Sedan to Verdun

(Nothing for ages then two postings in two days!) River Meuse

We felt a bit nervous about how we were going to extract ourselves from the moorings at Sedan when we left, but in the event we reversed out at high speed and spun Riccall in her own length and headed off up river like real professionals. It’s nice when it works out OK (even if Riccall did behave quite differently from what we expected).

We moored above the lock before a village called Mouzon. Our information told us there was a Halte Fluvial 800 metres further on, but it also mentioned the very narrow entrance and we were concerned we might not get in (or out). We were glad we had stopped where we did, because looking at the moorings by bike it was clear we would have had no chance. Mouzon is a lovely small town with a fantastic church, beautifully cobbled streets, and an air of peace and tranquillity.

Unfortunately, our mooring a kilometre before the village was downwind of a 24-hour factory producing God knows what, but a continual oppressive factory noise was punctuated every so often by a let-off of steam or something at high volume!

In addition to that, the farmer decided that 10.30pm was just the right time to harvest his crop of corn directly across the canal and, with headlights blazing, in moved the combine harvester, bailer and grain pick up wagons. Louise was glad that by 2.00 am they had finished! Alex, asleep and oblivious with the help of French wine, was awakened by yet another let-off of steam at 7.00 am.

The next mooring, arrived at within a couple of hours of setting off from Mouzon, has to rate as another 9.5 out of 10 spot. Miles from anywhere, another idyllic deserted lock cottage, shade from a few trees, picnic tables, bollards at a sensible distance apart, and to cap it all, in the hot sunshine a display from four individuals with paragliders of how to ride the thermals. They threw themselves off a clearing high up in the woods opposite and after the first attempts in late morning when they were only up for about 15 to 30 minutes, they all managed to get airborne in the afternoon and stayed up for hours, the last one only landing after 6.00 pm. We watched him flying back and forth and up and down for a full four and a half hours, at one point disappearing over the horizon only to reappear 90 minutes later. Incredible!

As evening approached we were joined on the mooring by Roger (DBA Continental Events Coordinator) and Louise Lamothe on ‘The River’ who we must thank for many of the mooring suggestions which appear in the DBA mooring guide.

We left Mouzon at about 10 o’clock which is as early as we ever do, and after another uneventful but picturesque day, arrived at Mouzay where we moored on peniche spaced bollards above the lock.

The water in the canal, at this stage, had become almost completely clear, which gave us the chance to look at the propeller and check that all was well. We had suffered some overheating of the stern tube and were looking for possible reasons. As far as we could see there was no obvious reason and in the end Alex just loosened the packing glad a bit and this seemed to do the trick.

We stayed two nights at Mouzay, taking advantage of the nice weather and clean water to finish off the roof above the saloon: scraping off all the old paint, sanding down and re-undercoating, hoovering up all the loose dust then washing off the remainder from every exterior surface. What a job!

We are in an intensely rural area at the moment and this is brought home to us time and time again by the number of combine harvesters, tractors and trailers etc. which are buzzing around the countryside beside the canal at the moment, which is of course the height of the harvest.

Like Mouzon, Mouzay is no exception in this respect, and tractors and trailers were trundling back and forth across the bridge over the lock till well after 10 pm leading huge mountains of rolled up straw.

We stopped for lunch on a very ancient quay, where we used a distant fence post and tree (Sacré Bleu!) to secure lines fore and aft, in the sure and certain knowledge that this canal has not seen any commercial péniches for years. Well, of course, we had barely started our post-meal coffees when one appeared lumbering down the canal! Fortunately, the ropes held as it slid past but it did give us some concern, not to mention Monsieur et Madame on the péniche!

In the late afternoon we arrived at Consenvoye where we had hoped to moor for the night and stopped before the lock. We were now on a section where the locks are all manually operated by VNF éclusiers, but this one wasn’t ready for us and appeared deserted. Alex spotted the lock keeper and his entire family group of about 20 just tucking into that typical French meal on tables under the trees so didn’t disturb him. On further investigation, the Halte Nautique above the lock would have been very difficult for us to get into (or out of) so we were happy to stay put below.

We got the bikes out to investigate our surroundings and decided that the Cimitière Américaine might be worth a visit. Having crested one summit after another and still no sign of it, and yet another summit in the distance, we decided to give up on that jaunt, but on the way back we discovered an old railway line with an unmanned crossing. Alex noticed that the lines showed some signs of use, but not much. A few minutes later a couple of ‘velo-wagons’ appeared. These are peddle-operated bogeys that were available for hire to ‘cycle’ down a 3 km stretch of redundant railway line. It did all look rather fun and the families using them were a jolly lot – much laughter. A short time later we were at the depot ‘gare’ investigating cost etc when a cavalcade of motorcycles rode past on the nearby road. At the junction, each one blew his ‘horn’, and each had a different sound – the first a whinnying horse, followed by a donkey, Colonel Bogey, a police siren and then Tarzan. What a joke!

The next day, at one of the manual locks, we noticed fours cars parked and six adults waiting around. The éclusière here was a young girl of about 18. Her grandmother explained that she was just starting her vac. job and the whole family was helping her out, till she learnt the ropes – father and uncle on the sluices, mother and aunt on the gates, granny and grandpa watching! It was wonderful but today, of course, they’ll all be at work and she’ll be on her own!

As we passed through the locks, heading for Verdun, we hadn’t seen any other boats till suddenly at one lock a British owned barge called Kikkervis (tadpole) emerged and we passed each other with friendly waves, then out of the next lock Varlyon emerged. Alex and Lenny had a brief chat on the radio (much to the chagrin of some unknown French person who kept butting in). I mean, honestly, there hasn’t been a peep out of the radio for two weeks! We were hardly taking up valuable air-time.

But it was impossible to stop and catch up properly so we just waved and carried on, eventually reaching Verdun’s old Port du Commerce to moor at about 4.30pm – a long day for us.

Rethel to Sedan

Canal des Ardennes

We left Rethel after Will and Laura’s visit for an entirely uneventful day to Attigny, where we moored on the town moorings in a downpour at about 4 o’clock, the only boat there. However, at about 5.30 a Dutch cruiser joined us and on talking to them we learned that they also intended to tackle the flight of 27 locks the next day, but whereas we had been asked by the lockkeeper to start at 9 o’clock they were not going to begin before 9.30.

This suited us both as we agreed going through a chain of locks is quicker if you are alone than if you are going through each lock together. This is because you can’t start each lock operation until both of you have entered and both tied up etc, which takes nearly twice as long as if you were alone. So if water is not an issue (and at the moment there is masses) it is quicker alone. Sounds a bit strange, but it is true.

In this particular case there were a couple of hitches with the automatic operation of two locks and we had to radio VNF to fix the problems, but in the end we ascended the whole flight in just under 5 hours.

The Dutch cruiser behind us had rather more problems and it took them 8 hours! (The following day we learned one of the more troublesome locks was closed for repair, meaning that several of the descending boats had to wait at least another day.)

There was no room at the official town moorings at Le Chesne when we arrived but 100 metres further on we were able to moor on a disused quay, with the help of one Dutch guy who moved his cruiser forward the moment he saw us coming, to let us in. Our Dutch helpers (from the incident where Concordance had been such an arsehole) were also on hand, as was Englishman Richard from a moored Linssen boat who had seen us arrive, so with all their help and cooperation we were quickly tied up safely. Our faith in the help and camaraderie of other boaters is nearly restored!!

The town has a (poor) supermarket but we found a friendly internet café which let us use our own laptop to post the next blog (great) and a local ‘coiffure pour hommes’ where Alex had a ‘coupe ordinaire’ for €10.40. Despite the price Alex decided he just had to do it, even though it was around double the price of his English haircuts, but two-thirds of anything else he had seen in France!

One of the interesting features of the haircut (we can’t believe that we are discussing haircuts in this blog; what are things coming to?) was that the guy used hand clippers to do 80% of the cut, finishing off with three pairs of scissors and finally a cut-throat razor!! During that last bit Alex dares’n’t move a muscle. But at the end of it all it was an excellent haircut (if a little short). The result is to be seen in the pics below.

The Brits Richard and Jane were delayed by the lock closure and invited us for sociable drinks that evening where as usual we exchanged boaty stories.

We moved on to our quietest moorings so far, at a place called La Cassine, where the countryside stretched for miles around with no road, rail or airport within hearing.

Another short day and we were in Pont-à-Bar at the end of the Canal des Ardennes (River Meuse ahead) where we sensibly moored at the first available place, so we could go on by bike to suss the scene ahead. This turned out to have been a good move despite some lack of depth, because moorings above the lock were non-existent where the much needed fuel and water are on offer, and it would have been a pain to have had to go through the lock and then turn round and come back up for fuel and turn round … you get the picture!

On our way down here from the top of the 27 lock flight we encountered a couple of unladen commercials and just squeezed past them. How two laden commercials get past each other we have no idea. And while we have been moored here two fully laden commercials have sidled past one after the other so the canal is still used commercially, even if intermittently.

We have also met a German couple, Andy and Petra (Centurion) who have been here at this boatyard since September 2008, reworking a 14m barge, which they bought specifically to do the French canals. They love this area, The Ardennes, which is apparently largely overlooked by the French who prefer to go much further south, as it offers some of the most stunning scenery in France. We have loved the part we have passed through so far and shall see more as we venture further up the River Meuse.

However, on the 27 lock flight up the Le Chesne we did note (and take photos of) quite a number of abandoned lock cottages. We have yet to contact VNF to find out if it is possible to buy any of these, but none of them, so far, surpasses the one we saw just north of Reims, which we thought was just the bees’ knees. Unfortunately (can you believe it?) we neglected to take a photo of it, so stunned were we with its charm and beautiful setting. We really must ring the Reims branch of VNF where there is a lady who speaks good English, to find out if any deal is possible!

