Marne O'War

Berry au Bac to Cumieres

78 km

27 locks

1 tunnel

1 lift/swing bridges

22 hours

8.30am, the first lock gates were open and we were on our way once more. It was driving rain for the best part of the morning, blowing in from the back of the boat. Now, instead of pressing a remote, we had to twist long soft plastic tubing to operate the locks. 

It was a bit like 'It’s A Knock Out'.  I had to judge it just right, holding the tiller and controlling the speed whilst having buckets of water thrown at me. All we needed was the Tweedle Dee outfits.

We managed to stop at the top of a lock for lunch, before continuing through an industrial landscape for the rest of the journey to Reims. As we entered Reims we observed a graffiti artist happy in his work, blatantly spraying in broad daylight for the world to see, before navigating through a soup of competitive rowers from the local rowing club.

We were informed that Reims had a lovely cathedral that was lit up in glorious colour at night, so were disappointed to find that we were unable to moor due to the finger pontoons being too small to support our boat at the port de pleasance.

Undeterred, we saw a gap just before the next lock. Unfortunately this was next to a busy main road so we decided to see what was available above the lock. This was a grass is greener scenario as three locks later, the only available place to moor was still by the busy main road, but with a massive industrial works with pulley wheels squeaking all night thrown in. 

The grass wasn't greener but the canal was

Realising that this would be our only opportunity to see it, at 9.30pm we made the decision to walk to the cathedral. It took us 45 minutes and, surprisingly for such a large city, the streets where empty. On arrival, there were all but a handful of people milling about. We were glad we had made the effort to leave the comfort of our home to marvel at this magnificent achievement, although disappointed with the fact that it was only lit up in colour at weekends.

The cathedral didn’t fail to impress and with the moon bobbing in and out of cloud cover above its dizzy heights, this all made for a gothic scene in the still night air.

The next day, we awoke to the sound of a busy main road, the squeaky factory noises had been drowned out. After walking Oddjob and taking a few photos, we were on our way to Sillery to meet up with some friends.

Public water fountain, a good opportunity to have a quick splash

All was going well, apart from the locks being configured in such a way that to operate them I had to push the boat diagonally into the far corner so Tracy could tie the boat to the ladder, while I stretched off the back of the boat to pull the pole that operated the lock. At the final lock of the day, a lock keeper witnessed our circus act and waggled his finger indicating for Tracy to throw him the rope. Now Tracy’s good at a lot of things but throwing is not one of them, besides she had a long way to throw as the lock was very deep. She tried several times before nearly dislocating her shoulder on the front cratch. With resignation, he indicated for us to carry on as we had been doing and sped off before he had to write an accident report.

Around 2.30pm, we managed to moor up at the port de pleasance at Sillery next to a fellow narrowboater, who was still traumatised by his experience of negotiating the locks on the Seine.

Apparently, he was about to turn into a lock but with a huge ship coming up from behind and another approaching his bow, he decided to hang back as, like ourselves, he didn’t have the power to manoeuvre his narrowboat between the ships so quickly. Three feet away from the gate and they closed on him, but even with full throttle in reverse he still rammed them. The next thing he knew they were opening again, but not for him. A ship was fast approaching, he managed to dodge out of the way and followed in as close and as tight as he could only to have the gates close on his stern end scratching the paint of his boat as he entered. “I was having nightmares the whole time I was on that river” he said. All a little worrying at we are heading to the Seine.

Our mooring at Sillery

Later that day, we met up with our friends, Sandy and Andy, who brought lots of lovely gifts for us and Oddjob (thank you so much). We ventured into Sillery village for a drink at the bar where Lolo the owner was the living embodiment of Barbara Windsor from her ‘Carry On’ days.  While we were enjoying our beers, one of the guys in the bar came over for a chat with us “You should drink champagne, it is cheaper than the beer” he said.  Noticing that the rest of the clientele were indeed all drinking champagne (including Lolo who would screech ear-piercingly each time a new bottle was opened) we asked how much for a bottle, €45 was the reply.  I’m not sure what type of beer they were used to drinking but we stuck to our €2.60 a glass type.

After two humiliating defeats at pool against Andy, we headed back to their campervan where Sandy laid on a fantastic spread and the red wine flowed. 

The next day we ventured onwards to Conde sur Marne, where the Marne river meets the Canal de l’Aisne a la Marne.  Tired and hungry we walked into the village to get something to eat. Not only was the boulangerie closed until 4.30pm but the only café in the village didn’t serve food.  We asked a couple if there was anywhere to get food in the village, but they looked puzzled. Thinking it was my French I asked “parlez vous Anglais?” No they said, we only speak Australian, well you won’t understand me then I replied. We then had a miserable lunch of stale bread and cheese.

Later the Australians came back and sheepishly struck up a conversation with us.  Apparently, they always made a point of saying they were emphatically not English as we (and also the Dutch) have a really bad reputation for taking advantage of our hosts generous hospitality by hogging the free moorings and gobbling up the free electricity and water. We fear he was probably right about this as one English couple we met, stayed on a free mooring with electricity and water for eighteen months with a huge boat.  

