St Jean de Losne to Macon

We set off from St Jean de Losne with a set of several moorings places in mind as we travelled down the Saône.

The first, at Ecluse Ecuelles, was as we suspected, completely impossible, as was the second at Seurre. Before the next, at Verdun sur le Doubs, were a couple of obsolete locks upriver of the town and as we passed them we thought, ‘Oh well, they might do’. We turned up the old river Doubs but the Port de Plaisance was packed and the only moorings left were impossible for us. We turned back up onto the main river, to look at the old locks but at the approach to the first one we immediately ran aground in the build up of silt, and realised this was going to be impossible as well. Luckily we managed to abort just before we became completely stuck.

We had one more unlikely possibility of a mooring on a pontoon at a place called Gergy, and failing that, it would be another three hours to the Canal du Centre and what was said to be a good spot about 8 kms and one lock up it! By this time we had decided a diversion onto the Canal du Centre would be a good idea anyway and it would also put in a bit of time so we would get to the Canal du Midi after the worst of the bumper boats had gone.

As we rounded the bend in the River Saône above Gergy, we could see the pontoon - and there was only one small boat on it! Halleluiah! Somewhere to moor and it’s still only 3.30 pm. There must be a god after all!

We moored up – plenty of depth – on a good solid pontoon: the other boat was moving off in an hour: it seems to be free. What ‘s the snag? No snag, it appears, apart from early morning fishermen clattering up and down the access ramp at 6.00 am!

One day further down the Saône and the mooring 7kms up the Canal du Centre at Fragnes is excellent – €6.20 per night including the all-important water and electricity and a free wi-fi connection. We decided to stay here for a few days and visit Chalon-sur-Saône by bicycle – a good decision as it turned out, as the moorings were again impossible for us.

The first day we ventured into Chalon at was at the weekend and there was a street festival taking place: hundreds of scruffy fans thronged the streets with their tents lining the banks of the river as far as the grass would allow. Stages were set up in all the squares and any other open space and people were milling about in anticipation. It was a colourful scene, but we had no idea what was going off where and when, and felt we would rather see Chalon when everything had calmed down. We had a drink on the waterfront and people-watched for a bit. This included watching a hotel barge come in to moor – amazing, all 110m of it, and all controlled by the captain standing outside his wheelhouse using a tiny joystick to control his monster.

We were sitting on the back deck having tea when a French couple stopped by to have a chat. Pierre spoke quite good English, Aveline his wife could understand English but not speak it. She did, however, speak French to us very slowly and clearly and we could understand most of what she was saying. They invited us to have a drink at their house and said they would collect us at 11.30 (it was then 10.30). Then Pierre said, ‘You have two hours to learn French”! So we wondered if he or we had the time wrong, but sure enough he arrived to collect us at 11.30 sharp and off we went for Premier Cru wine and nibbles for a couple of hours.

We, of course, invited them back for a return visit the next day and agreed on douze heure (12 o’clock’. Well, 12 o’clock came and went and we had lunch, assuming they had forgotten or something had cropped up. Then at 2 o’clock – deux heure they arrived!! Lost in translation evidently.

We also met a great couple called John and Hilary from the barge ISKRA (Russian for something but unfortunately we can’t remember what it was!). They had bought it as a sailaway and then fitted it out themselves. We had drinks and a meal together and found we had a lot in common. They come from the Nottingham area and of course, wouldn’t you guess – John knew our friend Brian Holdsworth who together with his wife Jill are the only people we know in Nottingham!

ISKRA and Riccall left Fragnes to cruise up the Canal du Centre to Chagny separately, we leaving a bit before them. We had decided to take two days to get there, stopping en-route. As we passed under the motorway bridge, Alex noticed that there was about 4" to spare above the height marker at the front of the boat. But as the boat travelled under the bridge he could see that the gap was reducing – the bridge was cambered. He knocked the boat into reverse to slow down, but knew it wouldn’t be possible to stop completely before the wheelhouse roof reached the lowest part of the bridge, so it was ram it into full ahead (which digs the stern in) and duck!

The front edge of the PV panel on the wheelhouse roof just grazed the white salts off the bottom of the concrete lintel of the bridge. No further damage, thank goodness, but it was close. The bridges on that as with every canal are all given a specific height clearance, but this one was lower. We did, of course, remove the roof for the rest of the journey to Chagny and back a couple of days later.

Back in Fragnes a couple from New Zealand Raelene and Malcolm Arthur who are touring France by car, bicycle and tent stopped for a chat. We invited them on board for tea and cakes while the heavens opened for the most tremendous storm. We only hope that their tent, which had been left at their campsite some 5 miles away with the flap open, had survived the tempest!

