We left Limay for a jaunt down the Seine to Vernon. I mean, we had to get away as the local council had decided to dig the road up for a new gas supply line right beside our moorings. The workmen were great but the noise was frightful! Actually, we spent some time watching the foreman digging a trench with a Caterpillar digger – big piece of kit – and handling it as if it were a knife and fork. Hence the photo – couldn’t resist it!
So we set off on a grey day for what turned out to be a rather boring 4½ hours of uneventful cruising down a rather quiet Seine. We stopped for lunch at a disused lock an hour or so from Vernon and speculated as to what you do to a river when you remove a lock (and weir presumably) entirely – do you lower the river level above or raise the level below? Although neither looked feasible we decided on the latter. It made an interesting place to stop with road, rail and water transport all side by side within 35 metres.
We arrived at Vernon in drizzle and moored in front of a 110 metre river cruise liner ‘Bizet’. When the weather improved we had a lightning-fast walk round the town. Vernon is excellent: ancient unspoilt timber-framed buildings in original 16th century streets and even the more modern town centre was not too bad.
We even managed to have drinks outside on the back deck before the chill wind and a pair of entwined youngsters on the quay drove us indoors for supper. I ask you, they were there for two hours canoodling away while we tried to have a civilised few minutes in the brief sunshine! (One of our fellow DBA members says that the exceptionally high-pitched electronic sounder used to deter teenagers from outside late-night-opening shops works on boats too, but we reckon Wagner would do just as well!)
The following day dawned bright and rainy (there’s a change) and we did our sums and realised that if we went further down the Seine we would be really pushed to get back in time for Rob and Kerry’s visit. So as it was raining yet again and the only internet café in town was closed for a week we decided to start retracing our steps towards Paris.
The evening saw us back again at Limay, after a tedious day plugging against the river, where we were able to catch up with our emails yet again on the tennis court wifi and have a quick drink outside in a 5 minute sunny internal before retiring indoors to watch the torrential rain for the rest of the evening! (Alex – I don’t have any sort of hang-up about the weather or anything. I just want to know why it rains wherever I go??? Answers on a postcard …)
Mantes-la-Jolie is quite a nice town, though without much history apart from its massive church, the Collegiale Notre Dame (not sure of the exact meaning in this context of collegiale, as the word isn’t in our French dictionary) but to be fair, and judging by photographs we have seen of the devastation wrought during the war, most of its history was wiped out during that period. Much of the town has been rebuilt to resemble what was lost, but clearly ancient churches, towers etc. can’t be replaced. The massive riverside fortifications which would have been really something, were, however, demolished in about 1640, a bit before World War II, as presumably at the time they seemed rather passé!
Our moorings are opposite the Mantes Parc des Expositions where events are held – a bit like a small Great Yorkshire Showground, and in part of the area is a conference and banqueting centre. When we were here a week ago, a cacophonous blaring of car horns announced the imminent arrival at the reception of a wedding convoy, including of course the bride and groom. Today, we were treated to this again and although noisy, it’s actually really nice to hear the sheer exuberance which accompanies such happy events here.
On the opposite side of the river, Limay is, on the other hand a rather down-market town with very little to recommend it other than the moorings which are pleasant and seem not to attract the undesirables, unlike Meulan.
So it’s back to Pontoise to meet up with Rob and Kerry next week and then onward to Paris in earnest.
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Pontoise to Mantes-la-Jolie/Limay
As we arrived in Pontoise, passing under the rail bridge and heading for what looked like good quay moorings, we were surprised to find 3 or 4 pigeons alighting on the foredeck. Louise was quick to pop out of the wheelhouse and shoo them away before they crapped over our otherwise immaculate decks!
We thought little more about it until later when we noticed that as the commercial barges passed us the pigeons flocked to each one. They rode upon each barge for a kilometre or so and just before they reached the nearby lock the pigeons flew back to their roosts under the bridge! It appeared to be a game; they took great delight in cadging a free ride on the barges as they headed downstream.
We speculated about this as we observed it time after time and eventually decided that the more mundane explanation was that perhaps some of the barges carried grain and the pigeons were looking for spilled grain lying on the decks. (That would also explain why bargees, or more often their wives, spend hours hosing down what appear to be perfectly clean decks.) One of the good things about retirement is that you can spend hours on such speculations! But it was a most amusing sight and our best photo shows only a hint of the inundation suffered by some of the barges.
We left Pontoise having posted our most recent blog in one of the two internet cafés in town: one hot, cramped and slow, the other spacious, cool and lightning-quick, and worth twice the price for that comfort and eventually we found our way onto the historic Seine at Conflans St Honorine.
It’s big, very big, but we got through the first lock OK after a 15 min wait, while two barges came upstream, then made our way down, stopping for lunch at a Halte Fluvial at Poissy, which was a great find, as they are few and far between on a river like the Seine.
We arrived at the moorings at Meulan early on a lovely sunny afternoon, where we met a couple from Canada who had sailed their 12m yacht all the way from Northern Canada, down the Great Lakes, across the Atlantic to the Azores, and then into the canal system of France, all with a couple of smelly dogs and a cat on board! And they had been in France since 2007! The moorings themselves were lovely, alongside a pretty little park, but tended to attract the down-and-outs and mentally unstable of the town, one of whom, one evening, hung on our handrail pointing vigorously at his face covered in blood. Alex thrust a large handful of tissues at him, at which he left – thank goodness. A genuine nosebleed or the result of fisticuffs between ne’er-do-wells?
The next day the whole of the path alongside the river and next to us was awash with amateur artists painting the Vieux Pont just ahead of us. We explained we would be gone and out of their way in an hour, but they said no, they wanted our boat in the picture which was very gratifying.!
Later we experienced one of the odd features of the canalised rivers in this area, where the prioritisation of the side on which opposing barges pass is reversed. (The normal rule of the river is to drive on the right.)
We had noticed this a few times previously on the l’Oise, but had been fortunate enough never to have to put it to the test as there had been no opposing traffic, and on this occasion, as far as we could tell, it was normal passing sides. BUT the barge coming towards us was definitely on our side!
We made a decisive move to our right (further over into the normal and correct side) and he seemed to move to his RIGHT also, but then a few seconds later Alex spotted that a rusty old ‘blue flag’ had been deployed by him and a swift change of course to the LEFT side was called for by us.
We still haven’t sussed out why all this changing of passing side is necessary on rivers as wide and deep as the Seine (never mind why all the islands on both the l’Oise and the Seine have to be passed on the ‘wrong’ side) but no doubt someday somebody will be able to explain it – or not!
But we don’t suppose the barge which we met later will be able to! We saw him some distance off on one of the sections where we were supposed to be on the ‘wrong’ side and we were. But it seemed the opposing barge was on ‘our’ side too. What to do? We watched for a telltale change of direction from him – it didn’t happen – so we then decided to make an obvious move to the right side to pass conventionally. A second after we had done this, he at last changed his course – to the designated ‘wrong’ side – i.e. towards us!
Alex made a decisive move even further to the right and at last the oncoming juggernaut changed course to his right. Phew! One kilometre behind us was a laden barge. He showed us what we should have done – stuck to our guns on the ‘wrong’ side.
As all this was happening, our program Noodersoft chose that moment to have a glitch, whereby an error message kept popping up and repeating itself with a plungk! sound each time as fast as we could cancel it. So thus, with all the distractions audible and visual, we also missed going down the correct side of a 4km long island to locate our next mooring place.
Never mind, we knew there was a way through the middle of the island albeit with a low bridge. We turned in and could see very quickly that the bridge was too low. Of course the barge which had been behind us was now much nearer and the gentle current in the river was not going to let us hang about. In fact, it was pushing us right towards the shallows. There was no choice – we had to engage full ahead and pull out in front of the laden barge, powering over a shallow sand bank as we did so. (We only listed about 20o but all the drawers came open in the bedroom!)
Then we weren’t able to let the barge pass us, because there was a laden and unladen barge breasted up coming towards us upstream, and by the time they were past we were almost at the downstream end of the island where we had to make a right turn in our second attempt to reach our next mooring.
Again, right in front of the laden barge we had to make the turn. Ah well, we hoped he understood, having seen us go aground, but he probably thought, ‘Mad English amateurs’.
We got to the moorings at Limay and found a lovely quiet spot, on a good wall with bollards, just up from a Port de Plaisance. The only slight downside was a plague of harmless black flies. Even with the wheelhouse doors closed they somehow got in. Alex has been busy with the swatter and there are piles of dead flies all over the place!! In fact Alex has done more swatting these last couple of days than he ever did for his exams!! (Swatting not swotting you fool!)
We have found an Aldi and an Intermarche and a rather splendid church, and with our unerring knack of being in the right place at the right (sometimes wrong) time we were treated to an absolutely fabulous firework display to finish off some sort of local celebration in the town. It went on from 11.00 to 11.30 in a continuous riot of colour and we had a perfect view from where we were moored.
We moved up to a rather lightweight pontoon to take on water a day or so later and look! – an unlocked wi-fi! a signal from the tennis club on the other side of the river. Quick, get those emails read and sent, book those flights/train tickets, download The Archers podcasts, deal with the bank overdraft etc. etc. It’s all very well using internet cafés but the operating systems are all in French and the key positions on the keyboard are in different places and sometimes the memory stick works and sometimes it doesn’t!
We thought little more about it until later when we noticed that as the commercial barges passed us the pigeons flocked to each one. They rode upon each barge for a kilometre or so and just before they reached the nearby lock the pigeons flew back to their roosts under the bridge! It appeared to be a game; they took great delight in cadging a free ride on the barges as they headed downstream.
We speculated about this as we observed it time after time and eventually decided that the more mundane explanation was that perhaps some of the barges carried grain and the pigeons were looking for spilled grain lying on the decks. (That would also explain why bargees, or more often their wives, spend hours hosing down what appear to be perfectly clean decks.) One of the good things about retirement is that you can spend hours on such speculations! But it was a most amusing sight and our best photo shows only a hint of the inundation suffered by some of the barges.
We left Pontoise having posted our most recent blog in one of the two internet cafés in town: one hot, cramped and slow, the other spacious, cool and lightning-quick, and worth twice the price for that comfort and eventually we found our way onto the historic Seine at Conflans St Honorine.
It’s big, very big, but we got through the first lock OK after a 15 min wait, while two barges came upstream, then made our way down, stopping for lunch at a Halte Fluvial at Poissy, which was a great find, as they are few and far between on a river like the Seine.
We arrived at the moorings at Meulan early on a lovely sunny afternoon, where we met a couple from Canada who had sailed their 12m yacht all the way from Northern Canada, down the Great Lakes, across the Atlantic to the Azores, and then into the canal system of France, all with a couple of smelly dogs and a cat on board! And they had been in France since 2007! The moorings themselves were lovely, alongside a pretty little park, but tended to attract the down-and-outs and mentally unstable of the town, one of whom, one evening, hung on our handrail pointing vigorously at his face covered in blood. Alex thrust a large handful of tissues at him, at which he left – thank goodness. A genuine nosebleed or the result of fisticuffs between ne’er-do-wells?
The next day the whole of the path alongside the river and next to us was awash with amateur artists painting the Vieux Pont just ahead of us. We explained we would be gone and out of their way in an hour, but they said no, they wanted our boat in the picture which was very gratifying.!
Later we experienced one of the odd features of the canalised rivers in this area, where the prioritisation of the side on which opposing barges pass is reversed. (The normal rule of the river is to drive on the right.)
We had noticed this a few times previously on the l’Oise, but had been fortunate enough never to have to put it to the test as there had been no opposing traffic, and on this occasion, as far as we could tell, it was normal passing sides. BUT the barge coming towards us was definitely on our side!
We made a decisive move to our right (further over into the normal and correct side) and he seemed to move to his RIGHT also, but then a few seconds later Alex spotted that a rusty old ‘blue flag’ had been deployed by him and a swift change of course to the LEFT side was called for by us.
We still haven’t sussed out why all this changing of passing side is necessary on rivers as wide and deep as the Seine (never mind why all the islands on both the l’Oise and the Seine have to be passed on the ‘wrong’ side) but no doubt someday somebody will be able to explain it – or not!
But we don’t suppose the barge which we met later will be able to! We saw him some distance off on one of the sections where we were supposed to be on the ‘wrong’ side and we were. But it seemed the opposing barge was on ‘our’ side too. What to do? We watched for a telltale change of direction from him – it didn’t happen – so we then decided to make an obvious move to the right side to pass conventionally. A second after we had done this, he at last changed his course – to the designated ‘wrong’ side – i.e. towards us!
Alex made a decisive move even further to the right and at last the oncoming juggernaut changed course to his right. Phew! One kilometre behind us was a laden barge. He showed us what we should have done – stuck to our guns on the ‘wrong’ side.
As all this was happening, our program Noodersoft chose that moment to have a glitch, whereby an error message kept popping up and repeating itself with a plungk! sound each time as fast as we could cancel it. So thus, with all the distractions audible and visual, we also missed going down the correct side of a 4km long island to locate our next mooring place.
Never mind, we knew there was a way through the middle of the island albeit with a low bridge. We turned in and could see very quickly that the bridge was too low. Of course the barge which had been behind us was now much nearer and the gentle current in the river was not going to let us hang about. In fact, it was pushing us right towards the shallows. There was no choice – we had to engage full ahead and pull out in front of the laden barge, powering over a shallow sand bank as we did so. (We only listed about 20o but all the drawers came open in the bedroom!)
Then we weren’t able to let the barge pass us, because there was a laden and unladen barge breasted up coming towards us upstream, and by the time they were past we were almost at the downstream end of the island where we had to make a right turn in our second attempt to reach our next mooring.
Again, right in front of the laden barge we had to make the turn. Ah well, we hoped he understood, having seen us go aground, but he probably thought, ‘Mad English amateurs’.
We got to the moorings at Limay and found a lovely quiet spot, on a good wall with bollards, just up from a Port de Plaisance. The only slight downside was a plague of harmless black flies. Even with the wheelhouse doors closed they somehow got in. Alex has been busy with the swatter and there are piles of dead flies all over the place!! In fact Alex has done more swatting these last couple of days than he ever did for his exams!! (Swatting not swotting you fool!)
We have found an Aldi and an Intermarche and a rather splendid church, and with our unerring knack of being in the right place at the right (sometimes wrong) time we were treated to an absolutely fabulous firework display to finish off some sort of local celebration in the town. It went on from 11.00 to 11.30 in a continuous riot of colour and we had a perfect view from where we were moored.
We moved up to a rather lightweight pontoon to take on water a day or so later and look! – an unlocked wi-fi! a signal from the tennis club on the other side of the river. Quick, get those emails read and sent, book those flights/train tickets, download The Archers podcasts, deal with the bank overdraft etc. etc. It’s all very well using internet cafés but the operating systems are all in French and the key positions on the keyboard are in different places and sometimes the memory stick works and sometimes it doesn’t!
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Compiègne to Pontoise
Louise has done her marathon sprint to the UK and back and Alex went with her to the airport to see her off. The airport link bus journey is in two stages – €2 to Senlis and then a further €5.70 from Senlis to Charles de Gaulle airport. The trip by Alex was a last minute decision and so it was not until he arrived at the airport that he discovered he had a four hour wait to catch the same bus back!
However, further enquiry at the bus station showed that there was a bus to another town – Creil – and then a train back to Compiègne. This even left him half an hour to suss out Creil itself (for moorings) but more importantly, as the train entered Compiègne Alex spotted something he had already spent considerable time looking for – viz a skip at the back of a motor car repair shop full of old exhaust systems and the like!
So after lunch, onto the trusty old bike, back to the garage and try to communicate with the man behind the desk what he was looking for. After several minutes of incomprehension and miscomprehension on both sides they went round to the skip, and Monsieur said, “Help yourself”. (Actually he said “Servez-vous” but this is one expression we understand perfectly now!) So with two old exhaust systems and an extremely difficult bike ride Alex was back at the boat rebuilding the water separator and exhaust system for the genny. (Just not happy with the separator as it was – failing to completely separate the water.)
By the time Louise got back to Riccall after her hectic 3 days in the UK the genny was all done and almost perfect. In fact it was so good you couldn’t hold a candle to it!
Alex has adopted a slightly unconventional approach but believes that in doing so he has ended up with the best of both a wet and a dry exhaust system. (Anybody interested in the details email Alex for a full, if boring, description!)
We are getting to know Compiègne quite well now – still here waiting for HSBC, but we have made good use of the time. Last week we tackled a small area of the saloon roof paintwork but discovered millscale under the failing paintwork which will require a more robust approach. Jeff at the boatyard has discovered some special grindwheels which will be up to the job, if we can get them to us. (I should have listened to Jeff, when he said, “Leave the new steelwork to rust for longer”!)
