We had friends driving up from the south to join us on the boat. They texted us to say they were running late as traffic in Marseille and Lyon had been hectic. That gave us a chance to shower and prepare a BBQ supper which we planned to cook on the grass next to our boat. It was fiercely hot. I made tofu and veggie kebabs, a couple of cold salads and rolled some potatoes in foil to cook on the fire.
It’s always nice to have people with us on the boat. For them going through a lock is a new experience and I get a break from it. But also, they see the waterways and a country from a completely different perspective. A city break in Paris is what most people who go to France do. It’s around the 5th most visited city in the world. Very few people see historical and beautiful places on the waterways. How nice to share those experiences and see them from another person’s perspective? One would think that being in a confined space such as a boat would be awkward but when you’re on the move and doing so much a person doesn’t get to that point.
VNF remote control and Waterways Fluvial map
H2O were a no show the next morning and since we absolutely had to sort out Shangri La’s engine before we could move, my other half phoned them. They promised to come straight after lunch. We took some time out from boating and went walking along the canal to a camping area where people could swim in the river. People and dogs were frolicking in the cool water. Then we all went to have an ice cold drink up at a local cafe. My other half dashed back to our boat to meet the mechanic who re-fitted the – now fixed – engine part in no time at all and re-joined us. We had a lazy afternoon reading or snoozing.
As the day got a bit cooler I stayed back and made supper while the others went up the road exploring. They stopped for a drink and met a local woman who rather regaled them with stories. No-one was quite sure if they were real or she had a vivid imagination. She said things like her job was to find people traveling the waterways and interact with them. Back at the boat we had a potato and veggie galette with salads for supper. Then sat on the back deck chilling, chatting and listening to the world.
Cruising the canal
The next morning with extra hands on deck we untied and got ready to go back to St-Jean-de-Losne. Around lunch time we were about to enter a lock when the gates refused to open. We could see another boat coming the opposite way and wondered if they had right of way. But no. My better half tried phoning but there was no reply. A hire boat arrived behind us and tried phoning as well. No joy. Their boat was lying shallower than us in the water and two boys managed to get ashore. They spoke to the people on the opposite boat and tried to locate VNF to help. We suspect everyone was on lunch so settled down to a light meal while we waited. No idea what went wrong but next thing the lock opened. That incident caused us to lose over an hour of travel time.
But what we did discover was we had made front page of the local newspaper. A burly man came running past us on the tow path and recognised us.
VNF map of the route at a lock
Back in St-Jean-de-Losne we parked in our usual spot. It’s been our home marina for a season. Did some shopping and then freshened up to eat at a local brasserie. We all had a great meal and after supper went for a walk along the river. My husband and I like to go “boat perving” as we call it when we look at other boats. We were especially interested in how other people manage the heat in their boats and resolved to make a canopy so we could cover the windows and create shade.
Our last stop was Auxonne. It didn’t take long to get there. Once tied up the guys caught a train back to Dole so our friends could collect their hired car. Trains in Auxonne were not as regular as we thought but better than St-Jean-de-Losne. A couple of hours later they were back. Our friends packed up and we walked with them to their car. They left for a lovely cool lake near Lausanne. We stripped to nothing to try and keep cool as temperatures topped 38’C and even 42’C depending on where you were.
Lock opening
Later the afternoon we took a walk into the town to look for provisions. There we bumped into two Danish blokes who had helped us with our ropes when we arrived in Auxonne. They kindly offered to buy us a drink which we accepted. Rosé with ice. We particularly wanted to know more about the waterways in Scandinavian countries. The skipper had done a lot of boating there. He’d even been to Greenland. The big thing for us to remember is that boating costs in France are reasonable. It would be 3 – 4 times more in Denmark and Sweden. But apparently it’s incredibly beautiful. Particularly the waterways on the west coast of Sweden.
Just before dark, a huge big hire boat full of Americans arrived right next to us. They bashed and crashed and shouted and made an almighty noise until finally – they tied up. Nice enough people but I wondered why they had to shout when they were on a boat right next to the person they were talking to. All sorts of dramas ensued as their power kept failing. They asked for help and my husband checked all the obvious things. Turned out they were trying to heat shower water, cook, use the oven as well as run an air conditioner – with all the windows open. I guess there were about 9 people on the boat. It was obvious they had overestimated the available power supply and their needs. My other half tried to politely explain this to them.
Outside Auxonne
Luckily for us they went off to find a meal and peace returned. We could hear fish splashing and leaping about in the water. I often wonder how much fish the ubiquitous fishermen catch?
