Back in MONTBARD, Thursday 29th June

Well so much for our travel plans! 

I know it was extremely hot in UK last week so you can imagine what it was like even hotter (35C-39C shade temp most days) living in and on a steel boat which only cooled to around 30C at midnight. 

So we had to stay a week at Pouilly-en-Auxois port, about ¾ mile outside the town, which was the only mooring within easy reach where we could guarantee to have electricity -  vital to work the cooling fans in the saloon and bedroom. (We tried to buy portable aircon but by then the whole of France was sold out). 

Other key elements for survival in the port, apart from plentiful water, were:

1.    A Super U supermarket within walking distance, (also with bread and croissants, but fermé le dimanche unfortunately)

2.    A shady area under the trees with picnic tables (have you ever tried sitting on a wooden bench at between 95 and 100 Fahrenheit in the shade for an entire day trying to keep a Border Collie entertained with a ball?)

3.    Laddie’s personal swimming pool. A sectioned off part of the harbour with a launch ramp. He learned to dive after a while (see video clip but don't worry if it won't open - we are new to this!)

By day 3 we were going up the wall, tired, hot and irritable (more than usual in Sue’s case). And there’s only so many times you can throw a ball in a pool and then have to fetch it back yourself as Laddie is hiding in the bushes nearby while you’re out in the burning sun.

So we hired an air-conditioned car for 3 days from a local garage and toured the local beautiful green hilly countryside and ancient villages such as Semur en Auxois and Chateauneuf castle. Also into Dijon where we got horrendously lost looking for an electrical warehouse in the vain hope of finding some aircon.

Beyond the scary 3.3km long Pouilly tunnel facing us if we went further was the reputedly highly scenic Vallee de L’Ouche, (the Switzerland of Burgundy one book claimed) but on the downside very few moorings with power or shops and restaurants) 

Also incoming travellers told us horrendous tales of weed in Dijon and 20 kms beyond which we would have to get through without tangling the prop and the rudder or worse, blocking the cooling system and stalling the engine (which we had already experienced to our cost).

So, discretion being the better part of valour, we decided to visit the hillsides and castles of the Ouche valley by car, and turn the boat round and head back up through the weeds we’d already met to our future base in St. Florentin, as soon as the heat wave eased off.

Tales from the Pouilly tunnel:

-A Dutch guy and his wife we had met before, were moored at the other end of the Port preparing their boat to go through the tunnel (for obvious reasons you have to have a pre-arranged time as it’s limited height and width and one – way). He was busy sawing planks of wood by hand and screwing large castors on the end and fixing the planks at deck level. He explained that if he strayed from the centre of the arch his cabin roof would hit the walls as it was a rather large barge, and the wheels on the end of his planks would run along the walls keeping him straight. Some people take their leisure very seriously. I’ve never seen him sitting on the boat relaxing with a glass of wine. His wife looks permanently stressed, never relaxed. Maybe they are if they survived the tunnel.

- On the other hand a motley group of Kiwis pulled into Pouilly on a group timeshare boat looking very tatty. Did we know anyone who could repair canvas? No. He hadn’t bothered to take down the Bimini hood and the tunnel roof had wrecked it. The next lot coming in would not be well pleased. Hey Ho.

Four days into that return trip brought us here to Montbard during which we only passed ONE boat going the other way. We were on our own in all 64 locks, and 57kms, and there were no other boats in the moorings apart from the odd long-term resident. Great for us and peaceful nights, too, but it felt very strange.

Now we are sitting huddled in the rain as the storms started Tuesday night after our arrival and are forecast to continue to the weekend. Happy days! Good job we brought some crossword books.

Just heard that one of the hotel barges (1930 built) has no customers for 2 months, but the ones we met have about 12 – 20 passengers or more, a mixture of Americans and Australians. They charge ‘from’ 6912 dollars per person for 6 nights, 7 days for the lowest category cabins!!Was a growing business but fear of terrorism seems to have had an effect, not the price.