On Sunday we sanded down and undercoated the whole of the wheelhouse roof. On Monday it was cold and windy and Tuesday showery, but we just had to get the topcoat on before the undercoat hardened too much. At 11 am Louise said, “Look, blue sky! Let’s get going.” Alex said “No, it’s going to rain in half an hour or so” and it did. Then at 2pm Louise said, “Look, sunny again” and Eyore Alex said “I shouldn’t be surprised if it rains again in an hour”, but we did it anyway and Louise was right: it didn’t rain till ages after when the paint had dried!
HSBC tell us that our card is at last at Creil. So we’re off, and a pleasant day was spent on the river with 4 or 5 locks till we reached Creil. We rounded up and moored on a nice grassy bank with shapely trees in their full spring green splendour. And when we got to the bank sure enough they had the card – but not the PIN number!
Well, we didn’t really expect to be able to open the bubbly just yet. So another call to Veronique at HSBC Lille who said she’d call back in a few minutes.
This of course didn’t happen, so we pre-empted and rang Jean our next door neighbour at home to ask her to go through the post to see if she could find said PIN Number. While she was in the house doing so, the postman actually delivered the very letter and bingo! – we have the PIN number which, more importantly, WORKS.
So off to SFR to get the dongle and thus access to Neuf wi-fi. But – Oh no you don’t. They want bank details, PIN number, passports, proof of address – no, not an address in England, an address in France! We are visitors, we have a French bank account but obviously as we are travellers we don’t have an address in France. Bad luck then. No SFR dongle, no Neuf wi-fi access. Finis!!!” Bloody French – I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! They break all the rules when it helps them: sticklers for the rules if it hinders others.
But we are not beaten yet. There are other avenues to be gone down. Keep reading for the next thrilling instalment of the subplot – Getting on the Internet in France.
In the meantime we have given up on Creil, especially with our usual knack of arriving in the thick of a festival of some sort. We found our lovely moorings were right beside the loudest live pop venue for Saturday night – over a wall admittedly, but no further than 20 metres from the sound stage! Our neighbouring live-aboards warned us that it wouldn’t finish till 2 o’clock in the morning, so we moved half a kilometre downstream on the pretext of filling our water tanks with free water from a supply there and stayed for the night. And were we glad we had moved! The noise was unbelievable, but we did manage a reasonable night before setting off in the morning for Pontoise north west of Paris where we are now.
And who should appear today coming upstream but Julian in Santanna. He had been almost to England and back while we had been pottering in fits and starts to Pontoise! but at least he could give us some good gen on moorings ahead of us down the Seine.
However, further enquiry at the bus station showed that there was a bus to another town – Creil – and then a train back to Compiègne. This even left him half an hour to suss out Creil itself (for moorings) but more importantly, as the train entered Compiègne Alex spotted something he had already spent considerable time looking for – viz a skip at the back of a motor car repair shop full of old exhaust systems and the like!
So after lunch, onto the trusty old bike, back to the garage and try to communicate with the man behind the desk what he was looking for. After several minutes of incomprehension and miscomprehension on both sides they went round to the skip, and Monsieur said, “Help yourself”. (Actually he said “Servez-vous” but this is one expression we understand perfectly now!) So with two old exhaust systems and an extremely difficult bike ride Alex was back at the boat rebuilding the water separator and exhaust system for the genny. (Just not happy with the separator as it was – failing to completely separate the water.)
By the time Louise got back to Riccall after her hectic 3 days in the UK the genny was all done and almost perfect. In fact it was so good you couldn’t hold a candle to it!
Alex has adopted a slightly unconventional approach but believes that in doing so he has ended up with the best of both a wet and a dry exhaust system. (Anybody interested in the details email Alex for a full, if boring, description!)
We are getting to know Compiègne quite well now – still here waiting for HSBC, but we have made good use of the time. Last week we tackled a small area of the saloon roof paintwork but discovered millscale under the failing paintwork which will require a more robust approach. Jeff at the boatyard has discovered some special grindwheels which will be up to the job, if we can get them to us. (I should have listened to Jeff, when he said, “Leave the new steelwork to rust for longer”!)
On Sunday we sanded down and undercoated the whole of the wheelhouse roof. On Monday it was cold and windy and Tuesday showery, but we just had to get the topcoat on before the undercoat hardened too much. At 11 am Louise said, “Look, blue sky! Let’s get going.” Alex said “No, it’s going to rain in half an hour or so” and it did. Then at 2pm Louise said, “Look, sunny again” and Eyore Alex said “I shouldn’t be surprised if it rains again in an hour”, but we did it anyway and Louise was right: it didn’t rain till ages after when the paint had dried!
HSBC tell us that our card is at last at Creil. So we’re off, and a pleasant day was spent on the river with 4 or 5 locks till we reached Creil. We rounded up and moored on a nice grassy bank with shapely trees in their full spring green splendour. And when we got to the bank sure enough they had the card – but not the PIN number!
Well, we didn’t really expect to be able to open the bubbly just yet. So another call to Veronique at HSBC Lille who said she’d call back in a few minutes.
This of course didn’t happen, so we pre-empted and rang Jean our next door neighbour at home to ask her to go through the post to see if she could find said PIN Number. While she was in the house doing so, the postman actually delivered the very letter and bingo! – we have the PIN number which, more importantly, WORKS.
So off to SFR to get the dongle and thus access to Neuf wi-fi. But – Oh no you don’t. They want bank details, PIN number, passports, proof of address – no, not an address in England, an address in France! We are visitors, we have a French bank account but obviously as we are travellers we don’t have an address in France. Bad luck then. No SFR dongle, no Neuf wi-fi access. Finis!!!” Bloody French – I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! They break all the rules when it helps them: sticklers for the rules if it hinders others.
But we are not beaten yet. There are other avenues to be gone down. Keep reading for the next thrilling instalment of the subplot – Getting on the Internet in France.
In the meantime we have given up on Creil, especially with our usual knack of arriving in the thick of a festival of some sort. We found our lovely moorings were right beside the loudest live pop venue for Saturday night – over a wall admittedly, but no further than 20 metres from the sound stage! Our neighbouring live-aboards warned us that it wouldn’t finish till 2 o’clock in the morning, so we moved half a kilometre downstream on the pretext of filling our water tanks with free water from a supply there and stayed for the night. And were we glad we had moved! The noise was unbelievable, but we did manage a reasonable night before setting off in the morning for Pontoise north west of Paris where we are now.
And who should appear today coming upstream but Julian in Santanna. He had been almost to England and back while we had been pottering in fits and starts to Pontoise! but at least he could give us some good gen on moorings ahead of us down the Seine.
Friday, 24 April 2009
Jussy to Compiegne
Alongside our wharf were a set of huge silos which had obviously once disgorged their product into waiting barges where we were now moored, but it was a long time since that had happened judging by the un-marked grass all around!
We set off in the morning, having given a slow moving fully laden barge plenty of time to get well ahead and spent another easy day barging down the Canal Saint Quentin and onto the Canal Lateral à l’Oise. Eventually, after some hours of searching we found a good mooring near a village called Varèsnes (near Noyon). We were slightly put off by the presence of a burnt out car in the lay-by alongside but decided it would be OK – it was early, but we were ready to stop and Louise had enough energy for a spot of painting. There was also a black 4x4 parked in the lay-by whose driver kindly helped us moor. We thanked him and he went back to his car. A few moments later he appeared at the side of the boat with a bottle of rosé which he insisted on giving us! How kind.
But in our typically cynical British way we pondered as to whether it was poisoned and he would return in the dead of night to capture Riccall, but we took the charitable view, drank it gratefully and were gratified to wake in the morning all intact! (In our musings later, we decided that he must have been the guy responsible for the fly-tipping of some top soil visible when he moved his car, and he was buying our silence!)
On the following day we had an uneventful trip to Compiègne where we hoped to pick up our debit card from HSBC and open an SFR dongle account. No such luck! Apparently because we hadn’t deposited any cash into the new account at Lille (we didn’t know we had to) the card had not been forwarded. They wouldn’t take cash at Compiègne, God knows why not, and when we tried to do money transfer from the UK via our internet banking, the bank blocked the request because it came from abroad! Bloody Hell! They are dead set on making this as difficult as possible. And of course still no chance of an SFR account. And even if we get cash into the Lille account it's another seven days before we get the card (and where do we ask them to send it??!!)
On the plus side, we are on good public moorings on the town quay in Compiègne quite close to the centre and the English narrow boat (yes, narrow boat) behind us. Santanna’s captain Julian is cruising the European waterways for his tenth year, and has found a free water supply hidden in the quayside. So with our genny and free water we could stay here till our fuel ran out. On that score, there is said to be canalside fuel available 1km further on. We shall see next week when eventually we move on.
We have however, decided to stay here until Louise has done her trip home early next week – better the quay you know and like than risk one you haven’t yet seen further on. It will give HSBC the chance finally to send our bankcard and then we can open our SFR account.
While we have been moored here we have had a succession of commercial barges mooring in front or behind and one was so big he asked us both to squeeze up along the quay for the night which has made for an interesting view of barge handling by the experts and of course a varied set of neighbours.
We have had a succession of people stopping to talk to us as they pass. On once occasion Alex spotted Watchtower magazine in time to say, “ Non! Non! Non! Merci beaucoup”. These jovial Witnesses get everywhere don’t they?! And anyway, how do you convert people if you can’t even speak the same language? But I suppose that’s how the missionaries did it years ago – persuading the indigenous populations to give up their colourful gods in favour of one rather austere one.
On another occasion the guy complimented the boat – not a word of English – then proceeded to try and sell us TABLECLOTHS and T SHIRTS (we think)!! Just a different type of salesman! But most are genuinely interested.
And we have been sightseeing in the environs of Compiègne. Our first trip was to the ‘Clairière de l’Armistice’ the clearing in the woods where the Armistice was signed after the First World War. A replica of the train carriage in which negotiations took place and the document signed was fascinating, as were thousands of photos mounted in ‘what the butler saw’ type machines all around. These were 3D images and gave an alarmingly realistic idea of life in the trenches and the catastrophic damage Belgian and French towns suffered, not to mention the horrendous loss of life.
Our next day out began as a 5 km bicycle ride through the forest to the top of the nearby ridge. Once there, the view back to Compiègne down a 100m wide grassy avenue with the magnificent chateau at the end of it was breathtaking. And – we were the only people there.
Having got that far though, we decided to venture further to the town of Pierrefonds with an even more stunning château. Our leaflet said it was free to view till the end of June. Our leaflet however, turned out to be last year’s (we hadn’t noticed) so at a hefty €7 each we decided the outside was good enough! In addition there was a UK film crew there who had added extra bits of castle round the outside for their sets. It was great fun going round tapping at bits of wall to see if they were stone or polystyrene! On the way back, and still in the forest, we stopped in a delightful little village – originally agricultural – surrounding a 13th century church. The church was rather plain but the surrounding refurbished cottages and gateways were charming.
The Forêt de Compiègne is huge and criss-crossed by hundreds of cycle paths. We loved riding through it and had a super day, though we had forayed much further than we had set out to do, and consequently had no cold weather gear with us when the day turned a bit chilly. Another lesson learned – keep those saddle bags well stocked.
We set off in the morning, having given a slow moving fully laden barge plenty of time to get well ahead and spent another easy day barging down the Canal Saint Quentin and onto the Canal Lateral à l’Oise. Eventually, after some hours of searching we found a good mooring near a village called Varèsnes (near Noyon). We were slightly put off by the presence of a burnt out car in the lay-by alongside but decided it would be OK – it was early, but we were ready to stop and Louise had enough energy for a spot of painting. There was also a black 4x4 parked in the lay-by whose driver kindly helped us moor. We thanked him and he went back to his car. A few moments later he appeared at the side of the boat with a bottle of rosé which he insisted on giving us! How kind.
But in our typically cynical British way we pondered as to whether it was poisoned and he would return in the dead of night to capture Riccall, but we took the charitable view, drank it gratefully and were gratified to wake in the morning all intact! (In our musings later, we decided that he must have been the guy responsible for the fly-tipping of some top soil visible when he moved his car, and he was buying our silence!)
On the following day we had an uneventful trip to Compiègne where we hoped to pick up our debit card from HSBC and open an SFR dongle account. No such luck! Apparently because we hadn’t deposited any cash into the new account at Lille (we didn’t know we had to) the card had not been forwarded. They wouldn’t take cash at Compiègne, God knows why not, and when we tried to do money transfer from the UK via our internet banking, the bank blocked the request because it came from abroad! Bloody Hell! They are dead set on making this as difficult as possible. And of course still no chance of an SFR account. And even if we get cash into the Lille account it's another seven days before we get the card (and where do we ask them to send it??!!)
On the plus side, we are on good public moorings on the town quay in Compiègne quite close to the centre and the English narrow boat (yes, narrow boat) behind us. Santanna’s captain Julian is cruising the European waterways for his tenth year, and has found a free water supply hidden in the quayside. So with our genny and free water we could stay here till our fuel ran out. On that score, there is said to be canalside fuel available 1km further on. We shall see next week when eventually we move on.
We have however, decided to stay here until Louise has done her trip home early next week – better the quay you know and like than risk one you haven’t yet seen further on. It will give HSBC the chance finally to send our bankcard and then we can open our SFR account.
While we have been moored here we have had a succession of commercial barges mooring in front or behind and one was so big he asked us both to squeeze up along the quay for the night which has made for an interesting view of barge handling by the experts and of course a varied set of neighbours.
We have had a succession of people stopping to talk to us as they pass. On once occasion Alex spotted Watchtower magazine in time to say, “ Non! Non! Non! Merci beaucoup”. These jovial Witnesses get everywhere don’t they?! And anyway, how do you convert people if you can’t even speak the same language? But I suppose that’s how the missionaries did it years ago – persuading the indigenous populations to give up their colourful gods in favour of one rather austere one.
On another occasion the guy complimented the boat – not a word of English – then proceeded to try and sell us TABLECLOTHS and T SHIRTS (we think)!! Just a different type of salesman! But most are genuinely interested.
And we have been sightseeing in the environs of Compiègne. Our first trip was to the ‘Clairière de l’Armistice’ the clearing in the woods where the Armistice was signed after the First World War. A replica of the train carriage in which negotiations took place and the document signed was fascinating, as were thousands of photos mounted in ‘what the butler saw’ type machines all around. These were 3D images and gave an alarmingly realistic idea of life in the trenches and the catastrophic damage Belgian and French towns suffered, not to mention the horrendous loss of life.
Our next day out began as a 5 km bicycle ride through the forest to the top of the nearby ridge. Once there, the view back to Compiègne down a 100m wide grassy avenue with the magnificent chateau at the end of it was breathtaking. And – we were the only people there.
Having got that far though, we decided to venture further to the town of Pierrefonds with an even more stunning château. Our leaflet said it was free to view till the end of June. Our leaflet however, turned out to be last year’s (we hadn’t noticed) so at a hefty €7 each we decided the outside was good enough! In addition there was a UK film crew there who had added extra bits of castle round the outside for their sets. It was great fun going round tapping at bits of wall to see if they were stone or polystyrene! On the way back, and still in the forest, we stopped in a delightful little village – originally agricultural – surrounding a 13th century church. The church was rather plain but the surrounding refurbished cottages and gateways were charming.
The Forêt de Compiègne is huge and criss-crossed by hundreds of cycle paths. We loved riding through it and had a super day, though we had forayed much further than we had set out to do, and consequently had no cold weather gear with us when the day turned a bit chilly. Another lesson learned – keep those saddle bags well stocked.
Friday, 17 April 2009
Cambrai to the junction with the Somme Canal
The thought of the 5640-metre tow tunnel had started to give us sleepless nights! but we found a good overnight mooring spot just below the penultimate lock, which gave us plenty of time to be at the tunnel entrance well before the 11 o’clock tow-through. But as we loosened the ropes to set off a heavily laden barge rounded the corner, so we had to give it precedence of course, and it lumbered slowly through the lock ahead of us. At the next and last lock (all doubles) we were both penned up at the same time and we got chatting to the bargee who turned out to be Dutch, so of course, he could speak 6 languages and English fluently. He gave us some hints on going through the tunnel and in the event there was only his barge and Riccall there on the starting line.
We were ages early, which was fine, and we spent the time collecting baulks of timber, which, we had been advised, would help to fend us off from the walls of the tunnel if they could be attached so that they projected beyond the boat.
It was raining, so we had to leave removing the wheelhouse roof until the last minute and we had stayed well back from the Dutch commercial in case other commercials arrived. The order for the tunnel tow is laden commercials first, then unladen barges, then the bigger bateaux de plaisance like us and the tiddler jelly moulds at the back each tied to the boat in front.
Because there is no running of engines in the tunnel we had to make a choice between using the usual wheel which would of course be un-power- assisted and thus very heavy, or using the emergency tiller system for steering. Alex chose the tiller system, which in the event was definitely the right choice, but this did require last minute disconnection of the hydraulic ram and insertion of the tiller and adaptor at much the same time as removal of the roof! We were doing it all almost as we set off.
