So at last we set off for this year’s cruising season: a farewell to all our neighbours at Port Mansuy and off into the unknown. Before we left, Alex discovered a wasps’ nest under the spare rope up forward and in the absence of anti-wasp powder, picked the whole thing up with a boathook and hurled it onto the bank and thereafter decimated it!
Two days into our cruise up the Moselle and Louise suddenly finds ants crawling up the doorframe in the en-suite bathroom! On inspection they are all over the place: in the bedroom, under the carpet, around the skirting boards, up the walls, under the floor. HELP!
We are moored at the junction of the Canal des Vosges and the Nancy Embranchment and we decide to cycle the 15 kms to Nancy via the closed embranchment canal to get anti-ant powder and also the next guide for the canals we are about to experience. (We forgot to order it over our long winter lay-up!)
So out with the trusty bikes and off we go. We soon find out why the embranchment canal has been closed for the last couple of years, but can’t understand why it’s going to take another year to re-open it! There has been a landslip and 100m of canal has been filled in by the adjoining hillside. Even BW could tackle that and get the canal going in a couple of months! In Nancy we buy copious amounts of ‘fourmis’ killer powder and ‘honey pot’ killer traps, together with the map (not the favoured series, but beggars can’t be choosers), have lunch in Stanislas Square and finally wend our way back to the boat.
Then we tackle the ants: traps, powder, stamp, crush, kill for a couple of hours.
But the question remains: how did they get in? Alex keeps puzzling over this for some boringly long time. There were a few on the back deck but there is no way down from there except by the stairs, and there were none there. Then suddenly the possible solution comes to him. The previous night we had moored with some difficulty to a VNF ‘Press your zapper here’ sign, a tree at height to avoid the towpath and a stake hammered into the unyielding ground. We reckoned there would be little or no traffic till late morning as we had passed the point at which all nearby barges disgorged their scrap steel cargoes, and the locks were now back down to Freycinet size (39m x 5.10m). Of course as you would expect, a commercial Freycinet passed us going slowly (bless him) at 7.20am, just 20 minutes after the locks re-opened for the new day, and dragged the stake out. We didn’t see another boat of any sort until well into the afternoon1
This mooring was hard up against a lot of grass and vegetation nearly as high as the decks, and Alex realised that there was one route down to the underfloor that he hadn’t at first thought of. At the rear end of the main part of the boat, under the bedroom floor, is a bilge pump for the unimaginable prospect of inundation of water in the central part of Riccall. This pump is a centrifugal type and has no non-return valve in the outlet pipe, which exits high up near the stern. Alex’s conclusion is that the ants found this interesting hole in the side of the boat and crawled all the way down it, out past the pump impellor into the underfloor of the bedroom and thence up to everywhere else!
As this is a boat and everything is supposed to be waterproof (and therefore, ant-proof) this is the only explanation we can arrive at, and when Alex looked in the outlet hole, there was an ANT in it!! It’s not nice being invaded though, and while the various anti-ant stuffs do their stuff we will sleep in the guest bedroom up forward.
On the plus side, the bike ride was fun: the embranchment canal is lovely and Nancy, particularly Stanislas Square, is brilliant.
We set off, reluctantly, from our mooring and proceeded on our way. The first lock was fine but somewhere at the next lock we failed to see the zapper post which meant that the lock couldn’t operate. Louise disembarked and walked back down the towpath pressing the button every 10 metres or so still unable to visually locate the sign post. Suddenly the green light on the lock was illuminated and the lock began to operate. Alex got on the walkie-talkie and let Louse know she had (somehow) set it off! We still have no idea where the receiving post was but at last we are on our way.
Half an hour later it is time for Louise’s morning cup of coffee for which everything stops, and by chance a mooring is in sight, so we moor up. It happens to be such an idyllic spot that we decide to stay on for that night as well, with an interesting bike ride after lunch to boot. There are a few weekend cottages around but the loudest noise is from the local birdsong: the sun shines and we enjoy supper on the back deck in the cooling setting rays.
Charmes is our next stop and charming it ain’t! But to stock up at the local supermarket we pay our €7 for mooring and electricity and moor adjacent to the hoards of campervans which have congregated at this spot – obviously a popular road rest.
The following day, we have our hopes set on a mooring at Nomexy/Chatel, which according to our DBA information, has a guided tour of a local castle, much of which is below ground! We arrive at the first appointed time of 3 pm to be met by an elderly couple who are in the process of opening up for business.
The lady speaks quite good English, which is encouraging, but suddenly we discover we have both left our money on the boat! Sacré bleu! But Madame says, ‘No problem – pay after the tour’. So Alex, Louise and a decrepit Frenchman start being shown the sights by Madame. We begin in the museum artefacts display rooms and everything is explained in English (short version) and French (minute detail) for about 45 minutes. How long is this tour? Then we go outside and start looking at some of the actual remains: diving into rooms here, down precipitous stairs there, in and out of everywhere. It is huge site and it has been excavated by many thousands of international archaeologists amidst and amongst the later private dwellings. Our fellow tourist is only about 65 but is less steady on his feet than our guide who turns out to be 80! Yes, actually 80 years old. So they help each other up and down the steep steps with Louise and Alex chipping in where appropriate.
At 5.30 we are joined by 3 other tourists who had missed the start of the tour, but eventually sometime after 6 it was all over.
Our guide had been on her feet, explaining everything in French and English for over 3 hours, and WE were exhausted!!! Alex congratulated her on a command performance, left a huge (for him) tip and even bought a postcard, which Louise had particularly liked.
The castle dated back to the 11th century and had been added to over the centuries. It has been a very important point in the history of the region as it was at the crossroads of early Roman and later French, Prussian, Dutch and German major arteries. It was an important stronghold in the region and our guide had been involved in its excavation almost from the beginning in the 1970s.
She LIVED that castle - both for it, in it and around it. It was her life. She was even hoping for the local hospital to be demolished so she could unearth more of the remains underneath it – at 80! She herself had removed tons of rubbish that had been used to fill in the fabric of the castle interior at the behest of Louis 15th, who had felt it was a stronghold against his power, so he annihilated it. She pointed to a rather scruffy row of garage type buildings, rejoicing that they were about to be demolished and she would be excavating further parts of the castle as soon as they had disappeared!
Her whole family were involved: she, her husband, her children and her grandchildren were all a part of it. Incredible! What a bizarre scene!
The next day, we visited the local 15th Century church in the same village. Alex had seen a man enter, so we knew the church was open. As we stood at the back however, we could see and hear a couple of fellows near the altar chatting away 19 to the dozen. Alex decided to go up to have a closer look at the altar area, but as he approached the two men, he noticed a woman at one of the side chapels in floods of tears. He beat a hasty retreat and we sat quietly at the back, not sure quite what to do. A few minutes later one of the of the men escorted the woman (still sobbing) from the premises and the other man approached us and introduced himself. He was clearly the Father or ‘curate’, and he gave us a brief history of the church, and then we all came out and he locked the door behind us! But why all the tears? What had happened? We felt we had stumbled into some significant personal tragedy and hoped we hadn’t made things worse by our presence. But the young woman’s misfortune was our good luck – a chance to look inside what would normally have been a locked church!
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Thursday, 17 June 2010
More changes of plan
So back to the UK for a second time to drop off the engine bits in Manchester for expert correction and for us hopefully a relaxing and gentle cruise on the narrowboat.
The idea was to go up to Huddersfield, meet up with friends there for a few days, then carry on up the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, through the Standege Tunnel (this time under our own power) and finally drop down to the Ashton Canal returning by the Rochdale Canal.
All went well as far as Huddersfield, but when we walked up to investigate the first lock on the Huddersfield Narrow the pound beyond was empty! Where had we seen this before? – in 2000 when, as one of the first boats to use the newly opened canal, the water simply disappeared leaving us high and dry – literally!) Added to that, a couple of boaters who had just come down said “Never again”. So we thought “Well, we’re good at Plan B: we’ll give it a miss, and just go up the Rochdale instead.”
Huddersfield’s Aspley Basin has always had moored craft, but the area outside Sainsbury’s – a long quay of about 500 metres – was deserted when last we used it a few years ago. Now it has been turned into long-term moorings by British Waterways and there were boats nose to tail, or should we say bow to stern, all along – some narrowboats, some wide beam ‘narrowboats’, the occasional plastic cruiser. We managed to moor opposite the long-termers (in lovely weather) and stayed a couple of days while we had friends visit us for lunch and supper. As we left we eased slowly past the moored boats outside Sainsbury’s and were greeted with the inevitable response from one boater ‘Hey what do you think this is? The M1 or something? It’s not a race track you know!” or words to that effect. We were on tickover, we couldn’t go any slower if we tried: we must have been doing all of 2 mph, and of course wouldn’t you know it? The offensive boat was a ratty old plastic dustbin that hadn’t moved for years and would probably sink if he untied the ropes! Typical! “Get a life” we say.
So we were off back down the Huddersfield Broad to join the Calder and Hebble at Cooper Bridge and then up to the start of the Rochdale Canal at Sowerby Bridge. We had a lovely trip up the canal, popping onto the river from time to time, still in super weather, then through the 6 metre Tuel Lock in Sowerby Bridge, the deepest in the United Kingdom, and onto the Rochdale proper.
This canal winds its way through the steep sided Calder valley with stone built dwellings clinging to the valley sides most of the way up. At last the houses peter out a bit and the valley sides draw back as you approach the summit.
Use of the summit pound itself is, of course, restricted due to lack of water and we were told it would be three days before we could go through.
Well, we had to go back the way we had come anyway, so stopping just before the summit pound was no great hardship and we could walk the summit just as well as boat it, especially as the weather had been lovely up to now. So we did that and later walked the old bridle path up the valley side to see where it took us, and eventually after it had degenerated into a post-marked footpath, we found the nearly empty reservoir on high ground near the top of the ridge. This explained the lack of water for the summit level.
The weather was deteriorating by this time, but we did manage to get back to the boat before the heavens opened.
Some more friends had arranged to have supper with us but they came by car. (We had hoped to make it to their lockside cottage at Slattocks Lock, but this is beyond Rochdale and down the other side of the summit but the delay for the summit passage made that impossible). However, they brought an Indian takeaway with them, so that was perfect!
The following day we set off back down the Rochdale with a torrent of water to help us. How come? Well, BW had decided to drain the pound we had been moored in, in order to repair a ground paddle on the lock. There was so much water following us now that it was cascading over the upper gates of the locks behind us and causing minor flooding of the canal paths below.
And the next day it rained! We contemplated staying put for a day in the hope of better weather, but that is not our style. “Carry on regardless” we say. So by the end of that day we were two drowned rats! Drenched through and through, despite the wet weather gear. And of course the fire decided to sulk when we lit it to dry out our clothes, but that’s boating, isn’t it?
A couple of days later, we were back on the Calder and Hebble, approaching one of our favoured moorings when we came across the aftermath of a fishing competition. The competition had finished and a couple of competitors still had their catch to be weighed, so we slowed down, of course, but that didn’t stop such a witty comment from the usual acerbic fisherman, “Where’s the water skier then?” I guess they wouldn’t have felt they had had a good day unless they had mouthed off at a few boaters.
We moored at these once commercial moorings and Alex tested the depth. (He’s always trying to see how far Riccall could get, it we really pushed it!) Yes, we could definitely moor Riccall here and the locks up to this point (but strangely no further) are inexplicably big enough to take a Sheffield sized barge, but nowhere to turn round to go back which seems a bit odd.
The next day we reached Wakefield in good time for lunch in the basin just off the river. We were sitting there quietly having our alfresco meal when a narrowboat came through the basin heading for the river, at top speed. We have seldom seen anything like it. He shot out into the river like a bullet from gun (well, not quite, a touch of fisherman exaggeration there I think!) but very, very fast for a boat, and with NO visibility onto the river. He then proceeded to turn the wrong way with a 270-degree turn to head off down the river towards the weir. He had been going so fast he had failed to notice the direction indicator telling him which way to go.
So we waited a few minutes and sure enough, past he went again, this time going up the river in the correct direction still at a ridiculous pace. Mad fools!
In the final few hours as we headed back to our boatyard at Methley Bridge, we saw more boats cruising about than we had seen in the previous two weeks! Good for them.
When we got back we decided the narrowboat needed a bit of TLC so between the showers of rain we managed to paint the whole of the topside (cream) and Alex constructed a new rear entry hatch made entirely from Perspex. He wanted steel; Louise favoured wood, which Alex wouldn’t have again (too much maintenance) so Perspex seemed a great compromise.
This might sound a bit unorthodox, naff even, compared to the original constructed of mahogany, but it does have some distinct advantages:
1. It never needs to be painted
2. It lets in the light like an extra roof light
3. It doesn’t shrink
4. It doesn’t expand
5. It doesn’t crack then leak
6. Its lightweight
It bonded together with quick acting chemical glue, and it took only 4 hours to make, but it has one disadvantage: because it is totally transparent, you can’t tell instinctively if it is open or closed, so it’s very easy to bump your head on it when going out of the door but we can overcome that minor inconvenience – use a tell-tale.
Alex’s daughter Emily’s wedding to Ric in Somerset was next on the agenda. The wedding with a difference! The ceremony took place in a glade in the wood, the reception in a lovely and very different marquee, later drinks and canapés were in a ‘secret garden’ complete with statuary and a small lake followed by a hog roast. The weather was exactly right – sunny most of the time, no rain and not too hot. The whole event, which was catered for by the guests, each being given responsibility for a part of the meal or drinks, proceeded perfectly. An amazing amount of preparation for Ric and Emily, with help from family and friends to make it a success. And it was: a resounding success! We’ve included some pictures to satisfy our lady readers.
We are now back in Toul, travelling by air and train this time, and with no hassle whatsoever. The engine is back together again and although still not perfect, it is liveable-with, so let’s hope that finally it’s the start of our 2010 cruising season!
The idea was to go up to Huddersfield, meet up with friends there for a few days, then carry on up the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, through the Standege Tunnel (this time under our own power) and finally drop down to the Ashton Canal returning by the Rochdale Canal.
All went well as far as Huddersfield, but when we walked up to investigate the first lock on the Huddersfield Narrow the pound beyond was empty! Where had we seen this before? – in 2000 when, as one of the first boats to use the newly opened canal, the water simply disappeared leaving us high and dry – literally!) Added to that, a couple of boaters who had just come down said “Never again”. So we thought “Well, we’re good at Plan B: we’ll give it a miss, and just go up the Rochdale instead.”
Huddersfield’s Aspley Basin has always had moored craft, but the area outside Sainsbury’s – a long quay of about 500 metres – was deserted when last we used it a few years ago. Now it has been turned into long-term moorings by British Waterways and there were boats nose to tail, or should we say bow to stern, all along – some narrowboats, some wide beam ‘narrowboats’, the occasional plastic cruiser. We managed to moor opposite the long-termers (in lovely weather) and stayed a couple of days while we had friends visit us for lunch and supper. As we left we eased slowly past the moored boats outside Sainsbury’s and were greeted with the inevitable response from one boater ‘Hey what do you think this is? The M1 or something? It’s not a race track you know!” or words to that effect. We were on tickover, we couldn’t go any slower if we tried: we must have been doing all of 2 mph, and of course wouldn’t you know it? The offensive boat was a ratty old plastic dustbin that hadn’t moved for years and would probably sink if he untied the ropes! Typical! “Get a life” we say.
So we were off back down the Huddersfield Broad to join the Calder and Hebble at Cooper Bridge and then up to the start of the Rochdale Canal at Sowerby Bridge. We had a lovely trip up the canal, popping onto the river from time to time, still in super weather, then through the 6 metre Tuel Lock in Sowerby Bridge, the deepest in the United Kingdom, and onto the Rochdale proper.
This canal winds its way through the steep sided Calder valley with stone built dwellings clinging to the valley sides most of the way up. At last the houses peter out a bit and the valley sides draw back as you approach the summit.
Use of the summit pound itself is, of course, restricted due to lack of water and we were told it would be three days before we could go through.
Well, we had to go back the way we had come anyway, so stopping just before the summit pound was no great hardship and we could walk the summit just as well as boat it, especially as the weather had been lovely up to now. So we did that and later walked the old bridle path up the valley side to see where it took us, and eventually after it had degenerated into a post-marked footpath, we found the nearly empty reservoir on high ground near the top of the ridge. This explained the lack of water for the summit level.
The weather was deteriorating by this time, but we did manage to get back to the boat before the heavens opened.
Some more friends had arranged to have supper with us but they came by car. (We had hoped to make it to their lockside cottage at Slattocks Lock, but this is beyond Rochdale and down the other side of the summit but the delay for the summit passage made that impossible). However, they brought an Indian takeaway with them, so that was perfect!
The following day we set off back down the Rochdale with a torrent of water to help us. How come? Well, BW had decided to drain the pound we had been moored in, in order to repair a ground paddle on the lock. There was so much water following us now that it was cascading over the upper gates of the locks behind us and causing minor flooding of the canal paths below.
And the next day it rained! We contemplated staying put for a day in the hope of better weather, but that is not our style. “Carry on regardless” we say. So by the end of that day we were two drowned rats! Drenched through and through, despite the wet weather gear. And of course the fire decided to sulk when we lit it to dry out our clothes, but that’s boating, isn’t it?