The River Meuse makes such a change from the Canal des Ardennes. It is so wide and river-like that it presents a different world, the like of which we haven’t seen since we turned off the Marne some months ago. However, the downside of this river is the lack of places to moor. You can usually rely on something either above or below each lock but on this stretch even these seem non-existent or pretty inaccessible.

In due course we arrived at Sedan and allowed the light current and wind to sweep us onto the pontoon moorings, which fortunately had a space that was Riccall sized available for us to moor on (even though our weight presented a testing time for the pontoon’s securing system – strong chains down to the river-bed – but they survived).

We liked Sedan, despite Marcel’s (Djamilar) description of it as a ‘focking city’! We found an SFR shop where the manageress spoke good English and helped us try to access Neuf wi-fi and she may have been successful! The tourist information shop had a free wi-fi connection where we could use our laptop as much as we wanted. The castle - a fortified chateau - is the biggest in Europe, and for €7.50 each we spent half a day looking round it with a hand-held guide in English to tell us all about it.

In addition to all that, within biking distance of the moorings were the ubiquitous Aldi, Lidl and a huge Leclerc hypermarket to build up our stores.

The mooring fees, which we would normally prefer to avoid, were €12.50 per night inclusive of water and electricity. Quite a lot, but every so often we like to give the batteries a long equalise charge to bring them back to best performance, which is something they don’t get from a few hours engine running or one and a half hour’s generator charge.

Sillery to Rethel

Canal des Ardennes

All is not harmonious on the French canals !!!

Saturday dawned fair and wind-free. We started the preparations for setting off from Sillery.

The day before, two cruisers, one German and one Dutch, had arrived together. The German had moored in the finger mooring directly behind us (like us, next to the quay) and the Dutch guy moored between the two of us (also on the quay). Alex had mentioned to the Dutch fellow that we were moving off the next day and asked him if he would move his cruiser to let us out, to which he agreed.

So, as we made ready, his cruiser was still there, as he wandered up and down the quay watching us getting ready.

Alex said that we would like to leave now and could he move please. “I already have,” he said, indicating that he had moved a couple of metres nearer the German cruiser.

Alex pointed out that there still was not enough room for us to get Riccall out without a lot of shimmying about and going the whole distance past all the other (er …Tupperware) boats backwards. The Dutch guy then proceeded to tell Alex how to handle Riccall, and Alex pointed out that it was a hell of a sight easier for him to move his cruiser next to the German, where there was a proper mooring space. Dutchy wasn’t having it, whereupon Jeff from Whisper 1700 put in his two-penn’orth much to the distress of his wife Jane who advocated keeping well out of it! Louise then adopted her resolute tone and confronted him with a question, “Are you saying that you refuse to move your boat?” All the other boaters around were glaring at him by now, and with massive ill grace he stomped off and moved it!

Roger and Ann of Thirza, moored next to us, gave Alex 11/10 for diplomacy and not losing his temper and everybody else heaved a sigh of relief that sense had prevailed.

We made a safe and controlled exit and Alex made a point of thanking Dutchy very much for his help. (You can’t really afford to make serious enemies out of total wallies, because you tend to run into them again and again!)

At Reims we had a noisy mooring for the first night but there was a bill to pay at VNF and yet another trip to an SFR shop to sort out some more paperwork, which apparently hadn’t been sent on by the SFR shop in Mantes-la-Jolie where we set up the original contract. We also wanted to fit in more sightseeing in Reims including a visit to the tomb of St Remi in the Basiliqu de St Remi and a roof tour of Reims cathedral.

Then we moved a couple of ks to moor up beside Aldi where we could wheel the fully laden trolley right to the boat for unloading. We ended up at the end of a commercial mooring quay on the edge of town for a totally peaceful second night in Reims.

The following evening provided another mooring contretemps. We had eschewed a couple of possible moorings, it being still too early to stop, and set our sights on one said to be at Variscourt. When we arrived there were two cruisers there already, albeit moored well apart, but we thought there was just room for us behind the nearest one, a Belgian boat called Concordance. So we nosed in, and with the help offered by the other cruiser crew got our front rope onto a good bollard shared by Concordance. The back rope was going to have to go round a tree, and Alex and the helper were in the process of doing that when the front end of Riccall started to edge out a bit. This meant the front rope was going to tighten and touch the back of Concordance. Her ‘captain’, who had been sitting watching all this from a picnic table 25m, away with no intention of helping, or moving his boat forward a bit to make room, was up like a shot and across the grass quicker than you could say ‘Jack Rabbit’! He then proceeded to shout a torrent of abuse, we think in Flemish, and PHYSICALLY REMOVED OUR FRONT ROPE from the bollard. I mean, that is just not done. The rope had touched his boat but as it’s soft and silky while strong, hadn’t made so much as a scuff, much to the owner’s disappointment.

Alex took the decision that to start the whole manoeuvre again, with such a hostile little shit waiting to hurl abuse at the slightest excuse was not worth the hassle so we reluctantly left and carried on.

Little did we realise that we would not find anything suitable until after the locks had closed for the night, and then the next lock mooring place was pretty shallow and the bollards, when we eventually unearthed them from the undergrowth, were spaced far apart. We did however, finally moor up safely some three hours after our ‘difficulties’ with Concordance, and retreated to supper and bed totally exhausted.

In all the time we have been cruising until now we have found all the other boaters helpful and often prepared to go out of their way to be so. It’s a pity that we should come across a couple of horrors so close upon each other.

However, we arrived at Rethel in plenty of time to meet Alex’s son Will and girlfriend Laura and a pleasant weekend ensued, trundling back a short way to a brand new mooring above a lock in the depths of the country, shady trees to shelter from the hot sun and a pleasant little village a kilometre away. There we had a barbeque and spent a quiet second night before returning to Rethel to pop them on the train back to UK.

In true Riccall style however, we happened upon the town fete as we returned to Riccall after the train left, and included in the pics below is a flavour of the event.



P.S. Concordance, of course, means ‘agreement’. We don’t think we have ever come across a boat so inappropriately named!!!

In Sillery

Canal de l’Aisne à la Marne

We had been told Sillery was a nice place to moor and so it is. The fees are very reasonable and include water and electricity. In fact, one of the other English boats we talked to thought that it would be a cheap place to live for the whole summer at €3.50 per day for a longer stay! Of course, it would be no good for a live-aboard winter mooring because they turn off the water and electricity, though you can winter your boat OK.

Here in Sillery there is an Ecomarché with fuel station only 200m away in one direction, a lovely bakery in the other, a post office, tabac, pharmacy, and one train and three buses to and from Reims per day. There is also a beautifully kept military cemetery on the edge of the village and 6 kms away is a windmill and a lighthouse – yes, we know it’s a strange thing to have a lighthouse so far inland but it was obviously somebody’s folly, and there is apparently a magnificent view from it!
There is also said to be an excellent restaurant close by but we just don’t seem to have had time to give it a try.

As we arrived we saw an English barge, Carolyn, moored on the outside of the pontoons and with their permission we hove to on the outside of them while we sussed the scene. Mike and Jill were very helpful and had been at Sillery long enough to know many of the other barges here. So it was only a matter of minutes before we were able to moor up to bollards on the quay between Varlyon (Lenny and Susie from Lancashire) and Carrie-anne (Jim and his wife from Yorkshire).

We had drinks with Mike and Jill and they had supper with us and we hope to meet up again in a month or so as we go opposite ways round the same circuit.

While Louise was away Alex was invited to supper by a lovely South African couple, Roy and Avril (Summertime V) and he helped Roy change his engine oil the next day. He also shared drinks with Andy and Claire (Albertine) on a couple of nights and with Jeff and Jane on Whisper 1700. So together with completing the list of to do jobs he had compiled, he was kept busy and entertained for the whole week.

Louise’s trip to the UK went well and she was returning with an extra suitcase full of things only the UK seems able to produce. At the same time, sister Julia was taking a night Eurotunnel train and was due to arrive at around 9 am. Alex had barely finished breakfast at 8.30 when Julia’s partner Steve appeared.

The timing of their visit was fortuitous as July 14th is Bastille Day, and there are no local trains or buses so Louise’s journey back to the boat from Reims was going to be tricky. As it turned out, having deposited Julia plus carers Tina and Lucy at their Campanile hotel, Steve and Alex were able to pick Louise up from the TGV station.

The weather was lovely and we all sat under the trees beside the mooring. Alex then found, on inspection, that his davit, primarily built for hoisting the inflatable off and on Riccall, did not go far enough over the quay to safely be used to hoist Julia aboard. So it was out with all the gear – make a new mounting position and weld it all into place for the next day.

After a trip round Reims cathedral, SPECTACULAR, and a quick bite in a McDonald’s (unspectacular) we all returned to Riccall to test the davit. It worked fine, and we all had supper on the back deck in the evening sunshine. Julia was so happy with it she asked for a repeat lift, plus a short cruise the next day.

As we left for our short trip, we were slightly concerned that our place may be bagged by another boat while we were away, so we talked to our English neighbours Jane and Jeff who kindly agreed to sling a rope of ours, with a 20 litre container attached, across our mooring to prevent anyone coming in.

Jeff then cheekily asked if their visitors could come with us! Alex, taken by surprise, agreed, but later made it clear that as it was our family outing, the friends would have to keep themselves to themselves in the well deck!

The trip was up the canal, through two locks, turn round and back again (about 2 hours). All went well till the turn-round which in itself was OK but when the boat behind us entered the lock to follow us up, the gates jammed and they had to call VNF to help. Nothing in boating is ever simple! Meanwhile two other boats had appeared behind us and were also waiting to lock down.

