted from the direct main road to Adelaide to go south to the ferry terminal for Kangaroo Island.  The landscape was interesting and involved another free ferry crossing over the Murray river, but the township at the terminal was forgettable so we hightailed it to Adelaide where we were staying at the Oaks Plaza Pier hotel at Glenelg – very smart – and for some reason they upgraded us to a suite with balcony.

Next morning, with a crack of dawn start we drove to the airport, dropped the car off and caught the 6.30am flight to Perth.  Three and a half hours later we landed at local time 7.30 am in a thunderstorm (rain god Alex again) and Alex’s daughter Alice was waiting to pick us up.

We had a lovely three days with Alice, Mark and Bea in Perth, trying not to do too much as by this time we had reached the stage of longing to get home, but had the horror of the 26 hours of flights and airports ahead of us.

So we visited the harbour, the old town of Fremantle, the wildlife park, had a really good sushi lunch courtesy of Alice (thanks Alice for proving that sushi can be delicious) and took a quick train trip into Perth town centre plus an obligatory ferry ride over to the north side.

Finally we caught the flight back to Adelaide, spent the night once again in the Oaks Plaza hotel, spent the following day looking around Adelaide and then started the dreaded return flights in the late evening.

We both picked up colds on the aeroplane and arrived back in the UK, at Birmingham airport, pretty knackered. Alex’s son Will was there to take us back to his and Laura’s house for lunch and later supper, but again we managed to avoid too much jet lag by waiting till around 9.00pm before collapsing into bed.

It has been a fascinating and memorable trip but we both agree, if there is to be a next time, it will have to be by boat!!!  (Not Riccall!!!)