A couple of days later, we were back on the Calder and Hebble, approaching one of our favoured moorings when we came across the aftermath of a fishing competition. The competition had finished and a couple of competitors still had their catch to be weighed, so we slowed down, of course, but that didn’t stop such a witty comment from the usual acerbic fisherman, “Where’s the water skier then?” I guess they wouldn’t have felt they had had a good day unless they had mouthed off at a few boaters.
We moored at these once commercial moorings and Alex tested the depth. (He’s always trying to see how far Riccall could get, it we really pushed it!) Yes, we could definitely moor Riccall here and the locks up to this point (but strangely no further) are inexplicably big enough to take a Sheffield sized barge, but nowhere to turn round to go back which seems a bit odd.
The next day we reached Wakefield in good time for lunch in the basin just off the river. We were sitting there quietly having our alfresco meal when a narrowboat came through the basin heading for the river, at top speed. We have seldom seen anything like it. He shot out into the river like a bullet from gun (well, not quite, a touch of fisherman exaggeration there I think!) but very, very fast for a boat, and with NO visibility onto the river. He then proceeded to turn the wrong way with a 270-degree turn to head off down the river towards the weir. He had been going so fast he had failed to notice the direction indicator telling him which way to go.
So we waited a few minutes and sure enough, past he went again, this time going up the river in the correct direction still at a ridiculous pace. Mad fools!
In the final few hours as we headed back to our boatyard at Methley Bridge, we saw more boats cruising about than we had seen in the previous two weeks! Good for them.
When we got back we decided the narrowboat needed a bit of TLC so between the showers of rain we managed to paint the whole of the topside (cream) and Alex constructed a new rear entry hatch made entirely from Perspex. He wanted steel; Louise favoured wood, which Alex wouldn’t have again (too much maintenance) so Perspex seemed a great compromise.
This might sound a bit unorthodox, naff even, compared to the original constructed of mahogany, but it does have some distinct advantages:
1. It never needs to be painted
2. It lets in the light like an extra roof light
3. It doesn’t shrink
4. It doesn’t expand
5. It doesn’t crack then leak
6. Its lightweight
It bonded together with quick acting chemical glue, and it took only 4 hours to make, but it has one disadvantage: because it is totally transparent, you can’t tell instinctively if it is open or closed, so it’s very easy to bump your head on it when going out of the door but we can overcome that minor inconvenience – use a tell-tale.
Alex’s daughter Emily’s wedding to Ric in Somerset was next on the agenda. The wedding with a difference! The ceremony took place in a glade in the wood, the reception in a lovely and very different marquee, later drinks and canapés were in a ‘secret garden’ complete with statuary and a small lake followed by a hog roast. The weather was exactly right – sunny most of the time, no rain and not too hot. The whole event, which was catered for by the guests, each being given responsibility for a part of the meal or drinks, proceeded perfectly. An amazing amount of preparation for Ric and Emily, with help from family and friends to make it a success. And it was: a resounding success! We’ve included some pictures to satisfy our lady readers.
We are now back in Toul, travelling by air and train this time, and with no hassle whatsoever. The engine is back together again and although still not perfect, it is liveable-with, so let’s hope that finally it’s the start of our 2010 cruising season!
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
Another Change of Plan
The day dawned bright and cheery. We said ‘au revoir’ to all the other boaters at our moorings in Toul, and set off to meander up to Chalons en Champagne and back over the next six weeks or so. Or so we thought!
As we entered the first lock, Alex put the boat into reverse and opened the throttle a bit for some power braking. NO response! Well not for three or four seconds, then at last the engine revs responded and we started to slow down.
This delay on the throttle response had been apparent last year, but only once at the start of each day.
As we motored on through the lift bridge and next lock we found the same thing happening every time we let the engine tick over for a few minutes: a delay in the throttle response.
We stopped above the lock out of the Port de France and Alex went into the engine room to see what might be done to effect some sort of repair. Nothing appeared to be sticking: all the relevant parts of the throttle control seemed to be OK. Copious squirtings of WD40 had no effect. So with reluctance we decided to return to base at Lorraine Marine.
Easier said than done, as the canal was too narrow to turn round in! The VNF lock keepers appeared beside the boat to ask whether we had a problem. We explained, and with their kind help, reversed Riccall back down the canal, into the lock, backwards out of the lock and into the Port de France. Riccall normally doesn’t ‘do’ reverse: the prop walk always pulls her off line and the front swings about wherever it wants.
But this time, we did a perfect reverse back into the Port de France round the end of the jetty, the front end swung round in a beautiful arc and we set off forwards back down the canal, AND NOBODY WAS WATCHING. Typical!
Shortly, to the surprise of our friends at the boat yard, we arrived back less than three hours after we had left.
After stripping covers and caps off the control mechanism and checking everything in sight, as suggested by a Gardner expert, we came to the conclusion that the whole injector mechanism would have to be taken off the engine and taken back to Walsh’s near Manchester to be re-conditioned.
Fortunately we had the car at the boat yard ready for our trip back to the UK in June so we booked a ferry for the following week and Alex set about removing the injector/governor box.
The next day we heard about all the planes being cancelled due to ash from the Iceland eruption, and we thanked our lucky stars that we had already booked the ferries. We were also able to offer Sue, a visiting friend of Derek and Fran of ‘Tess’, a lift back home as her flight was one of those cancelled.
We were lucky at Calais too, as we arrived early and the ticket office said we could go on an earlier ferry (which was not listed on our timetable) and we drove virtually straight onto it without stopping. But, though the ferry was pretty full with cars and coaches, it was packed with foot passengers, all being charged about €80 or €100 instead of the more usual less than €20! And we were three adults and a car for €35!
We dropped Sue off in Bishops Stortford, spent the night at Julia’s at Bedford, then dropped the ‘lump’ off at Walsh’s, to be picked up, reconditioned and repainted and like new a week later. And sure enough the following week the whole thing in reverse, (except for Sue of course).
The engine was now back up and running and when at last the gale stopped blowing, we set off for a short trip to Liverdun despite the freezing cold 8oC temperature, to make sure the engine really was OK.
And. . . we also made another change of plan!
Because all these delays made it difficult to fit in a worthwhile cruise on Riccall before June, we decided to come back to the UK much earlier than planned and have a few weeks cruise on the narrowboat instead!!
And . . . we still had a problem with the engine! Just a different one! Now it was not ticking over as smoothly as it should or maintaining a steady rhythm at any revs unless under load. Once under load it behaved fine. So we debated whether we could live with this annoyance or not, and finally we decided as we had just spent a not inconsiderable sum of money on a reconditioned unit it should at least be RIGHT. As we still had the means of transportation in France, the decision was made to take the governor unit back to Manchester and have them look at it again.
Of course our planned return to Riccall, after the wedding, was by air and train, not by car and all was booked and paid for long ago, so the engine governor would have to be road transported back to France for us. Oh well, more expense but hopefully worth it.
So, with that decision made, we decided a short trip away from the moorings would be good, and (apart from the tickover problem) the trip to Liverdun was great. We went for a walk to find more of the route of the old canal we had investigated in the autumn, and hopefully, the other end of the tunnel. Having found it, Alex decided to actually go through the old canal tunnel this time as he thought it was a quicker way back to the boat. Louise, though, didn’t fancy it! ‘Chicken’ you may say, but as it turned out she was right! Alex didn’t have a torch with him (he doesn’t always carry one) and as he went deeper into the tunnel the light became progressively less, and although he could see the exit at the far end it was difficult to see what was directly ahead. So he was feeling his way along the old towpath, stumbling over rock falls from the roof, and wondering if at any minute he might stumble into a hole in the walkway and land up on the dry canal bed 3 metres below! Or if there might be another rock fall from the roof onto his bonce. In fact he felt pretty mad to have taken on the whole expedition, but it did turn out to be quicker even so, but only by a few minutes.
On the return trip on Riccall, on a good wide stretch of canal, Alex decided to do a short speed test to see if a good workout made any difference to the tickover problem and also to establish what she could do against a flowing Rhone. This amounted to just over 6 knots at about 1400 rpm. We still have another couple of hundred rpm available, but Alex doesn’t think it would make much difference to that speed.
What might make a difference would be removing all the weed and mussels covering the bottom of the boat, which have collected over the several months she has been sitting idly in Toul! And of course the speed test made no difference to the tickover problem, so it’s out with the injector box again and back to the UK with it!
As we entered the first lock, Alex put the boat into reverse and opened the throttle a bit for some power braking. NO response! Well not for three or four seconds, then at last the engine revs responded and we started to slow down.
This delay on the throttle response had been apparent last year, but only once at the start of each day.
As we motored on through the lift bridge and next lock we found the same thing happening every time we let the engine tick over for a few minutes: a delay in the throttle response.
We stopped above the lock out of the Port de France and Alex went into the engine room to see what might be done to effect some sort of repair. Nothing appeared to be sticking: all the relevant parts of the throttle control seemed to be OK. Copious squirtings of WD40 had no effect. So with reluctance we decided to return to base at Lorraine Marine.
Easier said than done, as the canal was too narrow to turn round in! The VNF lock keepers appeared beside the boat to ask whether we had a problem. We explained, and with their kind help, reversed Riccall back down the canal, into the lock, backwards out of the lock and into the Port de France. Riccall normally doesn’t ‘do’ reverse: the prop walk always pulls her off line and the front swings about wherever it wants.
But this time, we did a perfect reverse back into the Port de France round the end of the jetty, the front end swung round in a beautiful arc and we set off forwards back down the canal, AND NOBODY WAS WATCHING. Typical!
Shortly, to the surprise of our friends at the boat yard, we arrived back less than three hours after we had left.
After stripping covers and caps off the control mechanism and checking everything in sight, as suggested by a Gardner expert, we came to the conclusion that the whole injector mechanism would have to be taken off the engine and taken back to Walsh’s near Manchester to be re-conditioned.
Fortunately we had the car at the boat yard ready for our trip back to the UK in June so we booked a ferry for the following week and Alex set about removing the injector/governor box.
The next day we heard about all the planes being cancelled due to ash from the Iceland eruption, and we thanked our lucky stars that we had already booked the ferries. We were also able to offer Sue, a visiting friend of Derek and Fran of ‘Tess’, a lift back home as her flight was one of those cancelled.
We were lucky at Calais too, as we arrived early and the ticket office said we could go on an earlier ferry (which was not listed on our timetable) and we drove virtually straight onto it without stopping. But, though the ferry was pretty full with cars and coaches, it was packed with foot passengers, all being charged about €80 or €100 instead of the more usual less than €20! And we were three adults and a car for €35!
We dropped Sue off in Bishops Stortford, spent the night at Julia’s at Bedford, then dropped the ‘lump’ off at Walsh’s, to be picked up, reconditioned and repainted and like new a week later. And sure enough the following week the whole thing in reverse, (except for Sue of course).
The engine was now back up and running and when at last the gale stopped blowing, we set off for a short trip to Liverdun despite the freezing cold 8oC temperature, to make sure the engine really was OK.
And. . . we also made another change of plan!
Because all these delays made it difficult to fit in a worthwhile cruise on Riccall before June, we decided to come back to the UK much earlier than planned and have a few weeks cruise on the narrowboat instead!!
And . . . we still had a problem with the engine! Just a different one! Now it was not ticking over as smoothly as it should or maintaining a steady rhythm at any revs unless under load. Once under load it behaved fine. So we debated whether we could live with this annoyance or not, and finally we decided as we had just spent a not inconsiderable sum of money on a reconditioned unit it should at least be RIGHT. As we still had the means of transportation in France, the decision was made to take the governor unit back to Manchester and have them look at it again.
Of course our planned return to Riccall, after the wedding, was by air and train, not by car and all was booked and paid for long ago, so the engine governor would have to be road transported back to France for us. Oh well, more expense but hopefully worth it.
So, with that decision made, we decided a short trip away from the moorings would be good, and (apart from the tickover problem) the trip to Liverdun was great. We went for a walk to find more of the route of the old canal we had investigated in the autumn, and hopefully, the other end of the tunnel. Having found it, Alex decided to actually go through the old canal tunnel this time as he thought it was a quicker way back to the boat. Louise, though, didn’t fancy it! ‘Chicken’ you may say, but as it turned out she was right! Alex didn’t have a torch with him (he doesn’t always carry one) and as he went deeper into the tunnel the light became progressively less, and although he could see the exit at the far end it was difficult to see what was directly ahead. So he was feeling his way along the old towpath, stumbling over rock falls from the roof, and wondering if at any minute he might stumble into a hole in the walkway and land up on the dry canal bed 3 metres below! Or if there might be another rock fall from the roof onto his bonce. In fact he felt pretty mad to have taken on the whole expedition, but it did turn out to be quicker even so, but only by a few minutes.
On the return trip on Riccall, on a good wide stretch of canal, Alex decided to do a short speed test to see if a good workout made any difference to the tickover problem and also to establish what she could do against a flowing Rhone. This amounted to just over 6 knots at about 1400 rpm. We still have another couple of hundred rpm available, but Alex doesn’t think it would make much difference to that speed.
What might make a difference would be removing all the weed and mussels covering the bottom of the boat, which have collected over the several months she has been sitting idly in Toul! And of course the speed test made no difference to the tickover problem, so it’s out with the injector box again and back to the UK with it!
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Winter in Toul and UK
I am afraid that this may be rather a mundane addition to the blog updates as, of course, we haven’t started our cruising for 2010 yet, but due to popular demand (three this time!) …
We are on to our 4th master plan for the year ahead, and we think that as we have now actually booked our winter mooring on the Canal du Midi (well beyond actually, on the Canal Lateral à la Garonne) we are now committed to getting there!
We had been going to set off south early this year and perhaps leave Riccall somewhere for part of July and August to avoid the heat and hordes of ‘bumper boats’ otherwise known as hire boats, on the Midi, but as things turn out we have had to change to a late assault on the south. Apart from other family considerations in the UK in June, Louise has managed to break a tooth! So we are hitching a lift back to the UK with boating friend Sonia who is here in Toul for a couple of weeks de-winterising her and John’s boat, Chocolat. Louise will get her tooth fixed and then we will return in the car and keep our cruising to this north eastern area until June when we can return to UK again en voiture for Emily and Ric's wedding.
Finally we can get back here by rail and set off, meandering slowly south to arrive at the start of the Canal du Midi at the end of the July/August horror scene. Just in time (it now appears) for the onslaught by the Swiss holidaymakers!
That’s when the real fun begins for us, as we see how much we have to cut off Riccall’s superstructure in order to get through the bridges!
The weather here in Toul is warm and sunny (although we have had a couple of days of rain, with more to come). We have lunch on the back deck and evening drinks in the well deck, which gets the evening sunshine, giving us a glimmer of the summer to come.
While we were here with the car in January, Alex and friend Ben did indeed suss out two more forts in the vicinity: the first still had the remains of a mushroom-topped gun emplacement, whereby the whole thing could be raised up out of the ground, fire, with a very short 100mm barrel, then disappear back down again. Apparently it took about 5 minutes to get the gun raised, fire it and down again. But this one was rusted solid. The second fort we found was much bigger and very overgrown, but the main part was three storeys high which was quite impressive. Even Alex has now fought with enough forts to feel fraught at the thought of another sortie.
One of the features of our mooring here at Toul is the water (well I suppose as we are on a barge, water is something of a necessity!). But in this case, it is the cleanest water we have come across so far in Europe. It really is crystal clear and you can see right to the bottom where all the weeds are, and watch the fish swimming about. In fact it is lucky it is so clear, because our DBA burgee blew clean off the mast while we were away and was nowhere to be seen on the decks of our boat or any of the others around. But Alex noted the direction of the prevailing wind and peered carefully into the water, down the side of the boat. At last, a glimmer of red was seen amongst the weeds and out with the boat hook. Eureka! and out of the depths with the flag! More importantly, this clear water also gives a chance to make sure that all looks well with the propeller.
While we were in England we spent several spells with family and friends including a very pleasant few days with Alex’s cousin Mary and her husband Martin in the depths of Glen Prosen, including a super mid-winter barbecue with old friends Hector and Jeannie MacLean in their gazebo summerhouse on a hill in warm March sunshine with hills topped in snow. Then further north to renew our friendship with Pat and Graham, our erstwhile neighbours from Harrogate, now living the peaceful rural life in Scotland. We headed back south the next day with the sun glinting on the beautiful snow capped mountains and got out just in time, apparently, as Scotland had 80cms of snow that very night!
A few days later we popped down to Barrow on Humber to have an excellent evening and day with friends Paul and Diane, who had also dropped in for a night with us a few weeks before on their own way south from Scotland.
Our next adventure was a birthday surprise for Alex involving trains. We caught the Doncaster to Cleethorpes service, that Mecca of seaside resorts, where we had pensioners’ fish and chips! Then the really interesting one – Cleethorpes to Barton on Humber – a single carriage diesel running for much of its route on a single track through the intriguing countryside in that neck of the woods.
