The River Doubs/Canal Rhone-au-Rhin: Dampierre-sur-le-Doubs – Colombier-Châtelot - l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs – Grand Crufix – Baume-les-Dames.

2 September to 7 September 2019.
48 kilometers, 20 locks, 1 lifting bridge.

Monday 2 September. Dampierre-sur-le-Doubs to Colombier-Châtelot. 9 kilometers, 4 locks, 1 lifting bridge. 3 hours, 15 minutes (including a 70 minute delay at the lifting bridge).

Soon after mooring-up in Dampierre a VNF van stopped and a gentleman hailed us on our way to the baguette dispenser, explaining that he was the person who would let us through the lifting bridge at Colombier-Fontaine, four kilometers and two locks ahead of us. We agreed that a convenient time for him was for us to be at the bridge at nine-fifteen and he suggested that if we left at about eight-thirty we should arrive at the agreed time. So we did.

The morning was beautiful and dry and we cast off at the suggested time, passed through the two locks at a tidy speed, dodging patches of weed along the way, and arrived at said lifting bridge at nine-twenty to find not a soul in attendance. Twenty minutes later we call the VNF central number and ask for service – “Someone will come”. An hour later we call again and are told the same thing but this time, as Lynn sets off for the shop in the village, the little white van arrives, bells ring, and the bridge lifts – in the interim we had plugged into the VNF electricity supply for forty minutes of battery charge and so were not too disgruntled. As we passed through, the VNF lady emerged from the control booth and apologized profusely; her colleague from the day before had not passed on the arrangement – however we are not sure why it took so long for our phone request to get through.

A beautiful canal-side garden.

We made the next lock just in time to have the lights turn in our favour as there was another boat coming upstream which would have meant a double delay. And guess who it was? Risico, the barge with the abusive woman from our meeting in Baume-les-Dames two weeks ago, so our progress through the lock and along the bief until we passed them, was painfully slow. Neither of us greeted…

We are now back into prop entanglement territory, and sure enough, in the last lock before Colombier-Châtelot our speed slows and we know exactly what the problem is so we change plans, decide to stop for the night at Colombier-Châtelot rather than our intended target of l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs, do some panel-beating, and allow me some swim time – prop now clear and Elle looking very patchy but nothing a bit of sanding and painting cannot sort out.

Mrs Filler

Curiously, the other boat on the jetty is the same Nicols hireboat which was here when we over-nighted six days ago – a strange way to spend a holiday, or maybe they had just bought the boat, or perhaps they had broken down. Who knows?

Tuesday 3 September. Colombier-Châtelot to l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs. 7 kilometers, 3 locks. 1 hour, 30 minutes.

Our best-laid plans of sanding the filler and painting on primer before departing for l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs were thwarted by a heavy fog which had descended during the night, leaving the whole boat sopping wet so we eventually untied at nine and pushed off into lingering wisps.

The second bloom about to start.

On arrival in l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs there was a large barge (Aslaug) and a small ex-hire cruiser tied up alongside the upstream mooring, again dashing hopes of doing some surreptitious sanding so we trotted off to the Intermarche, had a braai, did a big load of laundry and whilst it was washing, enjoyed a cold beer and watched a big funfair being erected in the town rectangle.

Upstream mooring.

Back aboard Elle the port was filling up and by five-thirty there were seven boats moored along the quay! End of season? We suspect that the closing of the Meuse might be adding to the traffic on the Canal Rhone au Rhin as, apart from the Swiss and German boats going upstream, there are a couple of NL boats heading in the same direction.

The next morning we moved down one lock and about five-hundred meters, turned Elle around, and moored up outside the Intermarche and then carted eighty liters of diesel across the road; we could probably have fitted another forty liters into the tank but it was pretty warm so five-hundred and sixty liters will just have to do!

Downstream mooring opposite the station.

Lovely stone wall.

La Chef.

Sundowners.

Thursday 5 September. l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs to Grand Crucifix. 24 kilometers, 10 locks. 4 hours.

