Peruwelz to (near) Beloeil

Saturday 10 October 2015

Another fresh morning but with a little less mist over the canal which boded well for a beautiful day. Casting off at 08h30 in order to arrive 5 kilometers later at the first lock on the Blaton-Ath canal at the agreed time of 09h30 and, with navigation lights on in the foggy gloom, we arrived at the junction of the Nimy-Blaton-Peronnes and Blaton-Ath canals just ahead of the two laden commercials which kept popping out of the mist, ever closer, on our stern. Being 09h15 we called ‘invisible control’ and eventually managed to reach an understanding that an earlier lock service would be appreciated. Some while later and well after the originally agreed lock service time of 09h30, two elderly gentlemen arrived in their little van and leisurely proceeded to open the gates and lock us through this and the next 9 locks

A locking sequence

where we left then a beer each in appreciation of their efforts, sedate as they may have been. What happened to the expectation of open lock doors waiting to receive us at every point?

Anyway, we finally arrived at the last lifting bridge just before our planned overnight spot just on the outskirts of the village of Beloeil with its famous castle and gardens only to be told by marshals to a running race which was crossing the bridge, that it was closed. So 180 degrees it was and back upstream until it occurred to check the bridge opening times – Murphy’s Law; the bridge was closed between 12h00 and 12h30 and the time was 12h20 so it was about turn again and back to the bridge where we waited. And waited. Just before one o’ clock Lynn tried phoning again and this time the answer was that the bridge was closed for the day! So om keer it was and back into the beautiful forest where we found a wonderful wild mooring against a lovely wall, tailor made for our size, and proceeded to fire up the Weber and enjoy a delicious meal and a glass of rose in idyllic surrounds.

Shortly before mooring up.

Until…

…a cyclist and his spouse stopped at the boat and in Flemish (praise be!) told us that the lock/bridgekeeper at the bridge ahead had arrived to open the bridge for us so perhaps we had better go back again. Fearful that we not ruffle any Walloon feathers, we upped stakes and headed off downstream again once again and on arrival called the lockkeeper (in French) and tried to explain that we were back because we understood that he was looking for us to let us through and could we now have service. Please. He now insisted that the bridge was closed for the day and the battle of wills began. Ultimately and with much bad grace the voice blurted “Arrivee, arrive” and disconnected the call. By the time he arrived to open Lynn had translated “We apologise but we only work on the opening times stated in the Almanak and closures announced on the internet” and explained that we would be spending the night just before the next lock and could we have service tomorrow morning. With a muttered “Be there at 09h15” the bridge was closed and Mr Rude sped off.

By the time we had sorted out the fenders at the commercial type corrugated bank and banged in stakes it was too late to visit the castle so we drank some wine and thought fondly of our beautiful forest mooring which nearly was.