Our last day of boating was a short trip back to St-Jean-de-Losne. By the time we go there it was so hot that all my sunscreen had dripped off and was burning my eyes. I was stuck to my clothes and just feeling yuck. We had 3 weeks of washing to do. My better half went to chat to the boat yard to discuss work to be done on our boat. The generator and electrics stil had to be fixed. We had also grown tired of the davits that poked out forcing us to moor away from the edge of the quay. One of us is less keen on great leaps than the other one. Initially we had plans to fit a bendy bit that would allow the davits to fold in. But soon realised they could easily be removed and stored in the hull. We love free, easy solutions like that.
Meanwhile I walked to the laverie (laundry). Luckily it wasn’t too busy and I could make a start. When my husband came past we decided the only thing to do in such sticky heat – was have a glass of rosé. With plenty ice. Nothing like a tipple to take away the drudgery of chores and help forget the heat. On our way back we heard there was going to be a concert at the marina – French Floyd. France’s version of Pink Floyd.
I treated my husband to a veggie Plat du Jour (meal of the day) at Auberge de la Marine. Then we went past the concert. Wow! French France were so good. It was a fabulous evening. Until I got back to the boat and discovered I had been charged for our meal – twice.
The very next morning I marched across the bridge to Auberge de la Marine and showed the owner the transaction confirmations on my phone. She insisted it hadn’t gone off twice so I asked to use their phone. And phoned my bank in South Africa. Who were emphatic it had gone through twice. The owner wasn’t having it but I instructed the bank to remove one of the debits. Meanwhile my husband bumped into the Danes who confirmed they were joining us for a drink on the boat. I had wanted to invite them but could not remember doing so. We thought there was a misunderstanding and settled to a quiet last night on our lovely boat.
Poster advertising French Floyd
Much later who arrived? The Danes. With a bottle of wine. I dashed down below to put on proper clothes as I was wearing a sarong. We had a marvelous evening. Spoke and spoke and spoke. And drank. We did rather regret it the next morning though when we had to drag ourselves out of bed to catch the only train to Dijon. Fortunately the train was on time. No strikes. No delays. Back to city life. Pushing and shoving and an impersonal way of life. Lucky for us, we would be back on our beloved Shangri La in a few weeks.
I often wonder why France is such a special country? French people love food and eating. Can’t fault that. Long lunches with a fabulous meal and a glass or two of good wine are totally in order. Regional dishes and produce are revered. The French are fiercely resistant to change and maybe that’s a good thing. Cultures and customs continue so we can hopefully enjoy them into the next century. Quality of life is important. I love that’s it’s illegal to contact an employee after hours in France. We can’t speak much French but we’re forced to try and it’s a huge help being able to read menus and road signs.
One regret we have as vegans is that it’s almost impossible to eat out. Gastronomy is such a big part of the French experience. We made the choice to forgo animal foods for ethical reasons and are resolute that we’re doing the right thing. Luckily the on-line vegan community is huge. And global. There’s a site called Happy Cow which shares veg friendly places around the world. We know the world has to change as animal agriculture is not sustainable and look forward to easier eating experiences in time to come. And to be fair our lot as vegans in South Africa isn’t a whole lot easier.
The waterway from Dole to Besançon is absolutely beautiful. Rolling hills are covered in forests and the canal is lined with cooling trees and pretty lilies. We passed cliffs in between tiny villages. Their churches have bell towers with shiny tiled bell towers that poke up into the skyline. The houses have white or blue wooden shutters and window boxes with bright flowers. One thing I love about the French is their vegetable gardens. It’s almost an institution to grow your own veggies. The other French passion is fishing. I tend to think of it as an old man’s sport but in France young boys and families happily pass spare time hoping to catch a fish or three.
Ubiquitous fisherman
Passing through souterrain (tunnel) Thoraise was a treat. It’s 85 metres long and for some reason they have made it a spectacle. Sparkly lights twist and twirl as you pass through and there is a fountain at each end that stops as you pass underneath only to start again once inside the tunnel.
We arrived in Besançon early afternoon and were feeling pleased with ourselves. There’s a lovely loop which takes in the city. Then, and as per the Guide Fluvial map, we headed for the marina. It’s small. The port captain asked our size – 12.5 metres – and he seemed to think we could tie up. He left us and while we did our level best to squeeze in – there is so much silt – we kept getting stuck to the ground. No way on earth we were ever going to fit so we went back the way we came and tied up next to a tourist boat space. Not the best. We did a quick walkabout to see the other marina and resolved to move in the morning.
