You're twisting my turnip, Swede

You’re twisting my turnip, Swede

Villeguisen to Vitry-le-François

167km

79 locks

55 hours

Well, needless to say, we made it through the tunnel of terror, throats uncut and all our worldly possessions still intact.

Although the tunnel is dark, cold and at 5km very, very long, it is without danger.

Some of the sights we encountered on the Canal entre Champagne et Bourgogne

We wondered how many boats it took to wear away the stone like this

We didn't realise that VNF would turn up and operate this bridge. Tracy has jumped off to fiddle with the mechanism

We weren't sure our chimney would make it under this bridge

As the weather is getting very hot now, we have started folding down the front window which gives Oddjob a nice place to sit and view the world

The next stop was Champigny les Langres where from the mooring, the town centre loomed like a fortress set on a mountain.

Our mooring in Champigny le Langres

We set off with our hiking boots and rucksacks up a very long and steep hill and on route met an old lady pushing a motorbike. I took over but found it hard to maintain a conversation heaving the beast up the long drag.

About half way up K2, breathless and faint, we reached a supermarket. There, slumped on a wall, was the old lady’s husband. Without a thank you or an acknowledgement to me, he began barking at his wife. Brow-beaten, she quickly took the road hog back from my grip and continued up the hill followed by her husband playing pocket snooker.

We had planned to continue to the fortress further up but, after a 4am finish at Villeguisen, I didn’t have the energy (let alone the will) to continue trudging like a Himalayan mountain goat.

The electricity at Champigny les Langres was rationed to one hour three times a day (morning, noon and night) in reality you were at the whim of whoever was controlling the switch. In our case, we received half rations. The morning was fine and we managed to make a slice of toast and a cup of tea at our allotted time. Come lunchtime, we decided to make the most of the one hour ration. Primed and ready to go, we waited and waited. Tracy was holding the hoover like a lifeless boa constrictor and I stood outside fully clad in protective clothing with my electric chainsaw threatening the stack of wood I had gathered. We hung around like this all afternoon, but not a flicker.

The next stop was Rolampont, the mooring didn’t look like much but did have free water and electricity. This was not just for boaters it seemed as we found two teenagers smoking from an electric bong that they had cunningly plugged in to the free supply.

Our mooring at Rolampont. Tracy making a fashion statement in her matching gloves and Crocs!

Our walk through Tufiere

Try doing this after the vin rouge

After Rolampont it was Chaumont where the town centre was again on a hill. Getting up there was like trying to find the door to a secret garden. The dual carriageway leading to the town provided no provision to walk safely with two dogs.

We stopped and asked someone how to get there. “It’s miles” they said “have you not got a car?”

We eventually found the narrow snicket at the back of a housing estate which led directly to the town.

Our goal was to find McDo to use the free WIFI to upgrade our phone. Whilst in there, a group from an English Harley Davidson club came swaggering in behaving like the OAP chapter of Hell’s Angels. They were loud and arrogant and acted like they owned the place (although I think their colours spelled out ‘Twilight years rest home for the terminally befuddled’).

Embarrassed at their behavior and not wanting to strike up conversation, we squeezed passed with “Pardon monsieur” and “Merci” pretending we were French.

Our mooring in Chaumont

This is the artist Maurizio Sommacampagna painting outside the church.

It was late the next day when we arrived in Froncles, there was no room on the port but we did find a grassy area to moor up to. It was here that we eventually found a new gas bottle which was a huge relief for Tracy who goes ‘cold turkey’ without a brew every couple of hours.

Not wanting to cook, we found the one small dingy kebab shop in the village. Unwittingly, we opted for a very wet and sloppy kebab each and four cans of beer then nearly had a heart attack when asked for an astronomical €30.

Sad to see boats getting in this sort of state

We arrived at Donjeux the following day, there was free water and electricity, but the taps were push button and shaped in a way that was almost impossible to connect to.

Armed with duck tape and cable ties I devised an ingenious method of connecting to the water tap and we soon had a full tank.

The electricity, however, gave up the ghost later that evening and I had to venture out to investigate. It was blacker than the dark side of the moon outside but I managed to find the trip box. It was doorless and wide open to all elements. At the risk of being fried like a turkey drummer, I began to fiddle with the cobwebbed switches, half expecting Frankenstein to make a guest appearance.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. Then click, a soft glow of illuminating light began to expand above me, steadily growing brighter and pushing back the darkened shadows of the night. The pontoon lighting, it seemed, was awakening from a long hibernation. Although judging by the color of the bulbs, it had been in a coma.