A cool and slightly wet morning turned into a stunning day thankfully, making the long cruise more enjoyable, especially as half the locks were set in our favour.

An unusual church roof.

The only downside once again was the abundance of weed, initially causing the port engine to slow dramatically and forcing us to start the starboard side but by the time we arrived at the lock before Clerval our speed was down to about four kilometers an hour on both engines, so we tied up at the waiting pontoon and a low visibility inspection revealed great chunks of vegetation firmly wrapped around both propshafts which were eventually cut free. In the process one of my Crocs popped off – no problem, they float like corks but this one seemed to like being under the hull because no amount of maneuvering could induce it to come to the surface and so, resigned to having to purchase a new pair, we set the lock into sequence, the red and green lights came on and, as we began moving forward, the missing shoe appeared. A very quick reverse and some deft manipulation of a boathook saw Lynn retrieve the darned thing before the lock doors opened, so all ended well.

Finally we clear our last lock of the day, round a corner, and there is our ex waiting-pontoon floating gloriously empty of occupants; with a slight current on our stern we line up our approach and just as the bow is about to reach the pontoon there is a bump and we come to stop – grounded! We just can’t understand why as the water all around us looks deep enough, so it’s an attempted reverse manoeuvre and then, finally, a one-eighty degree bowthrust frees us and we gingerly float downstream and approach the mooring from that side where, from our previous visit, we know there is enough depth to moor up. Once on the pontoon the cause of our grounding and the reason that the pontoon has been decommissioned as a waiting pontoon became apparent – a huge, curved tree-stump was lying at right angles to the upstream end of the pontoon with the root cluster and the opposite end about seventy centimeters from the surface and the middle lying about a meter down.

Right below our bow.

The rest of the day was spent doing another propeller inspection and some sanding and primer application.

Friday morning, after the dew has dried off Lynn did a last bit of painting on the starboard stern scupper and then it was just a case of waiting for the paint to dry.

Filled and primed and awaiting sanding and paintion.

Quite an improvement!

By mid-morning we had been passed by four cruisers heading upstream, once again, all German flagged except for one Australian flagged boat bearing the home port Maasbracht, NL on her stern so they were obviously Netherlands based and were heading off to their winter base.

Autumn leaves.

We cannot source the origin of the name Grand Crucifix
but could it have been named after the shape of this rock outcrop?

Saturday 7 September. Grand Crucifix to Baume-les-Dames. 7 kilometers, 3 locks. 1 hour, 30 minutes.

Stopping briefly after our second lock to sand some primer on the port scupper in readiness for painting when we arrive in Baume-les-Dames, we enjoy a gentle and relatively weed-free trip, arriving to find the port deserted of transiting boats. There are two couples on ‘stern on’ moorings but they look like they are going to be wintering here and all the other boats are deserted and wearing their winter garb.

To the tune of 'Bird on a wire,' we wait for our last lock of the day.

With rain forecast for the afternoon, I mentally cast aside any thoughts of painting the last of the prepared scupper, unload the bikes and we whizz into the town looking for the crémerie to stock up with a selection of their stunning cheeses for when friends James and Laurien join us next week but it is closed for ‘congé annuel’ (annual holiday) so Super-U cheese will have to do.

A few items from the Weldom hardware store and its back to Elle where Lynn decides, despite the weather forecast, to finish the paintwork – fortunately, the rain arrived later than expected, giving the paint enough time to form a decent skin so its looking pretty good at last.

Tomorrow we head off to Deluz for the fitment of our new water pressure pump (the old one is still working well but not the way it should), and to collect our additional two new solar panels and a spare shower-pump lift-switch.

The River Doubs/Canal Rhone-au-Rhin: l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs – Colombier-Châtelot – Montbéliard – Dampierre-sur-le-Doubs.

A map might be added later…

Wednesday 28 August. l’Isle-sur-le-Doubs to Colombier-Châtelot. 7 kilometers, 3 locks, 1 hour, 45 minutes.

After applying a coat of paint to the last of the downsides we bade Tony and Rita farewell – we will not see Tony again this year but might see Rita as she is staying a while longer in Auxonne before returning to Australia.