Cooling trees along canal
This time we skipped the loop and went via a tunnel. With a lock in it. It was a deep lock so my husband suggested I walk there and help with the ropes from outside the boat. What he had in mind and how it all went down were two entirely different scenarios. I managed to get on the wrong side of the lock and had to step over the bridge attached to the lock gate. I’m absolutely terrified of heights. Unfortunately the lock was already set in motion. The last thing I wanted was for this gate to swing open with me stuck on it. Next thing an eclusier (lock keeper) saw me from her office and motioned for me to get off. But it was too late. She reprimanded me. By this time I was so spooked that I forgot to take a turn on the rope and as the water surged into the lock it just about yanked me off the side down onto the boat. I was hanging on for dear life. Not my best moment.
The marina that end of town was much nicer. We paid our dues and went to the restaurant next door to avail ourselves of free wifi. We thought we might also have a Plat du Jour (plate of the day) but they were so dismissive when we asked for a veggie option we had to give it a miss. One downside of this boating is going days and days without contact or updates. Back at the boat we ate a big bowl of home made savoury lentils with bread. Then went to the Tourism Office to get maps and find out where to buy food and do laundry. Big black clouds were rolling in so we rushed our shopping and got back to the boat just in time to close up.
Sparkly tunnel
The Tourism Office in Besançon gave us a walking tour guide. Not one but three different walks. They had high speed wifi. And our washing would be done for us at the Port Capitain’s facilities. All good. There was also a Monoprix supermarket nearby so we decided to stay 3 days in Besançon. A person encounters nice places in the world but there are places that are so nice I could live there. Besançon is a place I could live in.
One thing we noticed was mentally handicapped people employed in menial jobs. We saw it at the marina and at a cafe. Might have been a coincidence but if not, what a wonderful initiative? While we were doing our walking tour we saw a boat with a South African flag. It’s not often we encounter South Africans with their own boats on the waterways so we greeted them. When we came back to our boat, they had tied up right next to us. And lucky for us they came to have a drink after supper. They had their boat a year less than us and had been on the southern waterways. Our experiences have all been in the north. Lots of stories were swapped. And they invited us to their boat the next night. Turned into a late night with even more tales of boating in France. We learned a lot from them about what to expect, where to go and where not to go.
Besançon
It was time to turn around and head back to Dole. We decided to boat hard and do the distance in two days. Ranchot seemed like a good place to stop so we made a not too leisurely start. Unfortunately it rained and rained and rained. But it wasn’t cold. Around 15.30pm we arrived in Ranchot and all the spaces were full. The next wild stop was also taken. And the next ones. We started to panic as we had to find somewhere to stop before the locks closed. The wild spots indicated on the map were impossible for us as we have a deep keel and the sides of the canal were too shallow.
Eventually we had to tie up as best we could on the bank of a canal near Camp Orchamps. We used a boat hook to catch onto the weeds or growth and drag our boat as close as possible, then placed our ladder onto the bank. There was so much vegetation the ladder sank about a metre. Once stable, my other half walked ashore and used pegs to moor our boat. Shangri La was partially adrift but nothing we could do about that. What a lovely night in the middle of nowhere. A real deal wild stop.
Besançon
The next day we arrived back in beautiful Dole. Tied up and the smell of diesel hit us. My husband opened up the floorboards and there was diesel in the hull. And all over the generator. He knew that the injectors were spraying but he couldn’t seem to locate the problem. It was Sunday and too late to find a solution so we parked our problem for the morning.
As soon as the marina offices opened my other half was straight in there chatting to the chef (chief) who said they could maybe have a look at things the afternoon. That was no great help so my better half phoned our marina in St-Jean-de-Losne and asked them for help. They promised to come that afternoon. Meanwhile we popped up to Dole Tourism Office to avail ourselves of their free wifi. I was hit by an avalanche of WhatsApps, E-mails, Facebook messages and other comms. Some requiring urgent attention. Some not. Turned out they had a local dance and wine tasting event. We happily tasted a Chardonay or two and watched people dressed up in olden days costumes twirling away in the streets.
Us in the local newspaper
Someone asked us where we were from and we said South Africa. It’s a long way away and before we knew it we were being interviewed by their local newspaper. They made an appointment to take photos of our boat after lunch. The journalist duly arrived with her camera and had us posing on the boat. I did start to worry this article may indeed happen. More specifically I worried because I had no idea what I actually said.