Our next stop was in the town of Tournus, which Rhonda on SOMEWHERE had said was a lovely town, worth a visit, and she was right. We did the usual town circuit but were quite enchanted by its medieval streets and the truly lovely Eglise Saint Philibert. Napoleon awarded the town the Legion d’Honneur for its success in seeing off the Austrians in 1814!

So it has been a very sociable time this last week or so, with a bit of tourism thrown in for good measure, with more to come. Martha and John from DE GROENE LEEUW (The Green Lion) are hoping to drop by and stay over with us on Friday, and we are now moored up in Macon which is a good place for them to find us and park their car.

And find us they did: we had a fantastic evening with them and were entertained by the Charles Aznavour sound-alike performing on a stage on the quay. Not only that, but we watched the comings and goings of several hotel cruise ships, and we had a ringside view of the 14th century bridge as it was lit up.

The following morning we said goodbye to John and Martha, and started to prepare to leave ourselves. Just a few minutes later, they reappeared in some agitation, to tell us that their car had been towed away. It appeared that it had been parked in a space reserved for the Saturday market which we could now see spreading in every direction on the quayside.

Louise went with them to the Tourist Information Office as a first port of call for help, the Police Station being closed. They were told to take a taxi to the holding compound out of town to pay for it and pick it up. So we waved goodbye again as they left in the taxi and got back to Riccall to resume leaving, which we did.

Alex fired off a quick text to Martha to check progress, and we set off. A few minutes later, we received a reply text to say that the tourist office information was all wrong and they had had to return to town to go to the police station first. Poor John and Martha were in the police station going through endless documentation, along with huge amounts of fines and recovery costs, not to mention all the taxi fares.

Then much later we learnt, to cap it all, that having got away at 11 am, a water hose on the car had blown and they were being towed off the motorway! What a catalogue of disasters for them, poor things. We hope they arrived eventually at their daughter’s rented villa at Cap d’Antibes, but at the time of writing, we haven’t had confirmation of that!

Corre to St Jean de Losne

We had barely seen another boat for miles (kilometres) and we had decided that our end of day mooring would be at Fontenoy le Chateau. Imagine our surprise to find the place pretty well packed. But there was a space just beyond the boat hire company finger moorings which looked possible. Will and Mike helped us to moor. They were, it turned out, an Englishman and an Australian (no, no joke follows – rather the contrary) in a little wooden yacht which Will had bought last year and which he had left in the ‘capable’ hands of the hire boat company while he returned to the UK for 6 weeks paying for his mooring of course. Meanwhile the hire boat company had ignored his boat (despite requests to keep an eye on it) and it had sunk!!

So having started to pump the boat out and got it afloat, the chaps had removed everything from the interior and put it all on the bank side in the sun to dry out, and were doing their best to complete the pumping of all the excess water and drying everything out before setting off on the rest of their journey to the Med! We sympathised and gave them drinks and nibbles, but as we still had no cooking gas on board we couldn’t offer much more and off they went to eat. Later we met a land-based partnership, Oscar and Marie-Laura who had late evening drinks with us until well after our bedtime. Oscar was the son of an English mother and a Dutch bargee father, so his English was superb.

A couple of days later, we arrived at Corre where, at last, we were able to replenish our gas bottles and much else at the local Intermarché, 1km from the mooring. We actually made three trips in all with Alex wobbling dangerously on his bike with 15kg of gas bottle on the back – twice!

The following day we stopped for lunch on a mooring which we knew was a mere 400 metres from an Aldi where we stocked up on all our favourite bits that we couldn’t get from the bigger supermarket then travelled on to a mooring at Conflanday.

We decided that an early start and finish (in the cool of the morning) was better for Alex, still in a rather feeble condition, so we set off at 8am and moored up near Soing at 12.30. During the rest of the day, the wind got up and at least one tree was blown down across the road to the village, but by the time we cycled past, it had been moved off the road. We could see several other trees which had suffered the same fate either that day or within the very recent past. The village was rather nice and had, of all things, a miniature Eiffel Tower on the camping/playground area: when we rode through at 3pm, they were in the midst of celebrating Bastille Day with games for the children and a barbeque in preparation. Much later, after dark, Louise (Alex was asleep) had a fine view of the fireworks from our moorings.