Louise sussed the scene at the lock (as we had a slight time pressure to consider with Julia’s planned departure time) and informed the little Dutch sailing boat immediately behind us that we were heading back to our mooring in Sillery, but that there was enough room for them there too and we would make room in the locks for them to come down with us.

This we did, but when we got to the moorings and Alex was performing the tricky manoeuvre amongst all the tupperware boats, to get back into our slot, this bloody little sailing boat went weaving round our stern, close as you like, at high speed, to get into a space opposite. I mean, how unnecessary was that? There were plenty of spaces and no time pressure for him. Alex nearly jumped out of his skin when the boat appeared in his line of vision, especially as, when you’re concentrating on missing all the moored craft, the last thing you want is to have a gnat buzzing around your stern end!

Our two extra guests said how nice the trip had been because they’d had such a good vantage point from the deck of Riccall, and it does make a huge difference on canals when you can see over the banks! They very kindly gave us two bottles of wine as a thank you.

So we had a very late lunch, back under the shade of the trees and then Julia et al set off back to England.

We took Friday off to get ourselves organised for travel once more, and had planned to set off for Reims on Saturday, but the morning was cold, wet and very windy so we decided to stay another night. We also looked once again at our software program for our trip to the Canal de Midi and decided that because we have had to meander slowly for the last month or so, to ensure Louise could get back to Paris for her flight, time is now seriously short to do what we would need to do at the snail’s pace we prefer. So we have had a major re-think and have decided to defer the south of France until next year and stay on the canals of the north-east for the rest of this year.

Actually changing the whole direction of our plans at a moment’s notice is one of the absolute beauties of what we are doing. It really adds to the sense of freedom. (The cost at nearly a thousand euros for the 6-month winter mooring in Toulouse had nothing to do with it of course!)

Chalons-en-Champagne to Sillery (near Reims) Canal de l’Aisne à la Marne

This has to be the nearest thing to what this whole exercise is supposed to be about! We are back at the junction (between the Canal Lateral à La Marne and the Canal de l’Aisne à la Marne) after our brief diversion. We have been to Chalons-en-Champagne and have spent a very pleasant three or four days there, but back here at the junction the sky is blue from horizon to horizon, the motorway is only a distant rumble and the occasional loud ATV can be forgiven. The evening sun is warm and dappled by the trees and we are only occasionally bitten by the insets that the swifts are flying all around us to mop up. A sparrow hops onto the taft rail and grabs the large spider nesting there.

Things could get better (or worse) but it all bodes well for this adventure that we have chosen to be on.

Chalons-en-Champagne (formerly Chalons-sur-Marne) changed its name in 1998 possibly to make it sound more central and important in the champagne area. To be fair though, it is an attractive town in itself with two huge churches, one of which is classed as a cathedral – St Etienne.

We moored there just in front of Paul and Diane of 'Eleanor' with whom we shared a couple of meals and plenty of chat. We were also all joined by Peter Mastenbroek of ‘Brave’ who had motored down from Berry au Bac to Chalons in one day! (a long one admittedly – but single-handing too). We had not expected him for at least two days – these blasted superhuman ex-professionals!!

We have been in email contact with Peter ever since we met him just before the tunnel on the St Quentin Canal some months ago now, so it was nice of him to make a detour to Chalons on his way to Epernay, to meet up with us again. And of course, it was lovely to meet up again with Paul and Diane who we had first talked to on the VHF when passing each other on the Oise river and then later at Lagny and Meaux.

Shortly after they all left we were joined again by Australian Mike of ‘Motswari’ (now with his next visitor Pam) with whom we had evening drinks! The socialising goes on!

But in the meantime, we had visited the two churches, looked at the old Marne lock, done a trip on the old Mau and Nau rivers round the periphery of the city walls and actually underneath the city in a small boat (commentary all in rapid French and pretty unintelligible to us). We also found an extensive out-of-town shopping precinct with Carrefour and, more importantly, a general motoring spares outlet: this latter because when showing Peter round Riccall, Alex noticed water where it shouldn’t be in the engine room. The damned (or undamned) stern gland again! So this time he decided to fix it once and for all by constructing a containment vessel out of fibreglass for which of course, he required fibreglass matting and resin.

The motorist spares shop had a kit containing exactly what was required at €21. (€21!!!) Alex said, “Avez-vous donnez moi le discount?” The lad behind the counter did a double-take and asked “Etes-vous professional?” “Mais oui, je suis professional”. “OK, 20% discount”. Result!!

So that’s all done and seems to be working well.

Meanwhile, back at the junction we suddenly found ‘Horreur!’ that we were out of fresh milk - one of Alex’s ‘must-haves’. So he looked at the mooring guide and saw that there was an Ecomarché less than five kilometres away. A half hour bike ride found no fresh milk but instead a rather splendidly cleaned church in the village, and another unlocked spiral staircase to the organ loft and thence to the belfry. Louise stayed down below in the shade taking photographs while Alex couldn’t resist the climb and re-emerged a bit later covered in cobwebs and what not – a bit more light and a little less cowardice this time!

On returning to Riccall, milk-less but determined, he perused the map again and realised that it was only 16kms to Ay where we knew there was a l’Eclerc Express. So the following morning he set off on his milk run on the trusty bike. 2 hours later he was back triumphant (and the milk had even been reduced as it was near its sell-by date!) but rather saddle-sore and weary. In the meantime, Louise had painted the front coamings and deck (as you do when your partner is off chasing after the white stuff).

We also met a Dutch couple on a newly built Dutch barge – Cinclus (Norwegian for dipper) – who take up to eight people on barge cruises. They used to have a clipper taking up to 20 people to Norway and Sweden but have decided to downsize and stick to European canals. Their barge was very swish, as you would expect, but they were complimentary about Riccall when they came for after dinner drinks.

We are now climbing up to the Mont Billy tunnel – some 20 kms south of Reims – and judging by the lack of civilisation, when we will be able to post this blog is somewhat uncertain!

The seven locks on the climb to the tunnel went OK and even though it was rather early we decided to moor up at Vaudemanges on the end bollard of the lock moorings rather than in the basin just beyond. We later got on the bikes to look at the Mont Billy tunnel a kilometre or so ahead. As we approached it an old Dutch barge called ‘Biesbosch’ emerged, reminding us of our own problems in the Biesbosch last year!

Later when we got back to Riccall we noticed that Biesbosch had moored in the basin and that two of the people on board were returning from the lock with empty water containers (no water to be had there). So we offered them some of our bottled water for which they were very grateful. ‘Pour les enfants,’ they said.

The tunnel was fine, lit throughout, with two sets of fans blowing through to remove the fumes (and give us some coolth as well) and after that we descended a few locks to Sillery where we are staying for a fortnight while Louise dips back to the UK for a week. When she returns, sister Julia, with Steve and the rest of the entourage are spending a couple of days here in Sillery close to us.

La Ferte to Chalons

We were joined at the La Ferté Port de Plaisance by a 13m x 3m Dutch barge look-alike with an Aussie couple, their daughter and granddaughter, who with some misgivings we said could moor on Riccall for the night as there was no room elsewhere. For some inexplicable reason we took an instant dislike to them (more especially him) and later, when we went for drinks with Ken and Rhonda (Somewhere) discovered that they had felt exactly the same as us. Funny, how sometimes you just know you’re going to hit it off with people, and at other times you just want to hit them!

The Aussies left early the next day, much to our relief, and the following day 'Somewhere’ left too heading downstream for Meaux. Later we headed off ourselves up the Marne.

We had a rather dull day and eventually arrived at Château Thierry – sounds wonderful, but the town is rather dreary, and we could only find a shallow mooring where we had to jam tyres under the turn of the bilge to protect us from the stony bottom and even then we were about 1 metre from the wall.

The next morning two small cruisers moved off the 40m fixed pontoon a short distance ahead, and before we had even cleared away breakfast we made a fast break for the space.

The water and electricity had long since been vandalised but the mooring itself was safe and deep and our decision to move was quickly confirmed by several boats passing during the morning with looks of disgruntlement as we had bagged the only decent moorings in the town!

Best of all – an unlocked wi-fi from the flats opposite allowed us to post blogs etc and catch up with old and new friends.

After two more days and nights of appalling weather we set off again up the Marne for another very pretty if relentless few hours to our next moorings. The only incident of interest was being caught up at a lock by a flash cruiser flying a blue ensign. They did not respond to the radio or signals by us to enter the lock behind us (plenty of room for two) so we went on through alone. About 8 k later, they overtook us and the lady wife gave a cheery wave.

A couple of hours later we passed them moored at a pontoon having their late lunch and possibly stopped for the night. Again we gave friendly waves and ‘wifey’ waved back happily but ‘The Commodore’ studiously kept his back to us without so much as a glance. Sometimes we think only the British can be quite such prigs. The fact that it was flying the blue ensign (only allowed for members of certain clubs and ex RN guys) all ties in with the high-falluting attitude. PAH!! A pox on them all!

We found, courtesy of the DBA moorings guide, another 9½ out of 10 mooring just below Lock 3 – Vandières, total country, no roads, view of acres of hillside vineyards, five picnic tables on the island (should you want them), the chuckle of a small stream entering the river and evening sunshine, giving the hope of morning sunlight through the bedroom portholes!

The promised sunlight through the portholes did indeed materialise, and we had the opportunity to clear, wash and paint the whole rear deck. This we finished by about 3 o’clock, and we then set off on our bicycles for the ‘village on the hill’ which we could see a few kilometres away, complete with huge, intriguing statue dominating all the land around. The statue, Pope Urbain II, erected in 1897 in Châtillons sur Marne, was quite a feature (and the views from it superb) but so was the 11th-14th century church close by which Alex discovered had an unlocked spiral staircase to the upper levels!