Then came the mechanic from H2O. He spoke not a word of English. My husband seems to think if he speaks pidgin English it makes it more understandable. He told this man while he had his face over the machine that he was going to turn on the engine so he could see the problem. Dashed up to the controls and started the engine. The mechanic got a face full of diesel. Turned out the injector pipe had gotten bent and had to be replaced. They promised to come back the next day.
We made a reasonable start to the day. At Saint-Symphorien we entered the first lock and were given a remote control as the locks there are automated. This one had to be kept charged to work. Was much bigger than previous ones. And gave little messages as it did it’s job. We would be locking up all the way up to Besançon. The first 3 locks we shared with a hire boat couple. They stopped for lunch so we pushed on. En route we passed a massive chemical factory built right next to the canal. Sky scraper towers of pipes and silos with steam pouring out. Seemed such a pity to have this eye sore in the midst of such beautiful countryside.
Chemical factory
We shared the last lock with another hire boat couple. And came alongside a steep paved bank in Dole. It was the last spot. No facilities. An Englishman helped us with the ropes and invited us to join them on their boat for a drink. We first wanted to find out what was on offer before the various offices closed. So dashed off to the Capitain’s office across the water. At the Tourist Info Office we were given a free walking map of Dole. There was also a chance to climb to the top of the Collegial Church for €3 until 20.00pm. On any other day I may have considered it but all I wanted was to wash and settle down.
Back at the boat we showered and went next door to have a drink with our fellow boaters. Lovely couple. Newbie boat owners. Our problems with our generator were mild compared to their engine problems. But that’s boating for you. We could all recite the boaters mantras – “Owning a boat is like taking a shower and tearing up bank notes.” And the other one – “Owning a boat is like throwing money into a hole in the water.” They showed us their boat and we took them to have a look at ours. Always amazes me how boats can be so completely different. Even similar boats.
Tied up first night in Dole
One thing about European villages and towns is they all have at least one church. With bells. That chime. Around 07.50am the bells started. They weren’t counting out the time. Nor a tune. It seemed they wound up a coil and the bell got going furiously and slowly petered out until it all stopped about 5 minutes later. By then I was awake. We said goodbye to our neighbours, who wanted somewhere quieter, and moved our boat across the river so we could connect to shore power and water. Then hot footed it up to the local market. It’s a covered market that sells produce. Outside are street vendors selling clothes and other items.
We’re learning to not be seduced by local markets. A person can end up buying loads of food if not careful. It’s so fresh and lovely. The Burgundy region is renowned for it’s pale Charollais cows and their produce. We were happy with crisp organic carrots, fresh frilly lettuce and fragrant heads of garlic. I made us sticky soy strips, a huge finely sliced salad with fennel, white cabbage, lettuce and cucumber drizzled with a garlicky, soy yogurt and lemon dressing with our market purchases. Of course we had local wine and Cote D’Or Noir chocolate.
The second night on the opposite bank
We did the walking tour of Dole on a Sunday morning. It’s not a huge city but we wanted to do the walk when it was quietest. And coolest. By now it was hotting up. Three days of 31’C on a trot. We kept all the curtains closed and covers over the boat windows. Some people place towels and sheets over their windows to break the heat coming in. We also saw foil heat reflective panels as well as mirror film on other boat windows. How about air conditioning on a boat? Yip, it’s around this part of France that the split between the north and the south happens. Europe and the Mediterranean. The cooler and the hotter climates.
Apart from hire boats coming and going – there are a few hire boat bases in the area – other boaters were making their way from north to south. Heading off to cruise the Mediterranean countries and islands. I never saw commercial boats on this bit of waterway. Saw a few yachts but it was mostly motor cruisers.
Alley in Dole
Dole is a lovely place. Lots of heritage going back to Roman times. Light stone buildings and a moat all around. One nice thing about a town walk is, even if you don’t care for history, you get to see the best bits of a place. Back at the boat we had lunch and lazed about reading and trying to keep cool. At some point the shore power went down. I decided to take an early shower while there was still daylight. Some amenities are impeccable. Some are not. By Sunday late afternoon these facilities were ready for a clean. The place was done in that 60’s and 70’s decor. Beige basins and toilets with burnished copper coloured wall tiles. That look is most probably trendy again. The promised 7 minutes of hot water was more like 2 minutes but with the heatwave I wasn’t too unhappy with cold water.
