Can't take Namur

Givet to Namur

52 km

9 locks

14 hours

It was with trepidation that we headed out of France and into Belgium as we still had bad memories of busy commercial shipping lanes and having our ropes snapped.

Leaving Givet the landscape started off quite industrial

We cruised a short distance before mooring at Hastière. The banks were slopping for at least a mile, but luckily we managed to find a flat side that appeared to be made for us.

Our mooring at Hastière just before the rods turned up

Quick change of flag

It's a rat trap baby

Once tied up, we took a stroll. If there was a square with shops we didn’t find it and only came across a bread machine on a street corner.

There was a picnic table only feet away from the boat and we thought it would be a good idea to have our tea on it. We never got the chance, however, as the canal-side was rod to rod with fisherman and it soon became apparent that the picnic table was as sought after as a solitary sun lounger at a German holiday resort.

They were a miserable lot too. As I went to close the back doors, a whole family fishing turned and stared at me like extras from the walking dead. “Bonjour” I shouted in the chirpiest manner possible staring them full in the faces. There was no response. I repeated this futile gesture only to be met by the same slack jawed faces. Then it suddenly dawned on me, maybe this how they caught the flies to use as bait.

At 8.45pm, I decided to walk over to the bar for a drink and, being used to the French friendly mannerisms, nodded and said “bonsoir” to the staff and customers. Once again, I was met with expressions you could curdle milk with. I sat in solitude and after a bit of a wait the waitress finely addressed me “you’re too late, we close soon”.

“I only want one beer” I replied. With this she disappeared and moments later there was a loud slam and a wet puddle on the table. My beer had arrived.

The next day we ambled up to Dinant.

We saw some interesting sights on our journey up to Dinant

As we approached the scenary was like something from ‘Sinbad the Sailor’.

Can you see Sinbad?

There was one last space at the far end of a long floating pontoon. Unfortunately, the space had been commandeered by two unfriendly fishermen that weren’t too chuffed about us mooring there.

It was a tricky windy manoeuver trying to dodge fishing lines on the strong river current. It turned into a bit of a crash, bang, wallop affair as we butted up to the jetty for the entertainment of the crowded restaurant frontages looking upon us.

Our mooring on the town jetty

Shortly after this undignified approach, we found ourselves walking down the main street where restaurant leapfrogged bar. In the middle of all this, there was a funicular train to take you up to the citadel high up in the cliffside. At €8 each, whether you walked or took the train, we thought this was too steep (pun intended) so didn’t bother.

More questionable street art

Hugging Adolph Sax (inventor of the saxophone). I should be choking him really as he made my life hell in my first flat. One of my neighbours would practice 'Pig bag' daily but could never get the last 'Derrrrrr' I always ended up finishing it for him.

It's only a wee plaque as the Scottish would say

We returned to the boat to find the fisherman still scowling at us. So as beautiful as the view from the river at Dinant was, after an hour or of looking around we felt we’d seen pretty much all we wanted to see. We decided to untie and pushed off up the river arriving moments later at the lock. We radioed the lock keeper twice without getting a response and after sitting on the lock mooring for 15 minutes, secured the boat and walked up to the office to find out what was going on.

We were like two unexpected visitors arriving as the man jumped up sheepishly. “I’ve not picked up your radio calls” he insisted before hurriedly trying to get rid of us by shouting the words “Go through now.”

We told the chap that now we were settled we’d decided to stay for the night and continue our journey in the morning. This mooring turned out to be only a short walk back to the river front and saved us a staggering €17 (and this didn’t include the slot meter for the water and electric). We spent our savings on Belgium beers overlooking the river instead.

Our lock mooring in Dinant

One of my favourite beers, at 11.3% you can't drink too many

The following morning, we were all lined up under starters orders, a motley selection of cruisers, peniches, sailing boats and one narrowboat. We entered the lock and engines were revved as we eyed each other up suspiciously like some hillbilly drag race.

Gentlemen - start your engines!

We all bolted as the doors swung open. I say all, we merely drifted with the current like a child’s radio controlled boat with its batteries running low.

And there off

This was one of the things we were dreading about the canals of Belgium. As we had played this game before, we decided to amble along at our own pace. As the next lock came in to view, surprisingly the green light was still glowing and all the boats were waiting for us, although it was like entering an arena of scowls.

Thinking that the boats would all be waiting for us, I pushed the boat for the next lock. This time, only yards away, the light flicked to red and before our very eyes the boats all descended without us. It was another half an hour before we were allowed to enter the lock and in this time the same amount of boats had joined us than had previously gone on before us.

As before, the boats bolted out of the lock doors and as we approached the next lock, true to form, the light once more flicked to red. This order of events continued for the rest of the day and added four hours of waiting by lock sides to our journey.

Some of the scenery on our journey to Namur

Brave, very brave

This boat came equipped with a waterslide

And we loved this ship-shaped swimming pool

Eventually, as we left the last lock and wearily entered Namur we were met with the smug smiles of all the boats that had passed us on route now filling the town mooring. We chugged past and found an unofficial spot next to a main road.

One of our lock keepers had proudly informed us that Belgium was the Techno capital of Europe. This accolade was apparent as we moored right opposite a rave with decibels so loud the windows almost rattled (pass me my glow sticks Tracy).

Our mooring in Namur - get off the fence!

Eager to stretch our legs, we soon found ourselves in the middle of Namur’s very busy centre. If you love shopping, this is most definitely the place for you. Every corner we turned had shops, bars, restaurants and even more shops. All that aside, disturbingly it was also a place of two very different worlds, the filthy rich and the incredibly poor. Nowhere we had ever visited highlighted this contrast more than Namur. There was a fine line here drawn between the gutter and golden piss pots, and it made me feel sick to my stomach. Be more giving and less self centered you rich that walk among us (you have our email). 

I’m not saying we didn’t enjoy Namur, but the highlight of our visit was sitting at a bus stop eating a sugar waffle we had bought from a street vendor and mine was under cooked and half rat-gnawed.

Part of the town mooring ahead

Keen to get off the next morning, we were just preparing breakfast when there was a knock on the canal-side of the boat. It was the river police taking exception to us tying to the fencing. “Can we move off in ten minutes?” Tracy asked. They reluctantly agreed to this and started to move away “We are just going to have a cup of tea first” she added waving her mug at them.

“Are you taking the pish” I could see the chief thinking and he ordered the boat to turn back around and with that he asked to see our paperwork.

Tracy will happily admit that she is one scruffy bugger but fortunately she is as organised as a hive of honey bees when it comes to anything clerical. All our papers are stored in one humungous file and the chief and his assistant went through every piece of paper like a school nit nurse. Some time later, not finding anything to ‘do’ us on, they demanded to check our fire extinguishers. Luckily, they had been replaced when we were last boarded by the rozzers in Dijon, so finally and reluctantly, they departed.

It was with a huge sigh of relief as we headed off to continue our journey through Belgium, as we couldn’t take Namur.

As our comments box doesn’t work, please leave comments on: www.werubbedthelamp.com

Moorings in Hastière

Cost: Free.

Facilities: None

Location: Small village, one bar and a bread machine.

Moorings in Dinant

Cost: €17 on town mooring, free on lock mooring.

Facilities: Both water and electricity available at town mooring for an additional charge. None on lock mooring.

Location: Small holiday type town with every type of bar and restaurant you could wish for.

Moorings in Namur

Cost: €10 on town mooring, free on roadside where we moored but beware of where you tie to, the fence is apparently out of bounds.

Facilities: Both water and electricity available at town mooring for an additional charge. None on roadside mooring.

Location: City with all amenities available.