Snickers in a twist (or not quite the marathon man)

Decize to Digoin

64.5 km

15 locks

13 hours

Eight weeks later and we were back next to the water tap at Decize, only this time it didn’t work. We knocked on the double doors to the VNF and asked if the tap, that protruded from their building, could be turned on momentarily so we could fill with water. “Non, c’est kaput” came the reply, (yeah right - I’m not even sure kaput is a French word). “You will have to go down into the marina, maybe they can help”

As it happens, the chaps at the marina spoke perfect English and were more than willing to give us water for free. Pulling up manholes and crawling under dry-docked boats, nothing seemed too much trouble. Anyone interested in hiring a boat check out www.leboat.fr , they are next to the beautiful Canal de Nivernais.

The marina at Decize

Getting water from 'Le Boat'

We would ask the VNF men fishing next to our boat on a daily basis if the tap had been fixed yet, “non” would be their reply, perhaps if they spent less time fishing and more time working it may possibly be functioning. Besides they were all supping coffee, why not let us run our hose to a different tap? This gang were a sharp contrast to the VNF at Nevers who were terrific, and couldn’t be more obliging.

The automatic lock down to the marina controlled by VNF

We were keen to get underway once more, but I needed to see a dentist to look at a tooth. It had been a little sensitive over the Christmas period and, having suffered an abscess in the past, thought better of just ignoring it.

There were four dentists in Decize, three of whom refused to see me. The one that did we found on the recommendation of a lady named Brigit who was having a fag break when we met her in the town centre.

The dentist herself looked like an auntie of mine with a beehive you had to crane your neck to see the top of. After a bit of a wait, I was led to a room and seated in a dental chair with a view through two double patio doors of the most unkempt garden I’d seen in a long time, surely you would draw the curtains?

This gave me food for thought and, as I began to look around, I realised it was more like being in a back street garage that needed a tidy up than a dentist. There were bits of matted plastic bags stuck on the ends of the equipment as a replacement for end caps that were missing. This didn’t concern me too much as none of the dental equipment came near my mouth. Instead, she started hitting my teeth with what looked like a screwdriver, no doubt from the tool box used for the car brought in the night before. She kept shouting, to what sounded to my ears like “Is it safe”, but Tracy translated this as “does that hurt” and as she knocked the posidrive from tooth to tooth, It’s safe, It’s safe I indicated not being able to speak as my tonsils were being unscrewed.

Eventually, she hit the right note, that’s the one I nodded. At this she then handed me a toothbrush with a soft head and suggested I chew with the other side in future. She then requested we follow her back to the reception, where she wrote me a note to hand to the next dentist I should come across on my travels that loosely translated as:

“To whom it may concern. You deal with him, I can’t be arsed. I’ve had a look in the inspection pit and would rather polish the headlights than give a full service. I have kicked the tyres and poked at the air filter. This one’s a bit of a mard arse if you ask me”.

She then held out her hand and said “that will be €23”.

Three days later, half the filling fell out of the tooth in question. At this rate, I feel I’m going to be left with one tooth in my head, but I will be a dab hand at chewing polos without breaking them.

My €23 toothbrush

Whilst waiting for the dentist we got on with a few housekeeping things that needed doing. I topped up the diesel and was surprised at how much we had used since Sens (140 litres) but we had been pushing against the current for most of the way.

One day we decided to take a walk back up to the Nivernais as it wasn’t far from where we were staying. We bumped into an English man named Tony living on a boat there and he struck up a conversation about English mooring hoggers.  He told us about one couple overstaying on a mooring with free facilities for three years before the VNF drained the canal in a desperate act to get rid of them. Come on you English boaters stop taking the pish, your making us all look bad.

Before leaving we decided to tackle the laundry mountain. As it turned out, the launderette was the most expensive and inefficient we had been in. For the grand sum of €30 we left with jumpers and towels still wet. The launderette was packed and waiting for our clothes in the dryer, we noticed a chap transfixed by a pair of Tracy’s knickers stuck to the dryer door like Garfield on the back of a car window. Red in the face, Tracy nudged me to say something as she found his behavior both odd and a little disturbing. As I gestured to him to stop looking at my wife’s knickers, I realised it was Tony we had met on the Nivernais a few days earlier. 

Intermarche behind the moorings where we managed to get diesel and also do the washing

The week soon passed and we were keen to move off again. Spotting the VNF fishing over lunch and establishing that there was a greater chance of me giving birth than extracting water from the tap next to the boat, we arranged for them to turn the automatic lock back on for us after lunch, so we could get our water from the hire company one last time.

1pm struck and we were moving the boat into position. As we did, we noticed two things. Firstly, the VNF taking one last look at us before speeding off in their van and secondly, the lights indicating that the lock was good to go was still off, we still pulled the rope just in case (as you would). VNF at Decize, the masters of awkwardness, but you do get a smile with it.

This left only one option, Tracy hopped off the boat and went for help. This in itself came as a bit of a challenge as it was a windy day and, without bow thrusters, we were pushed to the side with a sill so wide Tracy would have needed legs like a giraffe to attempt the jump. I gave a few toots on the horn to try to get their attention but nothing happened.

After a few strategic maneuvers against the wind, I managed to get the boat back to where we had started. Eventually somebody from the office came to our aid.

Decize town centre

The next day we were off to Gannay. As we exited the final lock the eclusier indicated to Tracy that the place to stop was around the corner. In fact it was actually right next to the lock, but taking him at his word we cruised right past the pins and the marina, mooring as we did back in England with stakes in the mud.