Paul and Diane met us at Barton station (its very close to where they live) where the train waits for 10 minutes before retracing its steps. So we had a bit of crack with them and before we knew it the whistle blew and we were off. Another change and then the Trans Pennine Express to Manchester Airport picked us up and took us back to Donny. Then off to Harrogate for an evening meal at our favourite restaurant, Quantro, and a night in the Harrogate Travelodge – which was booked well in advance by Louise (thinking ahead as usual) and thus only £19! More importantly it’s only a two minute walk from Quantro.
So all in all, we’ve been pretty busy with a lot of socialising in England, (being entertained by or entertaining Derran, Angela, Michael and Sylvia, Maurice and Judy, Mike and Jean and seen some if not all of the children) and then more socialising back here in Toul, but we’re now geared up for our first short trip when we get back from the UK after Easter.
We are on to our 4th master plan for the year ahead, and we think that as we have now actually booked our winter mooring on the Canal du Midi (well beyond actually, on the Canal Lateral à la Garonne) we are now committed to getting there!
We had been going to set off south early this year and perhaps leave Riccall somewhere for part of July and August to avoid the heat and hordes of ‘bumper boats’ otherwise known as hire boats, on the Midi, but as things turn out we have had to change to a late assault on the south. Apart from other family considerations in the UK in June, Louise has managed to break a tooth! So we are hitching a lift back to the UK with boating friend Sonia who is here in Toul for a couple of weeks de-winterising her and John’s boat, Chocolat. Louise will get her tooth fixed and then we will return in the car and keep our cruising to this north eastern area until June when we can return to UK again en voiture for Emily and Ric's wedding.
Finally we can get back here by rail and set off, meandering slowly south to arrive at the start of the Canal du Midi at the end of the July/August horror scene. Just in time (it now appears) for the onslaught by the Swiss holidaymakers!
That’s when the real fun begins for us, as we see how much we have to cut off Riccall’s superstructure in order to get through the bridges!
The weather here in Toul is warm and sunny (although we have had a couple of days of rain, with more to come). We have lunch on the back deck and evening drinks in the well deck, which gets the evening sunshine, giving us a glimmer of the summer to come.
While we were here with the car in January, Alex and friend Ben did indeed suss out two more forts in the vicinity: the first still had the remains of a mushroom-topped gun emplacement, whereby the whole thing could be raised up out of the ground, fire, with a very short 100mm barrel, then disappear back down again. Apparently it took about 5 minutes to get the gun raised, fire it and down again. But this one was rusted solid. The second fort we found was much bigger and very overgrown, but the main part was three storeys high which was quite impressive. Even Alex has now fought with enough forts to feel fraught at the thought of another sortie.
One of the features of our mooring here at Toul is the water (well I suppose as we are on a barge, water is something of a necessity!). But in this case, it is the cleanest water we have come across so far in Europe. It really is crystal clear and you can see right to the bottom where all the weeds are, and watch the fish swimming about. In fact it is lucky it is so clear, because our DBA burgee blew clean off the mast while we were away and was nowhere to be seen on the decks of our boat or any of the others around. But Alex noted the direction of the prevailing wind and peered carefully into the water, down the side of the boat. At last, a glimmer of red was seen amongst the weeds and out with the boat hook. Eureka! and out of the depths with the flag! More importantly, this clear water also gives a chance to make sure that all looks well with the propeller.
While we were in England we spent several spells with family and friends including a very pleasant few days with Alex’s cousin Mary and her husband Martin in the depths of Glen Prosen, including a super mid-winter barbecue with old friends Hector and Jeannie MacLean in their gazebo summerhouse on a hill in warm March sunshine with hills topped in snow. Then further north to renew our friendship with Pat and Graham, our erstwhile neighbours from Harrogate, now living the peaceful rural life in Scotland. We headed back south the next day with the sun glinting on the beautiful snow capped mountains and got out just in time, apparently, as Scotland had 80cms of snow that very night!
A few days later we popped down to Barrow on Humber to have an excellent evening and day with friends Paul and Diane, who had also dropped in for a night with us a few weeks before on their own way south from Scotland.
Our next adventure was a birthday surprise for Alex involving trains. We caught the Doncaster to Cleethorpes service, that Mecca of seaside resorts, where we had pensioners’ fish and chips! Then the really interesting one – Cleethorpes to Barton on Humber – a single carriage diesel running for much of its route on a single track through the intriguing countryside in that neck of the woods.
Paul and Diane met us at Barton station (its very close to where they live) where the train waits for 10 minutes before retracing its steps. So we had a bit of crack with them and before we knew it the whistle blew and we were off. Another change and then the Trans Pennine Express to Manchester Airport picked us up and took us back to Donny. Then off to Harrogate for an evening meal at our favourite restaurant, Quantro, and a night in the Harrogate Travelodge – which was booked well in advance by Louise (thinking ahead as usual) and thus only £19! More importantly it’s only a two minute walk from Quantro.
So all in all, we’ve been pretty busy with a lot of socialising in England, (being entertained by or entertaining Derran, Angela, Michael and Sylvia, Maurice and Judy, Mike and Jean and seen some if not all of the children) and then more socialising back here in Toul, but we’re now geared up for our first short trip when we get back from the UK after Easter.
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Blog 67: Winter update from Toul - Forts
One or two friends (probably our entire readership!) have noted that there have been no blog updates for some time, so despite the fact that we are iced in at our moorings and couldn’t cruise if we wanted to, we have decided that a mid-winter update might be appropriate.
At the end of our last cruise into Germany and back, we had a few days before we were due to drive back to the UK for Christmas and New Year. Alex had looked at the detailed map of the area and noted where all the late 19th century forts were located. As the weather was still mild and we had the car, we set off to investigate!
The first and nearest fort we headed for, Fort Mont St. Michell, is on a hill just on the outskirts of Toul above a housing estate: we can see its location from our moorings. It took us some time to locate the track up to the fort having taken several roads which turned into cul de sacs within the houses, but find it we did, and headed upwards round a series of tight bends. A big sign said “PRIVE” but we ignored that, eventually arriving at a closed entrance gate ‘guarded’ by several goats. The goats ran away as Alex approached and the gate was only held by a twist of fencing wire so we were soon in the fort itself. However, we did feel rather exposed, and it was obvious that whoever now owned it had done a fair bit of work here and there. That and the fact that all the outer passages we went into were covered in goat poo decided us to beat a retreat and pursue our hunt for the next fort on the list.
This turned out to be on a hill on the opposite side of Toul and a bit further away, above Dommartin les Toul. Alex stopped the car on the track just opposite where he thought the fort should be and we headed off through the wood: and there it was, but with a deep, dry outer moat that was impossible to climb down into. So we walked round the perimeter through brambles and thickets, until eventually we dropped down a slope to the entrance proper, which turned out to be about 20 yards from where we had parked the car!
This fort was great – no signs saying private, nobody else there but obviously visited occasionally by the local youths who had left a bit of graffiti about, and the ubiquitous burned out car (a Citroen of course judging by the suspension spheres!).
It was not a very big fort so there were only a few rooms and passageways to explore, though we did think that there might have been an inaccessible underground section under a large raised area of ground near the middle of the enclosure.
A few days later, and we were off again for the next one, Fort du vieux Canton. This was at the end of a one-mile hike down a forest track but the weather was again mild and sunny. The fort however, was obviously in the process of being worked on, judging by several large diggers and the razor wire that had been installed. Alex managed to get past the razor wire, but Louise decided to give this one a miss (something about razor wire …!) Alex said he’d have a quick scout round and be back in 15 minutes – not really enough time to explore much but it was not a very extensive fore, like the previous one, so no great loss.
The next one, Mont le Vignoble, was a gem! – through a little village and up an unmarked track among the trees. On and on, up and up round hairpin bends until eventually there it was, with rusting gates hanging open and at the entrance an ancient sign saying, “Defence d’entrée” (whatever that means!),
This place was very extensive with passages leading down underground and up again to a series of outer defensive walls. There was also masses of graffiti; some real works of art. Interestingly though, the graffiti artists obviously didn’t come with torches, as the walls became completely paint-free as we got deeper into the underground passages. We ourselves had come armed with torches of course.
These passages were quite confusing and several times we found ourselves emerging to a familiar place, having expected to be somewhere completely different, but it was great fun and we must have spent a few hours there before calling it a day.
We still have another couple to suss out, but Louise thinks enough is enough now and is happy to suggest that Alex goes with Ben (from one of the other barges) who would certainly be up for it.
In the meantime, we have been back to the UK for Christmas and New Year, visited and been visited by lots of friends and family, fitted an en-suite bathroom to the house, refitted the utility room and managed to find the only window in the weather to drive back to Toul without getting stuck in snow, ice or floods!!
Back here Riccall was fine; our preventative measures had worked and kept her ice-free and we are having a fairly quiet though occasionally sociable time with the only other live-aboards, Ben and Alex. During the night of our arrival 2 inches of snow fell, covering already thick ice on the verges and on the canal which left the whole place looking like a film set. Apparently the ice-breaker has been down the canal a couple of times during our absence, but we can’t imagine why – there are NO boats moving at all, not even commercials, but it would have been a great sight to have seen it crashing through the ice. Pity we missed that and it won’t be coming again as the ice has pretty well melted now.
Back to the UK in a couple of weeks by car, a few weeks at home and then off we go … next update end of March/start of April.
At the end of our last cruise into Germany and back, we had a few days before we were due to drive back to the UK for Christmas and New Year. Alex had looked at the detailed map of the area and noted where all the late 19th century forts were located. As the weather was still mild and we had the car, we set off to investigate!
The first and nearest fort we headed for, Fort Mont St. Michell, is on a hill just on the outskirts of Toul above a housing estate: we can see its location from our moorings. It took us some time to locate the track up to the fort having taken several roads which turned into cul de sacs within the houses, but find it we did, and headed upwards round a series of tight bends. A big sign said “PRIVE” but we ignored that, eventually arriving at a closed entrance gate ‘guarded’ by several goats. The goats ran away as Alex approached and the gate was only held by a twist of fencing wire so we were soon in the fort itself. However, we did feel rather exposed, and it was obvious that whoever now owned it had done a fair bit of work here and there. That and the fact that all the outer passages we went into were covered in goat poo decided us to beat a retreat and pursue our hunt for the next fort on the list.
This turned out to be on a hill on the opposite side of Toul and a bit further away, above Dommartin les Toul. Alex stopped the car on the track just opposite where he thought the fort should be and we headed off through the wood: and there it was, but with a deep, dry outer moat that was impossible to climb down into. So we walked round the perimeter through brambles and thickets, until eventually we dropped down a slope to the entrance proper, which turned out to be about 20 yards from where we had parked the car!
This fort was great – no signs saying private, nobody else there but obviously visited occasionally by the local youths who had left a bit of graffiti about, and the ubiquitous burned out car (a Citroen of course judging by the suspension spheres!).
It was not a very big fort so there were only a few rooms and passageways to explore, though we did think that there might have been an inaccessible underground section under a large raised area of ground near the middle of the enclosure.
A few days later, and we were off again for the next one, Fort du vieux Canton. This was at the end of a one-mile hike down a forest track but the weather was again mild and sunny. The fort however, was obviously in the process of being worked on, judging by several large diggers and the razor wire that had been installed. Alex managed to get past the razor wire, but Louise decided to give this one a miss (something about razor wire …!) Alex said he’d have a quick scout round and be back in 15 minutes – not really enough time to explore much but it was not a very extensive fore, like the previous one, so no great loss.
The next one, Mont le Vignoble, was a gem! – through a little village and up an unmarked track among the trees. On and on, up and up round hairpin bends until eventually there it was, with rusting gates hanging open and at the entrance an ancient sign saying, “Defence d’entrée” (whatever that means!),
This place was very extensive with passages leading down underground and up again to a series of outer defensive walls. There was also masses of graffiti; some real works of art. Interestingly though, the graffiti artists obviously didn’t come with torches, as the walls became completely paint-free as we got deeper into the underground passages. We ourselves had come armed with torches of course.
These passages were quite confusing and several times we found ourselves emerging to a familiar place, having expected to be somewhere completely different, but it was great fun and we must have spent a few hours there before calling it a day.
We still have another couple to suss out, but Louise thinks enough is enough now and is happy to suggest that Alex goes with Ben (from one of the other barges) who would certainly be up for it.
In the meantime, we have been back to the UK for Christmas and New Year, visited and been visited by lots of friends and family, fitted an en-suite bathroom to the house, refitted the utility room and managed to find the only window in the weather to drive back to Toul without getting stuck in snow, ice or floods!!
Back here Riccall was fine; our preventative measures had worked and kept her ice-free and we are having a fairly quiet though occasionally sociable time with the only other live-aboards, Ben and Alex. During the night of our arrival 2 inches of snow fell, covering already thick ice on the verges and on the canal which left the whole place looking like a film set. Apparently the ice-breaker has been down the canal a couple of times during our absence, but we can’t imagine why – there are NO boats moving at all, not even commercials, but it would have been a great sight to have seen it crashing through the ice. Pity we missed that and it won’t be coming again as the ice has pretty well melted now.
Back to the UK in a couple of weeks by car, a few weeks at home and then off we go … next update end of March/start of April.
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Autumn Round Trip Part Three: France
River Moselle
We left Remich and dropped into the next Port de Plaisance to stock up with diesel at a mere 86.1 cents per litre, the cheapest we have seen in Europe so far, and on the canal side at that! But cheap fuel is one of the well-known claims to fame of Luxembourg. In due course we arrived at the outskirts of Metz and as often happens the hoped-for free moorings, which we had earmarked on our map all turned out to be non-existent, so we headed off into the Port de Plaisance right in the centre. As luck would have it there was plenty of space for us, but we had an interesting time manoeuvring Riccall between the mooring posts to get onto the quay. The 5 mooring posts were set out from the quay by about 8 metres and were intended to be used like finger moorings, in that boats are expected to back up to the quay and tie their bow to one of these posts. We couldn’t do that of course, being way too large, but we did wriggle our way behind all 5 posts and moor up along the quay, taking up all the spaces! The mooring charge at €12 per night didn’t alter thankfully, so we felt we had done quite well out of it.
In the morning, we set off into Metz 'sur les bicyclettes' and what a lovely surprise. We mentioned that we had read that Metz is an astonishing city and it is true – it is absolutely brilliant. Deeply coloured sandstone buildings fill the main square in the centre with a unity we have seldom seen in the towns and cities we have explored so far.
The central Notre Dame cathedral may be higher than all others and magnificent in its way, but still does not surpass Reims cathedral for sheer WOW factor. However, its position within the surrounding buildings make the centre outstanding.
The rest of the city, which has changed hands between Germany and France on a number of occasions, and exhibits influences from both, is fascinating. There are many examples of differences between the architectural preferences of the two cultures: the old station for instance was completely rebuilt on a new site by the Germans in heavy Germanic style during their occupation from 1887 to 1918 to allow for troop movements in the event of war. At the same time the French insisted on building a new government building close by with typical French influences – filigree balconies, charming decoration and so on in their own inimitable style.
In 1918 Metz reverted to French rule and with it the language reverted to French. Then of course in 1940 it was back to German until 1945 when it again reverted to French and Francais. But in fact, much of the older parts of the city date back to the Romans and some remains are left over from that era.
We loved it; the open market, the covered market, the vibrant squares, the open parks, the cathedral, the trompe l’oeil in the main square – a really lovely city. We must go back, if only by car, if we have time.
When we got to Pont-a-Mousson, the first mooring place in our moorings guide, on a pontoon below the town bridge, was non-existent. The pontoon had clearly been removed since the entry in 2007 but perhaps just for the winter as the Moselle can be a very lively river. The Port de Plaisance opposite was impossible for us, so we headed for the third and last option – the wide entrance channel to an old lock onto an unused canal. Here we could see a possibility, so we stopped and waited for several rowing 4s to get out of the way (much to their horror/surprise when they noticed over their shoulders Riccall creeping up towards them) and nosed our way in. The signs recently erected said mooring was limited to 2 hours, and that there was a Port de Plaisance opposite. This we knew we couldn’t use so we decided to play it à la Francais and ignore everything, and made ourselves comfortable! We did a short reconnôitre of the town visiting the obligatory boulangerie for bread and subsequently one of the two massive churches taking our large baguette in with us. As we emerged from the church we were met by a French couple about to enter, who expressed surprise and then tried to explain why - unfortunately the joke was somewhat lost in the translation but eventually we got it - that the church is into selling bread now!!
The next morning the fog on the river was dense and very slow to clear so it wasn’t until 11.30 that it was clear enough for us to contemplate sailing on. Having passed through the only lock where we have understood the reply from the lock keeper (a lady for once) to the announcement of our arrival, Alex, emboldened by this success, asked if we could stop on the lock moorings for lunch. “Mais oui”.
Eventually we got back to Liverdun, which had been our first overnight stop at the beginning of our round trip, at about 4 o’clock. The weather was again fine and sunny so, despite Liverdun being described as an ugly village with an ugly name in an article we had read, we decided to investigate the village for ourselves,.