Our mooring in Donjeux

First cup of the day

Spot the dog!

Who killed Bambi?

Very odd indeed.

Setting off the next day at our usual pace, a small cruiser quickly caught up with us. Now, we would normally always wait for fellow boaters at a lock but Tracy had already pulled the pole to activate our descent before noticing that their boat was approaching. The skipper jumped off his boat and said, by way of an order, “you will wait at the next lock for us”. “Yes, sorry”, we both shouted (English stylee) and duly waited for them to arrive at the next lock.

Chatting to the skipper’s wife whilst in the lock, we discovered they were from Sweden. Exiting, they zoomed past us, Mrs Skipper shouting “we will wait for you at the next one”.

There was a lift bridge and a short tunnel before the next lock. As we neared the end of the tunnel, we could see them both waiting for us to approach. Just as he could see the whites of our eyes, he pulled the pole. Embarrassed, his wife went below.

At first, I wanted to jump off and tell him what a hypercritical sod he was. Containing my anger and rather than winding myself up, I stood on the back and shouted in a strong, clear voice, “you’re twisting my turnip, Swede.”

You can just make out the Swede in the distance waiting for us

Not a friendly Swede

Although we did meet some friendly Vikings

Tracy almost wet herself laughing and we continued our journey reinvigorated with joy.

Next stop Joinville. The canal was as clear as a tropical fish tank and well stocked with fish of all shapes and sizes.

The canal is about 2m deep but the bottom is as clear as a fish tank

Our mooring at Joinville

It was a popular spot for campervans too and they filled the small concrete car park. Electricity was provided for all, but at €1 for 55 minutes nobody bothered. Apparently, it all used to be free until an English couple stayed for months, sucking up all the resources. It was only after they made head line news in the local paper that they were kicked off.

On the Sunday, we took a walk up the hillside as there was supposedly a chateau at the top. We clambered up to the summit, but never found it. The views were amazing though and the forest, with its dappled lighting, was perfect for a leisurely trot. Surprisingly, we were the only ones up there.

Thoughtfully, picnic tables were provided - but would you eat off this?

The vines in the forest brought out the Tarzan in me

The black shapes are huge fish

Your bread bin might be locked up but I can still nick your bread

The heat of the day continued into the early evening so we decided to have a barbeque. After preparing the chicken kebabs with my homemade curry paste, we were gobsmacked to find an old couple from one of the motorhomes making camp on the patch of grass we were about to use. This act of trespass would be the equivalent of someone putting chairs in your front garden and staring in through your windows for entertainment.

The couple plonked outside our boat - it took a maggot to move them

They were not dissimilar to this pair

We soon realised the entertainment went both ways. A group of lads were swimming around the boat and one of them decided to have a wee right next to our garden gnomes. Without a formal introduction, the young lad proudly pulled his tackle out (and we are not talking fishing tackle here but there may of been a maggot involved) and watered the foliage. This act managed to shift our squatters, something we were far too polite to do but I have made a mental note for future situations.

The local lads enjoying themselves (pull your pants up)

The next leg of our journey took us to Bayard where we stocked up from a large supermarket and then on to Chamoully where the mayor come out to greet us with a beaming smile and a firm handshake. A lovely man who was proud of his town and the moorings that were still being constructed. Even as we were tying up a couple of workmen were still banging nails into the staging.

Our mooring at Bayard

Our mooring at Chamouilly - you can just make out the two lads still constructing the staging

After lunch we set of to St Dizier, although it should be renamed St Dismal (this is the only town in France we have visited that had ram raid barriers in front of all the shops). We wouldn’t have stopped only the laundry basket was holding us to ransom.

Our mooring in St Dizier

A French couple in a cruiser moored in front of us after first checking we were planning to stay the night. By this time there were groups of young men wielding cans of lager, again something we have never seen in France.

The lady popped over and invited us around for a glass of wine. We were in the process of cooking our tea and I tried to explain that we’d be about an hour. She said her husband was planning an early night and to get ourselves over there now. “But we are cooking tea” I explained. “Yes, see you in five minutes”.

“But, it will take us 55 minutes to cook and five minutes to eat” I explained.

