Our European Adventure: Getting fatter with croissants and platter

Roubaix to Leers Nord

10 km

5 locks

9 lift/swing bridges

9 hours

We awoke in a quiet forest setting near Roubaix, and after nipping out for almond croissants, we made our way to the first lift bridge where Flo and Jeremy were waiting at 9am sharp. Jeremy had already assumed his usual position of hands in pockets, and we wondered if he ever suffered from lock keeper’s mitt.

There were several lift bridges on route. One was like a huge piece of garden furniture with four iron towers that lifted the road straight up. Then there was the roundabout that blocked traffic from every entrance while we sauntered through two consecutive lift bridges waving at vehicles from every direction.

We discussed with Flo about staying overnight on a visitor mooring indicated on one of the maps he’d handed us. It offered electric and water and looked like a short trip into Roubaix city. We could see the mooring as we approached the final (so we thought) lift bridge of the day, but no matter how hard Flo pushed the buttons or Jeremy aggravated his lock keeper’s mitt, the lift bridge wouldn’t budge.

We could see the moorings were in the middle of a Romanian and Bulgarian tent city as we drifted back and forth waiting for the bridge to open. Although we were gazed upon from either side of the canal, we felt no threat despite the bad press these people often receive. The children were excited to see us, waving and shouting joyfully. After about an hour we were forced back to the last lift bridge where the only available staging was. A young local lad was fishing from the staging and we signed to him to either clear off or sit on the back of the boat and fish. After handing him the last of our Belgium biscuits he happily packed up and cleared off just as it began to rain.

From previous experience we thought we would be here for a long time (a few years ago we were operating the Wigan flight when a boat struck one of the locks and we were turned back and held in Wigan for a week whilst they sent for engineers to carry out repairs).

The good news was that while we were waiting, Flo took the time and trouble to find us a gas bottle of a type that was available in both France and Belgium. Payment for his trouble was eight bottles of Belgium beer.

Unlike the canals we are used to, there are very few places to find things like diesel, gas and other boaty supplies. Whilst in Kortrijk I had topped the diesel up by making four journeys on my bike with a jerrycan to a nearby petrol station.

After their normal two hour lunch break, the engineers turned up, carried out the repairs and we were on our way once more.

We could now see that although the mooring itself looked ok, the surrounding area had been turned into a rubbish dump and so decided against staying.

With only three more locks and three more bridges to go it was only a matter of hours before we reached the Belgium border and waved au revoir to Flo and Jeremy (Flo waved back, Jeremy worried the fluff in his pocket).

After a very short journey we came upon l’ecluse de Leer Nord, a rural pub setting with beautiful plane trees either side of the canal stretching as far as the eye could see. This was the picture postcard we had in our minds of boating in France before we set out on our journey (albeit we were in Belgium).

We were now in Wallonia, the French speaking part of Belgium and very few people spoke English.

We had our tea in the pub (La Maison du Canal) that night and ordered the cheese and meat mixed platter. An enormous board turned up at the table with enough cheese and cold meats to feed a battalion along with a fresh salad garnish. Tracy pushed the board into the centre of the table for us to share and our eyes widened (even bigger than our bellies) when the waitress brought out an identical heaving board for us to have one each. We really shouldn’t have ordered the chips too.

The variety of meats and cheese was amazing with the Brie being the creamiest and tastiest we had ever had.

Boats were a rarity on this canal and we were treated like royalty. One patron of the pub kept fussing over us and at one point emptied our bread on to a serviette, we wondered what he was doing until he brought out fresh supplies which we had to squirrel into Tracy’s handbag to avoid causing offence.

The local beer and the best in Belgium we have tried

As we were leaving, the pub owner asked if we had an order for bread for the morning, greedy pigs that we are, we ordered four croissants (two almond and two raison) and a loaf.

Waking up to a knock on the boat, we were greeted with a bag of croissants and an unwrapped baguette tucked under an armpit. Good job we didn’t order three as who knows were she’d have carried the third. Luckily, the baguette was rejected by Tracy on account that we had ordered a loaf. A short time later the loaf arrived, bagged thank goodness.

We stayed on the mooring for two days and every morning we awoke to a selection of croissants and even brioche bread. It was only when we went to pay on the last morning that we discovered that the pub owner absolutely refused to take any payment at all for the deliveries and we felt terrible about refusing the baguette.

Looking for a gift to leave her, the only thing we could find was one of our chilli plants which had grown enormous in the wheelhouse and was full of green chillis. We were really pleased to see it had been given pride of place outside the front of the pub as we were leaving.

This is a canal that is used very little, we would highly recommend it as an escape from the commercial canals and a way to experience real French and Belgium hospitality.