We ultimately arrived at Gray where we were hoping to take on fuel. Our first attempt to stop above the lock to enquire of VNF where we could get it, was on a quay reserved for commercial craft but the only possible space for our boat. And of course a fisherman who was unloading his car ready to start fishing there gave us such a mouthful of abuse. For once Alex got cross himself and said in French – “Look, you have all day everyday to fish here: we are only here for 5 minutes! What is your problem?” He just couldn’t manage to find the French for, “You nasty little man”!

VNF told us where to moor and where to get the fuel so we moved below the lock onto the town moorings. Depth is a problem in pretty well all moorings on the Petite Saône but we managed OK until our fuel was delivered by tanker the next morning: then we were able to move across to the long quay where we also got free water and electricity. Bliss! But still very shallow – having to hold ourselves off some 2 metres at the stern.

Louise went off to top up fresh veg supplies but on her way she spotted the Tourist Information Office and dropped by to get a town map – the usual. The lady in charge, Claudine, was a real boat enthusiast, loving barges in particular, and Louise promised to call by later with photos of Riccall. When she saw our pictures, she said she would like to take some photos herself for her monthly magazine and we arranged for her to drop by at 8.15 am the following morning (!) before we left and before her 9 am appointment, as later in the day she would be travelling north to visit a sick friend.

So that visit all went well, we said goodbye and off she went at 8.50 am. We started to prepare to leave: we even had our first ropes off, when a lady boater spoke to us, warning us that the moorings we were aiming for that night were closed for the village fête and in any case the noise would be appalling, even if we could get in. Change of plan – we will stay another day. We re-moored ourselves and a few minutes later Claudine re-appeared with her husband Christoph, and they both came aboard for coffee and more chat. When she learned that we were staying she invited us to their home for lunch – they weren’t leaving for the north until 3pm and would have to travel back through Gray anyway, so it was no trouble to drop us back. They were both so keen for us to go, so we accepted the invitation. A light salad for lunch was promised, which suits us fine. So off we went to their house in the countryside.

Having greeted their son Armand and Claudine’s mother, who sadly spoke no English at all, we all sat down to lunch – couscous, bread, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, gherkins and radishes. Not perhaps what we might have offered but we thought, just perfect, our size of lunch. We should have known! Suddenly fried white sausages (veal) and apple slices appeared, with boiled rice and more bread. Having partaken of a token helping of that, out came the cheese and more bread. Then finally (you’ve guessed it) the dessert arrived! - a huge bowl of fresh fruit salad with cold semolina. At this point Alex said, “Non Merci” patting his already full tummy. (He doesn’t do fruit, and he certainly doesn’t do cold semolina!!) Finally coffee. How can anyone fail to become overweight with meals like that?

Claudine’s father had run a cheese manufacturing operation employing 15 people, at this very place for many years before the rise of the supermarkets made it no longer viable. They sent lorry loads of their cheese – Le Charmeur – to Paris twice a week. The old factory was crumbling away next to the house but Claudine still had great pride in what it had been. She gave us a cheese wrapper from the old business with the name of the company and the cheese. (We wondered how many wrappers she had left!) But Christoph, who gave us a tour of the quite extensive grounds, said that Claudine’s father had died only two years ago and the whole subject of what to do with the old creamery was still very much up in the air.

Some time after our return to Riccall we were delighted to see Will and Mike going past in their once-sunken sailing boat, having dried it all out and got it working again. Lots of waves and hellos and goodbyes as they went.

We left Gray the next day and still couldn’t moor where we had hoped, because although the fête had finished, today it was Brocante Day – car boot sale!!! and the mooring was still cordoned off. But we did find a very good spot not much further on – our size and depth, quiet and peaceful.

Much later that night a Danish sailing boat appeared and asked to moor on us. Of course – not a problem. Susanne and Per were heading for the Med then the Atlantic to explore the islands of Madeira and the Canaries and at 1.8m deep, they really struggled to find suitable moorings. Having done 24 locks and twice as many kilometres that day, they were very tired indeed and more than ready to moor up. They were hugely grateful and we managed a bit of chat after their meal before we all turned in.

When we got to St Jean de Losne the place was packed, but we had noticed a couple of boats moored up in the trees just north of the town, so we headed back to them and managed to nestle in to the shallow bank ourselves, with a boater’s help tying to one bollard and three trees, our new gang plank being just long enough to reach the shore.

Last year we had bought two big plastic torpedo-shaped fenders in case we needed them, at Pont à Bar, and had been disappointed when one of then had developed a leak after about a month. The plastic seemed to have a fault in it. Then a month ago the second one developed a leak in the same way. Neither of these fenders has ever actually been used, so we felt a bit cheesed off about it. As we can’t possibly return them to Pont à Bar which is hundreds of kms away, we went into St Jean de Losne which has two chandleries (one the expensive H2O, and one the more reasonable Blanquarts). Not unreasonably we went to Blanquarts and explained about the fenders and our problem.