I could see that this conversation didn’t compute with her at all. In France, people tend to eat their main meal of the day at noon, unlike us who are snouts to the trough in the evening.

After a few journeys around this conversational roundabout she said “Ok see you in five minutes”. We felt a bit guilty and they probably wondered what was wrong with us but needless to say we didn’t turn up.

The next day, we found the launderette. It was not the best one we’d been to as the floor was an inch or so below steel gratings. Inevitably, at some point everyone must drop a little change down it. With only her sunglasses and two bony fingers Tracy managed to retrieve our coins. An elderly lady then dropped some, I tried to help but my sausage fingers were too big, her husband had the right idea, he stuck a plaster to the end of a pen and got their coins out a treat.    

I bet the owner makes a killing on this floor design

After the grim streets of St Dizier, it was a relief to be back in the sticks in Orcante our next stop.

Our mooring in Orcante

Whilst on my night out in Villeguisen, Clement had told me about Lac de Der and said it was well worth a visit. The sign board on the mooring stated it was 5km away and as we all fancied a long walk, we set out with a spring in our step. Walking the 5km, we reached a village and asked one of the locals for directions. After sucking air through his teeth he pointed to a group of trees far in the distance “7km in that direction” he said.

Feeling deflated, we decided to retire to the bar in the village and reassess our situation. It was nearly noon and this was our only option for food.

The meal took some licking

It was sliced pig tongue for starters, this is something we would never eat by choice but it turned out to be delicious. I can now say I have been French kissed by a porker!

The road outside was being resurfaced and all the workers piled into the bar just after us. The chap who sat next to me stank of diesel. Wanting to make conversation (and without thinking what I was doing) I held my nose and said “you smell” in French. I was going to go on to say that he must have been working hard with the tarmac but was cut short by the look on his face and Tracy jumping up and running out in embarrassment.

Not the best way to make friends and influence people I know but I do try, I really do.

With the energy now to complete the last leg of our journey, we set off for the lake and it was well worth the effort.

Stop. I SAID STOP!!!

The next day was the final part of our cruise on the Canal entre Champagne et Bourgogne. We arrived at the last lock at Vitry-le-Francais and, finishing as we started, the lock was ‘en panne’. Luckily, there was a lady lock keeper on hand to see us safely through.

After a quick lunch at Vitry-le-François, we set forth again eager now to get on to the Canal de la Marne au Rhin.

Moorings in Champigny les Langres

Cost: Free.

Facilities: Electricity free but rationed to three hours a day. Water free.

Location: 2km up to supermarket up a very steep hill, further on to town and presume there would be a good selection of shops.

Moorings in Rolampont

Cost: Free.

Facilities: Electricity and water both free.

Location: Small village with a boulangerie

Moorings in Chaumont

Cost: We didn’t moor on port so was free for us, but there would be a charge in the port.

Facilities: Water and electricity in the port and there would be a charge. None for us.

Location: Large town approximately 3km up hill with a good selection of shops, bars and restaurants.

Moorings in Froncles

Cost: The port was full so we moored by a grassy bank next to it. There would be a charge in the port bur free for us.

Facilities: Electricity and water both available on the port but there would be a charge. None for us.

Location: Small village but there was a large Carrefour supermarket and one kebab shop.

Moorings in Donjeux

Cost: Free.

Facilities: Electricity and water both free.

Location: Small village. A restaurant is advertised but it looks closed down. No other facilities.

Moorings in Joinville

Cost: Free.

Facilities: Electricity €1 for 55 minutes and water €1 for 10 minutes.

Location: Small town with limited facilities.

Moorings in Bayard

Cost: Free.

Facilities: None.

Location: Small village with one tabac/bar and a large supermarket

Moorings in Chamoully

Cost: Free for us but there may be a charge when construction is complete.

Facilities: None for us, for according to the mayor there will be both electricity, water, toilets and showers available presumably for a charge.

Location: Small village with a grocery store, boulangerie and restaurant.

Moorings in St Dizier

Cost: Free.

Facilities: None.

Location: Large town with all the usual facilities including a large swimming pool and cinema.

Moorings in Orcante

Cost: €8 per night (note that this charge is not advertised but a man comes around in the evening to collect the money).

Facilities: Water and electricity both included in the price.

Location: Small village with a boulangerie.

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