Roping to the barge in front was done using a double cross rope system, the beauty of which was that Louise could alter the tension on each rope after we had set off to get our bow into the right place. To start with the tensions weren’t right and we were scraping along the side of the tunnel. doing damage to our handrails and snapping one of our hastily acquired timber fenders. We are glad to say that we got our own back and took a great chunk out of the tunnel wall!
The trick is to get the ropes so that the bow is tending towards the towpath side (port if going south) the edge of which is smooth timber, nice to rub against, and well away from the brick/stone side. The timber fenders need to be on the other side and rather stouter than ours!
But once we had got the tow tensions right things became easier. Alex still had to watch like a hawk and take corrective action with the tiller for the whole of the two and a half hours! Judicious use of a bucket was necessary on several occasions: fortunately the tunnel was well lit by strip lights so he could see where to aim!
Having emerged from the tunnel we quickly stopped to reassemble the steering but as we thought the next tunnel (self-propelled and only 12000m) was close enough, we didn’t bother putting the roof back on. We hadn’t reckoned with the Dutch barge which progressed ahead of us at no more than 3km/hr. The rain became more earnest and even though we had done a thorough job of clearing the wheelhouse, we covered all the surfaces to keep the worst off and stood under our golf umbrella.
At last the second tunnel appeared and we stopped just inside to let the commercial get ahead. But even on tickover we slowly caught him up and by the other end of the tunnel his exhaust fumes (fortunately not toxic) had filled the entire space we were travelling in and turned the whole atmosphere a ghostly orange. The air was becoming steadily worse and worse and we were very glad indeed when we emerged into daylight and clean air. We stopped briefly to replace the roof (at last!) then as soon as we were out of the tunnel approach narrows we stopped for a well deserved and very late lunch, which also allowed the Flying-Dutchman (not) to get ahead.
By five o’clock we had had more than enough for one day and, unable to find a suitable official mooring, we asked a lock keeper if we could moor just before the unused 2nd lock in front of his house. “Oui. When will you leave?" “Neuf heure demain” we said. “OK”
The next day we were ready to go by 9.30 but a commercial appeared and from then on it was rush hour in slow motion at our lock until 11.30 when at last the lock keeper took pity on us and let us through but this time he operated the normally unused 2nd lock, which he could presumably have done at any time in the preceding two hours!!!!
The rest of the rather grey day passed with no problems and only a few passing commercial barges, and we found a pleasant place to moor for the night on an unused wharf at a little village called Jussy.
We were ages early, which was fine, and we spent the time collecting baulks of timber, which, we had been advised, would help to fend us off from the walls of the tunnel if they could be attached so that they projected beyond the boat.
It was raining, so we had to leave removing the wheelhouse roof until the last minute and we had stayed well back from the Dutch commercial in case other commercials arrived. The order for the tunnel tow is laden commercials first, then unladen barges, then the bigger bateaux de plaisance like us and the tiddler jelly moulds at the back each tied to the boat in front.
Because there is no running of engines in the tunnel we had to make a choice between using the usual wheel which would of course be un-power- assisted and thus very heavy, or using the emergency tiller system for steering. Alex chose the tiller system, which in the event was definitely the right choice, but this did require last minute disconnection of the hydraulic ram and insertion of the tiller and adaptor at much the same time as removal of the roof! We were doing it all almost as we set off.
Roping to the barge in front was done using a double cross rope system, the beauty of which was that Louise could alter the tension on each rope after we had set off to get our bow into the right place. To start with the tensions weren’t right and we were scraping along the side of the tunnel. doing damage to our handrails and snapping one of our hastily acquired timber fenders. We are glad to say that we got our own back and took a great chunk out of the tunnel wall!
The trick is to get the ropes so that the bow is tending towards the towpath side (port if going south) the edge of which is smooth timber, nice to rub against, and well away from the brick/stone side. The timber fenders need to be on the other side and rather stouter than ours!
But once we had got the tow tensions right things became easier. Alex still had to watch like a hawk and take corrective action with the tiller for the whole of the two and a half hours! Judicious use of a bucket was necessary on several occasions: fortunately the tunnel was well lit by strip lights so he could see where to aim!
Having emerged from the tunnel we quickly stopped to reassemble the steering but as we thought the next tunnel (self-propelled and only 12000m) was close enough, we didn’t bother putting the roof back on. We hadn’t reckoned with the Dutch barge which progressed ahead of us at no more than 3km/hr. The rain became more earnest and even though we had done a thorough job of clearing the wheelhouse, we covered all the surfaces to keep the worst off and stood under our golf umbrella.
At last the second tunnel appeared and we stopped just inside to let the commercial get ahead. But even on tickover we slowly caught him up and by the other end of the tunnel his exhaust fumes (fortunately not toxic) had filled the entire space we were travelling in and turned the whole atmosphere a ghostly orange. The air was becoming steadily worse and worse and we were very glad indeed when we emerged into daylight and clean air. We stopped briefly to replace the roof (at last!) then as soon as we were out of the tunnel approach narrows we stopped for a well deserved and very late lunch, which also allowed the Flying-Dutchman (not) to get ahead.
By five o’clock we had had more than enough for one day and, unable to find a suitable official mooring, we asked a lock keeper if we could moor just before the unused 2nd lock in front of his house. “Oui. When will you leave?" “Neuf heure demain” we said. “OK”
The next day we were ready to go by 9.30 but a commercial appeared and from then on it was rush hour in slow motion at our lock until 11.30 when at last the lock keeper took pity on us and let us through but this time he operated the normally unused 2nd lock, which he could presumably have done at any time in the preceding two hours!!!!
The rest of the rather grey day passed with no problems and only a few passing commercial barges, and we found a pleasant place to moor for the night on an unused wharf at a little village called Jussy.
Friday, 10 April 2009
Lille to Cambrai
Well today we got a taste of the famous French temper!
We left Lille heading for Douai on the Canal du Deule. All was well, lovely sunny day again, no wind, until we were approaching the first lock. We noticed we were going to be overhauled by a coupled of loaded barges, one medium size (38 metres), one large (70 metres). So we pulled into the bank to let the outgoing barge leave the lock and allow the other two to pass us and go in first. The large one entered first, then the medium and then we noticed another unladen barge racing up behind. He was clearly not going to let this lock close in front of him as that would mean a wait of at least 40 minutes till he got his turn, and time’s money of course on the canals here. Alex asked the lockkeeper if we could enter and we were told we could. So we started in before him and had to go alongside the medium sized barge. Of course at the last minute the wind or swirl of water blew the front of Riccall to the wrong side. Desperate manoeuvring and the placing of a strategic tyre were just not enough and we kissed the rear quarter of the barge. Eh bien! The capitaine went bonkers! He shouted at Louise, he glared at Alex and then proceeded to have a 15-minute rant at the lockkeeper. Meanwhile we quietly worked our way forward and tied up. The last barge came in behind us. Quite a squash.
While Louise handled the forward rope, Alex then went back to apologise to the bargee, who had, by this time, finished his rant. And suddenly he was all smiles, saying it was not our fault and agreeing it was difficult with no bow thruster etc. etc. And then he said we should leave the lock first, which we did, and when he overtook us he was again all smiles and waves!
We think he must had just had an argument with his wife, or she had said ‘Non’ last night to his advances or something, and he just wanted to get it all off his chest. I mean, we had not actually done any damage to his precious barge, or at least nothing visible beyond what was there already. But there you are! There’s no accounting for people anywhere, but while it’s happening, it’s uncomfortable.
The rest of the day passed pretty well without incident but we started to look for moorings from 2.30 pm onwards and eventually found a couple of rings on a quay close enough together for our short length at 4 o’clock just short of Douai.
We stayed a couple of nights at the Douai moorings because there was thick fog when we woke and no desperate urgency to move on. We cycled into the town, which was pretty unimpressive (good town hall though) and stocked up at a Champion (Carrefour).
We set off the next day and asked at the first lock for water. We had seen the tap on our bike ride but ‘Non’ it was ‘Caput!’ We could get water two locks further on and sure enough we did. Hurrah! After the lock had raised us and the other barge and he had left, we moved across the chamber to the side where the tap was and just sat there for 20 minutes while we filled up – other barges using the other lock! We were glad of the delay actually because we had been sharing the locks with a Freycinet 38.5m barge which is always a bit daunting – especially after our telling-off, but no bumps this time.
We turned off the large waterway in the afternoon onto the start of the canal leading to the St Quentin and moored up on a rather shallow but pleasant sports basin off the main line (Bassin du Rond).
In the morning we set off in light mist for the first lock. On arrival, the gates opened automatically to let us in (!) and there was a notice in three languages telling us to pick up a remote control zapper. Alex could see the container where they were kept but it appeared to be locked. So we flailed about a bit and eventually pushed the button to ring an éclusier. The disembodied voice from the speaker babbled a load of unintelligible French but eventually the zapper door was released and a zapper obtained.
The keeper said something about the green and blue button on it. We pressed the ‘up’ button – nothing. The gates at the bottom, behind us, were still open. The keeper came on again – more unintelligible babble – Alex replied ‘Je pousse le button – et rien’.
Then a man from the nearby house came over and pointed to a blue rod hanging by the side of the lock (together with a red one for emergencies) and indicated that you needed to pull it up to start the lock operating. “Oh, je comprend!! Merci beaucoup.”
As we slowly discovered, from then on it is all automatic. You only use the zapper as you approach the lock to let it know you’re there. Then when you’re in and tied up, you lift the blue rod and everything starts - the lock gates behind you close, the sluices ahead open, water enters at a terrific rate, you rise up. When the lock is full the top gates open, out you go and then they close behind you. Magic! But if they have sufficient English speaking visitors to require a sign in English telling you to pick up your remote control zapper, wouldn’t you think a sign in English telling you how to use it once you’ve got it might be a good idea??!!! After all, you only need one notice at each end of the stretch where you pick up your zapper, not at every lock.
However, we have moored for the evening above a lock in the country and Alex has achieved one of his aims - we are basking in warm spring sunshine!
We have seen an English Dutch-barge-look-alike belonging to a New Zealand couple who we may see again, and we encountered a Dutch barge with English ensign approaching us who gave us useful tips on going through the tunnel ahead. We thought the name of the boat looked familiar – Friesland – then later as we had a long informative chat with a Dutch ex-bargee, Peter, who lives hereabouts and speaks perfect English, he mentioned who they were – the well-known Tam and Di Morrel of Dutch Barge Association fame who advertise their barge handling and ICC Cevni lessons in the DBA magazine! Oh well! Ships that pass in the flight!
We left Lille heading for Douai on the Canal du Deule. All was well, lovely sunny day again, no wind, until we were approaching the first lock. We noticed we were going to be overhauled by a coupled of loaded barges, one medium size (38 metres), one large (70 metres). So we pulled into the bank to let the outgoing barge leave the lock and allow the other two to pass us and go in first. The large one entered first, then the medium and then we noticed another unladen barge racing up behind. He was clearly not going to let this lock close in front of him as that would mean a wait of at least 40 minutes till he got his turn, and time’s money of course on the canals here. Alex asked the lockkeeper if we could enter and we were told we could. So we started in before him and had to go alongside the medium sized barge. Of course at the last minute the wind or swirl of water blew the front of Riccall to the wrong side. Desperate manoeuvring and the placing of a strategic tyre were just not enough and we kissed the rear quarter of the barge. Eh bien! The capitaine went bonkers! He shouted at Louise, he glared at Alex and then proceeded to have a 15-minute rant at the lockkeeper. Meanwhile we quietly worked our way forward and tied up. The last barge came in behind us. Quite a squash.
While Louise handled the forward rope, Alex then went back to apologise to the bargee, who had, by this time, finished his rant. And suddenly he was all smiles, saying it was not our fault and agreeing it was difficult with no bow thruster etc. etc. And then he said we should leave the lock first, which we did, and when he overtook us he was again all smiles and waves!
We think he must had just had an argument with his wife, or she had said ‘Non’ last night to his advances or something, and he just wanted to get it all off his chest. I mean, we had not actually done any damage to his precious barge, or at least nothing visible beyond what was there already. But there you are! There’s no accounting for people anywhere, but while it’s happening, it’s uncomfortable.
The rest of the day passed pretty well without incident but we started to look for moorings from 2.30 pm onwards and eventually found a couple of rings on a quay close enough together for our short length at 4 o’clock just short of Douai.
We stayed a couple of nights at the Douai moorings because there was thick fog when we woke and no desperate urgency to move on. We cycled into the town, which was pretty unimpressive (good town hall though) and stocked up at a Champion (Carrefour).
We set off the next day and asked at the first lock for water. We had seen the tap on our bike ride but ‘Non’ it was ‘Caput!’ We could get water two locks further on and sure enough we did. Hurrah! After the lock had raised us and the other barge and he had left, we moved across the chamber to the side where the tap was and just sat there for 20 minutes while we filled up – other barges using the other lock! We were glad of the delay actually because we had been sharing the locks with a Freycinet 38.5m barge which is always a bit daunting – especially after our telling-off, but no bumps this time.
We turned off the large waterway in the afternoon onto the start of the canal leading to the St Quentin and moored up on a rather shallow but pleasant sports basin off the main line (Bassin du Rond).
In the morning we set off in light mist for the first lock. On arrival, the gates opened automatically to let us in (!) and there was a notice in three languages telling us to pick up a remote control zapper. Alex could see the container where they were kept but it appeared to be locked. So we flailed about a bit and eventually pushed the button to ring an éclusier. The disembodied voice from the speaker babbled a load of unintelligible French but eventually the zapper door was released and a zapper obtained.
The keeper said something about the green and blue button on it. We pressed the ‘up’ button – nothing. The gates at the bottom, behind us, were still open. The keeper came on again – more unintelligible babble – Alex replied ‘Je pousse le button – et rien’.
Then a man from the nearby house came over and pointed to a blue rod hanging by the side of the lock (together with a red one for emergencies) and indicated that you needed to pull it up to start the lock operating. “Oh, je comprend!! Merci beaucoup.”
As we slowly discovered, from then on it is all automatic. You only use the zapper as you approach the lock to let it know you’re there. Then when you’re in and tied up, you lift the blue rod and everything starts - the lock gates behind you close, the sluices ahead open, water enters at a terrific rate, you rise up. When the lock is full the top gates open, out you go and then they close behind you. Magic! But if they have sufficient English speaking visitors to require a sign in English telling you to pick up your remote control zapper, wouldn’t you think a sign in English telling you how to use it once you’ve got it might be a good idea??!!! After all, you only need one notice at each end of the stretch where you pick up your zapper, not at every lock.
However, we have moored for the evening above a lock in the country and Alex has achieved one of his aims - we are basking in warm spring sunshine!
We have seen an English Dutch-barge-look-alike belonging to a New Zealand couple who we may see again, and we encountered a Dutch barge with English ensign approaching us who gave us useful tips on going through the tunnel ahead. We thought the name of the boat looked familiar – Friesland – then later as we had a long informative chat with a Dutch ex-bargee, Peter, who lives hereabouts and speaks perfect English, he mentioned who they were – the well-known Tam and Di Morrel of Dutch Barge Association fame who advertise their barge handling and ICC Cevni lessons in the DBA magazine! Oh well! Ships that pass in the flight!
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
Ghent to Lille
We have now arrived in Lille in France. We are moored on an old commercial wharf a little way from the centre of the city. It is a lovely spot, quiet but with barges (and canoeists) gong past on a regular basis, not to mention lorries pulling up to spend the night in the car park next door.
Before we left Ghent, Emily and Ric came for the weekend which was great. We all went and looked round the castle (excellent), went for a boat trip round the medieval part of the city (interesting but a bit perturbing when stoned or rather pebbled, by the local riffraff) then Emily and Ric treated us to supper at a nearby bistro – great! (Alex had snails and frogs legs for the first time as part of a shared starter.) The following morning we all climbed the Belfry for a fantastic, if breezy view of the city.
The only fly in the ointment in all this, for Alex anyway, was that the root of one of his teeth had started to play up a few days before so he had put himself on Flucloxacillin. This did not help much after 3 days so he changed to Metronidazole (downside – no alcohol!) This began to work but he felt he ought to take professional advice. The outcome was a trip to the medical school/hospital, dental clinic, for a consultation - €50! They said as the root had already been filled and capped (twice) the last hope was to fill from the inside: i.e. cut away the gum, lift up a flat, drill through the bone to the root, fill from below, put all back together. Aaaaargggghhh. But an appointment was duly made for 9.20 the next day. So after pre-paying €1060 the consultant had a look and a chat. ‘Oh well, if it has only flared up twice before let’s give it another go with the Metronidazole before we decide to operate’. PHEW! No drink for 10 days, a small price to pay. But getting the pre-paid money back is another battle. And yes, the tooth does seem to have settled down!
So we left Ghent, saying our fond farewells to all those still moored there and headed off into the unknown of Wallonia and France.