Hire boats moored nearby
After a lazy start to the following day we untied and got going toward Besançon. It was hot, hot, hot. The radar arch was folded down so we could squeeze under bridges and was occupying space on the deck. The only cool place was on the side of the boat in a slight breeze and the shade of our awning. At 6kms an hour there wasn’t much wind. I was watching dragonflies flitting across the top of the water. Blue cranes swooping past and locals walking, cycling and rollerblading on the town path. Unbeknown to us it was a public holiday in France and all the world was out enjoying the sunshine.
We were making good progress when a lock failed to open. Double red lights came up. The remote control told us it was an “incident”. There’s always that dilemma, do you re-push the buttons or hope the problem rectifies itself? Two policemen were at the bridge and we wondered if there was a security issue. After waiting long enough to become impatient we tied up and went to see what was going on. Nothing we could see, so we pushed the Help button and called VNF. They arrived shortly and turned out a tree branch had obstructed the lock gate from opening properly. The Eclusier (lock keeper) removed the branch and re-set the lock so we could pass through.
Our peaceful mooring in Saint Vit
The heat was becoming unbearable so we stopped at Ranchot around 15.30pm. It was one of the places we had in mind for a potential stop. We took a late mini siesta and then went walkabout. There was nothing that piqued our interest and it was a tad cooler so we decided to carry on. Our next stopping place was Saint Vit. The Guide Fluvial map showed shops and a reasonable sized town so we walked 2 kilometres uphill from port de plaisance. I grabbed a pair of flip flops from the deck as we wanted to get to the shops before they closed, only to find everything was closed. Then we discovered it was a bank holiday. We trekked back downhill to the boat showered in warm water. The slow speed limit prevented the boat from heating our water. I made a big fat salad green salad. It was all we could bring ourselves to eat. We were the only people at this mooring. It was so quiet and tranquil.
We hoped to reach Besançon in a day and made an early start. The locks only open 8.30am so a person can’t start any earlier. What a difference it was travelling in the morning. At one lock we encountered a family trying to recover their house keys with a magnet. The keys had fallen in the lock. They kindly helped us with our ropes. Some of the locks were deep that I couldn’t reach or even see the bollards. We passed a lock of 3.8 metres and a double lock of 5 metres. There are slimy steps that you can climb to get out a lock but I’m terrified of heights so that job fell to my better half. One thing I do love about locks is the smell of the spray as water rushes in. It’s a fresh earthy smell.
Shangri La headed across the canal and through one last lock on the Burgundy Canal toward H2O to undergo her winterizing. As we approached the lock a car came hurtling around the corner and crashed into the railings on the bridge just before the lock bashing a section of the railing into the very space of water we were about to pass. A minute or two earlier and we might have been bumped on the head. He was lucky most of the railing held in place or he would have ended up in the water. The lock-keeper looked like an 80’s rock star – long hair, lean and a few piercings.
The very last lock.
The bollards had been painted to look like toadstools. He indicated to take the ropes and wanted to place us right at the back of the lock. But with davits poking backwards we preferred to sit in the middle of the lock. He did as we asked and gave the Gallic shrug. Then opened the manual locks. The water came through with such unexpected ferocity we had to hang on for dear life and fend to prevent our poor boat getting flung against the side of the lock. The lock-keeper said he knew better but did as we asked. Lesson learned.
St Jean-de-Losne
We had a lady mechanic at H2O who spoke great English. Slight trouble with words for engine and motor parts but a few gesticulations and noises helped clarify what was meant. She had a look at our engine and agreed there was a bit of smoke. An early oil change would be wise and the auxiliary engine functions like fuel injectors could possibly do with an overhaul. We had no idea when that was last done. If ever. Winterizing is done to prevent pipes freezing and bursting. All water is drained from the main tank. She used a food grade anti-freeze for the shower, basins and loo. An engine anti-freeze went into the engine parts that use water. Only thing was, we still had two nights left of the boat and no water.
We always deliberate whether to check into a B and B or stay on the boat. There’s last minute cleaning, taking down of awnings, putting up of winter covers, packing away fenders and deck furniture, getting the dehumidifier tubs going and a good few other jobs that need to be done. It’s easier to be on the boat. But not having water to wash hand or clean dishes and not being able to use the toilet is a huge inconvenience.
