The Sâone to the River Doubs/Canal Rhone-au-Rhin: Saint-Jean-de-Losne – Abergement le-Ronce – Rochefort-sur-Nenon – Ranchot.

7 August to 13 August 2019.  44 kilometers, 15 locks.

Wednesday 7 August. Saint-Jean-de-Losne to Abergement le-Ronce. 10,5  kilometers, 3 locks. 3 hours, 45 minutes (See delays below).

Waking to a very grey day with heavy rain forecast after the big storm of the night before, we pushed off before nine, turned downstream to the quayside fuel bowser and then, just on cue, the heavens opened! We managed to get in one hundred and fifty liters of diesel (and hopefully no water) before setting off again upstream to our first lock, upon arrival at which, there were two boats waiting for service. So we tied up, Lynn scrubbed the one side of the hull and, after a good thirty minutes, the lock emptied, I executed a very clumsy turn and scraped Lynn’s newly painted handrail, up we went, collected our telecommand and we were finally on our way to Dole.

Madame scrubbing the hull in fine weather.

Or so we thought.

A short way before the second lock we spot a very small boat (maybe six meters long), with two people aboard, tied to the side, and see their engine splutter into life. The man does a little jig and I think that they had just resolved an engine issue but they have more devious plans. As we pass, they up-pins and follow us to the lock, forcing us to the front to fight the deluge. He then asks that we move even further forward because they need to get to the ladder to climb up and get their lines around a bollard; I asked him why he had waited for us to pass and then follow us into the lock rather than just going into the lock before we arrived on the scene. His reply: “Why don’t you just help with our lines – you only have a couple of steps to climb up the (very slimy) ladder and we have a lot” - and then the penny dropped. They were waiting for a single, ‘big’ boat to come along who would do their dirty ladder work for them and take the force of the inrush, while they just sat back and relaxed on the way to their next destination – probably Dole, another seventeen kilometers and five locks ahead. Hence the jig when they spotted their prey. And they took forever to sort themselves out in the lock. Even the maintenance lockie looked on in utter astonishment!

So five or so kilometers later we tied up at the empty quay at Abergement le-Ronce which is just before lock number four and watched as they passed in the pouring rain to do the lock-through on their own. And it’s a high one which we hope they enjoyed – the boat’s name is Archibald Haddock, by the way!

And then there was nothing much to do but sit out the torrential rainstorm which lasted, with intermittent sunny breaks, well into the evening.

One hour later!

More storm clouds building.

Thursday 8 August. Abergement le-Ronce to Rochefort-sur-Nenon. 19,5  kilometers, 8 locks. 4 hours, 30 minutes.

Early the next morning, a quick walk through the nondescript and deserted town (except for the neon flashing boulangerie)

The view from Elle's foredeck the next morning.

The main road looking left...

...and looking right.

ended with us heading off into the lingering fog, passing the almost ghostly chemical factory

until just before Choisey when the sun came out, showing off a sparkling day. We had a short delay at the first lock after Dole but thankfully no other boats came up behind us and we glided into the lock all on our ownsomes. Rising, a glance over the lock doors revealed Archibald Haddock waddling toward the lock and, with hopefully only one more lock to go before our intended and earnestly hoped-for stopover at Rochefort-sur-Nenon (described in a cruising guide as “Peaceful, picturesque river mooring. Pontoon in high demand”), we knew that they would never catch us but, after the previous day, probably didn’t want to anyway.

The seven kilometers after Dole has some very pretty cruising and just after passing through the narrow check-lock one passes onto the wide Doubs river, bordered on one side by high sandstone or limestone cliffs topped by the Forest of Chaux, at the base of which is the twenty-five-meter long pontoon – with only one small Med-type speedboat parked there. Another bonus of this particular stopover is that the cliffs give protection from the hot, late afternoon sun.

Toilets (well frequented by the dozens of passing cyclists), a washing up basin with water,
 rubbish bins and a bottle recycling container.

View forward off our bow.

And astern.

The riverbank seems a favourite place for couples and families to picnic under the trees, fish in the river and relax in the most decorous way – no loud music, no drunkenness, and no mess after they all went home. Bliss!

So much so that we will extend our stay here, even if it means running engines for an hour or two to keep the batteries topped up so that the fridges can cope in the high temperatures expected. And the village is having a ‘fête’ all weekend with petanque competitions, bands, and dancing - and a vide grenier.

The village itself is mostly quaint but seemingly devoid of any commerce except for a Tabac.

The Tabac.

The 18thC Eglise Saint-Laurent - the first church
in the area dated from AD1000.

Anyone for a fixer-upper?

Part of the fortifications which eventually included
the town into the hilltop fortress' defences.

The village's history goes back to prehistoric times where evidence that Cro Magnons inhabited the area. Later it was occupied by the Romans and a town named Hebe was established on the salt road to Auxonne – it was at this time that a castillum was built on the Rochefort cliffs to protect the road. After the fall of the Roman Empire, the hilltop castle and town below fell under the control of the Dukes of Burgundy and the castle and town were named Rochefort after one of the powerful Burgundian nobles who, during a period of power-struggle amongst the ruling Dukes, did a land grab and refused to pay homage but eventually, and after a few wars, the land reverts to France.