For those interested, we pay around 300 Euros per year for our VNF (Voies Navigables de France) licence, like a car tax disc which lets us cruise all French canals and rivers, and pays for the éclusiers (lockkeepers) and frequently éclusières. These guys open and close the lock gates and you can help them if you want but you’re not allowed to open the sluices. 

On the Burgundy Canal because the locks are sometimes in flights or staircases the éclusiers have scooters or mopeds and follow you for a whole series of locks working in teams to close the gates behind you and then race past you to open the next set which can be only a few hundred yards away in some cases. They can be a cheery bunch especially the young ones and you establish quite a rapport chatting while waiting for the lock to fill or empty. They check with you where you’re going to stop and what time you want to leave the next morning. They work from 9-12 and you have to moor up for lunch until they return at 1 o’clock and start again until 7pm if you want, although we’ve had enough by about 2 or 3, and you can’t leave it too late in the season like all the rental boats do, when there’s no space in the moorings.

You can also ‘wild moor’ anywhere as long as you’re not blocking any entrances or on tight bends. We can do this easily with solar panels and 400 litres of water on board, but you risk getting stuck in shallow waters on the bankside if you’re not careful and it’s not pretty trying to escape the mud and stones (and  the weeds this year!)

Bonnet de douche! As Del Boy Trotter used to say in the bar.

If you’re still awake after all that, well done.

Chateaneuf

When the sun was around

The old electric chain tug at Pouilly

Valley of the Ouche

Sunday 18th June, Pouilly-en Auxois

Well we made it to the summit (up 55 locks) and we’ve got 30-34 degrees forecast for today and the next few days so we dropped anchor here yesterday afternoon until it goes cooler and we can proceed through the tunnel and thence downhill (yay!) for quite a way to Dijon and beyond, weeds permitting.

I forgot to mention something that happened just after our arrival in France. The first of May fell on a Sunday and Laddie and I went over the bridge in Auxerre to fetch the bread and croissant for breakfast from the renowned Roy’s Boulangerie, next to which is a small vegetable market on Sundays. However this time, in addition to the market a number of small folding picnic tables had been set up immediately in front of the shop around the steps.

Each one was manned by family members, sometimes a father and daughter, or a husband and wife, mother and daughter etc., perched on small stools. On each table were small jars with tiny white flowers sticking out and they all seemed to be competing with each other to sell something although they sat quietly there, unlike regular market traders. A beggar lady sat on one of the steps with the same floral offering laid out and a few coppers on a cloth.

Now these people stood between me and my breakfast which is not a good sales pitch in a morning. Also I had not a clue what was going on. The first to get the object of my wrath was a market stall-holder who ventured over as I tied Laddie to the nearby railing. ‘Muguet, m’sieur? Deux euros’

He thrust a bunch of what looked like white weeds at me, eagerly watched by ten pairs of eyes, as to the outcome of this pitch which, if unsuccessful, could yield a later opportunity for them. To his apparent amazement I turned down this opportunity to seize a fistful of daisies at a bargain price and proceeded to queue for my croissant. As I exited the shop I could feel all the eyes watching this flowerless man walking away unconcerned, his 2 Euros still intact.

What could possibly persuade these well-dressed apparently middle class people to sit from early morning hunched on stools trying to earn a couple of Euros from passers-by for something called ‘moo-gay’?

The story doesn’t end there. As I crossed back over the road bridge and turned towards the port a battered old transit van clanked to a halt and a rough-looking peasant woman stuck her head out of the window. Before I could ask what she wanted she screamed at me ‘Give me 2 Euros!!’ ‘What for?’ (I thought she must be begging.) Her partner glared over from the driving seat. ‘MUGUET!! DEUX EUROS!!’ She looked at me as if I were an idiot, a state which was rapidly approaching. After yet another refusal the van revved furiously and shot off in a cloud of dust as further sales opportunities were disappearing quickly.

When I returned to the boat totally perplexed and reached for the dictionary, as some of you will have realised, muguet is lily of the valley and obviously a tradition in France on the 1^st May. Who knew? There is no price war as two euros was a constant feature but there was certainly plenty of competition.