H2O marina St Jean-des-Losne
That evening we watched rugby Rugby World Cup Brasserie de Port that night. France was playing and South Africa was out so we supported our host country. Early the next morning we heard the H2O blokes knocking on our boat. They had already started dragging her toward the slipway. I was still fast asleep but woke up and got dressed super-fast. I grabbed a hoodie and a bowl of breakfast and watched from the quay as Shangri La was towed out the water by a tractor. They guys hosed her down and took her to a spot in amongst all the other boats either being wintered or repaired. It’s such a weird feeling not really on the boat – but not yet off her. It’s always so hard to say farewell to our holiday home.
Shangri La coming out the water.
My other half had gotten us a train time-table from the Tourism Office so we could travel from St-Jean-de-Losne to Dijon. And from there to Paris. We planned our morning doing last minute things with our train time in mind. Then we set forth with our wheelie suitcases along the little road toward the local Garre (station). You know how sometimes you think you have your day planned – and it turns out NOTHING like you expected? This was one of those days if ever.
My other half doing the oil change.
At the station it emerged that the train time-table – is actually subject to a whole lot of conditions. Not sure who the guy was who helped me as he wasn’t in uniform, but he pointed out that the train times indicated had a digit at the top of each column, which unbeknown to us indicated the limited dates the service actually occurred. As it turns out there were NO trains until significantly later.
The next thing to do was race back the 1 kilometre plus along the tiny road toward the Tourism Office and explore our options. The woman there apparently spoke English. But actually didn’t. She mentioned one bus in three hours time but seemed to think we had to go all the way back to the train station to catch the bus. All she could tell us about the train service was what we now knew. The one and only taxi service wasn’t open. Luckily for us our lady mechanic drove past us and stopped to chat. We explained our predicament and she kindly offered to help.
St Jean-des-Losne
She phoned a guy who travels from Dijon to St-Jean-de-Losne daily to find out how he does it. He confirmed there are very few trains. Then offered to ask someone to drive us to Dijon. Or – if we could hold out – she would take us when she went on lunch. I cannot begin to explain our immense gratitude to this woman. We were more than happy to wait at the local café for her. The minutes felt like hours and when she arrived in her van I could have kissed her feet. But first, this is France, she invited us for lunch. Lunch was a surprise. We had to tell her that we don’t eat meat and an uncomfortable look flashed through her eyes. As we arrived at her vintage Dutch barge she explained it to her partner. Who had made a meat stew. Awkward moment if ever! But these two so rose to the challenge. They rustled up an amazing meal. Home-made humous. French bread. Pickled peppers. Shredded beetroot salad. We picked out the meat and ate the veggies from the stew. I wouldn’t normally do that but in situations like this I do. And we had a lovely glass of Burgundy wine. Of course.
Then we dashed off for Dijon. Oh my Word! It’s a HUGE place. We got a bit lost but my husband produced MapsMe on his Smartphone and yet again we were saved. Some modern inventions I can do without. Fast food is one of them. But life without MapsMe is unthinkable. I don’t get paid to say that.
The Captain.
The next train to Paris was a few hours away so we had a little wander about Dijon before we finally got to Paris and checked into our hotel. Not sure how we are going to get to St Jean-des-Losne next year? But that was the end of almost three months of the waterways. I’ve said this before, I would never have imagined traveling on a boat, let alone on the waterways of Europe. This holiday had some stressful times but we have had the most amazing experiences on our beloved Shangri La. I have to thank my other half for this.
Shangri La is getting some much needed upgrades and Summer 2016 we will be boating in and around the Burgundy region. We want an easy year and have less time. You can read all about those trips on my blog.
Once on the Saône River we had one last lock to Pontailler-sur-Saône where we planned to spend two nights. We had mountains of washing and were desperate to catch on communcations. We found a lovely hire boat marina with everything – except – laundry facilities. And a guy who spoke perfect English. The relief at getting this far, being able to buy food, have wi-fi and take a day or two out was immense. We dashed up to the marina office with our lap-tops but alas, mine did not want to know this marina. I had to transfer all my important stuff onto my husband’s portable hard-drive and of course I had forgotten my password. By the time we got sorted the shops had closed and the heavens opened. Rain came down in sheets. The last thing we wanted was to move. We had plenty wine, a few cracker biscuits and half a jar of red sauerkraut. That was supper. Both of us were in bed and asleep by 21.00pm.
