Saturday 31 August 2013

Go with (the) Flo


Ouesnoy sur Deûle to Roubaix

12 km
7 locks
2 lift/swing bridges
9 hours (including waiting time)



As we had missed the Armetières turning, the next morning we decided to carry on and take the turn off to Roubaix instead. As expected there were no signage to indicate the route (see photo - to be uploaded) but not wanting to miss it we decided to take a chance and shouted ‘Roubaix’ and pointed in the direction to people on the towpath, as they nodded ‘yes’ we took this to mean we were on the right track.

We approached the first lock and Tracy leapt to the bank to locate the l’eclusier (lock keeper), there was no one to be seen and the telephone number provided proved to be out of service.

Luckily for us, Lionel was just passing our boat, he spoke English as good as any Englishman and came to our aid by dialing the local police who kicked the wheels of rescue into motion.

While we were having a coffee with Lionel, Alexandra and her team (see photo) turned up to get us through the first lock and give us detailed instructions on how to navigate the Roubaix Canal with the aid of a remote control for the automatic locks (a far cry from the back cracking-knuckle rapping locks back home). 

Alexandra and her team to the rescue!  Lionel our saviour back centre. Fab people one and all.

The remote we were dying to try but didn't get the chance.


Apparently, we should have given at least 24 hours notice of our intentions to navigate this canal but Alexandra couldn’t have been more helpful and even when I asked if it would be better for us to reverse and choose a different route she insisted that she would get us safely through.

Alexandra advised us to have lunch and then make our way to the next lock, which as the only one not operated by our remote control, would be opened by another team. After sharing our biscuits and chatting about music (we never did find out if the Chemical Brothers were French or English) and food (French cheese versus English cheese) they gave us a wave and we were off. What a bunch of lovely, helpful, kind and generally cheery people – thanks guys really appreciated you all that day.

After a leisurely lunch we were off.  The canal here is more like what we were used to at home, narrow, slow going, with lots of interesting things to look at and people to ‘bonjour’ to.  A small note, we generally found that, although very friendly, the Belgiums would rarely return a wave or a greeting whereas here in France the people couldn’t have been more enthusiastic.  It was a joy to navigate and we were having a great time.

At the next lock, we met up with Flo and Jeremy.  Again, Flo spoke English and advised us that they were going to take us all the way through to the Belgium border and prised the remote control back off us (very disappointed as we were dying to try it).

We eventually landed at Roubaix and Flo said we would overnight here and they would be back in the morning to take us to the Belgium border.

Our moorings in the forest near Roubaix


Moorings in Roubaix
Cost: Free
Facilities: None, but good staging down steps from the tow path giving good privacy.
Location: Bakery a 2 minute cycle away and a Carrefour supermarket (size of an aircraft hangar) and mall 10 minutes walk away.

Lock down and green bog monster


Kortrijk to Ouesnoy sur Deûle

34 km
3 locks
0 lift/swing bridges
8.5 hours



Finally, we left Kortrijk, and decided to take a detour towards Armentières and back round to Lille. We were again following our map and again found it more suited to be cut into small squares and hung from the side of a toilet.

After around seven hours cruising, with yet again no where to stop, we came across three or four narrow arms not indicated on the map with no signs to say whether they ran to a dead end (not worth taking the risk on a 57ft boat) or whether they opened up into a marina as our past experience. This was a big junction on the map, surely there will be signed we thought; it wasn’t. So onward we went, finally arriving at Ouesnoy sur Deûle lock with the realisation that, not only had we had missed our turning, but we were now in France!

As we entered, the lock keeper indicated to Tracy to come to the control tower and pay for the French license. So instantly, Tracy lashed the boat to the bottom of the lock, and set off up the slimy green ladder slipping and sliding, holding the ladder with one hand and her handbag with the other. As she was half way up the 20ft ladder, the lock began to fill. “Tracy” I shouted, but with the gushing of water she could not hear me and the boat began to nose dive. Just as I was about to grab a knife and run to the bow to cut us free, Tracy realised her error, and made her way back down like a marsh green bog monster and with moments to go the rope was slackened.

Once the lock was full, I hung around in it for as long as I could, while Tracy parted with €183 for four weeks on the French canal system. There was another boat coming from behind so I moved out thinking Tracy could meet me outside the lock.