We quietly snuck onto some moorings ‘de Plaisance’ near Sluis Sint Baafs-Vijve on the first night but nobody came to demand money before we left.
We had decided we would moor near the second lock in France the next night but when we got there, it was all under repair and chaotic – nowhere to moor. The next place – a deserted quay – proved to be too shallow for us so we ended up moored beside another live-aboard who was not at home, but others said it would be OK. We are not used to just dropping onto somebody else’s boat yet, but it does seem to be fairly common here in France. So we left a thank you note and a bottle of wine by their entrance door should they return in the night. They did, and we ‘chatted’ next morning, but no mention of the wine (maybe it should have been French, not Argentinian, but we didn’t have any of that – a mistake soon to be rectified!).
Then we got to this lovely mooring on the commercial wharf. We think we might just spend the whole year here!
Before we left Ghent, Emily and Ric came for the weekend which was great. We all went and looked round the castle (excellent), went for a boat trip round the medieval part of the city (interesting but a bit perturbing when stoned or rather pebbled, by the local riffraff) then Emily and Ric treated us to supper at a nearby bistro – great! (Alex had snails and frogs legs for the first time as part of a shared starter.) The following morning we all climbed the Belfry for a fantastic, if breezy view of the city.
The only fly in the ointment in all this, for Alex anyway, was that the root of one of his teeth had started to play up a few days before so he had put himself on Flucloxacillin. This did not help much after 3 days so he changed to Metronidazole (downside – no alcohol!) This began to work but he felt he ought to take professional advice. The outcome was a trip to the medical school/hospital, dental clinic, for a consultation - €50! They said as the root had already been filled and capped (twice) the last hope was to fill from the inside: i.e. cut away the gum, lift up a flat, drill through the bone to the root, fill from below, put all back together. Aaaaargggghhh. But an appointment was duly made for 9.20 the next day. So after pre-paying €1060 the consultant had a look and a chat. ‘Oh well, if it has only flared up twice before let’s give it another go with the Metronidazole before we decide to operate’. PHEW! No drink for 10 days, a small price to pay. But getting the pre-paid money back is another battle. And yes, the tooth does seem to have settled down!
So we left Ghent, saying our fond farewells to all those still moored there and headed off into the unknown of Wallonia and France.
We quietly snuck onto some moorings ‘de Plaisance’ near Sluis Sint Baafs-Vijve on the first night but nobody came to demand money before we left.
We had decided we would moor near the second lock in France the next night but when we got there, it was all under repair and chaotic – nowhere to moor. The next place – a deserted quay – proved to be too shallow for us so we ended up moored beside another live-aboard who was not at home, but others said it would be OK. We are not used to just dropping onto somebody else’s boat yet, but it does seem to be fairly common here in France. So we left a thank you note and a bottle of wine by their entrance door should they return in the night. They did, and we ‘chatted’ next morning, but no mention of the wine (maybe it should have been French, not Argentinian, but we didn’t have any of that – a mistake soon to be rectified!).
Then we got to this lovely mooring on the commercial wharf. We think we might just spend the whole year here!
Thursday, 19 March 2009
19.03.09 Back to Ghent once more
So at last we’re back at home on Riccall, in Ghent. After four weeks away we were feeling really homesick, and also a bit apprehensive as to whether everything would be OK on our return this time (bearing in mind our findings when we got back last time!)
On entering the wheelhouse, the first thing Alex noticed, with a sinking heart, was that the mains power was not ‘on’. Were the batteries going to be completely flat, or what? Well, either the trip in the supply had only recently cut it off or the solar panels on the wheelhouse roof were dong their job, but the batteries were at a healthy 25v so that was OK. As was, it would appear, everything else. Phew!
During our time in the UK we have finished the kitchen in our pied à terre, visited most of the people we needed to see including doctors, dentists etc, Alex has helped our friendly mechanic replace the clutch on the new car, and Alex has had a 60th birthday. He had been going to have a non-event for this momentous milestone (at his own request – Louise), but when sister Julia found this out she took things into her own hands. Not only did she arrange an informal buffet afternoon with friends and family dropping in from all over the country on the Sunday, but on the following day she had arranged as a birthday present a couple of double lessons on ‘Body Flight’. This is a simulated free fall, which takes place in a 5m-diameter shaft with a 140mph wind being sucked up it. You have to adopt a free fall position, then effectively you float on the stream of air. The instructor keeps you in position and gives basic signals to keep you where you should be and how to adjust your body shape to keep stable.
This facility is one of the biggest of its kind in the world (only 15mins from Julia’s home in Bedfordshire) and host to free fall practice teams from all over the world. We had fun watching several 4-man teams from Germany, Italy and Spain perfecting their routines for when they actually jump at 12-15,000 feet. So each of the ‘sessions’ lasted only about a minute because that’s how long you would get before you had to deploy your chute in the real situation.
In addition to the Body Flight Alex’s kind sister had also arranged for something called a Vertigo jump. This it turned out, involved going up to a platform on the outside of the same tower, about 300 feet above the ground, attaching a thin wire to a body harness and jumping off. The wire allowed you to free fall two thirds of the way down, and then slowed you down until you reached the bottom at virtually stepping-off-a-chair speed. That part was fine, but stepping off the platform went entirely against the grain. Alex would rather step out of an aeroplane with a parachute than do that any time. But a great set of experiences for an old man. As far as flying goes, however, we think he’d better stick to the day job!
There are a few things to do on Riccall, like swap over to the higher rated inverter and fit a changeover switch for the generator and then we can be off. We might even manage a bit of painting if the weather continues fine.
Alex’s daughter Emily and her partner Ric are motorcycling over to stay for the weekend, which is great, then we propose to sail away from Ghent in the middle of next week around the 25th. So the next blog should be when are finally on the move again!
Only photos of Alex’s birthday Body Flight on this one.
On entering the wheelhouse, the first thing Alex noticed, with a sinking heart, was that the mains power was not ‘on’. Were the batteries going to be completely flat, or what? Well, either the trip in the supply had only recently cut it off or the solar panels on the wheelhouse roof were dong their job, but the batteries were at a healthy 25v so that was OK. As was, it would appear, everything else. Phew!
During our time in the UK we have finished the kitchen in our pied à terre, visited most of the people we needed to see including doctors, dentists etc, Alex has helped our friendly mechanic replace the clutch on the new car, and Alex has had a 60th birthday. He had been going to have a non-event for this momentous milestone (at his own request – Louise), but when sister Julia found this out she took things into her own hands. Not only did she arrange an informal buffet afternoon with friends and family dropping in from all over the country on the Sunday, but on the following day she had arranged as a birthday present a couple of double lessons on ‘Body Flight’. This is a simulated free fall, which takes place in a 5m-diameter shaft with a 140mph wind being sucked up it. You have to adopt a free fall position, then effectively you float on the stream of air. The instructor keeps you in position and gives basic signals to keep you where you should be and how to adjust your body shape to keep stable.
This facility is one of the biggest of its kind in the world (only 15mins from Julia’s home in Bedfordshire) and host to free fall practice teams from all over the world. We had fun watching several 4-man teams from Germany, Italy and Spain perfecting their routines for when they actually jump at 12-15,000 feet. So each of the ‘sessions’ lasted only about a minute because that’s how long you would get before you had to deploy your chute in the real situation.
In addition to the Body Flight Alex’s kind sister had also arranged for something called a Vertigo jump. This it turned out, involved going up to a platform on the outside of the same tower, about 300 feet above the ground, attaching a thin wire to a body harness and jumping off. The wire allowed you to free fall two thirds of the way down, and then slowed you down until you reached the bottom at virtually stepping-off-a-chair speed. That part was fine, but stepping off the platform went entirely against the grain. Alex would rather step out of an aeroplane with a parachute than do that any time. But a great set of experiences for an old man. As far as flying goes, however, we think he’d better stick to the day job!
There are a few things to do on Riccall, like swap over to the higher rated inverter and fit a changeover switch for the generator and then we can be off. We might even manage a bit of painting if the weather continues fine.
Alex’s daughter Emily and her partner Ric are motorcycling over to stay for the weekend, which is great, then we propose to sail away from Ghent in the middle of next week around the 25th. So the next blog should be when are finally on the move again!
Only photos of Alex’s birthday Body Flight on this one.
Friday, 13 February 2009
Update from Ghent
Yippee! The generator is up and running. The water separator (home made) is not 100% effective yet but there is plenty of room for modification. The machine itself provides the output required, and promised, and is remarkably quiet. We can hardly hear it at all in the wheel house or on the back deck with the engine room hatch closed and the only room below which really suffers a mild thrum is the bedroom which is right next to the engine room, but who goes to bed with a generator running? The rest of the rooms below are totally unperturbed by it!
What a relief though – the mishap has probably ONLY! cost about £330 and of course a lot of hard work, but for us retirees that is for nothing. And we are now self-sufficient where electrical power is concerned. The fuel to power it is, of course, another story, but diesel is a bare necessity of life for us.
Another plus is that the free-sat dish and other paraphernalia which we brought across with us appears to work. It took a couple of attempts to tune the dish into the correct satellite but second time lucky and Lo and Behold! We have dozens of absolutely awful TV channels to view with a very few that are actually worth watching: viz BBC1 and 2, sometimes ITV and Film 4. otherwise we have seldom encountered in our protected lives, such a load of drivel and hush hush, sex channels!! Amazing! Who watches this stuff? (Saddos of the world unite we suppose.)
But the most important thing is that we can now get Radio 4 and The Archers six nights a week (Now who are the saddos we hear you ask!) and all for a mere £100 plus the gift of a Sky Plus receiver from kind sister Julia who had a spare.
Sorry to be so money-oriented again but with our income now at nearly zero due to the bank rate and the downturn in the economy we are having to spend the next year or so living on capital rather than income from capital. It was tight enough before but it is even tighter now. Fortunately both Alex and Louise thrive on thrift – Louise in the past by some necessity, Alex (always) by nature (it’s the Scots blood!).
We made another sortie to Terneuzen, however, in the car while we have it here and bought among other things a car load of cheap but OK Chilean wine and this time we had promised ourselves a rare treat – mussels in garlic and white wine in the lovely restaurant overlooking the Westersheldte. And of course the bloody place was closed for renovation – typical! What a let down. So we had to lower our sights and settle for a popular café in the central square where we had cucumber and basil soup! Sounds disgusting but it was actually lovely: but of course there were no big barges to watch passing back and forth. (Alex wanted to add here that there were plenty of big bottoms to look at, but Louise said he shouldn’t really say that!)
We have been entertained by the owners of the €1.3 million boat in front of us, along with the French/Flemish couple from the boat behind. We have returned drinks (well actually we started with a typical English tea complete with home-made scones, jam and cream and went on to drinks!) with the Dutch couple from the gin palace, and we have had the only other English couple, Derek and Erica from Star of Destiny, round for coffee. We also had our friends Suzanna and George from Waspik to stay after we had all visited the Ghent Boat Show. So all in all a pretty sociable few days and very nice it has been.
But while Alex has been busy rebuilding and fitting the generator Louise has been charging round Ghent taking lots of photos, some of which we show here
What a relief though – the mishap has probably ONLY! cost about £330 and of course a lot of hard work, but for us retirees that is for nothing. And we are now self-sufficient where electrical power is concerned. The fuel to power it is, of course, another story, but diesel is a bare necessity of life for us.
Another plus is that the free-sat dish and other paraphernalia which we brought across with us appears to work. It took a couple of attempts to tune the dish into the correct satellite but second time lucky and Lo and Behold! We have dozens of absolutely awful TV channels to view with a very few that are actually worth watching: viz BBC1 and 2, sometimes ITV and Film 4. otherwise we have seldom encountered in our protected lives, such a load of drivel and hush hush, sex channels!! Amazing! Who watches this stuff? (Saddos of the world unite we suppose.)
But the most important thing is that we can now get Radio 4 and The Archers six nights a week (Now who are the saddos we hear you ask!) and all for a mere £100 plus the gift of a Sky Plus receiver from kind sister Julia who had a spare.
Sorry to be so money-oriented again but with our income now at nearly zero due to the bank rate and the downturn in the economy we are having to spend the next year or so living on capital rather than income from capital. It was tight enough before but it is even tighter now. Fortunately both Alex and Louise thrive on thrift – Louise in the past by some necessity, Alex (always) by nature (it’s the Scots blood!).
We made another sortie to Terneuzen, however, in the car while we have it here and bought among other things a car load of cheap but OK Chilean wine and this time we had promised ourselves a rare treat – mussels in garlic and white wine in the lovely restaurant overlooking the Westersheldte. And of course the bloody place was closed for renovation – typical! What a let down. So we had to lower our sights and settle for a popular café in the central square where we had cucumber and basil soup! Sounds disgusting but it was actually lovely: but of course there were no big barges to watch passing back and forth. (Alex wanted to add here that there were plenty of big bottoms to look at, but Louise said he shouldn’t really say that!)
We have been entertained by the owners of the €1.3 million boat in front of us, along with the French/Flemish couple from the boat behind. We have returned drinks (well actually we started with a typical English tea complete with home-made scones, jam and cream and went on to drinks!) with the Dutch couple from the gin palace, and we have had the only other English couple, Derek and Erica from Star of Destiny, round for coffee. We also had our friends Suzanna and George from Waspik to stay after we had all visited the Ghent Boat Show. So all in all a pretty sociable few days and very nice it has been.
But while Alex has been busy rebuilding and fitting the generator Louise has been charging round Ghent taking lots of photos, some of which we show here
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
winter in Gent
A belated Happy New Year to anyone who happens to be reading this latest posting on the Riccall Rambling blog.
We left Riccall at our moorings in Ghent and travelled back to the UK in the car in mid December (having previously brought the car over with the ill-fated generator in November.)
While in the UK we have been fitting a new kitchen into the small house which we have as our pied à terre in the north of England close to the home where Louise's mother lives. So no rest for the wicked there then!
During the intervening weeks it became apparent that the much loved Citroen ZX was using more and more water in the radiator with no visible signs of a leak. This usually signifies the demise of the cylinder head gasket and it’s unpredictable as to when it might fail completely. To repair would be an expensive job at the best of times, so with much regret and 1000 miles short of a quarter of a million miles on the clock, a new car had to be found.
After several weeks an S reg Citroen Xantia with only 98,000 miles on the clock seemed the best bet (a car now excess to the requirements of a friend of ours). We knew it had a couple of problems but reckoned it would do the job.
So we loaded it up with four bottles of gas, seven 5-litre tins of paint, a higher rated inverter (which Alex had acquired from his erstwhile place of work), a battery and spare parts for the genny, a free-sat dish and receiver (we just have to be able to listen to Radio 4 somehow, we've missed it so much) and goodness knows how much other clobber - 350 kilos in all we estimated, and set off back to Ghent.
The water leak in the heater matrix in the Xantia is temporarily fixed with some radiator seal-it, but the clutch which Alex thought might be on its last legs did indeed start to slip with the extra load it was being asked to pull, so very careful acceleration in low gears became the order of the journey.
We arrived in Ghent in good time though, and in daylight, offloaded all the paraphernalia and parked up in our favourite free spot, walking back to Riccall as dusk fell.
We had been told that there had been a few days of hard frost while we had been away but thought little of it, until Alex turned on the water pump. The tap in the kitchen sink was destroyed, as was the one in the wheelhouse!
It was a similar story with the central heating: three radiators had very small leaks where the riveting had been disturbed by the ice forming in the core.
We fixed the taps one way or another and put plastic containers under the radiators to catch the drips and the next day drove off to the DIY shop for more radiator seal and some antifreeze! This has been added to the central heating system and, fingers crossed, the leaks have pretty well dried up.
We did set the central heating to come on for half an hour per night - 3 in the morning actually, as the coldest time - as a precaution, but it was obviously not enough. And we switched off the water pump as a precaution which we always do summer or winter when leaving the boat for any length of time. Pity we hadn't also opened all the taps!
The trouble is, we guess, that we have become complacent about frost. not having had any of any significance for so long in the UK. To be fair to us though, other boats moored here have had similar problems as even the Belgians have not had such prolonged cold weather for years.
But it’s another lesson learned!
Apart from fixing the new problems which occurred while we were away, Alex is now setting about the task of re-building the generator with the spare bits picked up from Southampton and other places on our diversionary route back here.
Louise’s main task while Alex is thus engaged is to source food at something less than the amazingly ridiculous prices which now pertain here. And if anyone thinks this is being somewhat paranoid, just imagine the exchange rate at rather less than parity (99.7p per €), cauliflowers at €2.80 each, mince at €4 per pound and chicken at €7 per pound! This search has become rather important to us both!
Back to the UK in a fortnight for three weeks or so before we set off at the end of March for the next cruising season. Next winter may find us moored in the south of France with luck, and maybe less chance of frozen pipes!!
We left Riccall at our moorings in Ghent and travelled back to the UK in the car in mid December (having previously brought the car over with the ill-fated generator in November.)
