19 July to 25 July 2019. 100 kilometers, 28 locks, 1 tunnel.
Friday 19 July. Auxonne to
St-Jean-de-Losne. 15 kilometers, 1 locks. 2 hours, 30 minutes.
Having heard from the harbourmaster at Port Royal that the locks
between St-Jean-de-Losne (SJDL) and Gray open at seven in the morning and not
at nine as indicated in our guide nor as advised by another boater friend, we
set off early so as to be at the first lock by eight and back in SJDL after ten
when mooring space should have opened up on the ‘steps’.
In the gentlest of conditions, we cruise down the two-kilometer long
cutting which by-passes a shallow section of the river and in no time are back on
the wide, pretty Petite Sâone River, being pushed along, at low revs, by the
gentle current. There are boats tucked in the bushes everywhere indicating that
the season is in full swing and we start doubting that we will find space in St
Jean but our hopes are raised as, within a couple of kilometers of the port,
three boats pass us going upstream.
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| That's another boat in the distance. |
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| Just beautiful! |
Passing the turnoff to the River Doubs/Canal Rhone-au-Rhin (when you
are on the non-canalised sections it is the Doubs and when you are on the
canalised sections you are on the Canal Rhone-au-Rhin), we round a bend and
there are the Steps of SJDL – packed! We hover alongside the ‘no mooring’ sign
in the space reserved for the huge hotel boats which visit on a scheduled basis
while Lynn jumps off to check their visiting dates on the board. Totally out of
date but the lady at the quayside restaurant confirms that a boat is due in
today so we definitely cannot moor there today. There is a too-small space
behind the big booze-cruise boat and we decide to give it a try especially as
they seem to be moving out; but they are not, just turning around but we
persevere anyway and with a teeny bit of co-operation from him, we manage to
fit in with a margin of comfort – until he opens his huge lifting window which
reaches beyond our davits and, if there is turbulence of any magnitude like that
caused by small speedboats passing on half-plane, we are likely to smash the
glass. So we squeeze right up to the boat in front, spread out a spiderweb of
securing lines,
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| Tight fit. |
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| Even banked up on the slipway. |
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| Dressed for lunch. |
have showers, and speed off to join Durbanites Rory and Jenny
Pottage and New Zealand friends of theirs, Peter and Jane, and Glen and Trish,
for lunch at l’Ecu.
Back aboard, the boat in front of us confirms that, as their starter issues
have been repaired, they can up-lines and depart, and we can move forward ten
meters, away from the threat of fighting it out with the big tourist boat, a fight we would surely lose.
Sunday 21 July.
Saint-Jean-de-Losne to Choisey. 19 kilometers, 7 locks. 5 hours, 0 minutes.
Playing the boating odds sometimes just does not work!
As we are readying to move downstream to the waterside diesel bowser we
notice our front neighbour setting off upstream – very early for a French
flagged boat, so presumably they must be heading for Auxonne as it is far too
early to catch the nine o’clock opening of the first Rhone-au-Rhin lock. Cool,
if we’re in luck we will be there by nine and possibly be able to lock-through
on our lonesomes. Ninety-six litres and one hundred and forty-eight euros later
we are on our way upstream to the lock, arriving just past nine only to see our
neighbor tied to the waiting quay; we hover, lock doors open, we indicate that
he should go in first, he says likewise, so do we, so does he, and, when we see
he is determined not to untie until we take the front (not-so-nice) place, we
move along giving him the hard look. He follows, ties up alone (wife still
sleeping?), up we go, tie up, report to the Capitainerie to collect our
telecommand, lockkeeper notices my mutters about our lock follower and explains
that he is locking through on his own, I ask about his wife, lockie says “Maybe
sleeping?” I reply. “Maybe she should get up and help him now?” Shrug. The
lockkeeper obviously told him about our disaffection with the state of affairs
so Monsieur le capitain from La Parenthese came over to say that his
wife had gone home the previous evening and he was indeed traveling alone. So
be it – we get to surf the waves.
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| The chemical factory. |
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| You have been warned! |
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| He can't read very well. I wonder if he can write. |
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Unlike Jeanine, this 'proper' commercial stopped his peniche so that we could pass
without grounding. Passing Jeanine with her on the move was hull denting. |
The Choisey pontoon is lovely and we had prime position with a large
bush immediately on our stern giving first-shade from the afternoon sun.