Avoiding dead pigeons and pigeon shit on the stairs he ascended to the first level where he was greeted with total darkness. This was a very old church so with some trepidation he crossed the old wooden floor to the next set of wooden steps leading upwards, these suspended 30 ft above the nave. At the top of them a half-closed and stiff-to-open door led into the bell chamber. Still no light and in view of the fact that it looked like nobody had trodden this path in the last millennium, Alex lost his nerve and beat a hasty, if delicate retreat, only pausing to take a photo from half way down the exposed stairs.

We left the Marne river just north of Epernay and entered the canalised section (Canal lateral à la Marne). We were now looking for somewhere to stop and eventually as we came through Lock 14 at Ay, we saw something that looked possible. Louise dashed forward and asked the Danish boat if they could possibly move forward a bit to give us space. Husband was fine and willing, but wife was not – a fat, unhappy, frump. But they did anyway, and we squeezed in thinking that as we had not seen a commercial vessel for three days anyway, we would be OK on these rather imperfect moorings.

The next day, Monday, a commercial sidled past us at 10 o’clock. Our ropes and wires held OK but were not perfect, so as soon as the Dutch boat moved off we moved back into a much better mooring. Some time later we were surprised by another commercial, but this one was going backwards – yes backwards into the lock!! We had ridden three kilometres by bike the previous day to suss the scene ahead of us and we knew that there was nothing – no commercial quay, no turning place, nothing – either ahead of us or behind us where we had come from, so this guy was reversing for at least 6 kms. We have seen this only once – way back last year in Krommenie – where one boat a week came to the linoleum factory and had to reverse out, but that was a much bigger canal and no lock to encounter.

The other reason we wanted to stop just here was that we had misunderstood from Derek and Erica (Star of Destiny) that we could get diesel here. Not so easy, as a phone call to them told us that this was not in fact the right place!

However, not to be dissuaded, we went to Ay town Mairie where Louise did a sterling job with the Mairiesse (!) who rang several suppliers before successfully persuading one to deliver 500 litres of gazoile blanc to us at the lock the next day. But, would it actually happen?

Yes, it did!

By the time we left Ay we realised that about three barges a day were reversing past us empty, then returning full the following day, and in due course we came across two of them offloading dredgings three locks and 10 kms from our mooring at Ay! That’s some reverse – we can’t even manage 50 yards without ending up in the ‘ditch’ but we don’t have a bow thruster (or hand operated bow rudder as one of them had).

We also met one of them reversing towards us as we made our way up the canal and this posed an interesting question. Which side do you pass? In effect you are overtaking another vessel so you should pass on his port side but …

All this talk of reversing really set us up for the next day. We had arrived at the junction where we could turn left for Reims or carry straight on for Châlons-en-Champagne and we had decided to go to Châlons first, but the best mooring was 75 metres towards Reims, just before the first lock. Alex spent a worried night wondering how he was going to reverse Riccall past all the other Tupperware boats without crushing one of them but as it turned out they had all gone by 10 am except a narrowboat (La Camellia) belonging to such a nice Dutch couple (he a spry 81 year old and she a very fit fiftyish).

Our first attempt found us right back on our mooring point but after that we got it about right and managed to get away.

However, more was to come when we got to Châlons. Paul (from ‘Eleanor’) had promised to keep a listening watch on Ch 10 but by the time we were close enough to raise him for directions we had taken a wrong turning, almost through a narrow bridge off the main channel where we thought the moorings were. ‘No’ said Paul, ‘Not there, but above the lock’.

We backed out of the bridge apologising profusely to the amazed fisherman who had had to move all his rods for us, and then realised the operating device for the lock (a rod suspended over the canal which you twist) was another 100 metres back up the canal we had just come down!

More reversing!! We must have looked a bit like a pinball in slow motion as we bounced from one side of the canal to the other as we reversed up to the hanging rod.

However, this feat accomplished, we passed through the lock and moored up in Châlons where we shall no doubt continue our socialising, shopping and sightseeing.

Charenton to La Ferte sous Jouarre (River Marne)

We have been without internet access for so long that our blogs have been piling up! So Paris was posted yesterday and this one today.

We went up into Charenton town from our mooring at the junction of the Seine and Marne on the outskirts of Paris, to look for an SFR shop which we knew was there because we had picked up an unlocked wi-fi from the Chinese restaurant over the river and used it to good effect!

Here we got yet another story about why we could not get onto Neuf wi-fi. In fact, the first guy we spoke to in the shop either had a speech problem or a hearing problem. We said quite clearly, ‘Parley-vous Anglais’ and he just looked at us. Honestly, not a word. We tried again, then again more slowly and he did not say a single word, just looked at us as though we had just landed from Mars. So Alex said, ‘Come on Louise, we’ll just leave’, at which point the senior man in the shop intervened and said, ‘Wait, I speak a leetle English’. But, needless to say, he was no real help anyway. He did give us a helpline telephone number to call, but this turned out to be no help at all either!

So we set off up the Marne, and as we came to the first lock were told that two commercials were in the lock coming out towards us. As the first one exited, Alex spotted a flashing white light where his ‘blue flag’ should have been. He assumed this was an equivalent, and headed off to the left as the commercial headed off to his left. Fine! The small cruiser behind us either didn’t notice or misunderstood, but at first he just stopped dead, right in the path of the commercial, then eventually skidaddled right over to his right to the far side of the river (miles away from the lock entrance). Well, I suppose, ‘If in doubt, get the hell out’ is as good an answer as any!

The rest of the trip up to Vaires passed without incident. We moored up on a good quay just behind a commercial who was in the process of painting his peniche. We sussed the town, found the shops and spend a pleasant couple of nights. On one day, we cycled down the river where there were a number of live-aboards moored up before the weir. At the weir itself was a pleasant town and a chocolate factory (now Nestlés) and we had a very pleasant lunch in the rear garden of a bistro in the town square.

The next day, Friday, there seemed to be a lot of commercials mooring up around us, then spaces became scarce and the next thing we knew a peniche twice our size was nuzzling up against us. The capitaine came forward and said there was a festival over the weekend and more barges would need to moor and that we should go somewhere else.

Well, we knew he was trying it on, because the parking sign had no restrictions on it, but being good old pussy-cat-English we agreed to move forward to a different place. Actually we moved 200 years upstream to a loading wharf which had belonged to the power station and was no longer used, as it had been rebuilt to run on gas (or probably nuclear fuel) instead of coal, so no unloading required now.

This had a clear secondary plus in that we were now upwind of the refuse collection barges which, fully laden and odorous, had moored in front of our previous position!

After we left Vaires we had only been cruising for about three quarters of an hour when we spotted ‘Star of Destiny’ moored up on a nice pontoon in Lagny. So we had to stop and catch up with Derek and Erica whom we had not seen since they were our next-door neighbours in Ghent. Subsequently two other UK boats moored up, Paul and Diane (Eleanor) and Barbara and Tony and we were all busy having drinks and tea etc with each other for the next three nights!

We then moved on to Meaux where the pontoon provides free water and electricity. The first night there was no room at the Halte Nautique so Riccall and Eleanor stopped on a good wall near the bridge, and who should appear just as the kettle boiled for tea but Julian from Santanna! He told us that he and several other boats were leaving the Halte Nautique the following day and there would be plenty or room for both of us then.

The next day we tried a repeat of our mooring in the l’Arsenal – i.e. a reverse park into finger moorings. Everything went well until at the last minute the wind got up and took the front end way out of line. A quick power-out to prevent sideswiping one of the other moored boats and a change of attack was called for – this time forward into a different slot, and allow the wind to blow us ‘on’. All went well as a couple of Dutch guys came to help take the ropes, but as Louise threw the rear rope, the opening rail (which had not been properly secured) gave way and there was a loud splash. Alex's first thought was, ‘Sounds like she’s thrown the rope into the water’. Then, ‘Too loud a splash, what’s going on?’ and dashing out of the wheelhouse saw Louise in the water being helped out by the two Dutch guys!”

Her main concern was ‘save my shoe’ which was floating at the edge of Riccall. No problem. Then it was into the shower and a quick wash of all clothes before we got on with the rest of the day.

This involved the inevitable trip to the Bricomarché (just shutting for 2 hour lunch), Aldi (shut for 2 hour lunch) and return via SFR shop – you’ve guessed it, shut for 2-hour lunch. After our own lunch, back to SFR shop and another take on why we couldn’t get onto Neuf wi-fi, but this one seemed initially more hopeful. However, they had used nearly an hour of our precious 3 hours-worth of Clé internet time, because they insisted on plugging it in and accessing the internet through it, before they came up with the latest reasoning – the critical code we require is on our ‘facture’ – our bill/invoice - which has been sent to our French address, to which of course we have no access!

A few nights and a few drinks with Paul and Diane later, we left Meaux and headed off to what were supposed to be 130 metres of moorings at Mary-sur-Marne. Oh no they aren’t, so we motored on and on passing Barbara and Tony last seen in Meaux, who asked us if there was any room back at Meaux and so we could tell them yes, plenty of space now that we’ve moved out. We also passed an 1882 Dutch tjalk ‘Aleida’ which looked magnificent - also flying an English ensign. At last we arrived at La Ferté-sous-Jouarre where to start with we moored on some moorings which turned out to be for a hire boat company, while we sussed the scene on our bicycles. We came across the New Zealand couple on ‘Somewhere’ whom we had briefly seen at Cambrai. We had said then that no doubt we would see them again very soon – and that was six weeks ago! They were moored in the official Port de Plaisance and there was room for one more boat, so we hightailed it back to Riccall and motored up to the free pontoon. So that’s where we are now. Alex just can’t believe that it is cold and raining today and has been chilly, if sunny, for several days now. ‘THIS IS FRANCE AND IT’S JUNE’ he keeps saying sadly.