The assistant was very nice and said they had had a number of the self-same fenders last year with the same fault, and she would exchange them for us and send them back, even though we hadn’t bought them from her. Really kind of her. Alex had also felt different types of fender called ‘glissoires’ would be better for Riccall anyway to replace our worn-out wooden ones, and she was quite happy to sell us 4 of those and take off the value of the faulty plastic fenders.

What she never actually asked was how much we had originally paid for the fenders at Pont à Bar! She essentially refunded us what Blanquarts charge - nearly twice the price of Pont à Bar, and charged us for the four plastic ‘glissoires’ which were on special offer!

So all in all we did very well on the deal, and we also managed to buy the next two canal books we need, both of which were in stock.

On the way back to Riccall we spotted ‘Cinclus’ moored up on the passenger boat quay. They can do this as they are indeed a passenger boat, licensed as such. We had met Sasja and Ekko twice last year and when we appeared by their boat they were delighted to see us and asked us aboard for drinks and a catch-up chat. They were having a week’s ‘holiday’ from paying guests and had family there instead: children swimming in the river, adults relaxing. Lovely people, lovely boat.

So here we are, sitting in a (so far) 18 hour deluge of rain, but we are now ready for the next stage in our journey south – onto the Basse Saône to Lyon.

Tales of few moorings, huge commercial traffic and locks, fast river etc etc. (Louise- Aarghhh)

Thaon to Corre

When we had come in to moor at Charmes a guy from a large Dutch barge called WILLIAM helped us with our ropes. He had helped us at the end of last year in the Port de France in Toul as well. It seems he sort of takes over as the ‘mooring commandant’ wherever he moors, but very helpful with it. He said he was staying at Charmes for 6 months, and we commiserated with him over the QUADRUPLING of the mooring costs at Port de France, Toul (the main reason he moved on).

He warned us that ahead in Thaon there was a rat run of 4 commercials through 4 locks between a gravel source and a gravel distribution depot/port, 4 kilometres apart on the canal. He also warned us that the depth on the branch canal to Epinal a few kilometres beyond Thaon was very limited.

He was dead right in both respects – we met three of the commercials returning unladen and followed a laden one through two locks. But what he didn’t warn us about was that one of the lock bridges in Thaon had a variable water level giving a clear air draught of between 3.5 m and 3.7 m. With our roof on we are 3.6 m and as we arrived at this bridge our height marker on our bow showed we couldn’t get under without removing the roof!

Emergency stop! Back off! and lower the wheelhouse roof. This is not a problem, only a surprise, as our book tells us that that all the bridges on this canal have a clear height of 3.7m.

Alex couldn’t believe this particular one and, after we moored up, he walked back to it, with a measuring tape. When he arrived, his first measurement showed 3.7 m. What’s going on? But as he took subsequent readings over the next 15 minutes or so, the water level rose till the air draught was down to 3.5 m. Scary!

We later spent a very interesting time at our mooring, observing the water level rise and fall by as much as 20 cms as these monsters passed through the locks.

A couple of days later and the branch canal to Epinal was signed at 1.6m depth but we could see that the water level was at least 300mm below normal: therefore the depth was actually 1.3 m. At our draught of 1.4 m we would surely have struggled. We had the same advice from VNF at their office at the junction where we moored up, and from the harbourmaster when we cycled into Epinal to have a looksee.

As we cycled past the moored boats there we suddenly saw a name we recognised - ‘VLINDER’, and on close inspection there were Rita and Eloy under their snazzy new canopy on top of their cabin roof. We had not seen them since our winter stay in Ghent Centrum, so it was great to be asked aboard, given drinks and snacks and to catch up with all that had been going on for the last year and a half, and most importantly, exchange mooring information.

We eventually left to ride back to Riccall just as it started to pour with rain. It stopped about half way back and though we were thoroughly soaked by this time, the weather was so warm that we had dried out by the time we got back to the boat.

While we were moored outside the VNF office we saw several boats pass this way and that – one of which stopped to moor on the VNF work boat next to us: a 15ft canoe with a small outboard! Ganot, a German, was spending 4-6 weeks cruising the Canal des Vosges and hoped to end up back at his home moorings on the Lahn River, off the Rhine near Koblenz in that time. He had everything he needed in his small canoe: tent, primus stove, food, plastic chair to sit in while steering or on the bank, plus leeboards for stability: altogether a simple but efficient way to travel and so easy to moor! He also managed a far faster speed than we can do!