Our mooring at Conde Sur Marne

The cafe that didn't sell food

Picture of a bee taken from the bridge at Conde Sur Marne

The following day, we turned right on to the Marne. The river was truly beautiful. We were in the heart of the champagne growing region and the scenery was of rolling vines for miles.  We were very happy and were contentedly slowly making our way downstream waving at the fishermen we passed on our journey.

One fisherman was having none of it and as I waved he scrunched up his face and spat at me, so I changed my wave to the universal gesture of the middle digit. He was enraged by this and leaving his three fishing rods to fend for themselves, jumped in his van and followed next to us at our speed for about half a mile before accelerating on to the next bridge.

We could see him in the distance scouting around looking for something to throw at us. This is something that happens to boaters frequently in the north of England and we have been assailed by missiles ranging from jelly babies to lead shot in the past.  This has only happened once before over here, whilst in Valenciennes, where a group of thugs decided to target Tracy while she was sorting the ropes on the bow end, fortunately, they all fell short to splashes in the water. 

With our previous experience of this kind of thing, we have found that the best response is to get the camera out and photograph the assailants as this usually causes them to rethink the assault.  Luckily, it worked on this occasion too.  He was brandishing half a paving slab over the bridge but then decided to shout “shall we just be friends” with relief we added him to our Christmas card list and moved off (what a nutter).

Van-stalker

Eye heart you, I think he was miming

We finally moored for the day at Cumières, a delightful village that offered free moorings.  We were desperate to do a shop and set off with the rucksacks and my bike so we could get a week’s worth of supplies.

Our mooring at Cumieres

It was 3.45pm and we asked an old chap where the supermarket was, he gave us the directions but said “it closes at 4.30pm and it will take you 20 minutes to get there”.  After a quick discussion, we decided that I would cycle and Tracy and Oddjob would meet me there.  

A couple of kilometers away at the junction, the sign told me that it was 3km to Dizy where the supermarket was located.  Channelling the spirit of Sir Brad I rode like the wind, Tracy had told me that if we didn’t get supplies it would be chick pea tagine for tea, this was all the motivation I needed.

Eventually arriving at the huge E. Leclerc at 4.15pm exhausted but triumphant I noticed the sign stating ‘open until 8pm’ and imagined the old chap having a good chuckle to himself.

On the way back I decided to follow the river as the road was like Death Race 2000, it was narrow with cars and lorries passing at high speed.  This was great until I came to a long flight of steps where I had to carry the bike and a week’s shop down and then squeeze everything through a lock walkway above the gates.  The terrain proved challenging but the bike held up.

In the meantime, Tracy and Oddjob had given up the ghost and decided to walk back to the boat only realising on their return that I had the keys on me.  It was a long wait and she was getting tea withdrawal symptoms by the time I arrived heroically back dinging my bell three hours later heavily laden with the shopping.  All’s well that ends well though, we had a fantastic chicken curry for tea.

We decided to stay in Cumières for the Sunday and had a long walk around the hills, picking some of the grapes off the vines (red grapes sour and inedible, white grapes sweet and delicious) followed by fruit sorbets and champagne at the village tea room.

Just a few of the champagne houses in and around Cumieres

Coachloads of Belgiums were shipped in three times a day to go on the boat

Was this one of the Belgium's making a statement?

There were sculptures all along the river showing winemaking from a bygone age

The waiter at the tea room was really friendly and I asked him to comment on my French.

“Puis je avoir la note sil-vous-plait” I proudly said to him asking for the bill. 

“That was really super” he said.

“Yes, but do you know what I was asking for?”

“Something about ‘La nut’? (whilst mimicking my Mancunian accent) “French is very difficult” he added.

  

Moorings in Reims

Cost: As we couldn’t get on the port de pleasance, not sure of costs.  Our industrial lock mooring was free.

Facilities: Presume all facilities at the port de pleasance

Location: Port de pleasance located right in the centre of the city.  Our mooring was around a 45 minutes walk but there was a pharmacy and boulangarie two minutes away.

Moorings in Sillery

Cost: There is a charge at the port de pleasance (the narrowboater we met said he had paid €10 and this included water and electricity).  The haven master was not around whilst we were there and so it was free for us although we didn’t have the facilities.

Facilities: Water and electricity.

Location: Ten minute walk to the village centre. We visited a bar which looked like it would do food, didn’t investigate any further for any other shops.

Moorings in Conde Sur Marne

Cost: Free

Facilities: None.

Location: Lock mooring right next to the village, facilities appeared very limited.

Moorings in Cumières

Cost: Free

Facilities: Water and electricity available free but the box is located at one end of the staging so unless you have super long cables and hoses only really available if you get on the right end of the staging (we didn’t).

Location: Boulangarie and tea room in village a couple of minutes walk away.  Huge supermarket at Dizy around 5km away.