Paris

As it turned out, the trip into Paris and the whole moorings scene worked out far better than we expected.

Robert and Kerry went into Paris from Pontoise on their first full day with us and we headed back down the l’Oise to Conflans and up the Seine marvelling at the number of moored barges, sometimes 5 deep!

We found an excellent stop for lunch then went a bit beyond our first possible over-nighting point, above the lock at Bougival, knowing that if we had to we could return to the not-perfect moorings there. We found a small space at the end of a pontoon taken up with several jelly moulds (cabin cruisers) at Rueil Malmaison, where we made a perfect mooring (luckily, as it had to be within 2 ft of the cruiser behind whose captain and crew watched with distinctly worried faces).

We were within 5 minutes walk of the Metro so easy for Rob and Kerry to get back to us after their first day in Paris and opposite the restaurant Maison Fournaise where Renoir painted his ‘Breakfast of the Rowers’ (or was it his ‘Dancers in Candlelight’?).

The next day was decision time. Do we go up the St Denis despite its bad reputation, or do we carry on up the Seine looking for a possible overnight mooring before we hit the city limits, wherein no mooring whatsoever is allowed?

A phone call to La Villette Port de Plaisance told us there was no room there and we would have to go onto the Canal de l’Orque and look for something there.

Alex finally decided on the St Denis option – a good call as it turned out. The locks up the St Denis were fine, no other boats to be seen but all ready for us as we arrived. Then at the final lock a slight delay, but there was the green light and we entered a short tunnel and emerged into a chasm, no other word for it - just 5m wide, 38m long and 10m, yes 10m high.

Fortunately there were floating bollards within a slot in the side of the lock wall (they rise with your boat) so we were not expected to hurl a rope up to an invisible bollard above.

Ten minutes later we could see where we were and actually it all felt a bit more civilised as well. Alex was all for turning left into the Canal de l’Ourque and looking for a mooring but Louise said as it was only 3pm perhaps we could at least look in La Villette first and then, if necessary, we would still have time to trawl the l’Ourque. So we did just that and saw a cruiser and a small billy bouncer moored to the left of a ‘No Parking’ sign which pointed to the right. So we trundled across and moored half in and half outside the no parking area. The guys in the cruiser helped with our ropes and said you could moor there for one night. The official Port de Plaisance was on the opposite side of the basin, so when the billy bouncer moved off a short time later we adjusted our own position so we were no longer in the ‘No Parking’ area and decided to sit it out, while waiting for the return of Rob and Kerry.

The whole place was heaving with people, some having picnics, some playing boules, jogging, drinking, walking dogs, chatting. But the atmosphere was benign and continued to be so until about 3 o’clock in the morning when things finally began to quieten down to our relief, but not before Louise and Robert had had to get up at 2.30 to gesticulate to one couple to desist from sitting on our deck! (which they did immediately with no argument).

So we spent the night in La Villette after all, for free. As we left the next day, the first lock keeper looked slightly surprised when we answered that we had spent the night there. (We weren’t sure whether this was because you aren’t supposed to, or because nobody in their right mind puts up with the party chaos on a Saturday night!)

The St Martin canal is as picturesque as you could hope for and such a contrast to the St Denis that you can hardly believe that they are only a kilometre from each other.

In due course we navigated the 1k tunnel under the Place de la Bastille (which was just amazing) and emerged into the Port de Plaisance de l’Arsenal where we hoped we had arranged a mooring for our second night. A quick word with the Capitaine and yes, we could moor there for a mere €45 and yes, no problem to go through the lock onto the Seine for a couple of sightseeing hours and back into our mooring slot, which was a very difficult 4.9m wide for our 4.7m beam (and entered stern first, in this case, to make the exit easier).

And that is what we did, thereby fulfilling our promise to each other when we last visited Paris with Michael and Sylvia some 6 years ago, that the next time we would be on our own boat!!

So we cruised past Notre Dame, the Hotel de Ville, the Palais de Justice, Pont Neuf, le Louvre, le Musée d’Orsay, etc etc and saw them all from Riccall. Then, about turn at the Pont de Grenelle and back through it all again avoiding the bateaux mouches (‘flying’ boats). Oh, and did we see some phallic symbol Eiffelling its way into the sky? – no, we didn’t notice that!

It was lovely to have Rob and Kerry along with us while we traversed Paris and we only hope that they enjoyed the experience as much as we did. Boating has its own restrictions of course – on water (long showers are not always possible) on hair dryers (electricity is sometimes at a premium) on sleep (sometimes a bit hard to come by if moored in a ‘lively place’) and on moorings themselves of course.

However, when Rob and Kerry had left the following day to catch Eurostar back to London, Louise was determined to go up the Eiiffel Tower yet again, so we set off for a ‘quick’ 4-hour round trip to the top and back - but not on Riccall this time: it just wouldn’t fit in the lift! In the long queue we had plenty of time to notice the sign saying that the top étage was temporarily closed. This was very disappointing, but as we continued to queue the illuminated sign showed that it had been re-opened, and a ripple of delight passed through the waiting hordes. The most amazing thing about this visit was that looking down from the highest level we saw about 10 young men dangling from ropes and harnesses PAINTING the Eiffel Tower with 2” brushes !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We left the Arsenal at about 4 o’clock and just as we entered the Marne about an hour later, we saw Julian of Santanna again, on a neat mooring at the junction, so we stopped to say hello and … another jolly dinner followed – provided entirely by Julian this time, but eaten on Riccall’s back deck – parasol up and all of us relaxing after the heat of the day.

Lots of photos for this one folks!!!

Mantes-la-Jolie/Limay to Pontoise

Back at Mantes-la-Jolie/Limay we had gone straight up to just below the ‘water’ pontoon. But after a couple of days we realised that the outfall just in front of the boat, i.e. upstream of us, was in fact a raw sewage outfall and all down the side of the boat was the product of the same. URGGGHHH …! We moved forward onto the rather flimsy pontoon as we just had to get away from that load of s . . t!

The next day we set off again going up river. The 6 or 7 km per hour difference between going downstream and going upstream was very noticeable. We just seemed to get nowhere fast, but looking at all the amazing houses along the banks put in the time!

Eventually we arrived back at the moorings at Meulan and within half an hour a guy came down the steps to the side of the boat asking for some tissues for his nose!

We couldn’t believe it! There must be a conspiracy here or they are just puling our legs. Maybe word had got round that we were a good source of tissues. Anyway you have to humour these guys so a further handful was handed out and gratefully received.

The next morning the VNF were out in force clearing the blockage of small broken boats, trees, bushes, driftwood etc which was blocking two of the arches of the old bridge in front of us. ‘Great’, said Alex, ‘Now we can go through the arch and up this side of the island on our way back upstream’. Louise was not convinced. PC Navigo said the arch was 6m wide and 4 high but it didn’t look it. Alex eventually decided acquiescence was the better part of valour and agreed to go the short way back to the gap between the islands and take the main route.

Unfortunately, as we made the about turn, the rudder caught on something and then the joint which Alex had painstakingly made a few weeks ago failed. Damn and blast! When he inspected his welding he discovered that it left a lot to be desired and started to try and rebuild it then and there. However, the shore power supply available here was not up to the job so the ‘old’ joint was reassembled and fitted and we set off again.

At Poissy we saw Santanna (again) but Julian was away (we think this was his family day at Disneyland poor chap) so we left him a note and travelled on. At the Andresy lock we had open gates and a green light but asked anyway if it was OK to enter. We received a long reply of unintelligible French, the only word of which we recognised being ‘commerce’ so we entered anyway and sure enough a few minutes later a huge barge entered behind us. Given the maxim that ‘plaisances’ should always give way to barges we felt perhaps we shouldn’t have gone in ahead, but never mind, there was plenty of room for us both, though we were tucked up at the front over the fast-incoming water, giving us a bumpy ride up.

As soon as the top gate opened we shot out and over to the side to let the commercial past, then picked our way down the old lock arm to find enough depth of water to moor somewhere along the 300m of good quay which is available and labelled as the ‘Halte de Plaisance d’Andresy’.

We felt they would get a lot more business into the town if they just spent 2 days dredging the quayside and repainting the signs. And of course so would the local economy, although it didn’t look in need of further investment. It was a very up-market area, so maybe that’s the problem – they don’t want us boaters.

Eventually we attached ourselves to another rather flimsy floating pontoon. But as there was no passing traffic whatsoever, and the depth was OK and free electricity and water were available, we felt we had found our perfect spot for the night. (Almost perfect that is – no wifi!)

Just a couple of nights at Andresy and then we set off again for Pontoise. We still had a couple of days in hand before Rob and Kerry were due to arrive, despite our concerns at Vernon that we had barely enough time to get to our rendezvous, and we arrived easily after a couple of hours cruising.

Later that same day, after our trip to the l’Eclerc hypermarket (awful) Waterdog had appeared and was moored immediately in front of us. Long chat, glasses of wine and beer, exchange of stories – the usual boating imperatives! The following day, who should appear but Julian, so we all had a sociable evening on Riccall, eating and making merry until the ‘kids’ arrived later that night.

So, the next instalment will reveal just how on earth we coped with moorings approaching Paris –and in the city itself.

Mantes-le-Jolie/Limay to Vernon and back

We left Limay for a jaunt down the Seine to Vernon. I mean, we had to get away as the local council had decided to dig the road up for a new gas supply line right beside our moorings. The workmen were great but the noise was frightful! Actually, we spent some time watching the foreman digging a trench with a Caterpillar digger – big piece of kit – and handling it as if it were a knife and fork. Hence the photo – couldn’t resist it!