The short cruise up to Colombier-Châtelot was pretty but there was a lot of floating ‘string-weed’, the stuff which we are sure has suckers on its tendrils and which attach themselves to one’s prop shaft at every opportunity; we’re surprised we made it to the mooring as we spent so much time in reverse trying to clear weed.

I absolutely hate this stuff!

Soon after we had tied up, the little red classic boat which had been moored behind Kanumbra last night, made fast to the pontoon and the lady occupant came over to enquire whether we were having problems with weed in our strainers – they were having to stop every hour to de-weed theirs and we have had no ingress at all. Strange.

The lovely boat with strainer problems.

The day warmed up a lot and with no wind and the relative humidity down to thirty-four percent, we just whiled away the time watching cyclists, the aquatic antics of the family on the boat behind us, and just enjoying the quietude.

Thursday 29 August. Colombier-Châtelot to Montbéliard. 16 kilometers, 9 locks, 2 lifting bridges. 4 hours, 25 minutes (including a 25 minute delay at the first lifting bridge).

“Read all about it, read all about it, read all about it here! Kate Cullen, daughter to Lauren and Craig, was born at five-thirty this morning. First grandchild to Lynn and Shaun. Read all about it!”.

Congratulations!

Sweet.

Another cool and lovely morning with a light mist smoking above the water saw us depart a bit later than usual down the lovely waterway, marred only by the plethora of weed floating everywhere and filling the locks.

A well organized ex-lockkeepers house.

Dampierre-sur-le-Doubs' mooring just after the bushes -
we hope to stop here on our return trip.

Dampierre viewed through the lock gates.

The small quay at Voujeaucourt on a busy road.

After only three kilometers the port propeller jammed up in the lock so it was back to the other engine, through the next lock and up to the first of two lifting bridges which is supposed to operate automatically as one approaches but it didn’t budge. Fortunately, there was a small waiting platform to which we could tie up to and it also gave me a chance to once again don the goggles, dive under the boat, free the prop of weed, and drop my knife into the murky depths (shallows actually but very slushy), never to be seen again. Next knife will be attached to my wrist.

Arriving at Montbéliard was quite a surprise. The port is set in a big square cut in the canal with one side having a long wall with bollards every twenty-five meters apart and the other side being a ‘proper’ leisure boat port with pontoons and fingers and quite a few boats present. We opted to stay the first night on the wall mooring as it was a road-width from the Intermarche but it turned out to be very noisy; not so much during the night but certainly from the early hours of the morning when delivery trucks unloaded their contents into the supermarket warehouse, early morning workers returning from or departing for work slammed car doors and even the tractor operated street sweeper was throttling its way past our window at six.

We were moored in front of the yacht with the blue cover - Intermarche extreme left of pic.

This one - lovely lines but so sad.

By eight-thirty we had moved over to the marina, fortunately into a side-on mooring where the fingers had been removed from the pontoon – the port is closing in three weeks time for a full facelift and we suspect that they have already started work as the season is definitely slowing down. To add credence to this, we now probably see two med-style boats heading toward Germany and Switzerland for every canal cruiser or barge.

A new view of our previous night's mooring.

Back in a marina.

The town of Montbéliard also surprised us; a lot bigger than expected with a constant stream of traffic, both vehicular and human, lots of boutiques, cafes, restaurants, and some interesting buildings from ancient to modern but much influenced by Bavarian-style architecture and the rise of Lutheranism which is not surprising if one digs into the city’s history a bit. Heinrich Schickhardt, a German architect, was employed by Frédéric de Wűrttemberg, Count of Montbéliard to do work on his castle and, as a result, the architect was contracted to build many other structures in the city.

The Church of St Mainbouef of Montbelaird,

The fabulous gallery.

And even more fabulous altar.

Reliquary of Saint-Maimboeuf

The old marketplace, now a collection of boutiques.

Looking toward a pedestrian walkway - note the
young lady sunning herself on the chaise on the  left.

Protestant church.