Laundry on the back of the boat
With a free day we did a mini walk around Pontialler-sur-Saône. Gorgeous place. It’s also a hub for hire boats so there was a lot more going on in terms of boats and boating stuff. We found all sorts of things to buy at the marina. An extra long boat hook and some water-proof gloves for me. More maps for my husband. We also contacted the previous owners to find out a bit more about the engine. One thing we did not want was to be scrutinised by lock-keepers on our next holiday. If it meant an engine overhaul – or even a new green engine – then we would have to be open to that. Luckily for us the previous owners have always been generous with information regarding our boat. It was their home for a good few years too. I cannot bear to think of the day we have to part with Shangri La. We also found a nice big supermarket with lots of yummy things so did a stock up. There was a laundry at the camp-site across the river so we took a walk there to find out what the procedure was. It’s a 2 kilometre walk, hardly a hardship. But carrying a big bag of clothing made it a touch difficult.
Pontialler-sur-Saône
Our next morning we got up really late. The marina is so quiet it’s easy to oversleep. It was so nice to have time to just be. We did a quick catch up on commms again and got chatting to one bloke working at the marina. We asked about the problem we had with locks not working. He was saying that it’s as much of a problem for hire-boat companies. They get calls from customers stuck in locks. They also have to get boats around to fit the needs of clients and cannot afford to wait for a lock to open. He said he often waves his jacket in front of the sensors to re-set the lock. Or if a lock won’t open, as a result of filling due to leaks, he gives the lock gates a gentle nudge with the boat. Not sure we would want to use our boat to open a lock but the jacket idea might come in useful.
Pontialler-sur-Saône
We piled our washing in a big blue IKEA bag, strapped it to our wheelie shopper and took it to the camper site. The washing machine was able to take big loads but the dryer was a disaster. I ended up with a heap of wet washing. But one thing did work. My lap-top happily connected to their wi-fi. I was grateful it worked and that I didn’t have a serious problem. I also had the Gerald Morgan-Grenville – Barging into Burgundy – book with me to pass the time whilst doing the laundry. As I said earlier, he wrote this book forty, maybe even more years ago. It’s amazing how not much has changed. He certainly gets himself and his crew into all sorts of messes. It’s a light, fun read. My other half in the meantime gave Shangri La a much needed clean. He scrubbed the awnings and muck on the sides of the boat from the fenders and moss in the locks. She was gleaming when I got back.
Pontialler-sur-Saône
The following day we got going for Auxonne. There we bumped into another boat we passed a few times on the waterways and got chatting. Lovely couple from Australia. Auxonne is just like many of these old villages. The French are known for being resistant to change and I guess in some ways it’s a good thing. A person can walk the streets of a town and imagine what it would have been like hundreds of years ago. We did a wander about and found a place to have something to eat. Then stocked up on food as well as a detour into a Boulangerie. They are SO hard to resist.
Leaving Pontailler
The other boaties invited us for a drink on board their boat and we were happy to accept. They also have a Valkkruiser but theirs is a touch bigger. We were keen to see how that translated into layout. They have a lovely boat and like us are very happy. From Auxonnne it was off to our last stop and the place where we planned to winter Shangri La – St-Jean-de-Losne. My husband had pre-booked for our boat to come out the water. One nice thing about meeting fellow boaties is they share information and it would seem our apprehension at leaving our boat in the water during winter was possibly unfounded. We live in South Africa which is far away and we would rather she was up on dry land but we may re-consider this approach in time.
Back in the locks
St-Jean-de-Losne was nothing like I imagined it would be. It’s one of THE boating places in France but the town is so small. The marina wasn’t all that. The floating ablution block could have done with a clean. But the wifi was excellent. We arrived on a Monday when nothing happens anyway and the day was taken up locating all the various people my husband had been in contact with and finalising arrangements for the boat.
We also made contact with the world again letting people know we were still alive. The next day the cafés opened and the town looked a whole lot busier. We piled yet more washing into our IKEA bag and set out for the Laverie. How does a person generate so much laundry? Once the washing was going my husband tempted me into sharing a pichet (carafe) of vin de table (house wine). We sat under vines at a café next-door looking over the River Saône watching myriad boats floating up and down. St-Jean-de-Losne is a major juncture for a whole lot of canals and waterway routes. It’s goes back eons. What’s nice about this area – and handy for the next few years of boating – is there are relatively few locks, lots of lovely old towns and the area is geared for boats and boating.