So we set off on a grey day for what turned out to be a rather boring 4½ hours of uneventful cruising down a rather quiet Seine. We stopped for lunch at a disused lock an hour or so from Vernon and speculated as to what you do to a river when you remove a lock (and weir presumably) entirely – do you lower the river level above or raise the level below? Although neither looked feasible we decided on the latter. It made an interesting place to stop with road, rail and water transport all side by side within 35 metres.

We arrived at Vernon in drizzle and moored in front of a 110 metre river cruise liner ‘Bizet’. When the weather improved we had a lightning-fast walk round the town. Vernon is excellent: ancient unspoilt timber-framed buildings in original 16th century streets and even the more modern town centre was not too bad.

We even managed to have drinks outside on the back deck before the chill wind and a pair of entwined youngsters on the quay drove us indoors for supper. I ask you, they were there for two hours canoodling away while we tried to have a civilised few minutes in the brief sunshine! (One of our fellow DBA members says that the exceptionally high-pitched electronic sounder used to deter teenagers from outside late-night-opening shops works on boats too, but we reckon Wagner would do just as well!)

The following day dawned bright and rainy (there’s a change) and we did our sums and realised that if we went further down the Seine we would be really pushed to get back in time for Rob and Kerry’s visit. So as it was raining yet again and the only internet café in town was closed for a week we decided to start retracing our steps towards Paris.

The evening saw us back again at Limay, after a tedious day plugging against the river, where we were able to catch up with our emails yet again on the tennis court wifi and have a quick drink outside in a 5 minute sunny internal before retiring indoors to watch the torrential rain for the rest of the evening! (Alex – I don’t have any sort of hang-up about the weather or anything. I just want to know why it rains wherever I go??? Answers on a postcard …)

Mantes-la-Jolie is quite a nice town, though without much history apart from its massive church, the Collegiale Notre Dame (not sure of the exact meaning in this context of collegiale, as the word isn’t in our French dictionary) but to be fair, and judging by photographs we have seen of the devastation wrought during the war, most of its history was wiped out during that period. Much of the town has been rebuilt to resemble what was lost, but clearly ancient churches, towers etc. can’t be replaced. The massive riverside fortifications which would have been really something, were, however, demolished in about 1640, a bit before World War II, as presumably at the time they seemed rather passé!

Our moorings are opposite the Mantes Parc des Expositions where events are held – a bit like a small Great Yorkshire Showground, and in part of the area is a conference and banqueting centre. When we were here a week ago, a cacophonous blaring of car horns announced the imminent arrival at the reception of a wedding convoy, including of course the bride and groom. Today, we were treated to this again and although noisy, it’s actually really nice to hear the sheer exuberance which accompanies such happy events here.

On the opposite side of the river, Limay is, on the other hand a rather down-market town with very little to recommend it other than the moorings which are pleasant and seem not to attract the undesirables, unlike Meulan.

So it’s back to Pontoise to meet up with Rob and Kerry next week and then onward to Paris in earnest.

Pontoise to Mantes-la-Jolie/Limay

As we arrived in Pontoise, passing under the rail bridge and heading for what looked like good quay moorings, we were surprised to find 3 or 4 pigeons alighting on the foredeck. Louise was quick to pop out of the wheelhouse and shoo them away before they crapped over our otherwise immaculate decks!

We thought little more about it until later when we noticed that as the commercial barges passed us the pigeons flocked to each one. They rode upon each barge for a kilometre or so and just before they reached the nearby lock the pigeons flew back to their roosts under the bridge! It appeared to be a game; they took great delight in cadging a free ride on the barges as they headed downstream.

We speculated about this as we observed it time after time and eventually decided that the more mundane explanation was that perhaps some of the barges carried grain and the pigeons were looking for spilled grain lying on the decks. (That would also explain why bargees, or more often their wives, spend hours hosing down what appear to be perfectly clean decks.) One of the good things about retirement is that you can spend hours on such speculations! But it was a most amusing sight and our best photo shows only a hint of the inundation suffered by some of the barges.

We left Pontoise having posted our most recent blog in one of the two internet cafés in town: one hot, cramped and slow, the other spacious, cool and lightning-quick, and worth twice the price for that comfort and eventually we found our way onto the historic Seine at Conflans St Honorine.

It’s big, very big, but we got through the first lock OK after a 15 min wait, while two barges came upstream, then made our way down, stopping for lunch at a Halte Fluvial at Poissy, which was a great find, as they are few and far between on a river like the Seine.

We arrived at the moorings at Meulan early on a lovely sunny afternoon, where we met a couple from Canada who had sailed their 12m yacht all the way from Northern Canada, down the Great Lakes, across the Atlantic to the Azores, and then into the canal system of France, all with a couple of smelly dogs and a cat on board! And they had been in France since 2007! The moorings themselves were lovely, alongside a pretty little park, but tended to attract the down-and-outs and mentally unstable of the town, one of whom, one evening, hung on our handrail pointing vigorously at his face covered in blood. Alex thrust a large handful of tissues at him, at which he left – thank goodness. A genuine nosebleed or the result of fisticuffs between ne’er-do-wells?

The next day the whole of the path alongside the river and next to us was awash with amateur artists painting the Vieux Pont just ahead of us. We explained we would be gone and out of their way in an hour, but they said no, they wanted our boat in the picture which was very gratifying.!

Later we experienced one of the odd features of the canalised rivers in this area, where the prioritisation of the side on which opposing barges pass is reversed. (The normal rule of the river is to drive on the right.)

We had noticed this a few times previously on the l’Oise, but had been fortunate enough never to have to put it to the test as there had been no opposing traffic, and on this occasion, as far as we could tell, it was normal passing sides. BUT the barge coming towards us was definitely on our side!

We made a decisive move to our right (further over into the normal and correct side) and he seemed to move to his RIGHT also, but then a few seconds later Alex spotted that a rusty old ‘blue flag’ had been deployed by him and a swift change of course to the LEFT side was called for by us.

We still haven’t sussed out why all this changing of passing side is necessary on rivers as wide and deep as the Seine (never mind why all the islands on both the l’Oise and the Seine have to be passed on the ‘wrong’ side) but no doubt someday somebody will be able to explain it – or not!

But we don’t suppose the barge which we met later will be able to! We saw him some distance off on one of the sections where we were supposed to be on the ‘wrong’ side and we were. But it seemed the opposing barge was on ‘our’ side too. What to do? We watched for a telltale change of direction from him – it didn’t happen – so we then decided to make an obvious move to the right side to pass conventionally. A second after we had done this, he at last changed his course – to the designated ‘wrong’ side – i.e. towards us!

Alex made a decisive move even further to the right and at last the oncoming juggernaut changed course to his right. Phew! One kilometre behind us was a laden barge. He showed us what we should have done – stuck to our guns on the ‘wrong’ side.

As all this was happening, our program Noodersoft chose that moment to have a glitch, whereby an error message kept popping up and repeating itself with a plungk! sound each time as fast as we could cancel it. So thus, with all the distractions audible and visual, we also missed going down the correct side of a 4km long island to locate our next mooring place.

Never mind, we knew there was a way through the middle of the island albeit with a low bridge. We turned in and could see very quickly that the bridge was too low. Of course the barge which had been behind us was now much nearer and the gentle current in the river was not going to let us hang about. In fact, it was pushing us right towards the shallows. There was no choice – we had to engage full ahead and pull out in front of the laden barge, powering over a shallow sand bank as we did so. (We only listed about 20o but all the drawers came open in the bedroom!)

Then we weren’t able to let the barge pass us, because there was a laden and unladen barge breasted up coming towards us upstream, and by the time they were past we were almost at the downstream end of the island where we had to make a right turn in our second attempt to reach our next mooring.

Again, right in front of the laden barge we had to make the turn. Ah well, we hoped he understood, having seen us go aground, but he probably thought, ‘Mad English amateurs’.

We got to the moorings at Limay and found a lovely quiet spot, on a good wall with bollards, just up from a Port de Plaisance. The only slight downside was a plague of harmless black flies. Even with the wheelhouse doors closed they somehow got in. Alex has been busy with the swatter and there are piles of dead flies all over the place!! In fact Alex has done more swatting these last couple of days than he ever did for his exams!! (Swatting not swotting you fool!)

We have found an Aldi and an Intermarche and a rather splendid church, and with our unerring knack of being in the right place at the right (sometimes wrong) time we were treated to an absolutely fabulous firework display to finish off some sort of local celebration in the town. It went on from 11.00 to 11.30 in a continuous riot of colour and we had a perfect view from where we were moored.

We moved up to a rather lightweight pontoon to take on water a day or so later and look! – an unlocked wi-fi! a signal from the tennis club on the other side of the river. Quick, get those emails read and sent, book those flights/train tickets, download The Archers podcasts, deal with the bank overdraft etc. etc. It’s all very well using internet cafés but the operating systems are all in French and the key positions on the keyboard are in different places and sometimes the memory stick works and sometimes it doesn’t!

Compiègne to Pontoise

Louise has done her marathon sprint to the UK and back and Alex went with her to the airport to see her off. The airport link bus journey is in two stages – €2 to Senlis and then a further €5.70 from Senlis to Charles de Gaulle airport. The trip by Alex was a last minute decision and so it was not until he arrived at the airport that he discovered he had a four hour wait to catch the same bus back!

However, further enquiry at the bus station showed that there was a bus to another town – Creil – and then a train back to Compiègne. This even left him half an hour to suss out Creil itself (for moorings) but more importantly, as the train entered Compiègne Alex spotted something he had already spent considerable time looking for – viz a skip at the back of a motor car repair shop full of old exhaust systems and the like!

