Blog 6 2018

Sancerre Port is long and narrow with boats moored alongside, on both sides, a bit like cars parked in a suburban street. I choose a big gap and nose gently in to the bank, spotting a handy electricity and water post. Sue stands in the bow, coil of rope expectantly held out for help. I reach for the stern line to do the same when, as if in a dream I see 2 half-naked (bikini-clad) young, leggy, blonde, Scandinavian beauties detach themselves from the boat alongside and, smiling, take the rope from my hands and tie us up. Sue went to fetch some cold water to pour over me as I tried to recover from this shock vision. I am still asking myself if this really happened while Sue is laughing at my attempts to be cool in another sense. I can say I can’t speak Swedish/Norwegian in both languages, but for once I was tongue-tied. (Un)-fortunately this Danish family left shortly afterwards and I could relax.

Laddie and I went for a walk around and to look for the office to pay the mooring fees but there was no official presence or proper office in the port. This had some amusing consequences later.

We had arrived around lunchtime and as the port filled up during the afternoon with boats of varying lengths, shapes and sizes the remaining gaps shrank. Rental boats never plan and consequently continue until the locks close at 7pm and then can’t find a space.

Sure enough around 7pm a 15 metre rental boat came into the port and as it passed us there was standing in the bows–would you believe- a young lady with a boathook, and about to bump into us. As she went past – slower this time- I recognised her, and she me. Simultaneously we both said: Oh! Hello! It’s you! Again! And they continued up the port looking for a non –existent mooring space for one of the longest boats in the harbour.

We had a quick consultation and while they performed a tricky 180 degree manoeuvre at the cul-de sac end of the ‘street’ Sue took control and persuaded the two German lads in the boat behind us to stop drinking beer for a moment and to move into a smaller space in front of us thus leaving space for the Swiss boat. They happily obliged. From past strong friendships with Swiss nationals we were also happy to help.

Meanwhile as the Swiss slowly headed back towards us looking concerned as to where they were going to spend the night, I waved and shouted the good news and we helped them squeeze into the new gap and moor up. They were so relieved that bottles of beer were handed to us, the Germans joined in plus a couple of other boaters, bottles of wine appeared and an impromptu party developed on the grassy bankside. It transpired that the Swiss teachers had booked the previous boat for a one-way trip and after the first breakdown incident which we witnessed close-up, they had contacted the hire company who had picked them up and given them another, identical, boat. However they were not allowed to continue to their intended destination but had to return to base at the end of their original holiday period with no compensation. Cheers, Le Boat.

A passing  South African guy we are chatting with has problems getting a refill of water to his boat as the only mooring space is too far for his hose to reach from the nearest tap. You’ve guessed it- Simpson Services comes to his aid and lends him our extra-length expanding hose. An hour later I get worried he hasn’t brought it back and no tank can possibly be that big. I wander down to his mooring and find out he has discovered some sort of leak so it will never fill but he needs to fill other containers so I leave it with him again.

When he returns the hosepipe later that evening he presents us with a bottle of St. Emilion Premier Cru 2010 as a thank you. No problem! Anything else I can help you with?

The town of Sancerre is perched on top of a big hill a mile or two away overlooking the port. Next day enthusiastic tourists are hoisting back packs and others pumping up bicycle tyres ready for the assault on the summit, and the hoped-for wine tasting tour.

We decide it is too hot, and anyway we have already tasted 2 different types on our neighbour’s boat the other night. What would we do with Laddie, anyway? Also he and I are underfed for such a huge effort as we had walked to the nearest boulangerie that morning, a TUESDAY, only to find it ‘Fermé le Mardi’. Another day of the week with no croissant and no fresh bread. With shoulders slumped we opened a year-old pack of coco-pops and tried to toast some remnants of yesterday’s loaf.