The lower village perhaps deserved that moniker, but we persevered to the ancient village on the top of the hill, which was well worth the hike up narrow and very steep cobbled streets. The original fortified village was built on the very top of a steep promontory (rather like Luxembourg but on a much smaller scale) and we were delighted by its ancient and very French charm. Liverdun is also the home of the little famous ‘Madeleine’ cakes available throughout France and beyond, though we very much doubt if they all originate there. We did buy some locally produced examples and very good they were too (Alex). Pretty much the same as all the others (Louise)!!
By mid afternoon we were back in our winter moorings in Toul but still with a few missions to achieve by car before autumn truly turns into winter.
The first one had to wait for a day or two, as the day after our return we were welcomed back by other over-winterers and had a barbecue on shore in the warm (later chilly) afternoon air. It was a good idea and we all had a great time, but when the rain started at about 5pm the boules game had to be curtailed and we all shot back to our various boats!
The following day dawned warm and sunny so we took the opportunity to return to Liverdun to investigate the remains of a canal which had been built in the mid 1800s, including a tunnel under the ‘haute ville’ on its promontory. Much of the canal is either still in water, or still evident in a broad swathe of grass alongside the road and the River Moselle. The old canal was still in use until the 1970s and then was disbanded, including the tunnel and the aqueduct which carried it over the Moselle, when the huge locks were built which now control the river.
All of this historical detective work is great fun and gets us into some strange places!
We left Remich and dropped into the next Port de Plaisance to stock up with diesel at a mere 86.1 cents per litre, the cheapest we have seen in Europe so far, and on the canal side at that! But cheap fuel is one of the well-known claims to fame of Luxembourg. In due course we arrived at the outskirts of Metz and as often happens the hoped-for free moorings, which we had earmarked on our map all turned out to be non-existent, so we headed off into the Port de Plaisance right in the centre. As luck would have it there was plenty of space for us, but we had an interesting time manoeuvring Riccall between the mooring posts to get onto the quay. The 5 mooring posts were set out from the quay by about 8 metres and were intended to be used like finger moorings, in that boats are expected to back up to the quay and tie their bow to one of these posts. We couldn’t do that of course, being way too large, but we did wriggle our way behind all 5 posts and moor up along the quay, taking up all the spaces! The mooring charge at €12 per night didn’t alter thankfully, so we felt we had done quite well out of it.
In the morning, we set off into Metz 'sur les bicyclettes' and what a lovely surprise. We mentioned that we had read that Metz is an astonishing city and it is true – it is absolutely brilliant. Deeply coloured sandstone buildings fill the main square in the centre with a unity we have seldom seen in the towns and cities we have explored so far.
The central Notre Dame cathedral may be higher than all others and magnificent in its way, but still does not surpass Reims cathedral for sheer WOW factor. However, its position within the surrounding buildings make the centre outstanding.
The rest of the city, which has changed hands between Germany and France on a number of occasions, and exhibits influences from both, is fascinating. There are many examples of differences between the architectural preferences of the two cultures: the old station for instance was completely rebuilt on a new site by the Germans in heavy Germanic style during their occupation from 1887 to 1918 to allow for troop movements in the event of war. At the same time the French insisted on building a new government building close by with typical French influences – filigree balconies, charming decoration and so on in their own inimitable style.
In 1918 Metz reverted to French rule and with it the language reverted to French. Then of course in 1940 it was back to German until 1945 when it again reverted to French and Francais. But in fact, much of the older parts of the city date back to the Romans and some remains are left over from that era.
We loved it; the open market, the covered market, the vibrant squares, the open parks, the cathedral, the trompe l’oeil in the main square – a really lovely city. We must go back, if only by car, if we have time.
When we got to Pont-a-Mousson, the first mooring place in our moorings guide, on a pontoon below the town bridge, was non-existent. The pontoon had clearly been removed since the entry in 2007 but perhaps just for the winter as the Moselle can be a very lively river. The Port de Plaisance opposite was impossible for us, so we headed for the third and last option – the wide entrance channel to an old lock onto an unused canal. Here we could see a possibility, so we stopped and waited for several rowing 4s to get out of the way (much to their horror/surprise when they noticed over their shoulders Riccall creeping up towards them) and nosed our way in. The signs recently erected said mooring was limited to 2 hours, and that there was a Port de Plaisance opposite. This we knew we couldn’t use so we decided to play it à la Francais and ignore everything, and made ourselves comfortable! We did a short reconnôitre of the town visiting the obligatory boulangerie for bread and subsequently one of the two massive churches taking our large baguette in with us. As we emerged from the church we were met by a French couple about to enter, who expressed surprise and then tried to explain why - unfortunately the joke was somewhat lost in the translation but eventually we got it - that the church is into selling bread now!!
The next morning the fog on the river was dense and very slow to clear so it wasn’t until 11.30 that it was clear enough for us to contemplate sailing on. Having passed through the only lock where we have understood the reply from the lock keeper (a lady for once) to the announcement of our arrival, Alex, emboldened by this success, asked if we could stop on the lock moorings for lunch. “Mais oui”.
Eventually we got back to Liverdun, which had been our first overnight stop at the beginning of our round trip, at about 4 o’clock. The weather was again fine and sunny so, despite Liverdun being described as an ugly village with an ugly name in an article we had read, we decided to investigate the village for ourselves,.
The lower village perhaps deserved that moniker, but we persevered to the ancient village on the top of the hill, which was well worth the hike up narrow and very steep cobbled streets. The original fortified village was built on the very top of a steep promontory (rather like Luxembourg but on a much smaller scale) and we were delighted by its ancient and very French charm. Liverdun is also the home of the little famous ‘Madeleine’ cakes available throughout France and beyond, though we very much doubt if they all originate there. We did buy some locally produced examples and very good they were too (Alex). Pretty much the same as all the others (Louise)!!
By mid afternoon we were back in our winter moorings in Toul but still with a few missions to achieve by car before autumn truly turns into winter.
The first one had to wait for a day or two, as the day after our return we were welcomed back by other over-winterers and had a barbecue on shore in the warm (later chilly) afternoon air. It was a good idea and we all had a great time, but when the rain started at about 5pm the boules game had to be curtailed and we all shot back to our various boats!
The following day dawned warm and sunny so we took the opportunity to return to Liverdun to investigate the remains of a canal which had been built in the mid 1800s, including a tunnel under the ‘haute ville’ on its promontory. Much of the canal is either still in water, or still evident in a broad swathe of grass alongside the road and the River Moselle. The old canal was still in use until the 1970s and then was disbanded, including the tunnel and the aqueduct which carried it over the Moselle, when the huge locks were built which now control the river.
All of this historical detective work is great fun and gets us into some strange places!
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Autumn round trip
Toul, Germany, Luxembourg, Toul: Part Two Germany to France
River Saar, River Moselle
Now we are in Germany. The last of the locks which operated with our French zapper is half a kilometre into Germany and here we handed it in.
The lock keeper was a heavy-set man. Alex said, ‘Bonjour, or should I say guten Morgen?’ Not a glimmer of a smile, just took the zapper and turned on his heel heading back upstairs. Oh dear! Does this herald how things are going to be? We got to Saarbrucken and found the moorings in total disarray as, we learned later, they are being re-developed! It didn’t say that anywhere of course. We stopped at the first available spot (reserved for something else according to our interpretation of the signage – but what?) while we sussed the scene. Alex walked to the official ‘sport boat’ moorings which were full of museum boats, trip boats and hotel boats and no room even for little us.
Later Alex talked to the owner of one of the party boats – Gunter. He is an ex-commercial bargee who now takes party trips of up to 40 on one or both of his restaurant boats. He was very helpful – explaining about the redevelopment and told us we were OK where we were. We went into town looking for a chart of the River Saar in Germany and the River Moselle in Germany which we were lacking. No luck. Gunter lent us a couple of rather ancient, but workable charts, which we photocopied. So kind! We returned the charts with a present of Yorkshire tea and a load of information on hiring narrowboats in England which Gunter has a craving to do to see the English canals.
We wished we were staying longer so we could invite him and his girlfriend for drinks but we felt the need to press on. We asked him to give us a sentence in German that we could use to announce our arrival at each German lock, but as well as doing that he rang the lockkeeper at the next lock to warn him when we would be arriving. So the first lock was fine, and the second one OK, but thereafter it has been decidedly difficult with our lack of German and the lockkeepers’ lack of English or even French (except in one case). So there have been a couple of misunderstandings. The signage is very difficult to interpret even with a dictionary, partly because the kind of words we need on the waterways are not in our dictionary, but mainly because the Germans run all the words into one great long one (like the Welsh), so first you have to decide where one bit might end and the next begin, before you can try to look each bit up separately, then put it all back together again! Added to that, the humour and smiles we are used to in France, Belgium and Holland are definitely lacking here.
When we got to Saarlouis we looked briefly at a 30m floating pontoon but decided to view the other downriver mooring area first – 100m of it supposedly. But it was impossible for us. Intended for peniches at twice our length and shallow and rocky for at least 1.5m from the bank, before enough depth for us, and we have nothing suitable to hold ourselves off with. So we went back up to the pontoon, whereupon the captain of the trip boat River Lady, moored on the next pontoon, gesticulated emphatically that we couldn’t moor there. But our book and the signage on the pontoon indicted that we could. So we did another 360 degree turn, moored up on it anyway and Louise went off to enquire of the captain what the problem was. Apparently, he felt we were too big and heavy for the pontoon (probably right there) but told us we could spend a night on the other empty trip boat pontoon. Phew!
We had a cycle trip round Saarlouis which had the remains of an incredibly intricate fortification system which were interesting, and a cathedral rebuilt in concrete in 1960s style behind its still-standing frontage (18thc) which was just awful. We found ourselves castigating the Germans for this dreadful re-building until we remembered that it was probably us– the Allies – who had caused the destruction in the first place! Oops.
We motored on and entered the jewel in the River Saar’s crown – the Mettlach meander, a 5km hairpin bend where the river has cut a deep path through and around the forested mountains – quite spectacular. After an hour’s delay due we think to a misunderstanding on the lockkeeper’s part about our intention of passing through his lock, we arrived at Mettlach, the home of Villeroy and Boch, the porcelain manufacturers known world-wide for wonderful crockery, decorative items and sanitary ware! As we arrived we saw that the River Lady trip boat was moving off the last remaining space on the quay. Alex waved and mimed, “Is it OK for us to moor in the slot you have just left?” “Yes, OK for you”. Wonderful.
The following morning we saw that a huge 110m hotel barge had arrived at some point in the late evening and had had to tack on to the other end of the moorings, ending up half under a bridge. We felt rather guilty, worried that maybe we shouldn’t after all be moored where we were. This feeling is to dog us throughout out time in Germany, as the very next day the same hotel boat arrives at our mooring at Saarburg and moors within one metre of us to get his 110m onto the rest of the wharf.
We cycled into Saarburg town to view the castle on the hill and the waterfall which cascades down between the houses and operates the water wheels below. We had arrived on the day of the town’s Oktoberfest – a huge street market and eating bonanza which was fun to look round. When we got back to Riccall the hotel barge had left and a smaller one had arrived. In due course it too left, and we were alone with only a relatively small hotel barge until about 7.30pm, when a huge commercial hooted his horn as he nudged up close to moor up, in the dusk and heavy drizzle. Alex immediately went out to ask if we needed to move but signals indicated, “No, there is just room, and thanks for taking the ropes to the bollards”.
The commercial left at 6 am and we headed down to the end of the Saar and turned up the Moselle. By midday we had left German waters and entered Luxembourg. The first immediate benefit was that the signage was now in French as well as German so we could understand it. The second was that there were now places which indicated we could moor at them. Well, what they actually said was, “No mooring, except when the trip boat is not here. For times when you can moor see the list below” and underneath, where the timetable would normally be, were the wonderful words “Pas de restriction” – an end of season plus.
We found a nice place to stop at Remich where there is an hourly bus service to Luxembourg city so became serious tourists for the day. What a joy to see Luxembourg. Go if you possibly can. The city itself is lovely architecturally and historically but its great claim has to be its site – on a promontory with a deep, deep gorge cutting the city in two. We went for the obligatory ‘petit train’ ride around the city to get an overview, with earphone commentary in English, had lunch in one of the main squares in the cool sunshine, spent ages investigating the labyrinth of passages inside the massive walls of the 18th century defences, and wandered around the valley gardens and up and down the Spanish fortifications (16th century). We finished up with tea outside in a different square, still in sunshine, and caught the express bus back to Remich. A lovely day in a wonderful city.
We are now seriously en route back to our base in Toul but we have one more important tourist stop to make on the way – Metz. It is said to be an ‘astonishing’ city. We shall see.
River Saar, River Moselle
Now we are in Germany. The last of the locks which operated with our French zapper is half a kilometre into Germany and here we handed it in.
The lock keeper was a heavy-set man. Alex said, ‘Bonjour, or should I say guten Morgen?’ Not a glimmer of a smile, just took the zapper and turned on his heel heading back upstairs. Oh dear! Does this herald how things are going to be? We got to Saarbrucken and found the moorings in total disarray as, we learned later, they are being re-developed! It didn’t say that anywhere of course. We stopped at the first available spot (reserved for something else according to our interpretation of the signage – but what?) while we sussed the scene. Alex walked to the official ‘sport boat’ moorings which were full of museum boats, trip boats and hotel boats and no room even for little us.
Later Alex talked to the owner of one of the party boats – Gunter. He is an ex-commercial bargee who now takes party trips of up to 40 on one or both of his restaurant boats. He was very helpful – explaining about the redevelopment and told us we were OK where we were. We went into town looking for a chart of the River Saar in Germany and the River Moselle in Germany which we were lacking. No luck. Gunter lent us a couple of rather ancient, but workable charts, which we photocopied. So kind! We returned the charts with a present of Yorkshire tea and a load of information on hiring narrowboats in England which Gunter has a craving to do to see the English canals.
We wished we were staying longer so we could invite him and his girlfriend for drinks but we felt the need to press on. We asked him to give us a sentence in German that we could use to announce our arrival at each German lock, but as well as doing that he rang the lockkeeper at the next lock to warn him when we would be arriving. So the first lock was fine, and the second one OK, but thereafter it has been decidedly difficult with our lack of German and the lockkeepers’ lack of English or even French (except in one case). So there have been a couple of misunderstandings. The signage is very difficult to interpret even with a dictionary, partly because the kind of words we need on the waterways are not in our dictionary, but mainly because the Germans run all the words into one great long one (like the Welsh), so first you have to decide where one bit might end and the next begin, before you can try to look each bit up separately, then put it all back together again! Added to that, the humour and smiles we are used to in France, Belgium and Holland are definitely lacking here.
When we got to Saarlouis we looked briefly at a 30m floating pontoon but decided to view the other downriver mooring area first – 100m of it supposedly. But it was impossible for us. Intended for peniches at twice our length and shallow and rocky for at least 1.5m from the bank, before enough depth for us, and we have nothing suitable to hold ourselves off with. So we went back up to the pontoon, whereupon the captain of the trip boat River Lady, moored on the next pontoon, gesticulated emphatically that we couldn’t moor there. But our book and the signage on the pontoon indicted that we could. So we did another 360 degree turn, moored up on it anyway and Louise went off to enquire of the captain what the problem was. Apparently, he felt we were too big and heavy for the pontoon (probably right there) but told us we could spend a night on the other empty trip boat pontoon. Phew!
We had a cycle trip round Saarlouis which had the remains of an incredibly intricate fortification system which were interesting, and a cathedral rebuilt in concrete in 1960s style behind its still-standing frontage (18thc) which was just awful. We found ourselves castigating the Germans for this dreadful re-building until we remembered that it was probably us– the Allies – who had caused the destruction in the first place! Oops.
We motored on and entered the jewel in the River Saar’s crown – the Mettlach meander, a 5km hairpin bend where the river has cut a deep path through and around the forested mountains – quite spectacular. After an hour’s delay due we think to a misunderstanding on the lockkeeper’s part about our intention of passing through his lock, we arrived at Mettlach, the home of Villeroy and Boch, the porcelain manufacturers known world-wide for wonderful crockery, decorative items and sanitary ware! As we arrived we saw that the River Lady trip boat was moving off the last remaining space on the quay. Alex waved and mimed, “Is it OK for us to moor in the slot you have just left?” “Yes, OK for you”. Wonderful.
The following morning we saw that a huge 110m hotel barge had arrived at some point in the late evening and had had to tack on to the other end of the moorings, ending up half under a bridge. We felt rather guilty, worried that maybe we shouldn’t after all be moored where we were. This feeling is to dog us throughout out time in Germany, as the very next day the same hotel boat arrives at our mooring at Saarburg and moors within one metre of us to get his 110m onto the rest of the wharf.
We cycled into Saarburg town to view the castle on the hill and the waterfall which cascades down between the houses and operates the water wheels below. We had arrived on the day of the town’s Oktoberfest – a huge street market and eating bonanza which was fun to look round. When we got back to Riccall the hotel barge had left and a smaller one had arrived. In due course it too left, and we were alone with only a relatively small hotel barge until about 7.30pm, when a huge commercial hooted his horn as he nudged up close to moor up, in the dusk and heavy drizzle. Alex immediately went out to ask if we needed to move but signals indicated, “No, there is just room, and thanks for taking the ropes to the bollards”.