After maneuvering out, Tracy came out of the tower asking for more paperwork and it seemed there was no other way to hand it to her but to reverse back in.

The control tower had tall wire fencing that ran all the way around its circumference so Tracy said to me “I’ll meet you on the other side when I come back out, there’s a foot bridge I can cross”, so I made my way out and across to the other side of the canal where there was no staging, only rocks. I pushed the bow end up as close as I could to ground it and waited.

Tracy asked the lock keeper, who had now finished his shift, about mooring overnight, as it was now fairly late (around 8.30pm). He agreed that we could stay as long as we were off fairly early in the morning.

Once Tracy was back on board, I noticed a ship starting to move out of the lock and to my dismay another approaching to enter the lock. With a ship coming at me from each direction and my stern half way across the canal, I quickly reversed back between them, desperately trying to get out the way. The wind was taking the bow end and we had a hairy moment between a wall and probably over a hundred tonne of ship.

After we had finally moored up the ship’s captain came to see me laughing, “I nearly crushed you” he said “I know, I nearly lost control of more than the boat back there I can tell you” I replied and contemplated cutting the map into squares once more.

We finally sat down for our tea. I had bought us lamb shank in a mustard sauce from a very nice deli before we had left Kortrijk and was really looking forward to it. It turned out to be smoked ham much to our disappointment, an appropriate end to a stressful day.                

Moorings in Ouesnoy sur Deûle
Cost: Free
Facilities: None, lock mooring, would only usually be one hour mooring.
Location: Lock keeper stated that the town was approximately 1km away with restaurants and bars etc but we were too tired to look.

Thursday 22 August 2013

Respect for our fallen



It was a lovely summer’s evening when we were invited by a couple of fellow boaters, to join them on a trip to see the Last Post ceremony at the Menin Gate at Ypres (or Ieper as the Belgiums call it). We arrived about an hour before the ceremony began, and looked up in wonder at the vast arched structure, on our approach. We had arrived at the Menin Gate, a memorial that supports hundreds of names in order of rank and company, perfectly carved upon it.

I should mention at this point, only a handful of people were milling about, but then minutes before the ceremony began, dramatically and almost instantly, the landscape changed. Hordes of people arrived chatting about and pointing at the memorial structure.

Then respectfully, as one would in a church, boundary ropes were clipped into place, and an elderly gentleman laden with meddles requested silence throughout.

Instantly, the request was met as four old comrades marched out before us, holding flags on poles. Four bugles sounded the Last Post and the ceremony began, a child choir sang, and then a prayer for the fallen was spoken, after which a violinist took a hold of her bow and played a flawless Danny Boy.

Glancing at all the brave names carved in stone, I was almost brought to tears myself. When suddenly I was brought back to the present. There was a persistent man who kept clicking his camera in my ear and on more than one occasion even tried using my shoulders as support for his leg length camera lens. It was like a fly holding a large thermos flask (full mind) trying to land on my shoulders. I even found him knelt around my legs at one point, needless to say I kept them together, just in case.

He even muttered out to whomever he was with (twice), there was a part of me that wanted to spin around and shout (SHOW SOME RESPECT) eyeball to eyeball, the way the sergeant major may have spoken to many a man whose names here are scribed in stone.

Instead, I bit my tongue. After all, he was only annoying the people in our immediate vicinity. So in respect for the people in this life and the next, I buttoned my lip and bowed my head once more.

After a couple more songs from the choir and a final blast of the bugle the ceremony then ended with a rousing chorus from us all of God Save the Queen, a very strange experience whilst stood on a Belgium street.

Overall, to say it was a surreal and moving event would be an understatement. 

Menin Gate at Ypres



Names of the fallen





The Latin phrase means 'To the greater glory of God'. This inscription was composed by Rudyard Kipling





History of the Last Post Ceremony at Ypres
The Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing is dedicated to over 54,000 unknown British and Commonwealth soldiers who were killed in Ypres during World War One.

When the Menin Gate Memorial opened in 1927, the residents wanted to express their gratitude and so at 8pm every evening the local fire brigade send buglers to sound the Last Post and this tradition continues to this day attracting crowds of people from all over the world.