While in the UK we have been fitting a new kitchen into the small house which we have as our pied à terre in the north of England close to the home where Louise's mother lives. So no rest for the wicked there then!
During the intervening weeks it became apparent that the much loved Citroen ZX was using more and more water in the radiator with no visible signs of a leak. This usually signifies the demise of the cylinder head gasket and it’s unpredictable as to when it might fail completely. To repair would be an expensive job at the best of times, so with much regret and 1000 miles short of a quarter of a million miles on the clock, a new car had to be found.
After several weeks an S reg Citroen Xantia with only 98,000 miles on the clock seemed the best bet (a car now excess to the requirements of a friend of ours). We knew it had a couple of problems but reckoned it would do the job.
So we loaded it up with four bottles of gas, seven 5-litre tins of paint, a higher rated inverter (which Alex had acquired from his erstwhile place of work), a battery and spare parts for the genny, a free-sat dish and receiver (we just have to be able to listen to Radio 4 somehow, we've missed it so much) and goodness knows how much other clobber - 350 kilos in all we estimated, and set off back to Ghent.
The water leak in the heater matrix in the Xantia is temporarily fixed with some radiator seal-it, but the clutch which Alex thought might be on its last legs did indeed start to slip with the extra load it was being asked to pull, so very careful acceleration in low gears became the order of the journey.
We arrived in Ghent in good time though, and in daylight, offloaded all the paraphernalia and parked up in our favourite free spot, walking back to Riccall as dusk fell.
We had been told that there had been a few days of hard frost while we had been away but thought little of it, until Alex turned on the water pump. The tap in the kitchen sink was destroyed, as was the one in the wheelhouse!
It was a similar story with the central heating: three radiators had very small leaks where the riveting had been disturbed by the ice forming in the core.
We fixed the taps one way or another and put plastic containers under the radiators to catch the drips and the next day drove off to the DIY shop for more radiator seal and some antifreeze! This has been added to the central heating system and, fingers crossed, the leaks have pretty well dried up.
We did set the central heating to come on for half an hour per night - 3 in the morning actually, as the coldest time - as a precaution, but it was obviously not enough. And we switched off the water pump as a precaution which we always do summer or winter when leaving the boat for any length of time. Pity we hadn't also opened all the taps!
The trouble is, we guess, that we have become complacent about frost. not having had any of any significance for so long in the UK. To be fair to us though, other boats moored here have had similar problems as even the Belgians have not had such prolonged cold weather for years.
But it’s another lesson learned!
Apart from fixing the new problems which occurred while we were away, Alex is now setting about the task of re-building the generator with the spare bits picked up from Southampton and other places on our diversionary route back here.
Louise’s main task while Alex is thus engaged is to source food at something less than the amazingly ridiculous prices which now pertain here. And if anyone thinks this is being somewhat paranoid, just imagine the exchange rate at rather less than parity (99.7p per €), cauliflowers at €2.80 each, mince at €4 per pound and chicken at €7 per pound! This search has become rather important to us both!
Back to the UK in a fortnight for three weeks or so before we set off at the end of March for the next cruising season. Next winter may find us moored in the south of France with luck, and maybe less chance of frozen pipes!!
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
Ghastly mishap in Ghent
As you know we are here in Ghent for the winter and part of the winter ‘programme’ includes fitting a new generator brought over especially in the car from the UK.
It’s lovely, expensive, neat with its own sound proof pod and Alex has spent three days constructing the mounting plinth (3’ x 2’ in iron – good and solid), arranging the new water cooling supply and the exhaust water separator, which involved manufacturing from steel pipe of different diameters what he hopes will act as a second silencer and water separator combined.
And all this has been done, and the generator, stripped of its sound proof pod, has been lowered by chain hoist into the engine room and partially reassembled onto its plinth. But – the exhaust separator was painted with a two-pack epoxy resin to stop up any pinprick holes in the welding. (you can get them with a stick weld and a not professional welder) and because it’s so cold it’s not going off (hardening).
So we tried the fan heater to provide some heat into the engine room but the supply tripped (well, that’s what we thought at the time) so we discussed over supper what might be the best answer to provide a constant low level of heat for a decent period of time.
Well, in the old days, they used to put a candle under the lavatory cistern to stop the pipes freezing. So that’s what we decided to do – under the water separator.
One and a half hours later when Louise went to the bathroom – next to the engine room – she could smell smoke. Alex dashed into the engine room and through the thick pall of smoke to the new generator and there it wasn’t or at least some of it wasn’t, any longer! Burnt to a crisp.
Alex put his head in his hands and howled. Louise said all the usual things – “At least we are both OK.” “The boat is OK.” “It’s only money!” “It could have been a lot worse.” etc.etc
All that work, all that money and now more work, more money and no guarantee at the end. Oh God, its too awful to contemplate. The candle had managed to fall over and roll under the engine, still alight, set fire to the pod, the plastic intake and much of the wiring loom, all at the generator end.
But the clear-up has started and Alex, ever positive, has turned his attention to the practical aspects of the clear-up. We have spent the last two long days washing down the engine room and one day cleaning the rooms next to it – bathroom into bedroom into kitchen. Is it all smoke damage or is some of it age-old dust? Smoke damage all of it of course! But the acrid smell is still there!
The generator is a sad sight. One end has really suffered – the alternator. The motor itself seems OK but time will tell. When Alex gets it apart we will see how very bad it is. But whatever, it’s not good and whatever, it’s going to be expensive. It’s so new, it’s not even been added to the insurance, so no respite there, and besides we all know that the no-claims bonus would be removed and the premium would go up, etc. etc. …
We have started a list of all the bits we need and have made first contact with the supplier. Hopefully when we get back to the UK for Christmas we will be able to pick up all the new parts and bring them back when we return to Ghent in January. Then maybe we can get this baby up and running.
We know that members of the boating community and many others will be saying, ‘Naked flames in the engine room – he must be mad’. But in our defence, sometimes a problem causes one to lose sight of the bigger picture and then one is tempted to make mistakes, as happened here. We would like to think that there are few people out there who haven’t at some time made an ill-advised decision!
Incidentally, the two-pack paint had gone off (hardened) nicely! Perhaps that was due to the fire not the candle!!
Meanwhile, life goes on and we made a trip to Ternuizen the other day. Its only 20k from Gent and it’s in Holland! which means we can buy cheap fresh milk and get a good selection of Chilean and Australian wine! The Belgians tend to follow the French mould where wine is concerned. (New World wines get very little shelf space.)
So we came back with among other things 3 litres of milk for the freezer, and 3 dozen bottles of wine. We also had lunch in a superior café at the northern tip of the town overlooking the Westerschelde where we watched a continuous stream of barges and ocean going ships going to and fro about their business. Another trip there before long, we think.
We are also getting to know Ghent pretty well. Louise has made several excursions around the inner city, some on her bike and some on shank’s pony and we both have made a couple of trips by car, one to the Belgian equivalent of B & Q for some more candles!
Bit short of pics for this one: a couple more from Gent and the archive.
It’s lovely, expensive, neat with its own sound proof pod and Alex has spent three days constructing the mounting plinth (3’ x 2’ in iron – good and solid), arranging the new water cooling supply and the exhaust water separator, which involved manufacturing from steel pipe of different diameters what he hopes will act as a second silencer and water separator combined.
And all this has been done, and the generator, stripped of its sound proof pod, has been lowered by chain hoist into the engine room and partially reassembled onto its plinth. But – the exhaust separator was painted with a two-pack epoxy resin to stop up any pinprick holes in the welding. (you can get them with a stick weld and a not professional welder) and because it’s so cold it’s not going off (hardening).
So we tried the fan heater to provide some heat into the engine room but the supply tripped (well, that’s what we thought at the time) so we discussed over supper what might be the best answer to provide a constant low level of heat for a decent period of time.
Well, in the old days, they used to put a candle under the lavatory cistern to stop the pipes freezing. So that’s what we decided to do – under the water separator.
One and a half hours later when Louise went to the bathroom – next to the engine room – she could smell smoke. Alex dashed into the engine room and through the thick pall of smoke to the new generator and there it wasn’t or at least some of it wasn’t, any longer! Burnt to a crisp.
Alex put his head in his hands and howled. Louise said all the usual things – “At least we are both OK.” “The boat is OK.” “It’s only money!” “It could have been a lot worse.” etc.etc
All that work, all that money and now more work, more money and no guarantee at the end. Oh God, its too awful to contemplate. The candle had managed to fall over and roll under the engine, still alight, set fire to the pod, the plastic intake and much of the wiring loom, all at the generator end.
But the clear-up has started and Alex, ever positive, has turned his attention to the practical aspects of the clear-up. We have spent the last two long days washing down the engine room and one day cleaning the rooms next to it – bathroom into bedroom into kitchen. Is it all smoke damage or is some of it age-old dust? Smoke damage all of it of course! But the acrid smell is still there!
The generator is a sad sight. One end has really suffered – the alternator. The motor itself seems OK but time will tell. When Alex gets it apart we will see how very bad it is. But whatever, it’s not good and whatever, it’s going to be expensive. It’s so new, it’s not even been added to the insurance, so no respite there, and besides we all know that the no-claims bonus would be removed and the premium would go up, etc. etc. …
We have started a list of all the bits we need and have made first contact with the supplier. Hopefully when we get back to the UK for Christmas we will be able to pick up all the new parts and bring them back when we return to Ghent in January. Then maybe we can get this baby up and running.
We know that members of the boating community and many others will be saying, ‘Naked flames in the engine room – he must be mad’. But in our defence, sometimes a problem causes one to lose sight of the bigger picture and then one is tempted to make mistakes, as happened here. We would like to think that there are few people out there who haven’t at some time made an ill-advised decision!
Incidentally, the two-pack paint had gone off (hardened) nicely! Perhaps that was due to the fire not the candle!!
Meanwhile, life goes on and we made a trip to Ternuizen the other day. Its only 20k from Gent and it’s in Holland! which means we can buy cheap fresh milk and get a good selection of Chilean and Australian wine! The Belgians tend to follow the French mould where wine is concerned. (New World wines get very little shelf space.)
So we came back with among other things 3 litres of milk for the freezer, and 3 dozen bottles of wine. We also had lunch in a superior café at the northern tip of the town overlooking the Westerschelde where we watched a continuous stream of barges and ocean going ships going to and fro about their business. Another trip there before long, we think.
We are also getting to know Ghent pretty well. Louise has made several excursions around the inner city, some on her bike and some on shank’s pony and we both have made a couple of trips by car, one to the Belgian equivalent of B & Q for some more candles!
Bit short of pics for this one: a couple more from Gent and the archive.
Saturday, 6 December 2008
Ghent and UK
We set off for England about 3½ weeks ago by train but first we sussed out the station in Ghent, getting there by tram, bought all our tram and train tickets, and timed the whole operation so we knew ‘worst case scenario’ it would take about 40 minutes!
On the day, we were up in good time, allowing an hour to get to the station which in the event actually took 20 minutes! So we sat around and waited and 10 minutes before the train was due, went to the platform, where we waited and waited until well after the train should have arrived. Suddenly an unintelligible announcement and a hurried look at the monitor, had everyone on our platform (including us) rushing to another, different platform where in 2 minutes our train arrived – by then 20 minutes late.
We were arriving at Lille Flandres station and our connection with Eurostar was at Lille Europe station - a full 400 metres away and we had only had a 40 minute changeover to start with. Now we were rather running out of time, having only 20 minutes to transfer, collect our pre-paid Eurostar tickets and get on the train!
We ran out of Lille Flandres and tried to follow the totally inadequate signage to Lille Europe station. Once there we hurriedly enquired at the Information Desk where we could pick up our pre-booked tickets, and the customer adviser, realising how late we were, directed us to the Eurostar barrier instead, where a rather brisk lady attendant made a hurried phone call and produced our boarding passes – along with a little homily about being earlier next time!
Through security and passport control, we managed to find our seats and sit down almost as the train moved off. But for all that, 1½ hours later we were in London. Amazing!
Over the next three weeks we darted all over the UK, staying in six different places with family and friends and picking up the items on our list of things to bring back to Ghent, the most important (and expensive) of those being a 4Kw, water cooled, quiet-running, diesel powered, compact generator and returned to Ghent by car and ferry.
Now Alex has the unenviable task of constructing a suitable place to mount the generator, feed it with water and exhaust it, all in an engine room which, at this time of year, is a pretty chilly environment.
But work has started.
We think we have found somewhere to moor the car for free, about 1½ k from the centre of town but we are still not 100% sure, so we are checking each day to ensure no ticket! When we need to use it we cycle to the car park, lock the bikes up, use the car, park up again and return on the bikes to Riccall. So far ‘they’ have only nicked one bicycle bell, but time will tell!
The beauty of having the car is that we can drive to Aldi (!) or wherever and buy as much as you like, as there’s much more room in a car boot than in bicycle panniers, and then drop it all off at Riccall. But Oh! we hate having a car here!! It’s far too ordinary and the hassle and responsibility of having it over here adds an extra element which sort of fixes you to a place. We had planned to do one more return trip by car but we’re not so sure now!
But we also have to consider the relative costs of travel – Jet2 with minimal luggage or ferry with car and as much stuff as we like? Booked in advance, air costs about €150 return for both of us, the ferry only £56 and we need about £25 worth of fuel each way from Alex’s sister Julia’s place in Bedford, which is a good stop-over point on the way to and from. As this time we had a ‘5p off a litre’ voucher from Tesco (if you spend £50 in one shop – no problem spending that on wine!) we filled up at Tesco in Milton Keynes. We later looked up ‘best price diesel’ on the internet and it said it was currently costing 75p in France and Belgium but we never saw it for less than €1.05 – about the same as in GB with the present appalling exchange rate.
Speaking of having the car here, it’s not the car itself we don’t like, of course. It’s an N reg Citroen ZX turbo diesel and it’s now using a bit of water (always a bad sign) and the transmission is growling a bit, but Alex is determined to get it to the ¼ million mile mark – only another 5K to go! He thinks he’ll have to wear black mourning clothes for a year when it finally goes to the scrap yard – he loves it so much!
Ghent is still as alluring as ever and we are hoping to use the ice rink they are setting up here. Alex is threatening to bring his ancient skates over from UK! We are looking forward to the Christmas markets and the party atmosphere that we have been promised pervades the whole of Ghent towards Christmas but we are on our travels home again to UK in a couple of weeks so we’ll see many of you then.
On the day, we were up in good time, allowing an hour to get to the station which in the event actually took 20 minutes! So we sat around and waited and 10 minutes before the train was due, went to the platform, where we waited and waited until well after the train should have arrived. Suddenly an unintelligible announcement and a hurried look at the monitor, had everyone on our platform (including us) rushing to another, different platform where in 2 minutes our train arrived – by then 20 minutes late.
We were arriving at Lille Flandres station and our connection with Eurostar was at Lille Europe station - a full 400 metres away and we had only had a 40 minute changeover to start with. Now we were rather running out of time, having only 20 minutes to transfer, collect our pre-paid Eurostar tickets and get on the train!
We ran out of Lille Flandres and tried to follow the totally inadequate signage to Lille Europe station. Once there we hurriedly enquired at the Information Desk where we could pick up our pre-booked tickets, and the customer adviser, realising how late we were, directed us to the Eurostar barrier instead, where a rather brisk lady attendant made a hurried phone call and produced our boarding passes – along with a little homily about being earlier next time!
Through security and passport control, we managed to find our seats and sit down almost as the train moved off. But for all that, 1½ hours later we were in London. Amazing!
Over the next three weeks we darted all over the UK, staying in six different places with family and friends and picking up the items on our list of things to bring back to Ghent, the most important (and expensive) of those being a 4Kw, water cooled, quiet-running, diesel powered, compact generator and returned to Ghent by car and ferry.
Now Alex has the unenviable task of constructing a suitable place to mount the generator, feed it with water and exhaust it, all in an engine room which, at this time of year, is a pretty chilly environment.
But work has started.
We think we have found somewhere to moor the car for free, about 1½ k from the centre of town but we are still not 100% sure, so we are checking each day to ensure no ticket! When we need to use it we cycle to the car park, lock the bikes up, use the car, park up again and return on the bikes to Riccall. So far ‘they’ have only nicked one bicycle bell, but time will tell!
The beauty of having the car is that we can drive to Aldi (!) or wherever and buy as much as you like, as there’s much more room in a car boot than in bicycle panniers, and then drop it all off at Riccall. But Oh! we hate having a car here!! It’s far too ordinary and the hassle and responsibility of having it over here adds an extra element which sort of fixes you to a place. We had planned to do one more return trip by car but we’re not so sure now!