The commercial left at 6 am and we headed down to the end of the Saar and turned up the Moselle. By midday we had left German waters and entered Luxembourg. The first immediate benefit was that the signage was now in French as well as German so we could understand it. The second was that there were now places which indicated we could moor at them. Well, what they actually said was, “No mooring, except when the trip boat is not here. For times when you can moor see the list below” and underneath, where the timetable would normally be, were the wonderful words “Pas de restriction” – an end of season plus.
We found a nice place to stop at Remich where there is an hourly bus service to Luxembourg city so became serious tourists for the day. What a joy to see Luxembourg. Go if you possibly can. The city itself is lovely architecturally and historically but its great claim has to be its site – on a promontory with a deep, deep gorge cutting the city in two. We went for the obligatory ‘petit train’ ride around the city to get an overview, with earphone commentary in English, had lunch in one of the main squares in the cool sunshine, spent ages investigating the labyrinth of passages inside the massive walls of the 18th century defences, and wandered around the valley gardens and up and down the Spanish fortifications (16th century). We finished up with tea outside in a different square, still in sunshine, and caught the express bus back to Remich. A lovely day in a wonderful city.
We are now seriously en route back to our base in Toul but we have one more important tourist stop to make on the way – Metz. It is said to be an ‘astonishing’ city. We shall see.
Friday, 16 October 2009
Round trip through Germany and Luxembourg
Canal de Marne au Rhin (East), Moselle,
Canal des Houillieres de la Sarre, River Saar
Well, we’ve done the home to the UK bit and we are back here in tolerable Toul. Our narrow boat friends, Jean and Mike arrived for a couple of nights with us but there wasn’t really time to go for a boat trip so we showed them some of Toul instead and they gave us a lovely meal in one of the town restaurants.
We have re-met, and at last introduced ourselves to John and Sonya of Chocolat, who are wintering here and seen various other crews come and go. John and Sonya came for coffee and chat just before lunch and then we set off for Nancy. We moored for the night on the Moselle at Liverdun and were treated to a beautiful sunset, followed the next morning by a lovely mist-shrouded river scene, which slowly resolved itself into clarity as the sun drove off the vapour.
Nancy, our next port of call is a lovely city and having begun to suss it out, as we have on our trusty bicycles, we wonder if perhaps we should have been wintering here rather than at Toul. Too late – Alex has signed the contract, but our original plan had been to look at Nancy before we committed. Unfortunately, circumstances (mainly Louise worrying we would find ourselves without any mooring at all!) meant that was not possible, so we are where we are.
Nancy has the most wonderful Stanislas Square, which is like a central hub to the city. We were told that a magnificent light show is displayed in it at night but we missed the end of the season by a week!
However we have been treated instead to an amazing floral exhibition in the square, which has been arranged to celebrate 150 years of horticulture for the city’s parks and gardens.
Architecturally, Nancy has a wealth of buildings and elegant squares to offer and we hope to explore it further by car this winter, or by boat in the spring.
We are on a round trip, which takes in Nancy, then heads east for a bit before turning north for Saarbrucken in Germany. Then we head northwest for the border of Luxembourg and eventually head south again into France and back to Toul.
We are taking it very, very easy as usual, and the best bit so far has been the 16metre, yes 16 metre deep lock which was built to replace a flight of 6 locks. We spent the night at the foot of this giant lock in countryside as far from habitation, railways, airports, roads etc as you could hope to get. We had a choice in the morning – dash through at 9 o’clock or wait until 12 o’clock after the two commercial peniches had gone through at 10 and 11. We awoke early so went through at 9.
Instead of turning north at the junction, however, we motored on a short way to a village called Xouaxange where we were told there was a ruined tower, an interesting 15th century church and the remains of a château. We found a 10-foot high single wall, which was all that was left of the tower, the church was (unfortunately) forgettable, and of the château we found no sign. So instead we set off to ride to what was said to be one of the most attractive villages in France - a mere 12 km away! The road was very much up hill and down dale and when we eventually got to said village, we really could not see what there was to be said for it.
We had a tea and a coffee in a rather sleazy bar/pizza café (the far nicer place was just round the corner out of sight!) and started to wend our way back on a different route, which looked as though it might be more level. And after a few kilometres, Lo and Behold! We found a cycle track following the road on what had been a railway track. This was absolutely fantastic – excellent surface, no cars, no hills, no signage! But in due course we got to our canal about 3kms from the boat. Unfortunately, the road went under the canal and there was no obvious way up to the towpath – and we did look, did we not. So we ended up doing a 6km detour via unmarked roads till we eventually got back saddle sore and weary. What fun!
Autumn has truly arrived with very cool mornings, often misty, warming up by 11ish – sometimes lunch on deck – warm enough to sit out till 4.30 and then wham! very cold evenings and dark early – though not as early as at home being one hour ahead here.
So after the little sojourn off our route in Xouaxange we set off back onto our original course and arrived at the start of a set of 15 locks which were to be operated manually by a roving lockkeeper or two. We set off to go through the only manned lock (No 1) but arrived 15 minutes early in order to top up our water tank. We hadn’t used much but reckoned a refill is always worth doing when it’s available. The supply was painfully slow so at 10 o’clock we gave up on water and packed the hose up in readiness to leave. Now bear in mind we are in the lock doing this, under the beady eye of at least two lock keepers, but we waited and waited and nothing happened. We were not being penned through. At 10.15 Alex eventually attracted the attention of monsieur l’eclusier, who somehow hadn’t realised that we had been ready to go for the last quarter of an hour! Apologies, apologies, and off we went, but the canal was narrow and shallow so we could barely manage 6kph. At one point, we saw the lockkeeper who had gone ahead to prepare Lock 2, coming along the towpath in his van to see where we had got to! When he saw us as he came round the corner, he did an about turn and headed back to Lock 2 to wait.
When we eventually got there, there was another boat already in the lock waiting for us! They must have been waiting for ages but they were fine about it, and we locked through together until we got to Lock 14 at Mittersheim where we were going to spend a couple of nights. A lovely spot to moor – peaceful, free to moor, with water and electricity at 2€ for 4 hours, which if you time it right is quite reasonable.
While at Mittersheim we read that in a medieval village not 6 kms away, was a working watermill, a chateau with magnificent helicoidal staircase, an ancient bridge, and a hospital with ramparts. Does this begin to sound familiar? When we got there (uphill and down dale again) the château was closed, as was the Tourist Information office, the watermill inaccessible, and of the hospital we found no trace. Maybe we found the bridge, but it just looked like a bridge! However the medieval centre was rather splendid and after all probably worth the ride!
So we are now just about to enter Germany for the next stage of our round trip – with some trepidation. Keep watching this space!
Canal des Houillieres de la Sarre, River Saar
Well, we’ve done the home to the UK bit and we are back here in tolerable Toul. Our narrow boat friends, Jean and Mike arrived for a couple of nights with us but there wasn’t really time to go for a boat trip so we showed them some of Toul instead and they gave us a lovely meal in one of the town restaurants.
We have re-met, and at last introduced ourselves to John and Sonya of Chocolat, who are wintering here and seen various other crews come and go. John and Sonya came for coffee and chat just before lunch and then we set off for Nancy. We moored for the night on the Moselle at Liverdun and were treated to a beautiful sunset, followed the next morning by a lovely mist-shrouded river scene, which slowly resolved itself into clarity as the sun drove off the vapour.
Nancy, our next port of call is a lovely city and having begun to suss it out, as we have on our trusty bicycles, we wonder if perhaps we should have been wintering here rather than at Toul. Too late – Alex has signed the contract, but our original plan had been to look at Nancy before we committed. Unfortunately, circumstances (mainly Louise worrying we would find ourselves without any mooring at all!) meant that was not possible, so we are where we are.
Nancy has the most wonderful Stanislas Square, which is like a central hub to the city. We were told that a magnificent light show is displayed in it at night but we missed the end of the season by a week!
However we have been treated instead to an amazing floral exhibition in the square, which has been arranged to celebrate 150 years of horticulture for the city’s parks and gardens.
Architecturally, Nancy has a wealth of buildings and elegant squares to offer and we hope to explore it further by car this winter, or by boat in the spring.
We are on a round trip, which takes in Nancy, then heads east for a bit before turning north for Saarbrucken in Germany. Then we head northwest for the border of Luxembourg and eventually head south again into France and back to Toul.
We are taking it very, very easy as usual, and the best bit so far has been the 16metre, yes 16 metre deep lock which was built to replace a flight of 6 locks. We spent the night at the foot of this giant lock in countryside as far from habitation, railways, airports, roads etc as you could hope to get. We had a choice in the morning – dash through at 9 o’clock or wait until 12 o’clock after the two commercial peniches had gone through at 10 and 11. We awoke early so went through at 9.
Instead of turning north at the junction, however, we motored on a short way to a village called Xouaxange where we were told there was a ruined tower, an interesting 15th century church and the remains of a château. We found a 10-foot high single wall, which was all that was left of the tower, the church was (unfortunately) forgettable, and of the château we found no sign. So instead we set off to ride to what was said to be one of the most attractive villages in France - a mere 12 km away! The road was very much up hill and down dale and when we eventually got to said village, we really could not see what there was to be said for it.
We had a tea and a coffee in a rather sleazy bar/pizza café (the far nicer place was just round the corner out of sight!) and started to wend our way back on a different route, which looked as though it might be more level. And after a few kilometres, Lo and Behold! We found a cycle track following the road on what had been a railway track. This was absolutely fantastic – excellent surface, no cars, no hills, no signage! But in due course we got to our canal about 3kms from the boat. Unfortunately, the road went under the canal and there was no obvious way up to the towpath – and we did look, did we not. So we ended up doing a 6km detour via unmarked roads till we eventually got back saddle sore and weary. What fun!
Autumn has truly arrived with very cool mornings, often misty, warming up by 11ish – sometimes lunch on deck – warm enough to sit out till 4.30 and then wham! very cold evenings and dark early – though not as early as at home being one hour ahead here.
So after the little sojourn off our route in Xouaxange we set off back onto our original course and arrived at the start of a set of 15 locks which were to be operated manually by a roving lockkeeper or two. We set off to go through the only manned lock (No 1) but arrived 15 minutes early in order to top up our water tank. We hadn’t used much but reckoned a refill is always worth doing when it’s available. The supply was painfully slow so at 10 o’clock we gave up on water and packed the hose up in readiness to leave. Now bear in mind we are in the lock doing this, under the beady eye of at least two lock keepers, but we waited and waited and nothing happened. We were not being penned through. At 10.15 Alex eventually attracted the attention of monsieur l’eclusier, who somehow hadn’t realised that we had been ready to go for the last quarter of an hour! Apologies, apologies, and off we went, but the canal was narrow and shallow so we could barely manage 6kph. At one point, we saw the lockkeeper who had gone ahead to prepare Lock 2, coming along the towpath in his van to see where we had got to! When he saw us as he came round the corner, he did an about turn and headed back to Lock 2 to wait.
When we eventually got there, there was another boat already in the lock waiting for us! They must have been waiting for ages but they were fine about it, and we locked through together until we got to Lock 14 at Mittersheim where we were going to spend a couple of nights. A lovely spot to moor – peaceful, free to moor, with water and electricity at 2€ for 4 hours, which if you time it right is quite reasonable.
While at Mittersheim we read that in a medieval village not 6 kms away, was a working watermill, a chateau with magnificent helicoidal staircase, an ancient bridge, and a hospital with ramparts. Does this begin to sound familiar? When we got there (uphill and down dale again) the château was closed, as was the Tourist Information office, the watermill inaccessible, and of the hospital we found no trace. Maybe we found the bridge, but it just looked like a bridge! However the medieval centre was rather splendid and after all probably worth the ride!
So we are now just about to enter Germany for the next stage of our round trip – with some trepidation. Keep watching this space!
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Verdun to Toul
River Meuse and Canal de la Marne au Rhin
We left Verdun and headed off further up the River Meuse, arriving at Dieue sur Meuse for a late lunch. It was a nice place to moor, albeit on the edge of a village housing estate, but still peaceful. We did our usual recce of the village on our bikes and found, up a lovely little lane, a rather nice old mill which had been turned into a Gîte de France holiday ‘cottage’. However, what we missed, because it wasn’t marked on our canal map and we had forgotten to look at the French version of the Ordnance Survey map, was an old fort which appeared not to have been appropriated by anyone and therefore free to explore, unlike the one at our next mooring Fort Troyon.
If we return from our UK trip by car, the fort near Dieue will definitely be on our list of look-ats.
Fort Troyon mooring itself was truly lovely, proper bollards in a small clearing in the trees, a barbeque (if you wanted it) two picnic tables and a rubbish bin. It was miles from anywhere, clearly only used by occasional boats, and only a couple of miles from Fort Troyon, where we learned from our booklet that the French had held out heroically against a huge bombardment by the Germans for seven continuous days before eventually the Germans gave up. The fall of this fort would have allowed the Germans to encircle Verdun and capture that too.
Sadly our visit had to be by guided tour, and though we were promised some English explanation along with the French, this was not forthcoming. They knew and we knew that if no English was on offer we would not have paid our €8 for the tour so they just lied to us! Very annoying. We later learned from a lock keeper that the fort is actually privately owned and belongs to a guy from the village of Lacroix sur Meuse a few kilometres further on (and run vaguely under the auspices of the authority which oversees all the WWI sites). This came as no surprise to Alex who was convinced from the start that the whole place was a con!
St Mihiel was our next destination and as we neared it we noticed a campsite with a quay and a sign saying ‘ACCOSTAGE BATEAUX’. As we steamed past, Louise looked up ‘accostage’ and discovered it meant literally ‘boats come alongside’. However we were past it by then and so continued to the town quay, which was full, but the silo quay opposite and through the bridge was empty, so with some uncertainty we moored there. The only downside was no water or electricity, no sun after 3pm and a faint but all-pervading distasteful smell! The next day we returned by bike to the campsite to suss it out. Yes, we could moor for free, and have electricity for €2.60 per night. Fair enough. We went back for Riccall and retraced our path downstream. The only downside here was, as we discovered next day, no shade until well after 6pm.
Next day we decided to visit some re-created trenches which were recommended by Tourist Information and started off at 9 am before it got too hot. The Tourist Info lady (clearly a car driver) had said that the road to the trenches was fairly level. It wasn’t! After 3 kms of uphill struggle we decided to abandon that particular goal and went off at a tangent to an unreconstructed trench – La Tranchée de la Soif’ where the French had endured three days without food or water, before surrendering.
It’s difficult to imagine, as we walked through the placid and peaceful leafy area, and looked at the concrete remains of dugouts at the bottom of the half-filled ditches which were the trenches of WWI, that 90 years ago the place was one of utter carnage. There is no sensation of horror, just one of tranquillity. The re-growth (or re-planting) of the trees which were decimated seems to have restored a sense of serenity to the whole area. All around one can clearly see the craters caused by the bombardment of one side or the other, but somehow they have turned into shady little dingles amongst the trees. The whole place seems so benign that it takes an enormous leap of the imagination to picture the horror that it was. Nature appears to have drawn a veil over the whole episode and quite right too, but it is hard to juxtapose the two views that on the one hand we must move on and on the other that we should never forget!
After all, within 21 years of all this carnage, the world was at it again in WWII. You can hardly credit it. And of course it is still going on, thankfully to a lesser (or perhaps more contained) extent now, but nevertheless just as barbaric. Will the human race ever become civilised?
So ends Thought for the Day! (Louise).
However, we headed back to the boat in time for lunch, having cycled (and pushed our bikes) some 10 kilometres in increasing heat. The heat just rose and rose and this turned out to be the hottest day of the year so far. The temperature reached 42oC! and how we needed the shade of a silo tower at our mooring at the campsite but some nearby small trees gave us somewhere to cower off the boat.
After a couple of days there we decided it was time to move on, and besides, we could do with some water, so we headed off back upstream to the town moorings, and lookee! – 10.30 am and plenty of room for a big-un. So we spent our 4th night in St Mihiel giving us a chance to recover from the day before. We could also take on free water and electricity, stock up again, and have a closer look at the so-called ‘Seven Ladies of the Meuse’ a row of natural monoliths like buttes, standing proud above the river course, one of which we climbed. Maximum temperature this day 24oC – nearly twenty degrees lower than the day before!
Our next stop in this gentle cruise up the River Meuse was Sampigny, a small village whose main claim to fame was a derelict château, which was basically a complete ruin, but a notice stated that the owners would be happy to give a tour and more information if you rang them. We decided against this for obvious reasons, but when Alex spotted a sign at the entrance to the château which read ‘Privé. Entrée interdit’. He said, ‘Sod that’ and headed off up it! Louise, being a ‘good girl’ left him to it. Actually the building looked so decrepit that even the click of the camera might have been enough to bring it crashing down!
Our next stop was Commercy, in which a very much extant Stanislav Château was situated. The tourist information centre, housed in one of the wings of the château, gave us free wi-fi which we used three times in two days, to post blogs and catch up. The town also boasted an Olympic sized velodrome right next to our mooring and a rather classy looking boys’ school, formerly a priory!
Next day we stopped for lunch as it was getting late, and nowhere better presented itself than one of the hell-holes we occasionally see here in France – a vast open-cast lime extraction operation. The whole area was covered in a layer of white dust and the works themselves were a total blot on the landscape.
