Weird

Peronne to Saint Valerie

126 km

21 locks

22 hours

And so to the seaside. After leaving Peronne, it was only a short jaunt to the entrance of the Canal de la Somme and all that was missing was a sign stating ‘Abandon all hope all ye that enter’.

The canal looked shut for business and was overgrown by shrubbery on either side seemingly providing navigation for narrowboat width boats only. After a short distance we eventually arrived at a lock that looked like it last saw action when Adam was a lad. The gates were invitingly open and we sauntered in. Once in, however, no amount of tugging at the pole would get them to close. Our only hope was that whoever was manning the close circuit cameras would see us and activate the mechanism. We waited and Tracy clambered off the boat and had a nose around to see if there was a telephone point. There wasn’t, but there were three emergency telephone numbers. We dialed numbers one and two but only managed to get an answer machine, finally an answer from number three. It was the head office of VNF in Paris. As the Canal de la Somme is not managed by VNF (it is the Conseil General de la Somme instead) the lady at the end of the phone was both not interested and didn’t know how to get us out of the predicament.

Eventually, without any rhyme or reason the gates began to slowly close by themselves. We can only presume that whoever was monitoring the CCTV had had enough enjoyment torturing us and decided to let us through.

Nerves jangling, we continued to obstacle number two, a road bridge. Again, Tracy got off the boat. This time there was a note asking boaters to moor up and dial a number. Again, we were met with a garbled answerphone message spoken far too fast in French for us to understand. There were a number of fishermen lining the canal and Tracy asked one for help. He called over to his grandson who could speak a little English. “It says opening times are 9-12 and 2-6” he deciphered for us. “But it’s only 11.15” Tracy said. The fisherman shrugged. Again, Tracy called our emergency contact in Paris and asked the fisherman’s friend to talk to them. After a conversation that went on for sometime he was eventually given another number to call and on calling that number was given yet another number to call. Losing the will to live and worrying that we wouldn’t have enough credit on the phone, Tracy shouted “tell her to make contact, it’s her job”. The phone was on loud speak and the lady at the other end huffed “Who is that, she is the rudest person I have ever heard”. The fisherman responded by stating “She is English” as if that was all the explanation that was required.

Contact was eventually made and we were asked to wait 30 minutes and the bridge would be opened. Now if queuing was an Olympic sport, the British would win gold, silver and bronze. However, this is one sport where the French don’t understand the rules. Whilst moored up and number one in the queue, a French cruiser pulled up in front of us and without a hello or how do you do positioned their boat in front of ours. They then pushed it back so it was almost touching our front button so even if we wanted to get out first we couldn’t. Sure enough, when the lock keeper turned up the cruiser tootled off without so much as a glance in our direction.

Excuse me!

Luckily, the lock keeper forced them to wait for us at the next two locks and lift bridge. For around two hours we shared locks and even stopped for lunch next to them and not once did they break radio silence, (how bloody rude and conceited some people are) thankfully we past them at Cappy mooring up.

The petite train at Froissy, we decided to save this experience for the return journey

After a late start, we decided to keep going for as long as possible and the lock keeper waved us goodbye after Mericourt lock and we continued onward up to the mooring at Sailly Laurette. The high wall didn’t look inviting and it was a dog haul operation getting Oddjob and Piglet off and on but as we were not planning to hang about we could put up with it.

Our mooring at Sailly Laurette

The next day, we had a long cruise ahead of us with the city of Amiens in our sights. Amiens is famous for the Hortillonnages which are like an allotments but on a massive scale. The area was originally drained by the Romans to provide land to grow crops to feed the army. The Hortillonnages stretched far outside of the city and it was like cruising through lots of country gardens and it made for a tranquil and beautiful cruise.

We continued past the visitor mooring which was full and next to a busy car park and eventually pulled up on a quiet mooring spot next to the lock.

Our lock mooring in Amiens

We last visited Amiens around ten years ago and it seemed little had changed in that time. The city had a fantastic vibe, it was multi-cultural (and supported both an English and Irish pub) and, although small in scale, had everything you could possibly want to have a great time.

The same picture but taken when we were last here ten years ago

Approaching the official pontoon at Amiens

If you're expecting to see King Kong, remember the b......s shot him

The waiting area for the little boats for the journey around the Hortillonnages

Amiens cathedral

This is supposed to be Jean The Baptiste's head

Stained glass reflections 

After a few days in Amiens we eventually dragged ourselves away and continued onwards towards the sea.

Exiting the lock at Amiens we immediately noticed a change in the current but at this point it didn’t worry us too much. At Picquigny lock the lock-keeper told us there was no assistance for us for the rest of the day. We had started out fairly late from Amiens but as the advertised times for the lock keepers were 9-12.30 and 1.30-6.00 we thought we could still get a good few hours in. We couldn’t believe the day was ending at one minute past four. 

After leaving the lock, Tracy was still making her way back through the boat when turning a corner I came across a fierce side current. I shouted to her to have a look and just as she climbed up to me, a bloke in a kayak shot out from the side arm. Panicking, I swerved to avoid hitting him then out of the same torrent of water came half a dozen kids all surfing the waves. This made it impossible for me to push the bow in to the position it needed to be in. The only option I had was to slam on the brakes. This sent the bow careering towards the bank at high speed but thankfully with the accelerator slammed full power in reverse, we just glanced it before being sent in to a partial spin (phew).

This wasn't the actual fierce current but gives an idea of what we were encountering

The pair of us were shaking with anxiety as we chugged away after almost wiping out the kayaking kids like skittles. As we rounded the next corner, the mooring a lock keeper had advised us about hoved into view. It was a high wall under a motorway bridge. We looked at each other and said in unison “we’re not stopping here”. Tired and fraught, this was like opening a cake box, only to find it had been replaced with a cowpat.