By Monday morning there wasn’t a moo-gay seller in sight and I could relax and buy my croissant in peace and nod genially to the usual guy squatting in the doorway of the building opposite with a few coins in a hat in front of him. He smiles back and we say bonjour and carry on to the café on the corner unless it’s Thursday of course (don’t ask) and I have to remember to buy my copy of the Yonne Republicaine at Roy’s bakery who stock it specially on Thursdays.

French life can be convoluted but fascinating unless you’re not in the mood.

ARKWRIGHTS TILL

We were moored in Tonnerre in a wonderful shady spot right next to a park, with benches alongside the canal, one of them right opposite the boat. On a previous day we had noticed that there seemed to be a few mentally and physically disabled people wandering around usually escorted on walks along the canal bank through the adjacent woodland.

This time, I was preparing to fill the water tank on the boat from taps kindly provided by the port free of charge. I have a long extending hose with a nozzle on the end (stop sniggering at the back there Smithers) which fits into a vertical aperture on one side of the deck. When the filler cap is unscrewed the nozzle pushes in, and with any luck wedges in place, dependant on the water pressure, and it’s a careful balance between the supply tap and the nozzle tap. If both are fully opened you’ll be standing there for ages with your foot on it resisting the pressure, but half measures will fill the tank in about half an hour or more and you can go and make a coffee.

The filler cap this particular day was on the bank side of the boat opposite the bench. As I connected up I was concerned to see a thin young woman on her own rocking violently between sitting upright and bent double with her head between her knees which was quite disturbing as there was no carer in sight.

I carried on setting up the nozzle to be at just the right pressure working from the bank side, and became aware she was watching proceedings but carrying on rocking at the same time. With the taps open, I then realised I needed to get back on the boat but the hose was in the way and perilously close to the finely balanced nozzle with its cold water jet. I deliberately closed in very tentatively and placed one foot on the boat as the girl/woman watched closely with Sue observing from top deck.

So far so good.

I swung my other leg up and the boat tipped but I must have caught the hose as the nozzle leaped out of the opening and spiralled frantically like a wild thing drenching everything in sight including my shorts and trainers until I could wrestle it back into position. Turning round, the lassie on the bench was in hysterics (as was Sue) and I think in some small way I may have helped alleviate whatever she was suffering that day.

We later christened that our ‘Arkwright’s till moment’ from Open All Hours when Ronnie Barker (and later David Jason) almost gets his fingers trapped in the temperamental old till. Any way it was worth getting soaked for, and it was a hot day.

Other moments may follow- watch this space.

Port at Pouilly-en-Auxois

Entrance of the tunnel

Friday 2nd June, Montbard, Canal de Bourgogne

On our way.....

Having managed to persuade the Auxerre port engineer J-P to carry out an unscheduled oil and filter change on Blue Moon we set out on the first leg of our planned journey down the Burgundy Canal in the direction south towards Dijon.

We are travelling with another boat of similar type and size, Sirius, owned by John MacDonald a harness and saddle maker from Somerset and Reggie, his small Yorkshire terrier. 

Reggie is very adventurous and pays frequent unexpected visits to Laddie to check whether he has eaten all his dinner or not. Reggie has a special basket to ride in on the front of John’s bike whenever he goes off to look for supplies and sits there looking cute and attracting attention from all the ladies. John is not averse to this as he is on his own following his wife’s death a couple of years ago.

These last couple of weeks have been extremely arduous. From the start of the Burgundy canal we have several weeks of travel uphill to the summit at Pouilly en Auxois, a climb of over 290 metres in 156 kilometres and 115 locks. We have so far only done 102 kms and 50 locks.

This is hard work. To give you an extreme example, the first lock at Migennes is over 5 metres deep. You motor in and crane your neck up to the blue sky above and hope to see the head of the eclusier or eclusière as is often the case with many lock keepers female, appear.