When we reached the junction of the River Meuse and the Canal de la Marne au Rhin, we decided to make a 6km detour to Void, partly because we needed to put in time and partly because we had been told that there was an unlocked wi-fi signal available from the moorings there. So all in all, we could not avoid Void!
As is often the unpredictable nature of moorings, the place was packed but we eventually managed to attract the attention of Peter and Ann on Anneter (they took the P out of their two names!) and we rafted up alongside them. The usual drinks ensued that evening with the four of us and another British couple, Bill and Jan from an unlikely named boat Keolanui (previously owned by a Hawaiian or some such) and had a good chin-wag. All the boats left the next day except Keolanui so Bill and Jan came for drinks with us, and more chat. They left the next day and then we became the only boat on the mooring. Full to empty in two days!
Oh and by the way, the wi-fi was unlocked and available! (Obsessed or what?!!)
When we retraced our steps and got down to Pagny-sur-Meuse the moorings were empty so no problem there, but by the evening the whole pontoon was taken by four British boats (sometimes you just can’t get away from us!).
However, Toul beckoned, so next day we made a fairly early start for the tunnel and 14 locks ahead, and arrived in the Port de France marina at about 1pm, where we wanted to stop till we had sussed out the Lorraine Marine mooring where we are going to winter.
Port de France was organised primarily for cruisers under 15m and it looked pretty full. However, a helpful Dutch guy encouraged us to moor on the end of a pontoon – which we did – nearly destroying it in the process, and from this rather precarious position we struggled the bikes off to reccee the scene.
Toul promises to be an interesting (historical) town with mostly intact and very substantial city ramparts and an impressive cathedral but it is nothing like the size of Gent which we enjoyed so much last winter. As we are going to be here for some months we must limit ourselves as to how much we explore each day or we will run out of interesting diversions, though having the car here will mean we can go much further afield.
Now we are preparing for a trip back to the UK for 10 days followed immediately by a visit from our boating friends Mike and Jean, who arrive on the day after we ourselves get back to Riccall.
We left Verdun and headed off further up the River Meuse, arriving at Dieue sur Meuse for a late lunch. It was a nice place to moor, albeit on the edge of a village housing estate, but still peaceful. We did our usual recce of the village on our bikes and found, up a lovely little lane, a rather nice old mill which had been turned into a Gîte de France holiday ‘cottage’. However, what we missed, because it wasn’t marked on our canal map and we had forgotten to look at the French version of the Ordnance Survey map, was an old fort which appeared not to have been appropriated by anyone and therefore free to explore, unlike the one at our next mooring Fort Troyon.
If we return from our UK trip by car, the fort near Dieue will definitely be on our list of look-ats.
Fort Troyon mooring itself was truly lovely, proper bollards in a small clearing in the trees, a barbeque (if you wanted it) two picnic tables and a rubbish bin. It was miles from anywhere, clearly only used by occasional boats, and only a couple of miles from Fort Troyon, where we learned from our booklet that the French had held out heroically against a huge bombardment by the Germans for seven continuous days before eventually the Germans gave up. The fall of this fort would have allowed the Germans to encircle Verdun and capture that too.
Sadly our visit had to be by guided tour, and though we were promised some English explanation along with the French, this was not forthcoming. They knew and we knew that if no English was on offer we would not have paid our €8 for the tour so they just lied to us! Very annoying. We later learned from a lock keeper that the fort is actually privately owned and belongs to a guy from the village of Lacroix sur Meuse a few kilometres further on (and run vaguely under the auspices of the authority which oversees all the WWI sites). This came as no surprise to Alex who was convinced from the start that the whole place was a con!
St Mihiel was our next destination and as we neared it we noticed a campsite with a quay and a sign saying ‘ACCOSTAGE BATEAUX’. As we steamed past, Louise looked up ‘accostage’ and discovered it meant literally ‘boats come alongside’. However we were past it by then and so continued to the town quay, which was full, but the silo quay opposite and through the bridge was empty, so with some uncertainty we moored there. The only downside was no water or electricity, no sun after 3pm and a faint but all-pervading distasteful smell! The next day we returned by bike to the campsite to suss it out. Yes, we could moor for free, and have electricity for €2.60 per night. Fair enough. We went back for Riccall and retraced our path downstream. The only downside here was, as we discovered next day, no shade until well after 6pm.
Next day we decided to visit some re-created trenches which were recommended by Tourist Information and started off at 9 am before it got too hot. The Tourist Info lady (clearly a car driver) had said that the road to the trenches was fairly level. It wasn’t! After 3 kms of uphill struggle we decided to abandon that particular goal and went off at a tangent to an unreconstructed trench – La Tranchée de la Soif’ where the French had endured three days without food or water, before surrendering.
It’s difficult to imagine, as we walked through the placid and peaceful leafy area, and looked at the concrete remains of dugouts at the bottom of the half-filled ditches which were the trenches of WWI, that 90 years ago the place was one of utter carnage. There is no sensation of horror, just one of tranquillity. The re-growth (or re-planting) of the trees which were decimated seems to have restored a sense of serenity to the whole area. All around one can clearly see the craters caused by the bombardment of one side or the other, but somehow they have turned into shady little dingles amongst the trees. The whole place seems so benign that it takes an enormous leap of the imagination to picture the horror that it was. Nature appears to have drawn a veil over the whole episode and quite right too, but it is hard to juxtapose the two views that on the one hand we must move on and on the other that we should never forget!
After all, within 21 years of all this carnage, the world was at it again in WWII. You can hardly credit it. And of course it is still going on, thankfully to a lesser (or perhaps more contained) extent now, but nevertheless just as barbaric. Will the human race ever become civilised?
So ends Thought for the Day! (Louise).
However, we headed back to the boat in time for lunch, having cycled (and pushed our bikes) some 10 kilometres in increasing heat. The heat just rose and rose and this turned out to be the hottest day of the year so far. The temperature reached 42oC! and how we needed the shade of a silo tower at our mooring at the campsite but some nearby small trees gave us somewhere to cower off the boat.
After a couple of days there we decided it was time to move on, and besides, we could do with some water, so we headed off back upstream to the town moorings, and lookee! – 10.30 am and plenty of room for a big-un. So we spent our 4th night in St Mihiel giving us a chance to recover from the day before. We could also take on free water and electricity, stock up again, and have a closer look at the so-called ‘Seven Ladies of the Meuse’ a row of natural monoliths like buttes, standing proud above the river course, one of which we climbed. Maximum temperature this day 24oC – nearly twenty degrees lower than the day before!
Our next stop in this gentle cruise up the River Meuse was Sampigny, a small village whose main claim to fame was a derelict château, which was basically a complete ruin, but a notice stated that the owners would be happy to give a tour and more information if you rang them. We decided against this for obvious reasons, but when Alex spotted a sign at the entrance to the château which read ‘Privé. Entrée interdit’. He said, ‘Sod that’ and headed off up it! Louise, being a ‘good girl’ left him to it. Actually the building looked so decrepit that even the click of the camera might have been enough to bring it crashing down!
Our next stop was Commercy, in which a very much extant Stanislav Château was situated. The tourist information centre, housed in one of the wings of the château, gave us free wi-fi which we used three times in two days, to post blogs and catch up. The town also boasted an Olympic sized velodrome right next to our mooring and a rather classy looking boys’ school, formerly a priory!
Next day we stopped for lunch as it was getting late, and nowhere better presented itself than one of the hell-holes we occasionally see here in France – a vast open-cast lime extraction operation. The whole area was covered in a layer of white dust and the works themselves were a total blot on the landscape.
When we reached the junction of the River Meuse and the Canal de la Marne au Rhin, we decided to make a 6km detour to Void, partly because we needed to put in time and partly because we had been told that there was an unlocked wi-fi signal available from the moorings there. So all in all, we could not avoid Void!
As is often the unpredictable nature of moorings, the place was packed but we eventually managed to attract the attention of Peter and Ann on Anneter (they took the P out of their two names!) and we rafted up alongside them. The usual drinks ensued that evening with the four of us and another British couple, Bill and Jan from an unlikely named boat Keolanui (previously owned by a Hawaiian or some such) and had a good chin-wag. All the boats left the next day except Keolanui so Bill and Jan came for drinks with us, and more chat. They left the next day and then we became the only boat on the mooring. Full to empty in two days!
Oh and by the way, the wi-fi was unlocked and available! (Obsessed or what?!!)
When we retraced our steps and got down to Pagny-sur-Meuse the moorings were empty so no problem there, but by the evening the whole pontoon was taken by four British boats (sometimes you just can’t get away from us!).
However, Toul beckoned, so next day we made a fairly early start for the tunnel and 14 locks ahead, and arrived in the Port de France marina at about 1pm, where we wanted to stop till we had sussed out the Lorraine Marine mooring where we are going to winter.
Port de France was organised primarily for cruisers under 15m and it looked pretty full. However, a helpful Dutch guy encouraged us to moor on the end of a pontoon – which we did – nearly destroying it in the process, and from this rather precarious position we struggled the bikes off to reccee the scene.
Toul promises to be an interesting (historical) town with mostly intact and very substantial city ramparts and an impressive cathedral but it is nothing like the size of Gent which we enjoyed so much last winter. As we are going to be here for some months we must limit ourselves as to how much we explore each day or we will run out of interesting diversions, though having the car here will mean we can go much further afield.
Now we are preparing for a trip back to the UK for 10 days followed immediately by a visit from our boating friends Mike and Jean, who arrive on the day after we ourselves get back to Riccall.
Monday, 24 August 2009
In Verdun
River Meuse
When we reached Verdun we had moored up in the old commercial port because there was room there and we knew that the Port de Plaisance would probably be pretty full. We were helped by the owners of a lovely Dutch tjalk (Arum) already there – Jack and Marieke. Later we cycled down to the town moorings and Alex spotted on the opposite bank a narrow boat. “Look!” he said, “it’s Lady Camellia”, and the next minute nearly fell of his bike as an unnoticed step in the quay got under his wheels! Sure enough, on reaching the other quay, we discovered Peep (pronounced pape) and Yvon moored up and having early evening drinks. Well, drinks for all followed, and they said that they intended to leave the next day at around 11 o’clock and if we timed it right, we could move into their space. Alex paced it out and, yes, there was just enough room.
As it turned out the boat behind them left at about 10.30am so we hightailed it down to the space and just made it ahead of a very determined hire boat coming the other way.
Yvon and Peep came for morning coffee and decided that as the weather was a bit iffy they would wait till the next day to leave, and accepted our invitation to come for supper with us that night.
We spent the rest of the day at the Tourist Information Centre where there was free wi-fi access allowing us to post the latest blog, and later at the various supermarkets in the area to restock.
We had a lovely evening, eating outside in the balmy weather, and the following day we had morning coffee on Lady Camellia, then waved them off on their continuing cruise, and we headed for the Tourist Office to catch the hop-on, hop-off bus up to the battlefields of Verdun.
The first stop was at the Verdun Memorial, where, inside an enormous monolith of a building was housed a fascinating historical exhibition of the 1914-18 period, as well as details of the events leading up to the outbreak of war.
Next stop was the Douamont Fort, which was an enormous, largely underground structure. The fort proved to be an unbelievably large rabbit warren of damp and dripping corridors and rooms which at one time were home to upwards of 3000 soldiers. Conditions must have been terrible, even allowing for the deterioration of the structure in the intervening years. The fort was one of several which had been built for protection after the Franco Prussian War when France was feeling jumpy about her position in Europe. In the event the French powers-that-be decided that fixed forts were not the way to fight this new war, and abandoned it to a force of only 60 or so personnel. The Germans were astonished to be able to take it so easily, and the French (for some unaccountable reason) were equally astonished that it had been lost so quickly.
Many, many French lives were lost retaking what they realised too late was an important strategic position.
The whole area round Verdun was turned into a sort of lunar landscape of absolute destruction – with nine villages totally destroyed and never re-built – by the massive thrust of the German army and the determined defence by the French and eventually the Americans. The total death toll for all nations in the Battle of Verdun was 700,000. Many of those killed had no known grave of course, and shortly after the end of WWI the authorities decided that it was right that all the remains of the dead be collected and housed in an ossuary, which they built on the top of a hill, another massive structure.
All these visits were, of course, very sombre – not the usual happy touristy day out, but we felt it was right to pay our own respects and in all cases, the sites were very suitably run – no food, drink, music, camping etc allowed.
It happens that Alex has just read, and Louise has just re-read ‘Testament of Youth’ by Vera Brittain. Alex has also just finished Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernière, both of which deal very much with this period of history and so the visit to the battlefield was even more poignant for us both.
The only amusing part of our visit to the museum, fort and ossuary was the hop-on-hop-off bus. The driver spoke no English at all and insisted on giving us and the only other two passengers a lengthy description of sights on the way up the hill, and when we would be able to ‘hop-on’ again. The first stop at the museum went OK and we did comprehend that he would be having his déjeuner and therefore would not be back for 2 hours. At the appointed time, we caught the bus up to the Fort. At this point we must have mis-understood because we emerged from the Fort to see the bus disappearing down the road!
It was only a 2km walk in the hot sun to the next stop and we made it OK to the little vastly over-priced bar/restaurant where we shared a ‘croque monsieur’ (ham and cheese toastie by any other name) choosing to visit the Ossuary next. As we set off we again saw the bus disappearing in that direction, but just beyond hailing distance and so had to walk the 1 km or so to it. After the Ossuary (complete with film and tower to climb) we walked the one and a half kilometres to the Trenchée des Bayonettes, (actually a bit of a disappointment as we had expected a real, if renovated trench, which this was not) and then, looking at our watch, realised that we were not absolutely sure if there was a last bus back to Verdun!
We took up position at a crossroads (another 1km walk in the evening heat of the sun) where the bus must pass if there was to be a bus, and sure enough, half an hour later and almost as we were giving up hope and making other plans to get back to Verdun (15 miles away) – hitch a lift, look for an English car in the car park, try to find a taxi phone number etc! – the bus hove into view. To ensure he didn’t just drive past, Louise got out our ticket and stood almost on the road waving it at the driver. Bus stopped! Driver and passengers laughed, Louise said “Halleluja, Halleluja” and spontaneously kissed the bus driver à la Francais, which caused great mirth both for him and the other two on board! We all laughed and agreed in our pigeon French that we were pretty exhausted and desperate not to miss our transport home.
Of course, we have also visited other places of interest in Verdun itself – a rather disappointing visit to the Citadel, which we expected to be another labyrinth of tunnels, but which turned out to be a rather tacky ghost-train-like ride on a guided carriage with pre-recorded scenes from the war excruciatingly acted or displayed at various intervals and utilising only a tiny part of what is a massive installation. Poor show Verdun. The Cathedral of Notre Dame, the War Memorials which are everywhere, the beautiful covered market and of course the various canals and rivers branching off the Meuse were also part of our itinerary. So all in all, we have fair done Verdun!
When we reached Verdun we had moored up in the old commercial port because there was room there and we knew that the Port de Plaisance would probably be pretty full. We were helped by the owners of a lovely Dutch tjalk (Arum) already there – Jack and Marieke. Later we cycled down to the town moorings and Alex spotted on the opposite bank a narrow boat. “Look!” he said, “it’s Lady Camellia”, and the next minute nearly fell of his bike as an unnoticed step in the quay got under his wheels! Sure enough, on reaching the other quay, we discovered Peep (pronounced pape) and Yvon moored up and having early evening drinks. Well, drinks for all followed, and they said that they intended to leave the next day at around 11 o’clock and if we timed it right, we could move into their space. Alex paced it out and, yes, there was just enough room.
As it turned out the boat behind them left at about 10.30am so we hightailed it down to the space and just made it ahead of a very determined hire boat coming the other way.
Yvon and Peep came for morning coffee and decided that as the weather was a bit iffy they would wait till the next day to leave, and accepted our invitation to come for supper with us that night.
We spent the rest of the day at the Tourist Information Centre where there was free wi-fi access allowing us to post the latest blog, and later at the various supermarkets in the area to restock.
We had a lovely evening, eating outside in the balmy weather, and the following day we had morning coffee on Lady Camellia, then waved them off on their continuing cruise, and we headed for the Tourist Office to catch the hop-on, hop-off bus up to the battlefields of Verdun.
The first stop was at the Verdun Memorial, where, inside an enormous monolith of a building was housed a fascinating historical exhibition of the 1914-18 period, as well as details of the events leading up to the outbreak of war.
Next stop was the Douamont Fort, which was an enormous, largely underground structure. The fort proved to be an unbelievably large rabbit warren of damp and dripping corridors and rooms which at one time were home to upwards of 3000 soldiers. Conditions must have been terrible, even allowing for the deterioration of the structure in the intervening years. The fort was one of several which had been built for protection after the Franco Prussian War when France was feeling jumpy about her position in Europe. In the event the French powers-that-be decided that fixed forts were not the way to fight this new war, and abandoned it to a force of only 60 or so personnel. The Germans were astonished to be able to take it so easily, and the French (for some unaccountable reason) were equally astonished that it had been lost so quickly.
Many, many French lives were lost retaking what they realised too late was an important strategic position.