He came for a drink with us in the evening and we learned how, with such a small boat, he paid no French licence fee, but because of this, the VNF were not always keen to let him use the locks unless there was another boat going too (a waste of water for such a small boat they said). We were going the next day so agreed that he was welcome to accompany us in the locks. It made a peculiar sight – us at the front of the lock towering over this tiny canoe tucked in behind with Ganot holding onto the lock ladder to keep his vessel in place. Some of the locks here are in such poor shape that here and there, there is no cement left between the stones which make up the walls, and they look as though they could fall out altogether at any time. In two locks, some of the teetering stones had been removed altogether and put on the lock side! Equally some of the lock ladders (there are at least two in every lock) to which Ganot was clinging, were only held on by the last two bolts at the top!

We found a place to moor on the summit level at a short new wooden quay with good rings. This was opposite a house on the other side of the canal which had a swimming pool in the garden. We were forced to listen as all the teenagers and adults kept leaping into the pool to cool down while we sweltered in the hot sun – temperature 36C. However, the following day Alex had a treat as Madame emerged and wandered around topless (and almost bottomless) for most of the morning!

Alex decided that this would be a good place to do a spot of painting on the back deck. We have, for some time, realised that the dark green paint absorbed the heat of the sun and radiated it off again – often too hot to touch, just when we wanted to sit there for our supper. So we set about painting a large proportion of it cream. (Good excuse to stay another day or so – you never know your luck – Alex!)

Our next mooring was just through the first lock down from the summit level. As the bottom gates started to open we could see a laden peniche about to enter! He was more than a little surprised to see us, as VNF had told him there was nobody coming through. (They had obviously forgotten all about us, as we’d been stopped for so long!)

The péniche jiggled about a bit and eventually signalled us to come past him on the ‘wrong’ side, which we started to do, but half way past we went aground. So there we were, locked hard up against Madame and Monsieur’s péniche ALAIN, with all of us pushing and pulling to get us past and off the bottom while protecting both boats. We would have been in real trouble if we had met him in the narrows above the lock. Up there it was like a tunnel but without a roof, for about one and a half miles, very twisty and only one and a half barges wide. One of us (US) would have had to back off!

However, this mooring allowed us to put on the first top coat of paint on the back deck and at a poor quality small supermarket, euphemistically named Ecomarché, the opportunity to stock up.

The next few locks, from 3 down to 8 are manually operated by VNF staff, (mostly student labour drafted in during the summer). As we reached the last of these Louise popped into the bedroom for something and spotted water all over the floor. Having to get back up on board to man the ropes, she assumed at first glance that the air con unit we have just installed was leaking. As it happened, a mooring which we had been looking out for was available just through Lock 8 so we stopped to investigate. When Alex got down to the bedroom he realised very quickly that it was not the air con leaking, but that water had been directed clean through the open porthole from one of the fountains of water that you often get from the leaky sides of a lock when it has recently been emptied (or in this case as we were descending).

So another trap for small children – always remember to close all the portholes when travelling through leaky locks.

However, the plus side was that the mooring was so idyllic, peaceful and remote, that we decided to stay the rest of the day. And . . . within an hour two cyclists turned up at the adjacent picnic table, then a cruiser to join them, and then the whole VNF mowing team – 6 men and machines - turned up to cut the grass. Goodbye peace and tranquillity! (but happily not for too long).

We set off again descending the locks and as we were about to emerge from one, Alex noticed our height marker on the front of Riccall showed lack of clearance under the bridge. He stopped, we looked again and it looked OK, so we started slowly forward. But the wave of water which happens when the lock empties must have been reflected back into the lock and raised the level again and the roof just started to catch – back off, and off with it, and two nasty scratches in the paint. When will we learn? And today we ran out of gas! We have a spare bottle of course but it too was empty. How did that happen? Someone said that gas can evaporate when it is hot, but we can’t believe that’s what happened!

To make up for it we found one of the most rural and ‘away from it all’ moorings so far; pity a German sailing boat decided to moor up in front of us an hour after we stopped there! But you can’t have it all!

We have meandered on, stopping where the mooring look nice, and have at last reached Corre, though not before another unexpected roof removal! We have restocked with gas, wine beer, and food ready for the trip south down the Saône. We have also realised that we need to get a bit more of a move on – after all, we’ve recently had a text from Paul and Diane saying they have just met Ganot in his canoe – 300kms ahead of us!!

Wasps in the warps and ants ‘n deck

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!

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!

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!

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

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.