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| Chateau Choisey. |
Nothing in the village but an afternoon snooze and, on awakening, finding our
lock-through neighbor right on our bow with two other boats in front of him.
All snug as bugs.
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| An imposing Mairie for such a small town. |
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| Pretty as a picture. |
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| Lots of balloons. |
Monday 22 July. Choisey to
Ranchot. 11 kilometers, 9 locks. 4 hours, 50 minutes. 4 hours, 50 minutes.
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| A morning visitor. |
The times for this waterway are indicated thus for the High Season
(‘Haute Saison’): Green = Free Navigation, Red = “Special Lock service”
whatever that means. Previously, we had asked a lockie if the locks closed at
lunchtimes (as indicated – Red Zone) to which he replied in the negative,
indicating that all was automated now but with the proviso that if one had a
problem with the locks during the ‘Red Zone’ lunchtime period, one should not
expect any assistance until after lunch. Naturally, this is France.
And so, in the dead of night by European standards, we set off at seven
thirty for our first lock, two and a half kilometers away, arriving at at eight
– hey presto, the lights change in our favour, we trundle through a sleeping
Dole port, through the next lock and by ‘usual’ lock opening time we have done
three locks all alone – bliss! We must try this again.
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| Meandering along the lily lane. |
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| Dole approaching. |
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| The gorgeous canal north of Dole. |
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| This dinghy must have irritated a couple of other boaters in the locks and side-on pontoons. |
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| A fisherman doing what fishermen do - fishing off a waiting pontoon. |
A very uneventful but very warm cruise sees us mooring up at Ranchot
with a port propeller full of weed so its goggles (apologies to serious divers
for not using the correct nomenclature of ‘mask’) on, head under the swim platform,
and most of the weed is removed with the aid of a boathook; but not enough, so it’s
on with the proper mask and Croc flippers (Oops! Fins. But they are actually slip-on shoes) and over the side to
clear the rest.
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| That's better! |
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| Trying to hook weed off the prop before taking to the water. |
Boats move in until the place is full and another arrives, heads under
the bridge to tie up, gets told off by the ‘tax collector’, we offer rafting
space which they accept all the while giving the ‘commission agent’ words and
refusing to pay for rafting against another boat, especially as they are not
going to be using any services (they did top up with water [wink]). A good bit
of French parry and thrust. We helped out a desperate hirer with extra hose and
use of our water supply for which our ‘rafter’ Maverick seemed to think
we were nice people and deserving of a bottle of Cremant de Bourgogne bubbles.
Nice but we have warned them that we will be departing at seven the next
morning and they can then take our place for breakfast.
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| Water full, the hireboat moored downstream. |
Monday 22 July. Ranchot to
PK57 (near Boussieres). 18 kilometers, 5 locks. 4 hours, 50 minutes.
A bit of dew wiped from the decks and windows heralds a very warm day
ahead. Maverick’s owner is up and about on time, enquires as to whether
we are going downstream ‘Dole direction’ or upstream ‘Besancon direction’;
knowing what is about to transpire I mumble “direction Besancon” to which he
replies with the dreaded “I think we will follow you” – only five locks but one
of them is nearly four meters lift with at least another meter and a half of
wall (do you remember Tessa?) so somewhat problematic for two boats sharing. Doable
but not enjoyable ESPECIALLY IF ONE IS IN FRONT (did he overhear me? Apparently
not).
First lock comes into sight, mechanism activated, we enter and tie up,
he enters with wife on the bow in her shorty jarmies, clearly unhappy to have
to be up in the middle of any self-respecting European’s midnight, she has
words with him, they tie up, activate mechanism, she complains about our diesel
fumes (“Don’t yer just love the smell of diesel in the mornin’?”), I’m not
prepared to fight the current with the motors off – maybe we are earning that
bottle of Cremant. Maybe they want it back?
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| Maverick following. |
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| I'm fine mate... |
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...you just squeeze through. After passing this boat another barge came the other way.
I wonder what was said. |
Anyway, after the five locks we have our destination almost in sight
but see Maverick tie up in the cutting behind us, obviously to let us
get ahead and lock through on our, and their, own. No sooner have we snugged
down against the rustic wall adjacent to the soothing waterfall-song of the nearby
weir than our erstwhile ‘lock-throughers’ came roaring past, she in her little
paddling pool and he with a smile, relieved to see us stationary.