But we also have to consider the relative costs of travel – Jet2 with minimal luggage or ferry with car and as much stuff as we like? Booked in advance, air costs about €150 return for both of us, the ferry only £56 and we need about £25 worth of fuel each way from Alex’s sister Julia’s place in Bedford, which is a good stop-over point on the way to and from. As this time we had a ‘5p off a litre’ voucher from Tesco (if you spend £50 in one shop – no problem spending that on wine!) we filled up at Tesco in Milton Keynes. We later looked up ‘best price diesel’ on the internet and it said it was currently costing 75p in France and Belgium but we never saw it for less than €1.05 – about the same as in GB with the present appalling exchange rate.
Speaking of having the car here, it’s not the car itself we don’t like, of course. It’s an N reg Citroen ZX turbo diesel and it’s now using a bit of water (always a bad sign) and the transmission is growling a bit, but Alex is determined to get it to the ¼ million mile mark – only another 5K to go! He thinks he’ll have to wear black mourning clothes for a year when it finally goes to the scrap yard – he loves it so much!
Ghent is still as alluring as ever and we are hoping to use the ice rink they are setting up here. Alex is threatening to bring his ancient skates over from UK! We are looking forward to the Christmas markets and the party atmosphere that we have been promised pervades the whole of Ghent towards Christmas but we are on our travels home again to UK in a couple of weeks so we’ll see many of you then.
Sunday, 2 November 2008
Lier to Ghent
We visited the town of Lier on a Saturday which is market day in the Grote Markt, and whilst Lier is not really a mini Bruges as it was said to be, it is a very pleasant place. We did the rounds of the market stalls, and even bought a couple of things – yes, spent money, amazing!! At 12.00 it all started to pack up and by 1.30 we could see the Grote Markt in all its glory.
We had lunch in a pavement café then went to look round the town. First on the list was Mr Zimmer’s amazing timepieces. In the museum was a huge astronomical clock, which he constructed for the Brussels World Exhibition in 1935. The other multi faced clock was set in a tower which was rebuilt from the original Corneliustoren (part of the 13th century city wall) especially for the purpose of housing it. The tower has been renamed the Zimmertoren in his honour. (We did just wonder, if in old age, he turned his hand to the invention of a walking frame?!)
Louis Zimmer was born in 1888 and trained and excelled as a clock maker, but he also had a passion for astronomy. He married these two skills by manufacturing clocks which not only portrayed the time but also gave information about many aspects of the astronomical universe.
Thus the world exhibition clock had no fewer than 93 dials, only some of which represented the 24-hour clock, time in different parts of the world etc. (even the 10 hour to the day, 100 minutes to the hour suggestion of France – firmly rejected by the people). All the others represented the movements of the planets, the solar system, the moon’s phases etc. In the case of some of the clocks, the hands would turn in a matter of months or years (e.g. 19 years for one of the moon’s phases) and in one case 25,800 years. (We did feel that the clock itself might have disintegrated by that time!) At the bottom are three scenes depicting with automatons how heavy you would be on each of the planets, and how high you could jump on each, with the same weight/force, and the 3rd depicting the four ages of man as they toll the quarters. All this happens every hour for about 5 minutes. However, the town of Lier spawned, housed, supported, revered and buried this man. And we thought he was pretty exceptional too!
We also had a look round the Beginhof (a whole area of town once used to house lay nuns) now used to house ne’er do wells, judging by the look of the people coming in and out of the houses and the area had not been turned into a set piece like the Beginhof in Amsterdam.
We finished with a guided tour of the huge Sint Gummarus Kerk for a mere €1.50 each (great these enthusiastic volunteer guides) and a bike ride in lovely weather round the footpath which follows the line of the old city walls – alongside the encirling river Great Nete.
Sunday morning was dark when we got up. We had to be at the lock at 7 am sharp to catch the ebb at just the right moment to join the Zeescheldte when the incoming tide would take us up to Ghent.
We both woke at about 2 o’clock, and tense and worried about the day ahead didn’t sleep much again until it was time to get up at 6 am. We had breakfast, then as Alex was looking at the calendar to see if the height of the tides was mentioned as well as the times, he suddenly noticed that sunrise and sunset times were included and that sunrise on that very day seemed to be earlier than on the day before. Strange! Then it dawned (sorry) on him – end of summertime and change of clocks! We were up an hour earlier than we needed to have been.
Well thank goodness for that! Another hour for some actual daylight to become apparent. We get up so much later than that normally, that we hadn’t noticed how dark the early mornings had become. There is no way we could have set off onto a completely unknown tidal river in the pitch dark. But at 7 we were off through the lock (primed and waiting with a green light for us) and down the Nete we went. The dreaded 80 m long tunnel under the autobaan and the ‘fast swirling currents’ of which we had been warned, was a pussycat compared to the Ouse at Selby! Rivers always look worse near low tide as this was, but there seemed to be an air of dereliction about the whole river – almost eerie. We both felt quite uncomfortable. We hit flood (the incoming tide) just one kilometre before the confluence with the Zeescheldte so changed up a gear and ploughed it to the meeting point. Thereafter we again had the tide with us, but now rising, and we motored on at 13 kph with the revs down to 1200 rpm. During the course of the next 4 hours we were soon overtaken by a couple of barges and at least 8 or more came in the opposite direction. This is Sunday; we thought we would be the only ones on the river! Anyway, Alex realised that if we kept going at this furious pace we would overtake the flood tide, so we backed off and cruised on up at 10 kph or so.
When at last we reached the Merelbeke Lock, there waiting for us in the lock were the two barges which had overtaken us 2½ hours before! We felt a bit guilty that they had both had to wait for the tortoise to arrive before being locked through, but we didn’t know they would have had to wait. We were just not in any hurry so were conserving fuel.
Louise had hoped to moor topside of the lock for the night (it had been a long day) but it was chock-a-block with moored barges, some two deep, as is the custom, so we just motored on for the extra hour into Ghent itself and our winter moorings, arriving 12 hours after we got up – no stops whatever – pretty whacked.
So a quiet few days here and then back and forth to the UK.
We had lunch in a pavement café then went to look round the town. First on the list was Mr Zimmer’s amazing timepieces. In the museum was a huge astronomical clock, which he constructed for the Brussels World Exhibition in 1935. The other multi faced clock was set in a tower which was rebuilt from the original Corneliustoren (part of the 13th century city wall) especially for the purpose of housing it. The tower has been renamed the Zimmertoren in his honour. (We did just wonder, if in old age, he turned his hand to the invention of a walking frame?!)
Louis Zimmer was born in 1888 and trained and excelled as a clock maker, but he also had a passion for astronomy. He married these two skills by manufacturing clocks which not only portrayed the time but also gave information about many aspects of the astronomical universe.
Thus the world exhibition clock had no fewer than 93 dials, only some of which represented the 24-hour clock, time in different parts of the world etc. (even the 10 hour to the day, 100 minutes to the hour suggestion of France – firmly rejected by the people). All the others represented the movements of the planets, the solar system, the moon’s phases etc. In the case of some of the clocks, the hands would turn in a matter of months or years (e.g. 19 years for one of the moon’s phases) and in one case 25,800 years. (We did feel that the clock itself might have disintegrated by that time!) At the bottom are three scenes depicting with automatons how heavy you would be on each of the planets, and how high you could jump on each, with the same weight/force, and the 3rd depicting the four ages of man as they toll the quarters. All this happens every hour for about 5 minutes. However, the town of Lier spawned, housed, supported, revered and buried this man. And we thought he was pretty exceptional too!
We also had a look round the Beginhof (a whole area of town once used to house lay nuns) now used to house ne’er do wells, judging by the look of the people coming in and out of the houses and the area had not been turned into a set piece like the Beginhof in Amsterdam.
We finished with a guided tour of the huge Sint Gummarus Kerk for a mere €1.50 each (great these enthusiastic volunteer guides) and a bike ride in lovely weather round the footpath which follows the line of the old city walls – alongside the encirling river Great Nete.
Sunday morning was dark when we got up. We had to be at the lock at 7 am sharp to catch the ebb at just the right moment to join the Zeescheldte when the incoming tide would take us up to Ghent.
We both woke at about 2 o’clock, and tense and worried about the day ahead didn’t sleep much again until it was time to get up at 6 am. We had breakfast, then as Alex was looking at the calendar to see if the height of the tides was mentioned as well as the times, he suddenly noticed that sunrise and sunset times were included and that sunrise on that very day seemed to be earlier than on the day before. Strange! Then it dawned (sorry) on him – end of summertime and change of clocks! We were up an hour earlier than we needed to have been.
Well thank goodness for that! Another hour for some actual daylight to become apparent. We get up so much later than that normally, that we hadn’t noticed how dark the early mornings had become. There is no way we could have set off onto a completely unknown tidal river in the pitch dark. But at 7 we were off through the lock (primed and waiting with a green light for us) and down the Nete we went. The dreaded 80 m long tunnel under the autobaan and the ‘fast swirling currents’ of which we had been warned, was a pussycat compared to the Ouse at Selby! Rivers always look worse near low tide as this was, but there seemed to be an air of dereliction about the whole river – almost eerie. We both felt quite uncomfortable. We hit flood (the incoming tide) just one kilometre before the confluence with the Zeescheldte so changed up a gear and ploughed it to the meeting point. Thereafter we again had the tide with us, but now rising, and we motored on at 13 kph with the revs down to 1200 rpm. During the course of the next 4 hours we were soon overtaken by a couple of barges and at least 8 or more came in the opposite direction. This is Sunday; we thought we would be the only ones on the river! Anyway, Alex realised that if we kept going at this furious pace we would overtake the flood tide, so we backed off and cruised on up at 10 kph or so.
When at last we reached the Merelbeke Lock, there waiting for us in the lock were the two barges which had overtaken us 2½ hours before! We felt a bit guilty that they had both had to wait for the tortoise to arrive before being locked through, but we didn’t know they would have had to wait. We were just not in any hurry so were conserving fuel.
Louise had hoped to moor topside of the lock for the night (it had been a long day) but it was chock-a-block with moored barges, some two deep, as is the custom, so we just motored on for the extra hour into Ghent itself and our winter moorings, arriving 12 hours after we got up – no stops whatever – pretty whacked.
So a quiet few days here and then back and forth to the UK.
Monday, 27 October 2008
Turnhout to Lier
Turnhout to Lier
We left friends Anja and Jeroen late in the morning after final coffee, tea, chat, photos, presents etc and regretful farewells, and headed for Turnhout where we stopped for lunch.
The next few bridge keepers either saw us coming or were listening on the VHF (although they made no reply to our request for bridge passage). Then suddenly, about 2 kms before the first of the locks the hitherto silent radio crackled into life, “Blah, blah, blah, Riccall, blah, blah, blah.” “Oh help, it sounds like somebody is calling US.” “Riccall receiving, over”. “I am sorry, you can’t get through the lock tonight, there is a problem. You can moor outside the shop and the lock will be OK at 8am tomorrow.” “That’s fine, but it will be a bit later than 8 o’clock for us! We are not early risers!” “OK, I will look out for you in the morning.”
So we are moored 100m from where elements of the British 146th brigade, part of the 49th (West Riding) Infantry Division managed to bridge the canal and drive the Germans back, despite fierce counter attack, and began the liberation of the north Belgian people, in the village of Rijkvorsel.
We have also been able to stock up at the GB store (Carrrefour) where we are moored. Regretfully, Alex is on the wagon at the moment as the only antibiotic left in the medicine chest to counter an abscess in his gum is Metronidazole (strictly no alcohol with this one). This means we can’t savour the delights of the bar 20m away!
The next day saw us merrily on our unhurried way, and when we were waiting for a bridge at about 12.15 a man suddenly appeared saying he was from the Jachthaven opposite, had a tjalk for sale and was sure we must know lots of people in the UK who might like to buy it! Why not come, have a drink and look at it. So we moored up on his moorings as suggested, had a look/tea, took on some much needed water and promised to advertise his very nice tjalk:- 23m long, 4.5m wide, well fitted out, 500 hours on a new engine. His price is €155,000 (valued at between €185K and €200K and with commercial certification to 2018, so it can run on red diesel.
When Frank came to look at Riccall, he actually said “I like yours better than mine”!! and he obviously did. We thought that was so nice. Alex tactfully said, “Not nicer, just different”. Just before we parted Frank thrust an envelope into Alex’s hand. He looked in it and saw that it contained photocopied hand-written charts. We thanked him and thought no more about them till much later when Louise remembered them and we discovered that they filled in all the information missing from our other charts – most useful.
We carried on after lunch and at 3.30 we came to a lock which obviously had problems. This was also the first lock we had seen in Belgium or Holland that was still hand operated. The lady lockkeeper couldn’t get one of the paddles in the bottom gate to shut. We watched for a while then moored up and Alex went to help. But before he could explain how to take the pressure off the paddle by emptying the lock again, one of the old stalwarts appeared and did it for her.
By this time it was 4.15pm and suddenly a new ‘Hitler’ appeared, frenetically conversing with the other two lockkeepers and then told us in no uncertain terms that this was our last lock and we would have to moor up before the next one. Alex offered, “I thought you stayed operational till 5pm”. But Adolf was adamant. We don’t care, it’s a nice mooring anyway, and we had a long chat with several boaters from the group of barges just up the canal.
The following morning, Mein Furher, who penned us through the first lock, could not have been nicer (!) and we passed from lock to lock and bridge to lift bridge with little need for speech, as the lockkeepers knew we were on our way, and we noticed that the locks are slowly being mechanised on this stretch.
That evening we moored in a Jachthaven in Schoten – at €18 the night – but with free electricity, water and wi-fi signal, shops within 100m but, Oh! the cost of fresh milk in Belgium is 3 times that of Holland. (Louise says “I said we should have frozen more, now didn’t I?!”)
After a late start we finally got through the last two locks on the Dessel-Turnhout-Schoten Kanaal and out onto the big boys’ Albert Kanaal.
The first lock on this large waterway, the Koning Albert II Sluis was a triple, and after a half hour wait, being buffeted against the quay, while we hurriedly ate a buffet lunch, we were allowed into the biggest chamber of the three with another huge barge – Somtrams 2.
It was a 5.7 metre rise, but very gentle, and soon we were out onto the wide canal above following Somtrams 2 past other moored craft, blue-flagging the two barges coming the other way as they made to enter the lock. Well!!! Somtrams 2 had a metre-square blue sign with scintillating light in the centre as per the European regulations: we just stuck our blue-cloth-covered picture frame in the window of our wheelhouse!!
Soon we reached Viersel Sluis which leads off the Albert Kanaal onto the Nete Kanaal. The lockkeeper said we would have to wait outside for half an hour while his lock filled as it was set for coming the other way. Half an hour? What was he doing, filling it with a bucket? Anyway, he was quite right, it did take half an hour while we twiddled about outside, then of course once in, it took half an hour to drop us down 5 metres.
Worth it though as the Nete Kanaal is lovely – the best parts of the River Trent without the currents, and a few more places to moor. Eventually, we wound up at Lier Jachthaven – €13 per night, with the advice that we must visit the town – a small version of Bruges apparently. That means at least two nights, possibly three, depending on whether the locks ahead are observing Sunday opening times or not, and the time of the tides. The town had better be worth it!
We left friends Anja and Jeroen late in the morning after final coffee, tea, chat, photos, presents etc and regretful farewells, and headed for Turnhout where we stopped for lunch.
The next few bridge keepers either saw us coming or were listening on the VHF (although they made no reply to our request for bridge passage). Then suddenly, about 2 kms before the first of the locks the hitherto silent radio crackled into life, “Blah, blah, blah, Riccall, blah, blah, blah.” “Oh help, it sounds like somebody is calling US.” “Riccall receiving, over”. “I am sorry, you can’t get through the lock tonight, there is a problem. You can moor outside the shop and the lock will be OK at 8am tomorrow.” “That’s fine, but it will be a bit later than 8 o’clock for us! We are not early risers!” “OK, I will look out for you in the morning.”
So we are moored 100m from where elements of the British 146th brigade, part of the 49th (West Riding) Infantry Division managed to bridge the canal and drive the Germans back, despite fierce counter attack, and began the liberation of the north Belgian people, in the village of Rijkvorsel.
We have also been able to stock up at the GB store (Carrrefour) where we are moored. Regretfully, Alex is on the wagon at the moment as the only antibiotic left in the medicine chest to counter an abscess in his gum is Metronidazole (strictly no alcohol with this one). This means we can’t savour the delights of the bar 20m away!
The next day saw us merrily on our unhurried way, and when we were waiting for a bridge at about 12.15 a man suddenly appeared saying he was from the Jachthaven opposite, had a tjalk for sale and was sure we must know lots of people in the UK who might like to buy it! Why not come, have a drink and look at it. So we moored up on his moorings as suggested, had a look/tea, took on some much needed water and promised to advertise his very nice tjalk:- 23m long, 4.5m wide, well fitted out, 500 hours on a new engine. His price is €155,000 (valued at between €185K and €200K and with commercial certification to 2018, so it can run on red diesel.
