Barging from Loire to Burgundy
The journey begins . . . here.
Tuesday 12th June 2018
Briennon to Artaix
The plan was to to stop at Artaix, a mere 14 kilometres and zero locks. Seeemed a fabulous day. What could go wrong? My better half had noticed after the previous day, that there was quite a bit of oil and water in the hull. He’d sucked up about 1 litre and put it down to the boat standing for months and hoped it wasn’t anything serious. By the time we got to Artaix and opened up the floorboards, there was even more dark liquid in the hull. Not going to lie, it wasn’t the best news. Here we start our holiday – and the engine is already spewing out muck. Boats are like family, one minute you’re bursting with pride and the next you cannot believe your own flesh and blood can behave as they do.
Where do we get help when we can’t speak French? What are the words for gasket and hull and bilge pump? Did I mention we’re in the outbacks of France? How would we even find someone who could help us? Do we give up? At least Artaix was a lovely place. One has to look on the bright side.
My husband started making phone calls to find out where would be the best place to get help. He tried the Tourism Offices. The Hire Boat companies. A few local Port de Plaisance. Even people we met in Roanne. One would think there would be someone who could help us. But no. The mechanic at the hire boat company only dealt with their boats. He suggested a mechanic who was on leave. The next place didn’t understand us. People we met didn’t have anything good to say about their experiences of mechanics. And so it went on. Then we ran out of options. Quite depressing actually.
Our next big issue was we needed was food. The couple we met had told us there was a supermarket in Artaix. We walked into Artaix to find it. No such luck. Artaix is hardly a big place. We asked someone who said the supermarket closed years ago. That took care of that. My other half and I would be in a lovely place with food rations and a misbehaving boat. At least we had wine and beer. Although Artaix is a small space there were 2 dead beat boats that hadn’t moved in the last century, 4 motor homes and a lone motor cyclist who slept in a tent.
I decided to go for a jog to Chambilly. My husband had a hunch the gasket was the problem and was determined to fix it. Best for me to be out the way. Chambilly is nice enough. But a small town – is a small town. Not a lot going on. Back at the boat I arrived just in time to hold the torch while my other half fitted the newly made cork gasket and smeared on gasket sealer. He then set about putting the engine back together. Won’t lie, I wasn’t convinced this was a job for him to tackle, but since we didn’t have options what could we do?
The journey continues . . . . . . here.