So after lunch, onto the trusty old bike, back to the garage and try to communicate with the man behind the desk what he was looking for. After several minutes of incomprehension and miscomprehension on both sides they went round to the skip, and Monsieur said, “Help yourself”. (Actually he said “Servez-vous” but this is one expression we understand perfectly now!) So with two old exhaust systems and an extremely difficult bike ride Alex was back at the boat rebuilding the water separator and exhaust system for the genny. (Just not happy with the separator as it was – failing to completely separate the water.)

By the time Louise got back to Riccall after her hectic 3 days in the UK the genny was all done and almost perfect. In fact it was so good you couldn’t hold a candle to it!

Alex has adopted a slightly unconventional approach but believes that in doing so he has ended up with the best of both a wet and a dry exhaust system. (Anybody interested in the details email Alex for a full, if boring, description!)

We are getting to know Compiègne quite well now – still here waiting for HSBC, but we have made good use of the time. Last week we tackled a small area of the saloon roof paintwork but discovered millscale under the failing paintwork which will require a more robust approach. Jeff at the boatyard has discovered some special grindwheels which will be up to the job, if we can get them to us. (I should have listened to Jeff, when he said, “Leave the new steelwork to rust for longer”!)

On Sunday we sanded down and undercoated the whole of the wheelhouse roof. On Monday it was cold and windy and Tuesday showery, but we just had to get the topcoat on before the undercoat hardened too much. At 11 am Louise said, “Look, blue sky! Let’s get going.” Alex said “No, it’s going to rain in half an hour or so” and it did. Then at 2pm Louise said, “Look, sunny again” and Eyore Alex said “I shouldn’t be surprised if it rains again in an hour”, but we did it anyway and Louise was right: it didn’t rain till ages after when the paint had dried!

HSBC tell us that our card is at last at Creil. So we’re off, and a pleasant day was spent on the river with 4 or 5 locks till we reached Creil. We rounded up and moored on a nice grassy bank with shapely trees in their full spring green splendour. And when we got to the bank sure enough they had the card – but not the PIN number!

Well, we didn’t really expect to be able to open the bubbly just yet. So another call to Veronique at HSBC Lille who said she’d call back in a few minutes.

This of course didn’t happen, so we pre-empted and rang Jean our next door neighbour at home to ask her to go through the post to see if she could find said PIN Number. While she was in the house doing so, the postman actually delivered the very letter and bingo! – we have the PIN number which, more importantly, WORKS.

So off to SFR to get the dongle and thus access to Neuf wi-fi. But – Oh no you don’t. They want bank details, PIN number, passports, proof of address – no, not an address in England, an address in France! We are visitors, we have a French bank account but obviously as we are travellers we don’t have an address in France. Bad luck then. No SFR dongle, no Neuf wi-fi access. Finis!!!” Bloody French – I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! They break all the rules when it helps them: sticklers for the rules if it hinders others.

But we are not beaten yet. There are other avenues to be gone down. Keep reading for the next thrilling instalment of the subplot – Getting on the Internet in France.

In the meantime we have given up on Creil, especially with our usual knack of arriving in the thick of a festival of some sort. We found our lovely moorings were right beside the loudest live pop venue for Saturday night – over a wall admittedly, but no further than 20 metres from the sound stage! Our neighbouring live-aboards warned us that it wouldn’t finish till 2 o’clock in the morning, so we moved half a kilometre downstream on the pretext of filling our water tanks with free water from a supply there and stayed for the night. And were we glad we had moved! The noise was unbelievable, but we did manage a reasonable night before setting off in the morning for Pontoise north west of Paris where we are now.

And who should appear today coming upstream but Julian in Santanna. He had been almost to England and back while we had been pottering in fits and starts to Pontoise! but at least he could give us some good gen on moorings ahead of us down the Seine.

Jussy to Compiegne

Alongside our wharf were a set of huge silos which had obviously once disgorged their product into waiting barges where we were now moored, but it was a long time since that had happened judging by the un-marked grass all around!

We set off in the morning, having given a slow moving fully laden barge plenty of time to get well ahead and spent another easy day barging down the Canal Saint Quentin and onto the Canal Lateral à l’Oise. Eventually, after some hours of searching we found a good mooring near a village called Varèsnes (near Noyon). We were slightly put off by the presence of a burnt out car in the lay-by alongside but decided it would be OK – it was early, but we were ready to stop and Louise had enough energy for a spot of painting. There was also a black 4x4 parked in the lay-by whose driver kindly helped us moor. We thanked him and he went back to his car. A few moments later he appeared at the side of the boat with a bottle of rosé which he insisted on giving us! How kind.

But in our typically cynical British way we pondered as to whether it was poisoned and he would return in the dead of night to capture Riccall, but we took the charitable view, drank it gratefully and were gratified to wake in the morning all intact! (In our musings later, we decided that he must have been the guy responsible for the fly-tipping of some top soil visible when he moved his car, and he was buying our silence!)

On the following day we had an uneventful trip to Compiègne where we hoped to pick up our debit card from HSBC and open an SFR dongle account. No such luck! Apparently because we hadn’t deposited any cash into the new account at Lille (we didn’t know we had to) the card had not been forwarded. They wouldn’t take cash at Compiègne, God knows why not, and when we tried to do money transfer from the UK via our internet banking, the bank blocked the request because it came from abroad! Bloody Hell! They are dead set on making this as difficult as possible. And of course still no chance of an SFR account. And even if we get cash into the Lille account it's another seven days before we get the card (and where do we ask them to send it??!!)

On the plus side, we are on good public moorings on the town quay in Compiègne quite close to the centre and the English narrow boat (yes, narrow boat) behind us. Santanna’s captain Julian is cruising the European waterways for his tenth year, and has found a free water supply hidden in the quayside. So with our genny and free water we could stay here till our fuel ran out. On that score, there is said to be canalside fuel available 1km further on. We shall see next week when eventually we move on.

We have however, decided to stay here until Louise has done her trip home early next week – better the quay you know and like than risk one you haven’t yet seen further on. It will give HSBC the chance finally to send our bankcard and then we can open our SFR account.

While we have been moored here we have had a succession of commercial barges mooring in front or behind and one was so big he asked us both to squeeze up along the quay for the night which has made for an interesting view of barge handling by the experts and of course a varied set of neighbours.

We have had a succession of people stopping to talk to us as they pass. On once occasion Alex spotted Watchtower magazine in time to say, “ Non! Non! Non! Merci beaucoup”. These jovial Witnesses get everywhere don’t they?! And anyway, how do you convert people if you can’t even speak the same language? But I suppose that’s how the missionaries did it years ago – persuading the indigenous populations to give up their colourful gods in favour of one rather austere one.

On another occasion the guy complimented the boat – not a word of English – then proceeded to try and sell us TABLECLOTHS and T SHIRTS (we think)!! Just a different type of salesman! But most are genuinely interested.

And we have been sightseeing in the environs of Compiègne. Our first trip was to the ‘Clairière de l’Armistice’ the clearing in the woods where the Armistice was signed after the First World War. A replica of the train carriage in which negotiations took place and the document signed was fascinating, as were thousands of photos mounted in ‘what the butler saw’ type machines all around. These were 3D images and gave an alarmingly realistic idea of life in the trenches and the catastrophic damage Belgian and French towns suffered, not to mention the horrendous loss of life.

Our next day out began as a 5 km bicycle ride through the forest to the top of the nearby ridge. Once there, the view back to Compiègne down a 100m wide grassy avenue with the magnificent chateau at the end of it was breathtaking. And – we were the only people there.

Having got that far though, we decided to venture further to the town of Pierrefonds with an even more stunning château. Our leaflet said it was free to view till the end of June. Our leaflet however, turned out to be last year’s (we hadn’t noticed) so at a hefty €7 each we decided the outside was good enough! In addition there was a UK film crew there who had added extra bits of castle round the outside for their sets. It was great fun going round tapping at bits of wall to see if they were stone or polystyrene! On the way back, and still in the forest, we stopped in a delightful little village – originally agricultural – surrounding a 13th century church. The church was rather plain but the surrounding refurbished cottages and gateways were charming.

The Forêt de Compiègne is huge and criss-crossed by hundreds of cycle paths. We loved riding through it and had a super day, though we had forayed much further than we had set out to do, and consequently had no cold weather gear with us when the day turned a bit chilly. Another lesson learned – keep those saddle bags well stocked.

Cambrai to the junction with the Somme Canal

The thought of the 5640-metre tow tunnel had started to give us sleepless nights! but we found a good overnight mooring spot just below the penultimate lock, which gave us plenty of time to be at the tunnel entrance well before the 11 o’clock tow-through. But as we loosened the ropes to set off a heavily laden barge rounded the corner, so we had to give it precedence of course, and it lumbered slowly through the lock ahead of us. At the next and last lock (all doubles) we were both penned up at the same time and we got chatting to the bargee who turned out to be Dutch, so of course, he could speak 6 languages and English fluently. He gave us some hints on going through the tunnel and in the event there was only his barge and Riccall there on the starting line.

We were ages early, which was fine, and we spent the time collecting baulks of timber, which, we had been advised, would help to fend us off from the walls of the tunnel if they could be attached so that they projected beyond the boat.

It was raining, so we had to leave removing the wheelhouse roof until the last minute and we had stayed well back from the Dutch commercial in case other commercials arrived. The order for the tunnel tow is laden commercials first, then unladen barges, then the bigger bateaux de plaisance like us and the tiddler jelly moulds at the back each tied to the boat in front.

Because there is no running of engines in the tunnel we had to make a choice between using the usual wheel which would of course be un-power- assisted and thus very heavy, or using the emergency tiller system for steering. Alex chose the tiller system, which in the event was definitely the right choice, but this did require last minute disconnection of the hydraulic ram and insertion of the tiller and adaptor at much the same time as removal of the roof! We were doing it all almost as we set off.