“On May 23, 1479, two days before the sack and the taking of Dole by Louis XI, the Emperor Maximilian sells for 10,000 francs, Claude de Vaudrey "the city, castle, town, and seigneury of Rochefort..." Less than a century later, Philip II King of Spain and grandson Maximilian, bought Rochefort for the same sum to the descendants of Claude de Vaudrey.

For two centuries (from 1477 to 1678), Rochefort is almost autonomous under the control of the Parliament of Dole appointed by the Emperor of Austria.

This relative autonomy does not mean peace because the Franks Comtois see their country ravaged successively by the Spanish troops, the Protestant "reiters", the army of Henry IV, the War of Ten Years, the Swedes and the rampage and looting by Louis XIV.” (Source: Rochefort-sur-Nenon Tourism ).

How’s that for a complex history!

It is only in 1678, in terms of the treaty of Nijmegen, that Rochefort, along with Franche Compté, finally becomes French territory. And for the history buffs, follow this link to the Wiki font of all Dukes of Burgundy and the Kingdom of Burgundy knowledge - molecular physics is less complex!

The Friday night pétanque doubles competition and modern dance exhibition we gave a miss as the weather turned and it poured with fat gobbets of rain the whole night.

The next morning dawned cool and sodden but soon dried out to a lovely day, thankfully even a bit windy. With long overdue maintenance done

Painting again Bobette?

we enjoyed a light lunch and then sauntered into the village

Creative!

A portion of the visitors to the fete.

to have a look at what was on offer; a small exhibition of motor-cycles,

 ‘pétanquers’ by the dozen, at least fifty triples teams giving it their best,

and, in one corner of the community sports center, a marquee had been set up for the music evening – “"Punchy Slug's" (rock) et "And Co" (variétés françaises)” – fireworks display and an Eighties Evening to end the day.

Punchy Slugs setting up.

We sauntered back by way of the ramparts which have lovely views over the valley.

The stop-lock.

We are moored behind the big trees on the left.

Sunday 11 August. Rochefort-sur-Nenon to Ranchot. 14 kilometers, 4 locks. 3 hours, 35 minutes.

Before seven the next morning

Sunrise - a great shot taken by Lynn.

WE (yes, both of us!) took a stroll into the village where a ‘vide grenier’ had been set up and, after having wandered past the forty-or-so tables and bought nothing (two in a row – a miracle!)

it was back to Elle

Another lovely one.

and we were on our way well before eight o’clock.

Our second lock gave some issues but Lynn hit the ‘reset’ button and all came back to life, allowing us a gentle cruise through the next two locks to find, on arrival at Ranchot, a space just big enough for us to fit into between two other cruisers, waiting. By nightfall, a tiny German cruiser had squeezed into the space in front of the boat on our bow, the sloping wall mooring on the opposite bank had three boats attached and, on our side of the canal but beyond the bridge downstream, a small Swiss cruiser had attached itself to the cycle path railings.

After the storm and before the next lot of rain.

The next morning after the madding crowd had departed.

Earlier in the afternoon, the skies blackened, thunder rolled and the rain came pelting down. During this deluge, we heard a knock on our window and, on opening the curtain, there stood a very wet Swiss gentleman with an electricity cord in his hand who asked, in what sounded like Flemish (I could understand him but he could not understand my Afrikaans), if we could move our connection to the outlet on our bow (which we knew was not working) as their cable was ten meters too short to reach their boat. Not understanding what I was saying, he summoned his friend who spoke English and, when we offered to resolve the problem with a splitter, there were broad grins all round – and we ended up being presented with a bottle of lovely Swiss Chianti!

The weather cleared somewhat the next morning so, armed with brollies, we took a stroll through the surprisingly cute village, the only downside being that the boulangerie is closed on Mondays.

The hotel fifty meters from the mooring.

Looks nondescript but there are some little surprises.

A gorgeous 'gite'.

An old train tunnel built solely to service the iron mine.
When the mining company moved its business to a barge company, the railroad company
removed the tracks so that no-one could use the system.

Founded in the 15thC, it has been
deconsecrated and is now a small
exhibition hall.

Lunchtime at the smaller boat quay.

On the last day of our extended stay in Ranchot, we off-loaded the bicycles and rode the three kilometers into neighbouring Fraisans (the forge town), past a huge field which had been host to the NoLogo music festival, to a Colruyt supermarket to stock up and, after dropping said provisions off at the boat, rode across the bridge to Rans (can someone tell us how that is pronounced differently to Reims?), another quiet but pretty litte vilage

We think an old pottery factory.

The Church of St Etienne, dating from the 14thC

Once a mansion, then a school, now apartments.

The elusive Chateau de Rans dating from the 12thC. Now a private home.

I just could not find a decent view from which to photograph it.

A Brexit statement?

Foraging rewards.

Back to Ranchot and our plans for a braai were swept aside by the news that the nearby hotel was serving ‘pied de veau’ (veal foot/trotter/knuckle) as part of their plat de jour – and a most enjoyable and inexpensive meal it was too!

Did I mention that our house water pump is dying? The diaphragm seems to have collapsed so a new one will have to be installed in Deluz.

The little blue pig.

We have thoroughly enjoyed ‘slowing down’ in Ranchot but it’s time to get moving again.