Townhall with a statue of Georges Cuvier in the foreground.

The Château des Ducs de Wurtemberg

Friday was Lynn’s birthday and so, after having replaced a malfunctioning, newish float-switch with a rather patched old one and having pumped dirty water out the shower drain and bilges, we took ourselves off for a quick tour of the town followed by lunch at the oddly named Bains Douches (Baths Showers?) restaurant.

Herb crusted lamb fillet
and langoustine risotto.

Needing some electrical cable to fit our recently ordered, additional, solar panels which we hope will be in Deluz next week, we biked off over the canal to a huge shopping complex which, amongst other retailers, was home to a large Brico Depot which stocked just about every conceivable piece of hardware imaginable – except for 4mm2 twin-strand flex! Back aboard it's locker rummage time and lo-and-behold out comes four meters of genuine solar wire plus four meters of 4mm2, single-strand electrical flex (the two combined will be adequate for one panel), sufficient cable protector to house them, plus five meters of 4mm2 twin-strand flex already housed in cable protector. Voila!

The Montbéliard tourism website was advertising a fête celebrating one hundred and thirty years of the existence of the Montbéliard cow breed to be held near the Tourist Office on Sunday 31 August – the only problem was that 31 August was a Saturday. Some frantic Googling finally revealed that it was indeed being held on 31 August, this very Saturday so we took a slow cycle through the magnificent park

A Foucault Pendulum designed by the genius Léon Foucault

Petanque courts.

Amazing! 6,000 plants
and 1.8 kilometers long.

and joined the goings-on at the tourist office, coming away with some delicious, aged Comte cheese, some Montbéliard sausage and two jars of Cancoillotte cheese, so delicately delicious when served warm. The day warmed up to being hot and uncomfortable, scuppering our plans of doing more of the tourist thing – sitting aboard with fans whirling was much more appealing!

Montbeliard cows - the stars of the show.

Sunday 1 September. Montbéliard to Dampierre-sur-le-Doubs. 7 kilometers, 4 locks, 1 lifting bridge. 1 hour, 40 minutes.

After a patter of rain during the night, the morning dawned much cooler than of late but clear and with a southerly breeze, none of which deterred us from our intended objective of visiting the Museum in the Château des Ducs de Wurtemberg. Luckily for us, it was the first Sunday of the month so entrance to the museum was free; to help fend off the coolth, a preliminary stop at a boulangerie resulted in the demolition of a pair of oranais aux abricots, a French apricot pastry made with preserved apricot halves, pâte feuilletée (puff pastry), and pastry cream – great to enjoy at nine-fifteen in the morning!

Despite “Oh, not another museum” misgivings, we enjoyed the museum thoroughly with its eclectic mix of exhibitions depicting the evolution of flight, the development of the city, pre-historic to ancient developments in the area, natural sciences, and modern art.

The 'flight' exhibition.

The city in the Middle Ages.

The Chateau kitchen.

Another view from the ramparts.

Exhibition of 20th Century artists.

Modern art exhibition.

Salon dedicated to Georges Cuvier

That cow again.

And then it was a scoot down into the valley, lines off, big fender popped on a piece of jutting pontoon, and a gentile cruise to the tiny village of Dampierre-sur-le-Doubs, a trip made more enjoyable by the efforts of the young lockie who pre-set three of the four locks and the one lifting bridge in our favour – locks are normally automatically set to favour boats coming upstream which makes downstream locking quite tedious.

We caused quite a traffic jam.

Dampierre ahead - looks familiar?

Our short walk around Dampierre revealed nothing much of interest apart from a spotless, small village with a number of families enjoying Sunday lunch on their ‘terrasses’.

Pretty Mairie.

I'm not sure that I understand the
significance of these crosses.

Elle

The village wash-house.

Our supper after having been dispensed - fresh!

It’s a strange feeling to have ‘turned around’. Mechanical issues during the August holiday slowed us down to the extent that we could not get up to Mulhouse but in return gave us the unexpected bonus of ‘rose-smelling’ hours, something very valuable and much appreciated.