Blog 5 2018

ROGNY-LES-7 ECLUSES No Pizza on Thursdays. Today is Thursday. Merde alors! Back to poached eggs on toast.

Rogny’s 7 locks, no longer in use except for photos.

Friday 22^nd June: OUZOUER-SUR –TREZEE: Can you pronounce it? Lovely gardens for Laddie to romp in.

Next stop BRIARE. On advice we ‘phone ahead to speak to the harbour manageress Dorothy Maas (Dutch lady) to book a place in the main marina (there are other, less favourable moorings) and also less expensive at 14 Euros a night!  But we’re in the town centre and opposite a large park.

Monday 25^th June

The housekeeper advises me that we urgently need to find a big supermarket as stocks are running low, except for baked beans- we have loads of those, as well as tea-bags for the entire Briare population.

We ask around but there is nothing within our walking and carrying range so after exhausting other transport possibilities we reluctantly call a taxi who can fit us in for 1 hour between other clients. Sue heads off with him for the massive Carrefour outside town and to everyone’s subsequent disbelief, including the local taxi driver, it’s CLOSED! At 2 o’clock on a Monday afternoon. Exceptionally supermarkets are not normally ferme le lundi like other shops.

It takes nearly half an hour to go to the nearest alternative, which is in the diametrically opposite direction and also in a nearby town, leaving Sue less than 20 minutes to do a trolley dash in a strange supermarket.

Sunday 24^th  After failure to find ‘poulet rôti’ to take home for Sunday lunch Laddie and I set out for the large café bar in the central square where they are certain to have the 2pm England-Panama match on the telly. Aren’t they? Rounding the corner the ‘Place’ is deserted. Horror of horrors they are stacking the chairs inside as the café is CLOSED on Sunday afternoons. Hurry back to boat where Sue manages to pick up Radio 5 Live via Belgium (BBC is NOT allowed in France). England win 6-1. Life can be really tricky when you don’t know all the rules but, hey, I could follow the match in English.

Next day we cross one of the most famous landmarks of the central region – the Briare

Pont Canal opened in 1896 - a huge viaduct crossing the entire Loire valley (see photo) with a single-lane canal in the middle. Amazingly there are no traffic controls and it’s first come first served and just don’t come head to head with a tour boat (or anyone else for that matter) in the middle as they have priority and it’s a long way to reverse (steering doesn’t work like a car). As it happens the other end is clear and another boat is entering in front of us so we tuck in behind him and Sue films the crossing. Otherwise she would probably faint from the vertiginous sheer drops only 2 metres away from the edge of the boat. The bridge is busy with sightseers walking the 700 metres on both sides. It’s a beautiful day and the scenery is unique over the centre of the Loire.

And so on past Beaulieu to Belleville (is every town beautiful round here?) Must be something to do with the 47 chateaux I count on the charts around the Loire valley within a few kilometres of the river.

As the moorings are free of charge, include electricity and water, and have a small supermarket and a restaurant nearby, as well as a municipal swimming pool we decide Belleville IS beautiful.

As the temperature climbs day by day from 30 to 34 and the up to 36 and 38 degrees we stay the entire week and beyond. Laddie develops ‘the runs’ for several days and our neighbour Alain generously offers to take us to the vet in the nearby town where Laddie gets a thorough health check, followed by injections and tablets. All for 69 Euros, excellent value.

 Alain’s wife Marie-Claude kindly takes Sue to a supermarket in Bonny (another fine town!) and she re-stocks for the forthcoming leg of the journey south. Alain and I drink beer in his air-conditioned boat. He produces a bottle of something called Picon – looks like Martini- and is suspiciously called a beer aperitif. ‘You have to try this – the taste is amazing’, and he pours a small amount into my glass under my cautious gaze. It tastes wonderful and after the second (or is it the third?) large glass I stand up to leave and the boat sways for some reason. We now have a bottle of Picon on board Blue Moon.

Then a near-miss by a big rental boat with 6 Swiss teachers on board coming at some speed on collision course for our stern where we are sitting at our mooring one afternoon. At their bow a young lady is screaming a warning whilst brandishing a boathook in preparation for the inevitable collision. ‘‘We can’t stop the engine – the control’s broken!’’ On the top deck above her two guys appear to be wrestling with the throttle and steering controls on top deck, with no luck as she manages to thrust the pole at our hull as they surge past and we watch them career past several other moored private boats and disappear from sight.

These boats are 50ft long and 12ft wide and sleep up to 8 people. The hirers are given around 10 or 15 minutes instruction, need no permit or previous experience, and the keys are handed over for 2 weeks holiday afloat. We owners have to pass a written and a practical exam to get an International Licence without which we cannot cruise the French waterways or get insurance.

Next day we get England v Colombia (England win on penalties) on Talksport with clear reception and proving better information and commentary than TV. Same for England beating Sweden four days later.

After 11 nights at Belleville the temperature is down to 30 and the night storms are over. Laddie is feeling better and the wine capital of Sancerre awaits 20 kilometres upstream, a single morning’s cruise, with any luck.