He lowers a long pole with a hook and you loop your mooring rope on the end. It is looped round an invisible bollard and passed back to first Sue on the bow and then my rope to me on the rear upper deck. We then hang on to this for grim death as the paddles are opened and a torrential waterfall pours in. The boat bucks all over the place in the turbulence getting first pushed back (Sue’s job to hold it) and then sucked forward with incredible force (my job). It’s not possible to tie off the ropes as we are continually rising, so they have to be kept taut. The engine is only used in an emergency due to the noise and fumes.

John’s engine smokes a lot so he always follows us in and Sue is frequently treated to a gentle shower in the front (very welcome on a hot day.) This goes on for 5-10 minutes with arm and leg muscles screaming for relief. We’ll have shoulders like Garth, soon!

Eventually our head and shoulders appear above ground level and Laddie gets a view of the lock-keeper's cottage and garden and often his cat or dog, and we can relax until the next one.

We managed 6 locks between 9-30 and 12 this morning, our record with 2 young and lively guys who earned themselves some cold tinnies as they departed for lunch 12 until 1.

Overall the eclusiers are very friendly and helpful and we occasionally buy produce from them. This week one guy sold us 2 bottles of Chablis then dug up a fresh lettuce from his garden for us while the lock water rose.

It poured with rain the day after our last message, but it’s been scorching hot ever since (30 degrees today) with the hottest May Day since 1922 (36 degrees registered last week) and forecast for a hot summer with droughts in various regions. We can’t raise the Bimini hood when travelling as there are continuous low bridges so we have to slap on the factor 30 and sit and roast most days.

The main problem is the weeds in this canal. In places it’s like a garden lily pond and we have had several breakdowns due to a blocked weed filter. The engine overheats and stops and you are suddenly drifting with no control - rather stressful. Unfortunately a loose wire from our engine to the temperature gauge meant we had no warning and we overheated massively, destroyed the impeller pumping the coolant and damaged the exhaust system. I did not even know I had an impeller, but fortunately John Mac had a spare on his boat, came over in midstream, removed the mangled impeller and inserted his spare, got us going, towed us off the muddy shallows and climbed back on his boat to re-join Reggie.

What a hero. We’re sticking with him for the time being but he has to go back for major engine repair eventually.

Then the engine compartment flooded and he pumped it out with a spare pump he happened to have. The water was soapy and it turned out the shower outlet had been blocked for some time and overflowed round the engine We found a little flue brush in a cupboard and Sue rodded it out. Another problem solved! We don’t paddle in the shower any more:-bliss.

The next day the engine compartment was flooded again and overflowing into the bilges. We called our new Engineer contact, Didier who came out next morning and diagnosed the exhaust coolant problem, tightened a big jubilee clip and kept us on the road until winter repair/replacement can be done. He also reset the water heater, all of which came from the incident with the loose wire.

Nearly 400 Euros of call-outs so far, but all seems well so far now. And we just battle the weeds on a daily basis.

John and I do a little biking locally which is very pleasant but I fall behind on the slopes which he doesn’t even notice. I asked ‘have you done much cycling?’

‘Not until recently but I’ve done John O’ Groats to Lands End, and London to Paris for charity’

He has a daily ride up a one in four hill in Somerset too. Say no more.

An old guy (nearly my age) looking like a tramp pushed a heavily laden bike into our little port the other day, went into the shower block, came out and lay down in the grass, around 4 0’clock. Later he charged his phone and his electric bike battery from the port outlet, made himself some food and lay down on the grass for the night with long gloves and a big hat (in case of foxes.) Next morning I offered him a hot drink which he politely refused with a smile and put on state-of the art cycling gear and prepared for off. Where are you going? I asked ‘Paris’ and he tooted his horn happily as he left. There’s hope yet…….

Sorry this is long but it’s the first Wi-Fi since the last message..

After Pouilly summit there’s an hour long tunnel and then it’s all downhill.

Fingers crossed we can survive until then.

A bientot

In a lock

John and Reggie in Sirius