The whole area round Verdun was turned into a sort of lunar landscape of absolute destruction – with nine villages totally destroyed and never re-built – by the massive thrust of the German army and the determined defence by the French and eventually the Americans. The total death toll for all nations in the Battle of Verdun was 700,000. Many of those killed had no known grave of course, and shortly after the end of WWI the authorities decided that it was right that all the remains of the dead be collected and housed in an ossuary, which they built on the top of a hill, another massive structure.
All these visits were, of course, very sombre – not the usual happy touristy day out, but we felt it was right to pay our own respects and in all cases, the sites were very suitably run – no food, drink, music, camping etc allowed.
It happens that Alex has just read, and Louise has just re-read ‘Testament of Youth’ by Vera Brittain. Alex has also just finished Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernière, both of which deal very much with this period of history and so the visit to the battlefield was even more poignant for us both.
The only amusing part of our visit to the museum, fort and ossuary was the hop-on-hop-off bus. The driver spoke no English at all and insisted on giving us and the only other two passengers a lengthy description of sights on the way up the hill, and when we would be able to ‘hop-on’ again. The first stop at the museum went OK and we did comprehend that he would be having his déjeuner and therefore would not be back for 2 hours. At the appointed time, we caught the bus up to the Fort. At this point we must have mis-understood because we emerged from the Fort to see the bus disappearing down the road!
It was only a 2km walk in the hot sun to the next stop and we made it OK to the little vastly over-priced bar/restaurant where we shared a ‘croque monsieur’ (ham and cheese toastie by any other name) choosing to visit the Ossuary next. As we set off we again saw the bus disappearing in that direction, but just beyond hailing distance and so had to walk the 1 km or so to it. After the Ossuary (complete with film and tower to climb) we walked the one and a half kilometres to the Trenchée des Bayonettes, (actually a bit of a disappointment as we had expected a real, if renovated trench, which this was not) and then, looking at our watch, realised that we were not absolutely sure if there was a last bus back to Verdun!
We took up position at a crossroads (another 1km walk in the evening heat of the sun) where the bus must pass if there was to be a bus, and sure enough, half an hour later and almost as we were giving up hope and making other plans to get back to Verdun (15 miles away) – hitch a lift, look for an English car in the car park, try to find a taxi phone number etc! – the bus hove into view. To ensure he didn’t just drive past, Louise got out our ticket and stood almost on the road waving it at the driver. Bus stopped! Driver and passengers laughed, Louise said “Halleluja, Halleluja” and spontaneously kissed the bus driver à la Francais, which caused great mirth both for him and the other two on board! We all laughed and agreed in our pigeon French that we were pretty exhausted and desperate not to miss our transport home.
Of course, we have also visited other places of interest in Verdun itself – a rather disappointing visit to the Citadel, which we expected to be another labyrinth of tunnels, but which turned out to be a rather tacky ghost-train-like ride on a guided carriage with pre-recorded scenes from the war excruciatingly acted or displayed at various intervals and utilising only a tiny part of what is a massive installation. Poor show Verdun. The Cathedral of Notre Dame, the War Memorials which are everywhere, the beautiful covered market and of course the various canals and rivers branching off the Meuse were also part of our itinerary. So all in all, we have fair done Verdun!
Friday, 14 August 2009
Sedan to Verdun
(Nothing for ages then two postings in two days!) River Meuse
We felt a bit nervous about how we were going to extract ourselves from the moorings at Sedan when we left, but in the event we reversed out at high speed and spun Riccall in her own length and headed off up river like real professionals. It’s nice when it works out OK (even if Riccall did behave quite differently from what we expected).
We moored above the lock before a village called Mouzon. Our information told us there was a Halte Fluvial 800 metres further on, but it also mentioned the very narrow entrance and we were concerned we might not get in (or out). We were glad we had stopped where we did, because looking at the moorings by bike it was clear we would have had no chance. Mouzon is a lovely small town with a fantastic church, beautifully cobbled streets, and an air of peace and tranquillity.
Unfortunately, our mooring a kilometre before the village was downwind of a 24-hour factory producing God knows what, but a continual oppressive factory noise was punctuated every so often by a let-off of steam or something at high volume!
In addition to that, the farmer decided that 10.30pm was just the right time to harvest his crop of corn directly across the canal and, with headlights blazing, in moved the combine harvester, bailer and grain pick up wagons. Louise was glad that by 2.00 am they had finished! Alex, asleep and oblivious with the help of French wine, was awakened by yet another let-off of steam at 7.00 am.
The next mooring, arrived at within a couple of hours of setting off from Mouzon, has to rate as another 9.5 out of 10 spot. Miles from anywhere, another idyllic deserted lock cottage, shade from a few trees, picnic tables, bollards at a sensible distance apart, and to cap it all, in the hot sunshine a display from four individuals with paragliders of how to ride the thermals. They threw themselves off a clearing high up in the woods opposite and after the first attempts in late morning when they were only up for about 15 to 30 minutes, they all managed to get airborne in the afternoon and stayed up for hours, the last one only landing after 6.00 pm. We watched him flying back and forth and up and down for a full four and a half hours, at one point disappearing over the horizon only to reappear 90 minutes later. Incredible!
As evening approached we were joined on the mooring by Roger (DBA Continental Events Coordinator) and Louise Lamothe on ‘The River’ who we must thank for many of the mooring suggestions which appear in the DBA mooring guide.
We left Mouzon at about 10 o’clock which is as early as we ever do, and after another uneventful but picturesque day, arrived at Mouzay where we moored on peniche spaced bollards above the lock.
The water in the canal, at this stage, had become almost completely clear, which gave us the chance to look at the propeller and check that all was well. We had suffered some overheating of the stern tube and were looking for possible reasons. As far as we could see there was no obvious reason and in the end Alex just loosened the packing glad a bit and this seemed to do the trick.
We stayed two nights at Mouzay, taking advantage of the nice weather and clean water to finish off the roof above the saloon: scraping off all the old paint, sanding down and re-undercoating, hoovering up all the loose dust then washing off the remainder from every exterior surface. What a job!
We are in an intensely rural area at the moment and this is brought home to us time and time again by the number of combine harvesters, tractors and trailers etc. which are buzzing around the countryside beside the canal at the moment, which is of course the height of the harvest.
Like Mouzon, Mouzay is no exception in this respect, and tractors and trailers were trundling back and forth across the bridge over the lock till well after 10 pm leading huge mountains of rolled up straw.
We stopped for lunch on a very ancient quay, where we used a distant fence post and tree (Sacré Bleu!) to secure lines fore and aft, in the sure and certain knowledge that this canal has not seen any commercial péniches for years. Well, of course, we had barely started our post-meal coffees when one appeared lumbering down the canal! Fortunately, the ropes held as it slid past but it did give us some concern, not to mention Monsieur et Madame on the péniche!
In the late afternoon we arrived at Consenvoye where we had hoped to moor for the night and stopped before the lock. We were now on a section where the locks are all manually operated by VNF éclusiers, but this one wasn’t ready for us and appeared deserted. Alex spotted the lock keeper and his entire family group of about 20 just tucking into that typical French meal on tables under the trees so didn’t disturb him. On further investigation, the Halte Nautique above the lock would have been very difficult for us to get into (or out of) so we were happy to stay put below.
We got the bikes out to investigate our surroundings and decided that the Cimitière Américaine might be worth a visit. Having crested one summit after another and still no sign of it, and yet another summit in the distance, we decided to give up on that jaunt, but on the way back we discovered an old railway line with an unmanned crossing. Alex noticed that the lines showed some signs of use, but not much. A few minutes later a couple of ‘velo-wagons’ appeared. These are peddle-operated bogeys that were available for hire to ‘cycle’ down a 3 km stretch of redundant railway line. It did all look rather fun and the families using them were a jolly lot – much laughter. A short time later we were at the depot ‘gare’ investigating cost etc when a cavalcade of motorcycles rode past on the nearby road. At the junction, each one blew his ‘horn’, and each had a different sound – the first a whinnying horse, followed by a donkey, Colonel Bogey, a police siren and then Tarzan. What a joke!
The next day, at one of the manual locks, we noticed fours cars parked and six adults waiting around. The éclusière here was a young girl of about 18. Her grandmother explained that she was just starting her vac. job and the whole family was helping her out, till she learnt the ropes – father and uncle on the sluices, mother and aunt on the gates, granny and grandpa watching! It was wonderful but today, of course, they’ll all be at work and she’ll be on her own!
As we passed through the locks, heading for Verdun, we hadn’t seen any other boats till suddenly at one lock a British owned barge called Kikkervis (tadpole) emerged and we passed each other with friendly waves, then out of the next lock Varlyon emerged. Alex and Lenny had a brief chat on the radio (much to the chagrin of some unknown French person who kept butting in). I mean, honestly, there hasn’t been a peep out of the radio for two weeks! We were hardly taking up valuable air-time.
But it was impossible to stop and catch up properly so we just waved and carried on, eventually reaching Verdun’s old Port du Commerce to moor at about 4.30pm – a long day for us.
We felt a bit nervous about how we were going to extract ourselves from the moorings at Sedan when we left, but in the event we reversed out at high speed and spun Riccall in her own length and headed off up river like real professionals. It’s nice when it works out OK (even if Riccall did behave quite differently from what we expected).
We moored above the lock before a village called Mouzon. Our information told us there was a Halte Fluvial 800 metres further on, but it also mentioned the very narrow entrance and we were concerned we might not get in (or out). We were glad we had stopped where we did, because looking at the moorings by bike it was clear we would have had no chance. Mouzon is a lovely small town with a fantastic church, beautifully cobbled streets, and an air of peace and tranquillity.
Unfortunately, our mooring a kilometre before the village was downwind of a 24-hour factory producing God knows what, but a continual oppressive factory noise was punctuated every so often by a let-off of steam or something at high volume!
In addition to that, the farmer decided that 10.30pm was just the right time to harvest his crop of corn directly across the canal and, with headlights blazing, in moved the combine harvester, bailer and grain pick up wagons. Louise was glad that by 2.00 am they had finished! Alex, asleep and oblivious with the help of French wine, was awakened by yet another let-off of steam at 7.00 am.
The next mooring, arrived at within a couple of hours of setting off from Mouzon, has to rate as another 9.5 out of 10 spot. Miles from anywhere, another idyllic deserted lock cottage, shade from a few trees, picnic tables, bollards at a sensible distance apart, and to cap it all, in the hot sunshine a display from four individuals with paragliders of how to ride the thermals. They threw themselves off a clearing high up in the woods opposite and after the first attempts in late morning when they were only up for about 15 to 30 minutes, they all managed to get airborne in the afternoon and stayed up for hours, the last one only landing after 6.00 pm. We watched him flying back and forth and up and down for a full four and a half hours, at one point disappearing over the horizon only to reappear 90 minutes later. Incredible!
As evening approached we were joined on the mooring by Roger (DBA Continental Events Coordinator) and Louise Lamothe on ‘The River’ who we must thank for many of the mooring suggestions which appear in the DBA mooring guide.
We left Mouzon at about 10 o’clock which is as early as we ever do, and after another uneventful but picturesque day, arrived at Mouzay where we moored on peniche spaced bollards above the lock.
The water in the canal, at this stage, had become almost completely clear, which gave us the chance to look at the propeller and check that all was well. We had suffered some overheating of the stern tube and were looking for possible reasons. As far as we could see there was no obvious reason and in the end Alex just loosened the packing glad a bit and this seemed to do the trick.
We stayed two nights at Mouzay, taking advantage of the nice weather and clean water to finish off the roof above the saloon: scraping off all the old paint, sanding down and re-undercoating, hoovering up all the loose dust then washing off the remainder from every exterior surface. What a job!
We are in an intensely rural area at the moment and this is brought home to us time and time again by the number of combine harvesters, tractors and trailers etc. which are buzzing around the countryside beside the canal at the moment, which is of course the height of the harvest.
Like Mouzon, Mouzay is no exception in this respect, and tractors and trailers were trundling back and forth across the bridge over the lock till well after 10 pm leading huge mountains of rolled up straw.
We stopped for lunch on a very ancient quay, where we used a distant fence post and tree (Sacré Bleu!) to secure lines fore and aft, in the sure and certain knowledge that this canal has not seen any commercial péniches for years. Well, of course, we had barely started our post-meal coffees when one appeared lumbering down the canal! Fortunately, the ropes held as it slid past but it did give us some concern, not to mention Monsieur et Madame on the péniche!
In the late afternoon we arrived at Consenvoye where we had hoped to moor for the night and stopped before the lock. We were now on a section where the locks are all manually operated by VNF éclusiers, but this one wasn’t ready for us and appeared deserted. Alex spotted the lock keeper and his entire family group of about 20 just tucking into that typical French meal on tables under the trees so didn’t disturb him. On further investigation, the Halte Nautique above the lock would have been very difficult for us to get into (or out of) so we were happy to stay put below.
We got the bikes out to investigate our surroundings and decided that the Cimitière Américaine might be worth a visit. Having crested one summit after another and still no sign of it, and yet another summit in the distance, we decided to give up on that jaunt, but on the way back we discovered an old railway line with an unmanned crossing. Alex noticed that the lines showed some signs of use, but not much. A few minutes later a couple of ‘velo-wagons’ appeared. These are peddle-operated bogeys that were available for hire to ‘cycle’ down a 3 km stretch of redundant railway line. It did all look rather fun and the families using them were a jolly lot – much laughter. A short time later we were at the depot ‘gare’ investigating cost etc when a cavalcade of motorcycles rode past on the nearby road. At the junction, each one blew his ‘horn’, and each had a different sound – the first a whinnying horse, followed by a donkey, Colonel Bogey, a police siren and then Tarzan. What a joke!
The next day, at one of the manual locks, we noticed fours cars parked and six adults waiting around. The éclusière here was a young girl of about 18. Her grandmother explained that she was just starting her vac. job and the whole family was helping her out, till she learnt the ropes – father and uncle on the sluices, mother and aunt on the gates, granny and grandpa watching! It was wonderful but today, of course, they’ll all be at work and she’ll be on her own!
As we passed through the locks, heading for Verdun, we hadn’t seen any other boats till suddenly at one lock a British owned barge called Kikkervis (tadpole) emerged and we passed each other with friendly waves, then out of the next lock Varlyon emerged. Alex and Lenny had a brief chat on the radio (much to the chagrin of some unknown French person who kept butting in). I mean, honestly, there hasn’t been a peep out of the radio for two weeks! We were hardly taking up valuable air-time.
But it was impossible to stop and catch up properly so we just waved and carried on, eventually reaching Verdun’s old Port du Commerce to moor at about 4.30pm – a long day for us.
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
Rethel to Sedan
Canal des Ardennes
We left Rethel after Will and Laura’s visit for an entirely uneventful day to Attigny, where we moored on the town moorings in a downpour at about 4 o’clock, the only boat there. However, at about 5.30 a Dutch cruiser joined us and on talking to them we learned that they also intended to tackle the flight of 27 locks the next day, but whereas we had been asked by the lockkeeper to start at 9 o’clock they were not going to begin before 9.30.
This suited us both as we agreed going through a chain of locks is quicker if you are alone than if you are going through each lock together. This is because you can’t start each lock operation until both of you have entered and both tied up etc, which takes nearly twice as long as if you were alone. So if water is not an issue (and at the moment there is masses) it is quicker alone. Sounds a bit strange, but it is true.
In this particular case there were a couple of hitches with the automatic operation of two locks and we had to radio VNF to fix the problems, but in the end we ascended the whole flight in just under 5 hours.
The Dutch cruiser behind us had rather more problems and it took them 8 hours! (The following day we learned one of the more troublesome locks was closed for repair, meaning that several of the descending boats had to wait at least another day.)
There was no room at the official town moorings at Le Chesne when we arrived but 100 metres further on we were able to moor on a disused quay, with the help of one Dutch guy who moved his cruiser forward the moment he saw us coming, to let us in. Our Dutch helpers (from the incident where Concordance had been such an arsehole) were also on hand, as was Englishman Richard from a moored Linssen boat who had seen us arrive, so with all their help and cooperation we were quickly tied up safely. Our faith in the help and camaraderie of other boaters is nearly restored!!
The town has a (poor) supermarket but we found a friendly internet café which let us use our own laptop to post the next blog (great) and a local ‘coiffure pour hommes’ where Alex had a ‘coupe ordinaire’ for €10.40. Despite the price Alex decided he just had to do it, even though it was around double the price of his English haircuts, but two-thirds of anything else he had seen in France!
One of the interesting features of the haircut (we can’t believe that we are discussing haircuts in this blog; what are things coming to?) was that the guy used hand clippers to do 80% of the cut, finishing off with three pairs of scissors and finally a cut-throat razor!! During that last bit Alex dares’n’t move a muscle. But at the end of it all it was an excellent haircut (if a little short). The result is to be seen in the pics below.
The Brits Richard and Jane were delayed by the lock closure and invited us for sociable drinks that evening where as usual we exchanged boaty stories.
We moved on to our quietest moorings so far, at a place called La Cassine, where the countryside stretched for miles around with no road, rail or airport within hearing.