When Frank came to look at Riccall, he actually said “I like yours better than mine”!! and he obviously did. We thought that was so nice. Alex tactfully said, “Not nicer, just different”. Just before we parted Frank thrust an envelope into Alex’s hand. He looked in it and saw that it contained photocopied hand-written charts. We thanked him and thought no more about them till much later when Louise remembered them and we discovered that they filled in all the information missing from our other charts – most useful.
We carried on after lunch and at 3.30 we came to a lock which obviously had problems. This was also the first lock we had seen in Belgium or Holland that was still hand operated. The lady lockkeeper couldn’t get one of the paddles in the bottom gate to shut. We watched for a while then moored up and Alex went to help. But before he could explain how to take the pressure off the paddle by emptying the lock again, one of the old stalwarts appeared and did it for her.
By this time it was 4.15pm and suddenly a new ‘Hitler’ appeared, frenetically conversing with the other two lockkeepers and then told us in no uncertain terms that this was our last lock and we would have to moor up before the next one. Alex offered, “I thought you stayed operational till 5pm”. But Adolf was adamant. We don’t care, it’s a nice mooring anyway, and we had a long chat with several boaters from the group of barges just up the canal.
The following morning, Mein Furher, who penned us through the first lock, could not have been nicer (!) and we passed from lock to lock and bridge to lift bridge with little need for speech, as the lockkeepers knew we were on our way, and we noticed that the locks are slowly being mechanised on this stretch.
That evening we moored in a Jachthaven in Schoten – at €18 the night – but with free electricity, water and wi-fi signal, shops within 100m but, Oh! the cost of fresh milk in Belgium is 3 times that of Holland. (Louise says “I said we should have frozen more, now didn’t I?!”)
After a late start we finally got through the last two locks on the Dessel-Turnhout-Schoten Kanaal and out onto the big boys’ Albert Kanaal.
The first lock on this large waterway, the Koning Albert II Sluis was a triple, and after a half hour wait, being buffeted against the quay, while we hurriedly ate a buffet lunch, we were allowed into the biggest chamber of the three with another huge barge – Somtrams 2.
It was a 5.7 metre rise, but very gentle, and soon we were out onto the wide canal above following Somtrams 2 past other moored craft, blue-flagging the two barges coming the other way as they made to enter the lock. Well!!! Somtrams 2 had a metre-square blue sign with scintillating light in the centre as per the European regulations: we just stuck our blue-cloth-covered picture frame in the window of our wheelhouse!!
Soon we reached Viersel Sluis which leads off the Albert Kanaal onto the Nete Kanaal. The lockkeeper said we would have to wait outside for half an hour while his lock filled as it was set for coming the other way. Half an hour? What was he doing, filling it with a bucket? Anyway, he was quite right, it did take half an hour while we twiddled about outside, then of course once in, it took half an hour to drop us down 5 metres.
Worth it though as the Nete Kanaal is lovely – the best parts of the River Trent without the currents, and a few more places to moor. Eventually, we wound up at Lier Jachthaven – €13 per night, with the advice that we must visit the town – a small version of Bruges apparently. That means at least two nights, possibly three, depending on whether the locks ahead are observing Sunday opening times or not, and the time of the tides. The town had better be worth it!
Thursday, 23 October 2008
Weert to Turnhout
We are now in Belgium having crossed the border (unmarked, on the canal at least) and bought our 7-month winter licence (E50). But just before we crossed, there was another car/boat fuel station. This time white diesel was E1.17/litre and red was E0.90/litre – the best yet, and of course free water! So both fuel tanks and the water tank are full and we have moored up above Lock 18 within a couple of kilometres of the pleasant little town of Bocholt.
At breakfast we watched as a crane unloaded from a workboat, which was sitting in the lock behind us, all the paraphernalia required to replace the lower lock gates – the new gates, of course, workmen’s cabin, generator, welding equipment, gas bottles etc. It seems we had just managed to get through this lock before a stoppage. On the roads you get contra-flows, diversions and perhaps a few hours delay. On the canals you get no-flows, no alternative route, and days or even weeks of delay so we felt lucky.
Our luck didn’t hold though. In the morning we started the engine at about 10.30 to move on, but when Alex went into the engine room to do his usual checks, there was a considerable amount of water in the engine bilge area. There shouldn’t be!
Having sucked it all out (about 4 gallons) with the aqua vac, we tried to see where it had come from: maybe the stern gland area – if the retaining baffle was leaking, or maybe where the cooling pipes go through the hull? It is always difficult to pinpoint these things, especially as the retained water first seeps into everything and then slowly seeps out again giving false sources.
The quick setting cement we always carry didn’t set at all round the pipes when we applied it (had it too long maybe), so we set off in search of a builders’ merchants. After asking twice and cycling 4 kms we did actually find one which had the essential ‘snel cement’ – sets in 2 minutes!
Although we were in a hurry to get back there was still time to pop into the next door Lidl for more gin. They sell spirits in supermarkets in Belgium whereas in Holland you have to get it from an off licence, though this is usually thoughtfully situated next door to the supermarket!
When we got back to Riccall we were relieved to find there was no extra water in the bilge anywhere but we put the new cement in round the pipes anyway.
We are currently assessing the situation, but it is uncomfortable wondering where we may have a leak, and if it may mean a dry-docking, investigation and perhaps welding. Ughhh.
In the morning all seemed dry so we set off onto the Bocholt-Herentals Canal. This had long boring straights but that tedium was offset by the glorious autumnal colours of the trees, and the regular appearance of WW II pill-boxes protecting the canal against Nazi invasion!
We scraped along the bottom at one point trying to get over far enough for a laden barge coming the other way (he didn’t even acknowledge us) then down through three locks to our night’s mooring.
At the first of these locks the friendly keeper let us in, then set the lock operation for ‘auto’ and went back to his tidying at the parallel redundant lock. The lock emptied but the gates didn’t open, so we waited and waited and Alex tooted the horn and tried the VHF channel all to no avail. Eventually, we sidled Riccall up to one of the lock ladders and Alex climbed up 4½ metres to find the keeper. ‘Oh, I thought I had set it on fully automatic – sorry – I will open the gates’!
The next two locks went without incident and just after the last one we moored up at the side of the now very wide canal on good bollards, only a bit too far apart.
We reckoned that being close to the lock the big boys would be going fairly slowly so not too disturbing. Wrong! The first one came up the canal like a bat out of hell and then slowed at the last minute for the lock. His wake followed after him and slapped us about quite badly for about 10 minutes. “Save the photo frames, Louise”! To be fair though, most of the rest did show more consideration and the lock closed at 9 pm so after that all was quiet.
The next morning, we turned onto the Dessel-Turnhout-Schoten Kanaal with the aim of mooring at Turnout for the night. This canal is very narrow in European terms and when the first unladen barge loomed up, coming towards us, named ‘Robert’! we really wondered how we were going to get past (not to mention how they passed each other) but we slowed down and got right over, and he powered past with a couple of feet to spare, ignoring us totally, and we rode over his wash like being back in the North Sea!
And then there was one in front going very slowly, and two coming the other way, so we stopped at a wide section to let them sort themselves out and get past. Unfortunately, we picked up something on the prop and no matter how much forward/reverse power we applied, we just couldn’t shift it.
So we laboured up to a wider section and tried to moor, but it was too shallow. We sat on the mud mostly off line, with a couple of ropes on, and Alex climbed down the rungs at the back to see what was there. But even tied on with bits of rope he couldn’t get enough purchase to get the offending ‘something’ off the prop. A local said there was a boatyard a bit further up the canal, so we set off again.
The ‘thing’ seemed to be getting more and more tangled round the propeller until eventually we were doing only 2kph for 800 rpm (which should give us about 7 kph). Something was clearly very wrong. We then saw a pair of low open floodgates ahead, whose supporting concrete bases stuck out into the canal, leaving a gap of about 8 metres in the middle for boats to pass through. The side pieces, sticking out from the bank by 4 metres or so, gave us something to reverse Riccall up to so we could access the back end.
This we eventually achieved by tying Riccall in place on broken bits of concrete and suchlike. While Louise went off to try and get help, Alex started to attack the triffid on the prop with the boat hook. Bit by bit, strand by strand, he managed to remove a barrowload of string which had wound itself round the prop. And suddenly the prop was free! Then a quick phone call to retrieve Louise who had by this time cycled 3 kms and found the library where 3 kind ladies were beginning to look up boatyards and engineers on the internet. Once Louise was back at the boat we saw a big barge heading our way and made a quick getaway before he reached our very inadequate moorings and slammed us backwards into the concrete.
We were pretty tired by all this so decided to stop at the first place possible. This was a haven in a wide ‘bay’ which was full, but just beyond were a couple of other big boats at the canalside and a GAP big enough for us. We asked if we could moor for one night and thus we met another lovely couple, Anya and Jeroen, and their delightful daughters, Marijne and Janne. They live on their 38m x 5m spitz in the beautiful original living quarters, and are gradually turning the rest into similarly lovely accommodation.
There was no water or electricity but it was miles from anywhere and free, and Jeroen very kindly let us plug into his generator which he ran for about 2 hours a day, so that just kept our batteries up.
We shared drinks and chat and ideas for several days, and visited nearby Turnhout, before regretfully we had to move on towards our final destination – Ghent, but we have decided Brussels is out of the picture now.
The real downer in all this is that somehow we have managed to lose our taft rail ensign. We took it out at one point as Alex climbed back and forth over the back rail then we know we put it back into its holder. But when we finally got moored up it wasn’t to be seen. We have ridden right down to the flood lock gates and way beyond hoping to spot it floating in the water; but no mobile phone story this time!
Alex has created a new makeshift flagpole and we have attached our spare, faded, tattered old flag to it. Oh dear, oh dear! Not really flying the flag at all!
At breakfast we watched as a crane unloaded from a workboat, which was sitting in the lock behind us, all the paraphernalia required to replace the lower lock gates – the new gates, of course, workmen’s cabin, generator, welding equipment, gas bottles etc. It seems we had just managed to get through this lock before a stoppage. On the roads you get contra-flows, diversions and perhaps a few hours delay. On the canals you get no-flows, no alternative route, and days or even weeks of delay so we felt lucky.
Our luck didn’t hold though. In the morning we started the engine at about 10.30 to move on, but when Alex went into the engine room to do his usual checks, there was a considerable amount of water in the engine bilge area. There shouldn’t be!
Having sucked it all out (about 4 gallons) with the aqua vac, we tried to see where it had come from: maybe the stern gland area – if the retaining baffle was leaking, or maybe where the cooling pipes go through the hull? It is always difficult to pinpoint these things, especially as the retained water first seeps into everything and then slowly seeps out again giving false sources.
The quick setting cement we always carry didn’t set at all round the pipes when we applied it (had it too long maybe), so we set off in search of a builders’ merchants. After asking twice and cycling 4 kms we did actually find one which had the essential ‘snel cement’ – sets in 2 minutes!
Although we were in a hurry to get back there was still time to pop into the next door Lidl for more gin. They sell spirits in supermarkets in Belgium whereas in Holland you have to get it from an off licence, though this is usually thoughtfully situated next door to the supermarket!
When we got back to Riccall we were relieved to find there was no extra water in the bilge anywhere but we put the new cement in round the pipes anyway.
We are currently assessing the situation, but it is uncomfortable wondering where we may have a leak, and if it may mean a dry-docking, investigation and perhaps welding. Ughhh.
In the morning all seemed dry so we set off onto the Bocholt-Herentals Canal. This had long boring straights but that tedium was offset by the glorious autumnal colours of the trees, and the regular appearance of WW II pill-boxes protecting the canal against Nazi invasion!
We scraped along the bottom at one point trying to get over far enough for a laden barge coming the other way (he didn’t even acknowledge us) then down through three locks to our night’s mooring.
At the first of these locks the friendly keeper let us in, then set the lock operation for ‘auto’ and went back to his tidying at the parallel redundant lock. The lock emptied but the gates didn’t open, so we waited and waited and Alex tooted the horn and tried the VHF channel all to no avail. Eventually, we sidled Riccall up to one of the lock ladders and Alex climbed up 4½ metres to find the keeper. ‘Oh, I thought I had set it on fully automatic – sorry – I will open the gates’!
The next two locks went without incident and just after the last one we moored up at the side of the now very wide canal on good bollards, only a bit too far apart.
We reckoned that being close to the lock the big boys would be going fairly slowly so not too disturbing. Wrong! The first one came up the canal like a bat out of hell and then slowed at the last minute for the lock. His wake followed after him and slapped us about quite badly for about 10 minutes. “Save the photo frames, Louise”! To be fair though, most of the rest did show more consideration and the lock closed at 9 pm so after that all was quiet.
The next morning, we turned onto the Dessel-Turnhout-Schoten Kanaal with the aim of mooring at Turnout for the night. This canal is very narrow in European terms and when the first unladen barge loomed up, coming towards us, named ‘Robert’! we really wondered how we were going to get past (not to mention how they passed each other) but we slowed down and got right over, and he powered past with a couple of feet to spare, ignoring us totally, and we rode over his wash like being back in the North Sea!
And then there was one in front going very slowly, and two coming the other way, so we stopped at a wide section to let them sort themselves out and get past. Unfortunately, we picked up something on the prop and no matter how much forward/reverse power we applied, we just couldn’t shift it.
So we laboured up to a wider section and tried to moor, but it was too shallow. We sat on the mud mostly off line, with a couple of ropes on, and Alex climbed down the rungs at the back to see what was there. But even tied on with bits of rope he couldn’t get enough purchase to get the offending ‘something’ off the prop. A local said there was a boatyard a bit further up the canal, so we set off again.
The ‘thing’ seemed to be getting more and more tangled round the propeller until eventually we were doing only 2kph for 800 rpm (which should give us about 7 kph). Something was clearly very wrong. We then saw a pair of low open floodgates ahead, whose supporting concrete bases stuck out into the canal, leaving a gap of about 8 metres in the middle for boats to pass through. The side pieces, sticking out from the bank by 4 metres or so, gave us something to reverse Riccall up to so we could access the back end.
This we eventually achieved by tying Riccall in place on broken bits of concrete and suchlike. While Louise went off to try and get help, Alex started to attack the triffid on the prop with the boat hook. Bit by bit, strand by strand, he managed to remove a barrowload of string which had wound itself round the prop. And suddenly the prop was free! Then a quick phone call to retrieve Louise who had by this time cycled 3 kms and found the library where 3 kind ladies were beginning to look up boatyards and engineers on the internet. Once Louise was back at the boat we saw a big barge heading our way and made a quick getaway before he reached our very inadequate moorings and slammed us backwards into the concrete.
We were pretty tired by all this so decided to stop at the first place possible. This was a haven in a wide ‘bay’ which was full, but just beyond were a couple of other big boats at the canalside and a GAP big enough for us. We asked if we could moor for one night and thus we met another lovely couple, Anya and Jeroen, and their delightful daughters, Marijne and Janne. They live on their 38m x 5m spitz in the beautiful original living quarters, and are gradually turning the rest into similarly lovely accommodation.
There was no water or electricity but it was miles from anywhere and free, and Jeroen very kindly let us plug into his generator which he ran for about 2 hours a day, so that just kept our batteries up.
We shared drinks and chat and ideas for several days, and visited nearby Turnhout, before regretfully we had to move on towards our final destination – Ghent, but we have decided Brussels is out of the picture now.
The real downer in all this is that somehow we have managed to lose our taft rail ensign. We took it out at one point as Alex climbed back and forth over the back rail then we know we put it back into its holder. But when we finally got moored up it wasn’t to be seen. We have ridden right down to the flood lock gates and way beyond hoping to spot it floating in the water; but no mobile phone story this time!
Alex has created a new makeshift flagpole and we have attached our spare, faded, tattered old flag to it. Oh dear, oh dear! Not really flying the flag at all!
Saturday, 18 October 2008
Oirschot to Weert
Oirschot to Weert
Before leaving Oirschot we were able to have another quick look at our emails as we still had a signal even in the wheelhouse, unlike last night, and then we motored on. We had worries about finding a decent mooring last night, but this morning just around the corner we found free moorings just 50 yards away from where we had moored last night – just hidden from view!
The day passed without incident: bridges lifted, locks operated without any communication, then we got to Lock 5 and stopped at the free moorings just above it on the port side to have lunch.
On reflection, we decided that this spot was just so nice we would moor up for the day and cycle by the pretty route into Helmond, about ¾ hour away. Well, it took a bit longer to get there than we had anticipated, with no map and the locals not speaking English (I mean, honestly, not speaking English; where do these people come from? – only joking!!) but arrive we did eventually and had the obligatory cup of tea in a café by the old central kanaal, now sadly disused, and with fountains up the middle, which is we supposed, a reasonable way to deal with a redundant canal. Then we made our way back, this time just following the canal and that was a lot quicker!
However, the moorings were about as good as it gets for rural: no roads, no nasty niffs and quite a few slow going commercials to watch. This mooring gets 9½ out of 10.