As we were about to enter the tunnel we discovered that – contrary to the French guide book – the height was NOT 5.7 metres but only 3.5 metres. We discovered this as we were about to enter the tunnel. My husband switched gears and headed backwards fast so we could drop our awnings while our boat drifted in the water. Once we got that sorted, we made a second attempt to enter the tunnel. I had the torch shining forward. Inside the tunnel we saw they had installed huge big fans overhead. The trip through the tunnel takes just over an hour. Our boat had a metre clearance on either side. The guide book mentions there is debris, logs and litter floating in the water. This we could see. After 20 minutes the torch light started fading and we now faced doing this transit in complete and utter darkness except for the glow of our navigation lights which was by no means sufficient. Have I mentioned I am claustophobic? I was terrified.
Balesmes Tunnel
At first we were bumping the sides of the tunnel so went very, very slowly. It could also have been logs floating in the water bumping into us. After a while our eyes became accustomed to the darkness. My husband figured out that if he lined up the hand-rails of our boat with the middle rung of the towpath in his line of vision as he was driving, he would be more or less in the centre of the tunnel. My job was to try and see if we veered too close to either side and fend with my hands if need be. I tried to take some photos. The flash popped up scaring the living daylights out of my other half. It was too dark to get a decent pic. We knew there was another boat ahead of us and we thought we were catching up on them as we saw a light getting bigger and bigger up ahead. We went slower fearing we might bash into them. In such darkness any light is bright. You can’t make out what it is. Turned out it was actually the light at the end of the tunnel and not another boat. We were glad when that was over.
Light at the end of the tunnel
We stopped at Piépape that evening and went for a walk. It’s a teeny, weeny little town with a handful of houses. Some run down. All beautiful. Centuries have passed but not much has changed in Piépape which only adds to it’s charm. The sign next to our mooring and the French guide indicated there was a supermarket nearby but it had closed some time back. I love the French word for a picnic spot – Halte Pique-Nique. There was an apple tree laden with fruit so we stopped and filled my bag with a good few wild apples. We slept in total darkness that night. No street lights, no nothing. So peaceful.
Piépape
Each day we set out hoping to have a problem free day. We could ill afford delays. It had been arranged the previous day that we would kick off at Lock 12. By 09.05am we phoned to find out when the lock would open. At 09.30am a lock-keeper arrived and got things going. Things were looking good. Then a large barge came out a lock and never saw us. We hooted but it was too late. He pushed us aground. We struggled to get going again. There were three more barges passing at the next three locks so we had to wait for them. We weren’t willing to risk getting stuck again. And there isn’t much space to pass comfortably on the canals. These barges are huge and have to drive extra slow as they are scraping the bottom of the canal. You can see mud swirling behind them as they pass. How do they fit in the tunnels?
The other difficulty we encountered was low bridges as you exit the locks. The guide book has one height, the warning sign for low bridges has another height and the actual height we found is something else. We had a system where I would stand on the fore-deck and hold my hand up. If it touched the bridge we knew we were in trouble. We decided to take everything down and rather keep our precious boat safe.
Piépape
The rest of the day our remote control operated at whim. We could never figure out why sometimes it worked and other times not. Was it wind, rain, the distance or direction we pointed that affected it? We stopped being shy and kept pushing the button until we got our “Get Ready” lights. These locks leaked so badly that as fast as they emptied they started filling again. That caused the lock gates to refuse to open. We hoped to keep going until closing time which is 18.00pm – one last lock – before we tied up. We got there 17.30pm and the lights were off. Had it been switched off or was it broken? It would have been nice to get that last lock under our belts but we were dog tired. We tied up outside the lock. There was nothing for miles and we knew it was going to be a quiet night. We love those. There is something particularly special about being in the middle of nowhere, in nature, in total darkness, the only sounds that of trees or birds.
Wild stop with not a soul around
The following day we decided to phone VNF early to make sure we could get through the lock by 09.00am. They assured us a lockie would be there by 09.00am. Five minutes past nine, a lady lock-keeper arrived and we got going. One thing that did concern us was graffiti scrawled in black marker pen on the sides of the locks saying “H2O = Voleurs” (H2O are thieves) We had pre-booked our boat to be wintered there. Hopefully it wasn’t true. At the very last lock on the Canal Entre Champagne and Bourgogne we got stuck in the lock. Again. This was probably our fault. A person is supposed to drop the remote control in a box, pull the gadget, jump back on the boat and it should all work perfectly. We were too scared to part with the remote control and were pushing the button furiously.
Nowheresville
Finally a woman spoke from the call box which scared the life out of my husband as he hadn’t called the Help Centre. She could see him via surveillance camera which scared him even more. She asked him to please put the remote in the box. Which he did. They activated the lock and let us go. Phew!