Another short day and we were in Pont-à-Bar at the end of the Canal des Ardennes (River Meuse ahead) where we sensibly moored at the first available place, so we could go on by bike to suss the scene ahead. This turned out to have been a good move despite some lack of depth, because moorings above the lock were non-existent where the much needed fuel and water are on offer, and it would have been a pain to have had to go through the lock and then turn round and come back up for fuel and turn round … you get the picture!
On our way down here from the top of the 27 lock flight we encountered a couple of unladen commercials and just squeezed past them. How two laden commercials get past each other we have no idea. And while we have been moored here two fully laden commercials have sidled past one after the other so the canal is still used commercially, even if intermittently.
We have also met a German couple, Andy and Petra (Centurion) who have been here at this boatyard since September 2008, reworking a 14m barge, which they bought specifically to do the French canals. They love this area, The Ardennes, which is apparently largely overlooked by the French who prefer to go much further south, as it offers some of the most stunning scenery in France. We have loved the part we have passed through so far and shall see more as we venture further up the River Meuse.
However, on the 27 lock flight up the Le Chesne we did note (and take photos of) quite a number of abandoned lock cottages. We have yet to contact VNF to find out if it is possible to buy any of these, but none of them, so far, surpasses the one we saw just north of Reims, which we thought was just the bees’ knees. Unfortunately (can you believe it?) we neglected to take a photo of it, so stunned were we with its charm and beautiful setting. We really must ring the Reims branch of VNF where there is a lady who speaks good English, to find out if any deal is possible!
The River Meuse makes such a change from the Canal des Ardennes. It is so wide and river-like that it presents a different world, the like of which we haven’t seen since we turned off the Marne some months ago. However, the downside of this river is the lack of places to moor. You can usually rely on something either above or below each lock but on this stretch even these seem non-existent or pretty inaccessible.
In due course we arrived at Sedan and allowed the light current and wind to sweep us onto the pontoon moorings, which fortunately had a space that was Riccall sized available for us to moor on (even though our weight presented a testing time for the pontoon’s securing system – strong chains down to the river-bed – but they survived).
We liked Sedan, despite Marcel’s (Djamilar) description of it as a ‘focking city’! We found an SFR shop where the manageress spoke good English and helped us try to access Neuf wi-fi and she may have been successful! The tourist information shop had a free wi-fi connection where we could use our laptop as much as we wanted. The castle - a fortified chateau - is the biggest in Europe, and for €7.50 each we spent half a day looking round it with a hand-held guide in English to tell us all about it.
In addition to all that, within biking distance of the moorings were the ubiquitous Aldi, Lidl and a huge Leclerc hypermarket to build up our stores.
The mooring fees, which we would normally prefer to avoid, were €12.50 per night inclusive of water and electricity. Quite a lot, but every so often we like to give the batteries a long equalise charge to bring them back to best performance, which is something they don’t get from a few hours engine running or one and a half hour’s generator charge.
We left Rethel after Will and Laura’s visit for an entirely uneventful day to Attigny, where we moored on the town moorings in a downpour at about 4 o’clock, the only boat there. However, at about 5.30 a Dutch cruiser joined us and on talking to them we learned that they also intended to tackle the flight of 27 locks the next day, but whereas we had been asked by the lockkeeper to start at 9 o’clock they were not going to begin before 9.30.
This suited us both as we agreed going through a chain of locks is quicker if you are alone than if you are going through each lock together. This is because you can’t start each lock operation until both of you have entered and both tied up etc, which takes nearly twice as long as if you were alone. So if water is not an issue (and at the moment there is masses) it is quicker alone. Sounds a bit strange, but it is true.
In this particular case there were a couple of hitches with the automatic operation of two locks and we had to radio VNF to fix the problems, but in the end we ascended the whole flight in just under 5 hours.
The Dutch cruiser behind us had rather more problems and it took them 8 hours! (The following day we learned one of the more troublesome locks was closed for repair, meaning that several of the descending boats had to wait at least another day.)
There was no room at the official town moorings at Le Chesne when we arrived but 100 metres further on we were able to moor on a disused quay, with the help of one Dutch guy who moved his cruiser forward the moment he saw us coming, to let us in. Our Dutch helpers (from the incident where Concordance had been such an arsehole) were also on hand, as was Englishman Richard from a moored Linssen boat who had seen us arrive, so with all their help and cooperation we were quickly tied up safely. Our faith in the help and camaraderie of other boaters is nearly restored!!
The town has a (poor) supermarket but we found a friendly internet café which let us use our own laptop to post the next blog (great) and a local ‘coiffure pour hommes’ where Alex had a ‘coupe ordinaire’ for €10.40. Despite the price Alex decided he just had to do it, even though it was around double the price of his English haircuts, but two-thirds of anything else he had seen in France!
One of the interesting features of the haircut (we can’t believe that we are discussing haircuts in this blog; what are things coming to?) was that the guy used hand clippers to do 80% of the cut, finishing off with three pairs of scissors and finally a cut-throat razor!! During that last bit Alex dares’n’t move a muscle. But at the end of it all it was an excellent haircut (if a little short). The result is to be seen in the pics below.
The Brits Richard and Jane were delayed by the lock closure and invited us for sociable drinks that evening where as usual we exchanged boaty stories.
We moved on to our quietest moorings so far, at a place called La Cassine, where the countryside stretched for miles around with no road, rail or airport within hearing.
Another short day and we were in Pont-à-Bar at the end of the Canal des Ardennes (River Meuse ahead) where we sensibly moored at the first available place, so we could go on by bike to suss the scene ahead. This turned out to have been a good move despite some lack of depth, because moorings above the lock were non-existent where the much needed fuel and water are on offer, and it would have been a pain to have had to go through the lock and then turn round and come back up for fuel and turn round … you get the picture!
On our way down here from the top of the 27 lock flight we encountered a couple of unladen commercials and just squeezed past them. How two laden commercials get past each other we have no idea. And while we have been moored here two fully laden commercials have sidled past one after the other so the canal is still used commercially, even if intermittently.
We have also met a German couple, Andy and Petra (Centurion) who have been here at this boatyard since September 2008, reworking a 14m barge, which they bought specifically to do the French canals. They love this area, The Ardennes, which is apparently largely overlooked by the French who prefer to go much further south, as it offers some of the most stunning scenery in France. We have loved the part we have passed through so far and shall see more as we venture further up the River Meuse.
However, on the 27 lock flight up the Le Chesne we did note (and take photos of) quite a number of abandoned lock cottages. We have yet to contact VNF to find out if it is possible to buy any of these, but none of them, so far, surpasses the one we saw just north of Reims, which we thought was just the bees’ knees. Unfortunately (can you believe it?) we neglected to take a photo of it, so stunned were we with its charm and beautiful setting. We really must ring the Reims branch of VNF where there is a lady who speaks good English, to find out if any deal is possible!
The River Meuse makes such a change from the Canal des Ardennes. It is so wide and river-like that it presents a different world, the like of which we haven’t seen since we turned off the Marne some months ago. However, the downside of this river is the lack of places to moor. You can usually rely on something either above or below each lock but on this stretch even these seem non-existent or pretty inaccessible.
In due course we arrived at Sedan and allowed the light current and wind to sweep us onto the pontoon moorings, which fortunately had a space that was Riccall sized available for us to moor on (even though our weight presented a testing time for the pontoon’s securing system – strong chains down to the river-bed – but they survived).
We liked Sedan, despite Marcel’s (Djamilar) description of it as a ‘focking city’! We found an SFR shop where the manageress spoke good English and helped us try to access Neuf wi-fi and she may have been successful! The tourist information shop had a free wi-fi connection where we could use our laptop as much as we wanted. The castle - a fortified chateau - is the biggest in Europe, and for €7.50 each we spent half a day looking round it with a hand-held guide in English to tell us all about it.
In addition to all that, within biking distance of the moorings were the ubiquitous Aldi, Lidl and a huge Leclerc hypermarket to build up our stores.
The mooring fees, which we would normally prefer to avoid, were €12.50 per night inclusive of water and electricity. Quite a lot, but every so often we like to give the batteries a long equalise charge to bring them back to best performance, which is something they don’t get from a few hours engine running or one and a half hour’s generator charge.
Tuesday, 4 August 2009
Sillery to Rethel
Canal des Ardennes
All is not harmonious on the French canals !!!
Saturday dawned fair and wind-free. We started the preparations for setting off from Sillery.
The day before, two cruisers, one German and one Dutch, had arrived together. The German had moored in the finger mooring directly behind us (like us, next to the quay) and the Dutch guy moored between the two of us (also on the quay). Alex had mentioned to the Dutch fellow that we were moving off the next day and asked him if he would move his cruiser to let us out, to which he agreed.
So, as we made ready, his cruiser was still there, as he wandered up and down the quay watching us getting ready.
Alex said that we would like to leave now and could he move please. “I already have,” he said, indicating that he had moved a couple of metres nearer the German cruiser.
Alex pointed out that there still was not enough room for us to get Riccall out without a lot of shimmying about and going the whole distance past all the other (er …Tupperware) boats backwards. The Dutch guy then proceeded to tell Alex how to handle Riccall, and Alex pointed out that it was a hell of a sight easier for him to move his cruiser next to the German, where there was a proper mooring space. Dutchy wasn’t having it, whereupon Jeff from Whisper 1700 put in his two-penn’orth much to the distress of his wife Jane who advocated keeping well out of it! Louise then adopted her resolute tone and confronted him with a question, “Are you saying that you refuse to move your boat?” All the other boaters around were glaring at him by now, and with massive ill grace he stomped off and moved it!
Roger and Ann of Thirza, moored next to us, gave Alex 11/10 for diplomacy and not losing his temper and everybody else heaved a sigh of relief that sense had prevailed.
We made a safe and controlled exit and Alex made a point of thanking Dutchy very much for his help. (You can’t really afford to make serious enemies out of total wallies, because you tend to run into them again and again!)
At Reims we had a noisy mooring for the first night but there was a bill to pay at VNF and yet another trip to an SFR shop to sort out some more paperwork, which apparently hadn’t been sent on by the SFR shop in Mantes-la-Jolie where we set up the original contract. We also wanted to fit in more sightseeing in Reims including a visit to the tomb of St Remi in the Basiliqu de St Remi and a roof tour of Reims cathedral.
Then we moved a couple of ks to moor up beside Aldi where we could wheel the fully laden trolley right to the boat for unloading. We ended up at the end of a commercial mooring quay on the edge of town for a totally peaceful second night in Reims.
The following evening provided another mooring contretemps. We had eschewed a couple of possible moorings, it being still too early to stop, and set our sights on one said to be at Variscourt. When we arrived there were two cruisers there already, albeit moored well apart, but we thought there was just room for us behind the nearest one, a Belgian boat called Concordance. So we nosed in, and with the help offered by the other cruiser crew got our front rope onto a good bollard shared by Concordance. The back rope was going to have to go round a tree, and Alex and the helper were in the process of doing that when the front end of Riccall started to edge out a bit. This meant the front rope was going to tighten and touch the back of Concordance. Her ‘captain’, who had been sitting watching all this from a picnic table 25m, away with no intention of helping, or moving his boat forward a bit to make room, was up like a shot and across the grass quicker than you could say ‘Jack Rabbit’! He then proceeded to shout a torrent of abuse, we think in Flemish, and PHYSICALLY REMOVED OUR FRONT ROPE from the bollard. I mean, that is just not done. The rope had touched his boat but as it’s soft and silky while strong, hadn’t made so much as a scuff, much to the owner’s disappointment.
Alex took the decision that to start the whole manoeuvre again, with such a hostile little shit waiting to hurl abuse at the slightest excuse was not worth the hassle so we reluctantly left and carried on.
Little did we realise that we would not find anything suitable until after the locks had closed for the night, and then the next lock mooring place was pretty shallow and the bollards, when we eventually unearthed them from the undergrowth, were spaced far apart. We did however, finally moor up safely some three hours after our ‘difficulties’ with Concordance, and retreated to supper and bed totally exhausted.
In all the time we have been cruising until now we have found all the other boaters helpful and often prepared to go out of their way to be so. It’s a pity that we should come across a couple of horrors so close upon each other.
However, we arrived at Rethel in plenty of time to meet Alex’s son Will and girlfriend Laura and a pleasant weekend ensued, trundling back a short way to a brand new mooring above a lock in the depths of the country, shady trees to shelter from the hot sun and a pleasant little village a kilometre away. There we had a barbeque and spent a quiet second night before returning to Rethel to pop them on the train back to UK.
In true Riccall style however, we happened upon the town fete as we returned to Riccall after the train left, and included in the pics below is a flavour of the event.
P.S. Concordance, of course, means ‘agreement’. We don’t think we have ever come across a boat so inappropriately named!!!
All is not harmonious on the French canals !!!
Saturday dawned fair and wind-free. We started the preparations for setting off from Sillery.
The day before, two cruisers, one German and one Dutch, had arrived together. The German had moored in the finger mooring directly behind us (like us, next to the quay) and the Dutch guy moored between the two of us (also on the quay). Alex had mentioned to the Dutch fellow that we were moving off the next day and asked him if he would move his cruiser to let us out, to which he agreed.
So, as we made ready, his cruiser was still there, as he wandered up and down the quay watching us getting ready.
Alex said that we would like to leave now and could he move please. “I already have,” he said, indicating that he had moved a couple of metres nearer the German cruiser.
Alex pointed out that there still was not enough room for us to get Riccall out without a lot of shimmying about and going the whole distance past all the other (er …Tupperware) boats backwards. The Dutch guy then proceeded to tell Alex how to handle Riccall, and Alex pointed out that it was a hell of a sight easier for him to move his cruiser next to the German, where there was a proper mooring space. Dutchy wasn’t having it, whereupon Jeff from Whisper 1700 put in his two-penn’orth much to the distress of his wife Jane who advocated keeping well out of it! Louise then adopted her resolute tone and confronted him with a question, “Are you saying that you refuse to move your boat?” All the other boaters around were glaring at him by now, and with massive ill grace he stomped off and moved it!
Roger and Ann of Thirza, moored next to us, gave Alex 11/10 for diplomacy and not losing his temper and everybody else heaved a sigh of relief that sense had prevailed.
We made a safe and controlled exit and Alex made a point of thanking Dutchy very much for his help. (You can’t really afford to make serious enemies out of total wallies, because you tend to run into them again and again!)
At Reims we had a noisy mooring for the first night but there was a bill to pay at VNF and yet another trip to an SFR shop to sort out some more paperwork, which apparently hadn’t been sent on by the SFR shop in Mantes-la-Jolie where we set up the original contract. We also wanted to fit in more sightseeing in Reims including a visit to the tomb of St Remi in the Basiliqu de St Remi and a roof tour of Reims cathedral.
Then we moved a couple of ks to moor up beside Aldi where we could wheel the fully laden trolley right to the boat for unloading. We ended up at the end of a commercial mooring quay on the edge of town for a totally peaceful second night in Reims.
The following evening provided another mooring contretemps. We had eschewed a couple of possible moorings, it being still too early to stop, and set our sights on one said to be at Variscourt. When we arrived there were two cruisers there already, albeit moored well apart, but we thought there was just room for us behind the nearest one, a Belgian boat called Concordance. So we nosed in, and with the help offered by the other cruiser crew got our front rope onto a good bollard shared by Concordance. The back rope was going to have to go round a tree, and Alex and the helper were in the process of doing that when the front end of Riccall started to edge out a bit. This meant the front rope was going to tighten and touch the back of Concordance. Her ‘captain’, who had been sitting watching all this from a picnic table 25m, away with no intention of helping, or moving his boat forward a bit to make room, was up like a shot and across the grass quicker than you could say ‘Jack Rabbit’! He then proceeded to shout a torrent of abuse, we think in Flemish, and PHYSICALLY REMOVED OUR FRONT ROPE from the bollard. I mean, that is just not done. The rope had touched his boat but as it’s soft and silky while strong, hadn’t made so much as a scuff, much to the owner’s disappointment.
Alex took the decision that to start the whole manoeuvre again, with such a hostile little shit waiting to hurl abuse at the slightest excuse was not worth the hassle so we reluctantly left and carried on.
Little did we realise that we would not find anything suitable until after the locks had closed for the night, and then the next lock mooring place was pretty shallow and the bollards, when we eventually unearthed them from the undergrowth, were spaced far apart. We did however, finally moor up safely some three hours after our ‘difficulties’ with Concordance, and retreated to supper and bed totally exhausted.
In all the time we have been cruising until now we have found all the other boaters helpful and often prepared to go out of their way to be so. It’s a pity that we should come across a couple of horrors so close upon each other.
However, we arrived at Rethel in plenty of time to meet Alex’s son Will and girlfriend Laura and a pleasant weekend ensued, trundling back a short way to a brand new mooring above a lock in the depths of the country, shady trees to shelter from the hot sun and a pleasant little village a kilometre away. There we had a barbeque and spent a quiet second night before returning to Rethel to pop them on the train back to UK.
In true Riccall style however, we happened upon the town fete as we returned to Riccall after the train left, and included in the pics below is a flavour of the event.
P.S. Concordance, of course, means ‘agreement’. We don’t think we have ever come across a boat so inappropriately named!!!
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