Roping to the barge in front was done using a double cross rope system, the beauty of which was that Louise could alter the tension on each rope after we had set off to get our bow into the right place. To start with the tensions weren’t right and we were scraping along the side of the tunnel. doing damage to our handrails and snapping one of our hastily acquired timber fenders. We are glad to say that we got our own back and took a great chunk out of the tunnel wall!

The trick is to get the ropes so that the bow is tending towards the towpath side (port if going south) the edge of which is smooth timber, nice to rub against, and well away from the brick/stone side. The timber fenders need to be on the other side and rather stouter than ours!

But once we had got the tow tensions right things became easier. Alex still had to watch like a hawk and take corrective action with the tiller for the whole of the two and a half hours! Judicious use of a bucket was necessary on several occasions: fortunately the tunnel was well lit by strip lights so he could see where to aim!

Having emerged from the tunnel we quickly stopped to reassemble the steering but as we thought the next tunnel (self-propelled and only 12000m) was close enough, we didn’t bother putting the roof back on. We hadn’t reckoned with the Dutch barge which progressed ahead of us at no more than 3km/hr. The rain became more earnest and even though we had done a thorough job of clearing the wheelhouse, we covered all the surfaces to keep the worst off and stood under our golf umbrella.

At last the second tunnel appeared and we stopped just inside to let the commercial get ahead. But even on tickover we slowly caught him up and by the other end of the tunnel his exhaust fumes (fortunately not toxic) had filled the entire space we were travelling in and turned the whole atmosphere a ghostly orange. The air was becoming steadily worse and worse and we were very glad indeed when we emerged into daylight and clean air. We stopped briefly to replace the roof (at last!) then as soon as we were out of the tunnel approach narrows we stopped for a well deserved and very late lunch, which also allowed the Flying-Dutchman (not) to get ahead.

By five o’clock we had had more than enough for one day and, unable to find a suitable official mooring, we asked a lock keeper if we could moor just before the unused 2nd lock in front of his house. “Oui. When will you leave?" “Neuf heure demain” we said. “OK”

The next day we were ready to go by 9.30 but a commercial appeared and from then on it was rush hour in slow motion at our lock until 11.30 when at last the lock keeper took pity on us and let us through but this time he operated the normally unused 2nd lock, which he could presumably have done at any time in the preceding two hours!!!!

The rest of the rather grey day passed with no problems and only a few passing commercial barges, and we found a pleasant place to moor for the night on an unused wharf at a little village called Jussy.

Lille to Cambrai

Well today we got a taste of the famous French temper!

We left Lille heading for Douai on the Canal du Deule. All was well, lovely sunny day again, no wind, until we were approaching the first lock. We noticed we were going to be overhauled by a coupled of loaded barges, one medium size (38 metres), one large (70 metres). So we pulled into the bank to let the outgoing barge leave the lock and allow the other two to pass us and go in first. The large one entered first, then the medium and then we noticed another unladen barge racing up behind. He was clearly not going to let this lock close in front of him as that would mean a wait of at least 40 minutes till he got his turn, and time’s money of course on the canals here. Alex asked the lockkeeper if we could enter and we were told we could. So we started in before him and had to go alongside the medium sized barge. Of course at the last minute the wind or swirl of water blew the front of Riccall to the wrong side. Desperate manoeuvring and the placing of a strategic tyre were just not enough and we kissed the rear quarter of the barge. Eh bien! The capitaine went bonkers! He shouted at Louise, he glared at Alex and then proceeded to have a 15-minute rant at the lockkeeper. Meanwhile we quietly worked our way forward and tied up. The last barge came in behind us. Quite a squash.

While Louise handled the forward rope, Alex then went back to apologise to the bargee, who had, by this time, finished his rant. And suddenly he was all smiles, saying it was not our fault and agreeing it was difficult with no bow thruster etc. etc. And then he said we should leave the lock first, which we did, and when he overtook us he was again all smiles and waves!

We think he must had just had an argument with his wife, or she had said ‘Non’ last night to his advances or something, and he just wanted to get it all off his chest. I mean, we had not actually done any damage to his precious barge, or at least nothing visible beyond what was there already. But there you are! There’s no accounting for people anywhere, but while it’s happening, it’s uncomfortable.

The rest of the day passed pretty well without incident but we started to look for moorings from 2.30 pm onwards and eventually found a couple of rings on a quay close enough together for our short length at 4 o’clock just short of Douai.

We stayed a couple of nights at the Douai moorings because there was thick fog when we woke and no desperate urgency to move on. We cycled into the town, which was pretty unimpressive (good town hall though) and stocked up at a Champion (Carrefour).

We set off the next day and asked at the first lock for water. We had seen the tap on our bike ride but ‘Non’ it was ‘Caput!’ We could get water two locks further on and sure enough we did. Hurrah! After the lock had raised us and the other barge and he had left, we moved across the chamber to the side where the tap was and just sat there for 20 minutes while we filled up – other barges using the other lock! We were glad of the delay actually because we had been sharing the locks with a Freycinet 38.5m barge which is always a bit daunting – especially after our telling-off, but no bumps this time.

We turned off the large waterway in the afternoon onto the start of the canal leading to the St Quentin and moored up on a rather shallow but pleasant sports basin off the main line (Bassin du Rond).

In the morning we set off in light mist for the first lock. On arrival, the gates opened automatically to let us in (!) and there was a notice in three languages telling us to pick up a remote control zapper. Alex could see the container where they were kept but it appeared to be locked. So we flailed about a bit and eventually pushed the button to ring an éclusier. The disembodied voice from the speaker babbled a load of unintelligible French but eventually the zapper door was released and a zapper obtained.

The keeper said something about the green and blue button on it. We pressed the ‘up’ button – nothing. The gates at the bottom, behind us, were still open. The keeper came on again – more unintelligible babble – Alex replied ‘Je pousse le button – et rien’.

Then a man from the nearby house came over and pointed to a blue rod hanging by the side of the lock (together with a red one for emergencies) and indicated that you needed to pull it up to start the lock operating. “Oh, je comprend!! Merci beaucoup.”

As we slowly discovered, from then on it is all automatic. You only use the zapper as you approach the lock to let it know you’re there. Then when you’re in and tied up, you lift the blue rod and everything starts - the lock gates behind you close, the sluices ahead open, water enters at a terrific rate, you rise up. When the lock is full the top gates open, out you go and then they close behind you. Magic! But if they have sufficient English speaking visitors to require a sign in English telling you to pick up your remote control zapper, wouldn’t you think a sign in English telling you how to use it once you’ve got it might be a good idea??!!! After all, you only need one notice at each end of the stretch where you pick up your zapper, not at every lock.

However, we have moored for the evening above a lock in the country and Alex has achieved one of his aims - we are basking in warm spring sunshine!

We have seen an English Dutch-barge-look-alike belonging to a New Zealand couple who we may see again, and we encountered a Dutch barge with English ensign approaching us who gave us useful tips on going through the tunnel ahead. We thought the name of the boat looked familiar – Friesland – then later as we had a long informative chat with a Dutch ex-bargee, Peter, who lives hereabouts and speaks perfect English, he mentioned who they were – the well-known Tam and Di Morrel of Dutch Barge Association fame who advertise their barge handling and ICC Cevni lessons in the DBA magazine! Oh well! Ships that pass in the flight!

Ghent to Lille

We have now arrived in Lille in France. We are moored on an old commercial wharf a little way from the centre of the city. It is a lovely spot, quiet but with barges (and canoeists) gong past on a regular basis, not to mention lorries pulling up to spend the night in the car park next door.

Before we left Ghent, Emily and Ric came for the weekend which was great. We all went and looked round the castle (excellent), went for a boat trip round the medieval part of the city (interesting but a bit perturbing when stoned or rather pebbled, by the local riffraff) then Emily and Ric treated us to supper at a nearby bistro – great! (Alex had snails and frogs legs for the first time as part of a shared starter.) The following morning we all climbed the Belfry for a fantastic, if breezy view of the city.

The only fly in the ointment in all this, for Alex anyway, was that the root of one of his teeth had started to play up a few days before so he had put himself on Flucloxacillin. This did not help much after 3 days so he changed to Metronidazole (downside – no alcohol!) This began to work but he felt he ought to take professional advice. The outcome was a trip to the medical school/hospital, dental clinic, for a consultation - €50! They said as the root had already been filled and capped (twice) the last hope was to fill from the inside: i.e. cut away the gum, lift up a flat, drill through the bone to the root, fill from below, put all back together. Aaaaargggghhh. But an appointment was duly made for 9.20 the next day. So after pre-paying €1060 the consultant had a look and a chat. ‘Oh well, if it has only flared up twice before let’s give it another go with the Metronidazole before we decide to operate’. PHEW! No drink for 10 days, a small price to pay. But getting the pre-paid money back is another battle. And yes, the tooth does seem to have settled down!

So we left Ghent, saying our fond farewells to all those still moored there and headed off into the unknown of Wallonia and France.

We quietly snuck onto some moorings ‘de Plaisance’ near Sluis Sint Baafs-Vijve on the first night but nobody came to demand money before we left.

We had decided we would moor near the second lock in France the next night but when we got there, it was all under repair and chaotic – nowhere to moor. The next place – a deserted quay – proved to be too shallow for us so we ended up moored beside another live-aboard who was not at home, but others said it would be OK. We are not used to just dropping onto somebody else’s boat yet, but it does seem to be fairly common here in France. So we left a thank you note and a bottle of wine by their entrance door should they return in the night. They did, and we ‘chatted’ next morning, but no mention of the wine (maybe it should have been French, not Argentinian, but we didn’t have any of that – a mistake soon to be rectified!).

Then we got to this lovely mooring on the commercial wharf. We think we might just spend the whole year here!