It was, therefore, like a thirsty man in the desert sighting a watering hole that we came across Hangest one of the most beautiful places we had ever visited by boat. There was a super-small jetty that we just managed to get Genie’s backside on and the walk around the swamp-like lakes with linking bridges was just what we needed for our stress levels to be restored.

Our mooring in Hangest

The next morning the lock-keeper shouted across to us asking what time we wanted to get through the lock. Not thinking we shouted back “now” and began to prepare to get underway. In reality, I think we both would have preferred to stay and spend a much longer time in this beautiful oasis.

The current on the river was starting to get quite strong in sections and I started to hear a small voice whispering “how are you going to get back up”. I chose to ignore the voice for now and instead enjoyed the amazing scenery.

It was only when we were approaching Pont Remy lock at Long that the voice piped up sarcastically “now you wished you’d listened to me, you’re going down boy all the way down, 200 fathoms down”.

At the lock prior to Pont Remy the eclusier had said to Tracy “wait before the lock and I will come at 2pm close the barrage and let you through”. Tracy repeated the instructions back to him and we happily waved at each other as we headed out.

The town mooring in Long was full so we decided to continue on to the lock mooring as instructed by our lock keeper.

Oblivious to the oncoming disaster...

Rounding the next corner, we spotted a jetty on the left hand side of the river and I pointed the boat in that direction. Tracy was holding the ropes on the bow ready to jump off and tie up. About ten feet away, I suddently lost control of the bow which was sucked towards the weir at a terrifying rate. I screamed at Tracy to close the wooden cratch doors as I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do. We were on a extinction event type collision course with the beams of the weir in a matter of seconds.

Tracy looked like a rabbit in the headlights and was frozen into a state of fear. “Tracy” I screamed again “the doors”. This broke the spell and she just managed to close the doors before we crashed side on and partially under the barrage. The force of the current caused us to list at an alarming angle and I was just about to jump ship when we came to rest.

The pair of us were shook up and couldn’t believe what had just happened to us but to add to our agony a van full of lock keepers drove slowly past taking in our horrendous situation and then continued onward choosing to ignore us. It was 1.00pm and as we have learned, nothing comes between a Frenchman and his lunch.

Good job one of us wasn't stood on the gunwale 

The jetty we were heading for

If Tracy hadn't closed the cratch doors, they would have been smashed to smithereens 

Two o’clock and our lock keeper reappeared and after ten minutes of the three of us pushing and shoving with the engine flat out we managed to release the boat from the grip of the weir. Then, as casual as you like, the lock keeper walked up to some controls and closed the barrage this allowed the next boat to amble in safely and gouge free.    

A cruiser calmly following us into the lock after the barrage had been closed

It was a huge relief to finally land in Abbeville and assess the damage. We were carrying war wounds but nothing likely to prove fatal. We counted ourselves incredibly lucky but we did question what would happen if we were in a life or death situation and how much help we would get from the people we were investing our health and safety in.

Inspecting the damage, not too bad all things considered

Our mooring in Abbeville

Abbeville town

And cathedral

Signage in French and English on the moorings at Amiens, Abbeville and Saint Valerie. The French can stay three days anyone English bugger off after 48 hours. Our Dutch neighbour happily pointed this out to us.

After our experiences so far on the Somme we questioned the wisdom of ploughing onwards without knowledge of what lay ahead. We spent a few days in Abbeville and were joined by a lovely Dutch couple who reassured us that after the lock at Abbeville there were only four swing bridges and the river wouldn’t prove too much of a problem.

Our Dutch friend also advised us that high tide was at 4.20pm and if we set off at 2pm we would reach Saint Valerie before the tide turned and pulled us out to sea.

Just as we were untying the ropes a Russian owned peniche cruised past us and into the lock. The pilot was an English chap who asked if we wanted to exit first as they were planning to go at a leisurely pace. We let them go first and it was nice to actually be with someone else going at our pace.

The bridges were operated by two lock keepers running around a turnstile

We made it Saint Valerie as the tide began to turn and we noticed a change in the current immediately. With haste we tied up beside a friendly hire boat and congratulated ourselves on finally making it.

Our mooring in Saint Valerie

The sea lock at Saint Valerie

The dogs were gagging to get off and explore as were we and so in no time at all we gathered the keys, wallet, phone and poo bags and were off striding towards the sea front.

The town itself was like harking back to the 1950s, with the little steam train dashing backwards and forwards tooting its horn. It was wonderful to stroll along the harbor and out into the bay taking in the sea air and open vista which helped to evaporate the stresses of the previous few days.

Mine's a gin and tonic, what are you having Piglet?

We used to have one of these but Tracy was terrified of the stick shift

We think this means don't drink and cycle

In fact, the only thing missing was somewhere to buy fish and chips. What is the point of the seaside without being able to dangle your legs over the quay and eat your dinner out of newspaper?

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Moorings in Sailly Laurette

Cost: Free

Facilities: None

Location: We didn’t have a good look around but did find two restaurants

Moorings in Amiens

Cost: Free both on lock mooring and also official town moorings

Facilities: None on lock mooring. Water, electricity and pump out available on town mooring. Water and electricity available for €2 for four hours.

Location: Small city with everything you could wish for

Moorings in Hangest

Cost: Free

Facilities: None

Location: Small village in Hangest with limited facilities

Moorings in Abbeville

Cost: Free

Facilities: Water and electricity available for €2 for four hours

Location: Medium sized town with good amenities and a short walk to a supermarket

Moorings in Saint Valerie

Cost: Free

Facilities: Water and electricity available for €2 for two hours

Location: Medium sized sea-side town with a good selection of shops, bars and restaurants