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| The VNF workboat. |
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| Picture perfect. |
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The cutting leading
to the weir. |
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| Youngsters at play |
With a fiercening sun, Lynn painted the starboard rails (she’s crazy!)
while I tried to catch up on this blog.
The couple on the hirer behind us are enjoying a few dips in the lovely
cool river and, at about five, another hireboat slides professionally into
place, we give him a bit of a clap and shouts of “Encore, encore!” and, in
record time, skipper switches off, gulps down a small Kronenbourg, and plunges
over the side into the river – a real class act! A youngster on this boat is
suffering from heatstroke and part of their team have cycled off to try and
find a town selling water (hardly anyone drinks the tap water here) so Matron
Lynn grabs a liter-and-a-half of bottled water and promptly dispenses advice to
the dad along with two packets of Rehydrate.
And talking of class(less) acts, we hear that Bojo the Clown is now
prime minister (Note: Lower case) of the uk (again). What a joke!
Thursday 25 July. PK57 (near
Boussieres) to Besançon. 18 kilometers, 7 locks. 7 hours, 5 minutes (50-minute
delay at the double lock).
Still testing our theory but this time on a cruise which includes two
tunnels, we are on our way shortly after seven – absolutely glorious conditions
but it is warming up quickly. At the Thoraise lock we are informed by the owner
of La Parenthese that his ignition will not start the boat “And could we
tow him…” to somewhere, the somewhere being lost in the translation from the
French original. We ‘dosolé-ly’ say that unfortunately, we are not comfortable
with having to tow him through locks and tunnels and maybe he should just ‘phone
for a mechanic? Or ‘phone a battery supplier?
The Thoraise tunnel lights are off but we stop a VNF van and ask if we
can pass through anyway, he gives the thumbs up and by eight forty-five we are
at the double lock at PK63; no red light but we do the necessary with the
telecommand to set the system into operation, a light starts flashing (good
sign), the green light comes on (a very good sign but the lock doors are not
open), the lock doors open (a great sign), we motor into the lock and activate
the correct mechanism and wait. Activate it again and – nothing (a very bad
sign). So we reverse out to the waiting pontoon, notice that the lights are now
on double red (lock dead – the worst sign), call the VNF to be told, someone
would be arriving. After twenty minutes of waiting in the rapidly rising
temperature, I walk to the lock intercom, explain again that the lock is ‘en
panne’ (‘out of order’) and am informed that the technician is dealing with
another problem and we will be attended to thereafter.
Nine thirty arrives as does the VNF man in a cloud of dust, the double
reds go off, singe red comes on, goes off, comes on, changes to green and in we
go. Lockie wants to know what happened, Lynn explains with exactitude, he
shrugs and shakes his head, operates the system and we are on our way again.
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| Longstayers just after the double lock. |
This is some of the prettiest cruising imaginable especially in such benign
weather;
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| Besaancon's formidable battlements. |
at the penultimate lock, due to a bit of ‘faffing’ we do not get to close
the doors before a hireboat hoves into sight and we are obliged to wait for
them – and we are at the front of the lock again! One more lock and we are at
the tunnel leading to our mooring but it is just after twelve and the tunnel is
on its lunchbreak; in any event, I had wanted to circumnavigate Besançon
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| We cruised clockwise to the yellow cross. The tunnel is the line in turquoise. |
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| Old and new. |
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| Chamber of Commerce? |
rather
than taking the short-cut through the tunnel so this is what we did on the
hottest day in Besançon since 1984. At the end of the loop is a lock, one which
has to be manually operated so Lynn jumps off and does the sweaty necessary
while I sauna away under the dodger.
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| The 'other' port. |
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| The 'self-service' lock. |
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| The selfless lockkeeper. |
Eventually, possibly quite dehydrated, we
are through and tie up at long pontoon, set up the sprinkler system and drink
copious amounts of water and orange juice before moving on to beer and wine in
the late afternoon.
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| Hardly a shimmer. |
And we would have to choose the twenty meters of the two
hundred and fifty-meter pontoon, where the sun never sets.
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| The crack in the building where the sun gets in (apologies to Leonard Cohen) |
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We are the red splodge, the turquoise arrow points to the gap in the roof partially in shadow,
The yellow line is the direction of the sun when all the other boats are in shade. |
Quite a day!