That evening things were fairly quiet until about 7 o’clock when Alex suddenly heard a lot of engine noise. On looking up there was a 60m cargo barge turning round in the 70m space in front of Riccall, which unusually had no bow thruster. Alex watched for a few minutes then went forward and gesticulated, ‘Sorry for being here and making it difficult for you’.
‘Not at all’ came the gesticulated reply, ‘You have a perfect right to be there’ and a thumbs up! Maybe he has been reading the blog as well! Interesting how much you can communicate with gesticulations!
We left hoping to get to a place called Weert where George and Suzanna had said there were the much sought-after free moorings, but when Alex started the engine he noticed the stern gland pump warning light flashing and on investigation found the level switch had failed! So by the time he had replaced it we were an hour later leaving than planned.
Quietly moving down the canal through the autumnal mist we were a little surprised to see a barge on our side of the canal. Fortunately, Louise quickly noticed that he was displaying his blue flag. This is a device which indicates to anyone around that the boat in question is going to take to the ‘wrong’ side of the canal or river for some reason. In this case, the barge ahead of us was signalling his intention of mooring up on ‘our’ side of the canal to load. We duly moved across to the ‘wrong’ side of the canal and got an enthusiastic wave from him in answer as we passed. We felt we had joined the big boys’ club!!
However, it seemed we were just never going to get to Weert before the locks all closed at 4.00 pm (it's Saturday) but never mind, we are moored just above Lock 12 and Alex is able to sit out and enjoy the sun while Louise, bless her cotton socks, does a bit of painting behind the rear gunwales. Louise says, ‘It doesn’t get done if you don’t do it’!
Alas no unlocked wi-fi!
The following morning we woke up to a thick mist. After breakfast we heard the warning siren go in the lock behind us and realised that there was a barge on the move. We fired up the engine and set off before it emerged fro, the lock. At the next lock the keeper checked our length and asked us to go right to the front as there was a commercial barge behind – a bit daunting as he was unladen and thus much higher out of the water. When we got through we pulled over and let him past hoping to follow him in the poor visibility. As it turned out he was travelling much faster than us despite the weather so we had to let him go and feel our way ion the fog.
At the ninety degree bend a few miles ahead where the canal divided; we had to rely upon GPS and Noordersoft to tell us where we had to turn and keeping close in to the bank to see where we were going. Too close for the fishermen and as it turned out too close for us as we scraped across the bottom.
When we reached the next lock and got through we decided that creeping about in the mist was no fun and probably dangerous so we would stop till it lifted.
Alex is not sure whether keeping an eye on the wi-fi signal strength on the computer caused it, but he made a monumental cock-up of mooring in full view of the lock keeper! In the end he threw off the ropes, roared backwards to try again, just missing the patrol boat by about 6 inches and then went on to do a perfect parallel park. (More lessons needed!)
The plus side to a very early stop was a good wi-fi signal. We decided to stop for the night and post a blog, and later in the unexpected sunshine we cycled to the town of Weert for tea and a beer and general chill-out. No shopping on a Sunday here.
Next day we set off in better weather but stopped again at Weert to do the shopping.
Before leaving Oirschot we were able to have another quick look at our emails as we still had a signal even in the wheelhouse, unlike last night, and then we motored on. We had worries about finding a decent mooring last night, but this morning just around the corner we found free moorings just 50 yards away from where we had moored last night – just hidden from view!
The day passed without incident: bridges lifted, locks operated without any communication, then we got to Lock 5 and stopped at the free moorings just above it on the port side to have lunch.
On reflection, we decided that this spot was just so nice we would moor up for the day and cycle by the pretty route into Helmond, about ¾ hour away. Well, it took a bit longer to get there than we had anticipated, with no map and the locals not speaking English (I mean, honestly, not speaking English; where do these people come from? – only joking!!) but arrive we did eventually and had the obligatory cup of tea in a café by the old central kanaal, now sadly disused, and with fountains up the middle, which is we supposed, a reasonable way to deal with a redundant canal. Then we made our way back, this time just following the canal and that was a lot quicker!
However, the moorings were about as good as it gets for rural: no roads, no nasty niffs and quite a few slow going commercials to watch. This mooring gets 9½ out of 10.
That evening things were fairly quiet until about 7 o’clock when Alex suddenly heard a lot of engine noise. On looking up there was a 60m cargo barge turning round in the 70m space in front of Riccall, which unusually had no bow thruster. Alex watched for a few minutes then went forward and gesticulated, ‘Sorry for being here and making it difficult for you’.
‘Not at all’ came the gesticulated reply, ‘You have a perfect right to be there’ and a thumbs up! Maybe he has been reading the blog as well! Interesting how much you can communicate with gesticulations!
We left hoping to get to a place called Weert where George and Suzanna had said there were the much sought-after free moorings, but when Alex started the engine he noticed the stern gland pump warning light flashing and on investigation found the level switch had failed! So by the time he had replaced it we were an hour later leaving than planned.
Quietly moving down the canal through the autumnal mist we were a little surprised to see a barge on our side of the canal. Fortunately, Louise quickly noticed that he was displaying his blue flag. This is a device which indicates to anyone around that the boat in question is going to take to the ‘wrong’ side of the canal or river for some reason. In this case, the barge ahead of us was signalling his intention of mooring up on ‘our’ side of the canal to load. We duly moved across to the ‘wrong’ side of the canal and got an enthusiastic wave from him in answer as we passed. We felt we had joined the big boys’ club!!
However, it seemed we were just never going to get to Weert before the locks all closed at 4.00 pm (it's Saturday) but never mind, we are moored just above Lock 12 and Alex is able to sit out and enjoy the sun while Louise, bless her cotton socks, does a bit of painting behind the rear gunwales. Louise says, ‘It doesn’t get done if you don’t do it’!
Alas no unlocked wi-fi!
The following morning we woke up to a thick mist. After breakfast we heard the warning siren go in the lock behind us and realised that there was a barge on the move. We fired up the engine and set off before it emerged fro, the lock. At the next lock the keeper checked our length and asked us to go right to the front as there was a commercial barge behind – a bit daunting as he was unladen and thus much higher out of the water. When we got through we pulled over and let him past hoping to follow him in the poor visibility. As it turned out he was travelling much faster than us despite the weather so we had to let him go and feel our way ion the fog.
At the ninety degree bend a few miles ahead where the canal divided; we had to rely upon GPS and Noordersoft to tell us where we had to turn and keeping close in to the bank to see where we were going. Too close for the fishermen and as it turned out too close for us as we scraped across the bottom.
When we reached the next lock and got through we decided that creeping about in the mist was no fun and probably dangerous so we would stop till it lifted.
Alex is not sure whether keeping an eye on the wi-fi signal strength on the computer caused it, but he made a monumental cock-up of mooring in full view of the lock keeper! In the end he threw off the ropes, roared backwards to try again, just missing the patrol boat by about 6 inches and then went on to do a perfect parallel park. (More lessons needed!)
The plus side to a very early stop was a good wi-fi signal. We decided to stop for the night and post a blog, and later in the unexpected sunshine we cycled to the town of Weert for tea and a beer and general chill-out. No shopping on a Sunday here.
Next day we set off in better weather but stopped again at Weert to do the shopping.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
Dordrecht to Tilburg via Waspik
We left Dordrecht (having consulted Theo – long term moorer in Dordrecht and knowledgeable about all things to do with the rivers, for the optimum time viz a viz the tides) at 9.30 am. ‘Rosa Klebb’ (the nasty one) was on duty so we had to wait 10 minutes (while she stuck a spiked shoe into 007 no doubt) before she deigned to open the bridge for us. But we did manage to get a grimace of a smile out of her as we left. We missed the turn off for the scenic route up the Wantji through confusion so decided to continue and do the ‘big boys’ route on the Merewede. We had already done the other route on the way into Dordrecht months ago.
Everything passed without incident (this being a Sunday it was very quiet) until we turned east onto the Waal. Not only were there three large vessels bearing down on us but the tide had turned and it was now wind against tide. So we had waves breaking into spray over the bow and breaking all the way back to the wheelhouse. Alex loved it! Then we turned into the dreaded Biesbosch, but this route was so different from the previous one which caused us to go aground. Here there was plenty of depth and apart from almost going round the ‘wrong’ side of an island, all was well.
We stopped for lunch at a flood lock about 2 ks from our day’s destination – Waspik, the mooring of our friends George and Susanna on ‘Aeolus’ where we were going to stay for a couple of days. Over lunchtime the heavens opened again and for the rest of the day we were submerged in cloud, torrential rain and mist and we decided to stay put and go on tomorrow.
The following morning we arrived at the yacht haven of G & S, whom we had first met at Dordrecht in July, and what a lovely spot – quiet, out in the country, no major roads. Yes, big boats loading up in a canal arm not quite opposite and so no disturbance but great to watch, and the town of Waspilk only 10 minutes by bike with an Aldi and a second supermarket.
It had been admitted that it was Louise’s birthday (reluctantly!) and when we returned from our shopping trip we discovered that the entire boat had been decorated with bunting and a birthday card posted through our letterbox. How lovely.
John the Havenmeester let us moor for E10 per night with electricity at a cost and water freely available. John not only runs the harbour but also builds 15m luxury cruisers in steel, which looks as perfect as GRP (plastic). He is a perfectionist and the quality of his craftsmanship puts us all to shame. He takes about 18 months to complete each project and it is all bespoke to the customer’s requirements, providing that John agreed with it! He does it all, except the paint finish.
When we first met George and Susannah in July they invited us to dinner, where they gave us a traditional Dutch meal, so this time when we were at Waspik we decided to return the flavour! So we had a starter of Yorkshire pudding with gravy followed by shepherd’s pie with sprouts, and apple crumble and custard for pudding. (We couldn’t do roast beef and Yorkshire puddings because you can’t buy a joint of beef in Holland without ordering days in advance from a proper butcher).
We thought it was a good joke and hoped they did too! The following day they took us to s’Hertogenbosch (yes, s’Hertogenbosch!!! but the Dutch wisely refer to it as Den Boss) in their car and gave us coffee and giant chocolate profiteroles (no less than 3 inches across!) as a birthday present for Louise. We cannot remember the official name for the cakes but they were wonderful – yummy, wow, wow!
G & S went off to the exhibition they wanted to visit and we agreed to meet up after lunch. Louise and Alex went for a boat trip on the canal, which now runs under the city, literally under. When the city ran out of space for more dwellings within the city walls, they had nowhere else to build but over the existing canals. The obligatory visit to one of the most magnificent churches in Holland followed and then lunch in the main square (warm enough to be outside to watch the world go by).
We spent two nights at the moorings at Waspik, then set off for the next stop – Tilburg. We caught up with a 65m container vessel ‘The Willem Alexander’ which was great, because he was expected by the lock and bridge keepers and we went with him through the locks and lift bridges – lots of them.
However, the second lock was a bit of a surprise, because our program said it was 65m long and 8.5m wide – only just big enough for the Willem Alexander alone. However, we were assured by lock control that we could go in too! In a moment we discovered why, as the Willem A shimmied over to the second, hidden half of the lock. The gate was only 7.5m wide but the lock itself was twice as wide with the exit gate in the 2nd (hidden) half.
Tilburg was our first stopping place and George and Susannah had given us a couple of places we might moor. At the first (alongside a new business park) an officious little ‘Hitler’, the security guard, told us to move on before we had even got our ropes on! The long stop was to moor on some friends of G and S’s who would let us do so on their tjalk but they were not at home when we tried to phone them and the other suggestion turned out to be fine.
When we left Tilburg the following morning we asked the friendly Dutch boater who was moored behind us if he knew of any moorings before Eindhoven, our next destination. He suggested that at the Beatrixbrug – in the turning off the main canal towards Eindhoven – moorings might be possible. And then he announced that he had been reading our blog!! How nice, but how on earth did he know about that? (Answers in the comments section please!)
Anyway, as it happened, we found a brand new mooring site a bit before the suggested place at Oirschot and stopped there. There was a machine for buying tickets but Alex couldn’t make head nor tail of it, so that’s OK, and an added bonus – a weak wi-fi signal. Best position for that was right at the front of the boat, so an extension lead and picnic table and chairs were set up at the bow and as the evening cooled, more layers put on as we posted our blog and read our emails!! Autumn has definitely arrived and with it the lovely colouring of the trees.
Oh, and only one commercial and two tiny sport boats seen today.
Everything passed without incident (this being a Sunday it was very quiet) until we turned east onto the Waal. Not only were there three large vessels bearing down on us but the tide had turned and it was now wind against tide. So we had waves breaking into spray over the bow and breaking all the way back to the wheelhouse. Alex loved it! Then we turned into the dreaded Biesbosch, but this route was so different from the previous one which caused us to go aground. Here there was plenty of depth and apart from almost going round the ‘wrong’ side of an island, all was well.
We stopped for lunch at a flood lock about 2 ks from our day’s destination – Waspik, the mooring of our friends George and Susanna on ‘Aeolus’ where we were going to stay for a couple of days. Over lunchtime the heavens opened again and for the rest of the day we were submerged in cloud, torrential rain and mist and we decided to stay put and go on tomorrow.
The following morning we arrived at the yacht haven of G & S, whom we had first met at Dordrecht in July, and what a lovely spot – quiet, out in the country, no major roads. Yes, big boats loading up in a canal arm not quite opposite and so no disturbance but great to watch, and the town of Waspilk only 10 minutes by bike with an Aldi and a second supermarket.
It had been admitted that it was Louise’s birthday (reluctantly!) and when we returned from our shopping trip we discovered that the entire boat had been decorated with bunting and a birthday card posted through our letterbox. How lovely.
John the Havenmeester let us moor for E10 per night with electricity at a cost and water freely available. John not only runs the harbour but also builds 15m luxury cruisers in steel, which looks as perfect as GRP (plastic). He is a perfectionist and the quality of his craftsmanship puts us all to shame. He takes about 18 months to complete each project and it is all bespoke to the customer’s requirements, providing that John agreed with it! He does it all, except the paint finish.
When we first met George and Susannah in July they invited us to dinner, where they gave us a traditional Dutch meal, so this time when we were at Waspik we decided to return the flavour! So we had a starter of Yorkshire pudding with gravy followed by shepherd’s pie with sprouts, and apple crumble and custard for pudding. (We couldn’t do roast beef and Yorkshire puddings because you can’t buy a joint of beef in Holland without ordering days in advance from a proper butcher).
We thought it was a good joke and hoped they did too! The following day they took us to s’Hertogenbosch (yes, s’Hertogenbosch!!! but the Dutch wisely refer to it as Den Boss) in their car and gave us coffee and giant chocolate profiteroles (no less than 3 inches across!) as a birthday present for Louise. We cannot remember the official name for the cakes but they were wonderful – yummy, wow, wow!
G & S went off to the exhibition they wanted to visit and we agreed to meet up after lunch. Louise and Alex went for a boat trip on the canal, which now runs under the city, literally under. When the city ran out of space for more dwellings within the city walls, they had nowhere else to build but over the existing canals. The obligatory visit to one of the most magnificent churches in Holland followed and then lunch in the main square (warm enough to be outside to watch the world go by).
We spent two nights at the moorings at Waspik, then set off for the next stop – Tilburg. We caught up with a 65m container vessel ‘The Willem Alexander’ which was great, because he was expected by the lock and bridge keepers and we went with him through the locks and lift bridges – lots of them.
However, the second lock was a bit of a surprise, because our program said it was 65m long and 8.5m wide – only just big enough for the Willem Alexander alone. However, we were assured by lock control that we could go in too! In a moment we discovered why, as the Willem A shimmied over to the second, hidden half of the lock. The gate was only 7.5m wide but the lock itself was twice as wide with the exit gate in the 2nd (hidden) half.
Tilburg was our first stopping place and George and Susannah had given us a couple of places we might moor. At the first (alongside a new business park) an officious little ‘Hitler’, the security guard, told us to move on before we had even got our ropes on! The long stop was to moor on some friends of G and S’s who would let us do so on their tjalk but they were not at home when we tried to phone them and the other suggestion turned out to be fine.
When we left Tilburg the following morning we asked the friendly Dutch boater who was moored behind us if he knew of any moorings before Eindhoven, our next destination. He suggested that at the Beatrixbrug – in the turning off the main canal towards Eindhoven – moorings might be possible. And then he announced that he had been reading our blog!! How nice, but how on earth did he know about that? (Answers in the comments section please!)
Anyway, as it happened, we found a brand new mooring site a bit before the suggested place at Oirschot and stopped there. There was a machine for buying tickets but Alex couldn’t make head nor tail of it, so that’s OK, and an added bonus – a weak wi-fi signal. Best position for that was right at the front of the boat, so an extension lead and picnic table and chairs were set up at the bow and as the evening cooled, more layers put on as we posted our blog and read our emails!! Autumn has definitely arrived and with it the lovely colouring of the trees.
Oh, and only one commercial and two tiny sport boats seen today.
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