We eventually settled on the lock mooring at Gannay

It was wet and miserable.  There was one road in and out of Gannay and a 2km walk led us to what seemed like a ghost town with every shop shut except a small general store. Almost every house we passed had a large wet dog barking and straining at the end of a chain, needless to say we couldn’t get out of Gannay fast enough.

The war memorial in Gannay, the most attractive part of the town

It was a Friday morning when we set off for Beaulon and, not wanting to move over the weekend, informed the eclusier that we would be staying until Monday.

Beaulon town centre was completely the opposite of our experience in Gannay. There was a defined town square with shops, bars and restaurants around it and it was full of life with the locals chatting and shopping or just out enjoying the fresh air but more importantly there was not one dog on a chain.

The moorings in Beaulon doubled up as a picnic area and contained a communal barbecue.  As the weather was sunny and warm we decided to have a barbie and then go for a pub crawl around the town square. 

Our mooring in Beaulon

The communal barbecue

Our plan was foiled, the only cash machine was faulty. After mining the sofa and breaking open the centime jar we managed to scrape enough money together to buy a loaf and a couple of cakes.

Disappointed, Tracy rustled together a fennel nut crumble and found a bottle of red wine we had squirreled away, whilst I tuned the telly in.  After weeks of rural France, ‘Take Me Out’ and ‘Celebrity Big Brother’ was like a car crash to the senses.

Sunset at Beaulon

A wee feature in Beaulon

By Monday morning we were almost out of water as well as having no money, so needless to say we were keen to move on and get to Digoin the next major town on our route. What lay ahead of us was a long cold day of cruising. 

The River Loire was flooded in places on our journey to Digoin

We spoke to the eclusier about our water situation, but shrugging his shoulders he informed us that all the taps had now been turned off until March. This was indeed the case. There were many eclusier cottages situated right next to the locks with chimneys smoking, we asked if it would be possible to get water from one of these “Non” came the answer, actually every time we got a different eclusier with his chimney smoking cottage next to the lock, we would ask the same question only to be denied the basic element for survival.

Cold and disheartened we waved the final eclusier off and moored up in Digoin, penniless and with an empty water tank.  

The pont du aqueduc at the entrance to Digoin

Our mooring in Digoin

            

Moorings in Gannay sur Loire

Cost: Free

Facilities: None.

Location: 2km to town centre where there is a boulangerie, butcher, tabac and general store.

Moorings in Beaulon

Cost: Free

Facilities: Water (not turned on for us) and electricity both free.

Location: 1km to town centre where there is a couple of restaurants/bars, two general stores, post office, boulangerie and butchers

Moorings in Digoin

There is a capitainerie in Digoin and there is a charge for mooring and facilities. We moored just outside and our moorings were free but there were no facilities.

Cost: Free

Facilities: None.

Location: 5 minute walk to large town centre with a good selection of shops, bars and restaurants.  E. Leclerc supermarket is a 15 minute walk away.

You will Nevers leave

Leaving Nevers

Christmas and New Year were now behind us and on the 2 January we finally moved out of the port and back to our old spot just outside.

Before we left there were a few things to sort out. VNF had chopped down lots of trees and Albert and Anita (lovely couple that they are) had given me an electric chainsaw so I set about filling the roof of the boat with wood. The captain had designated me a spot around the back of the office with a power point (nice fella).

Captain's log!

Every time I started to cut the wood a strange fisherman would stand with his hands in a long brown mac and just stare at me. When I say fisherman, he would turn up with no rod, as his licence had run out, but he liked to come every day to the same spot to look where he could have been fishing (hell knows why).

I would attempt in the two hours of wood cutting to make conversation with him, he would just look right through me not saying a word. Albert and Anita would laugh and shout “We see your gnome’s back”.

After moving out of the port I embarked on a major pickling project.  

L-R: Thai spiced pickled onions, Madras curry paste, Mediterranean chutney, lime pickle, Bengali mango chutney

The French, in general, don’t eat spicy food and getting hold of mango chutney or lime pickle was near impossible. Elbows deep in limes and mango I suddenly had the feeling that someone was watching me, I looked up and the gnome had his nose pressed against the porthole window.  After jumping out of my skin, I shouted Tracy.  Tracy tried to engage him in conversation and had better luck than I did, he eventually left after giving her the gift of a recipe for carp in white wine (er yum yum).

I have a feeling this strange man is going to appear on the rest of our journey like the shopkeeper out of Mr Ben from childhood TV.  

Just after Christmas, a little dog we named Dyson followed Tracy home. A tiny little thing with a spotted Dalmatian body and the face of a Doberman all shrunken down to the size of a Jack Russell.

He had one night of joy with us before we had to take him to the dog shelter so they could find his mum and dad. Four days later the shelter telephoned us, poor Dyson had contracted parvovirus and despite treatment had died. We were devastated.  The shelter invited us over to have a chat. The operation was run on a shoe string they had very little funding and admitted it was very difficult to keep on top of everything and with Christmas it looked like they were at breaking point. So to cut a harrowing trip short - meet Piglet.

Spot the ball

Oddjob plays air piano...

While Piglet plays air guitar

We didn’t have the heart to leave him. He was doubled up with kennel cough so the little soldier came home with us (big soft arses that we are). http://www.refuge-thiernay.com/.

Tracy is mortified that she is on the dog shelter's website wearing her dog walking jumper and woolly hat!

It was a joy to leave the port, not really our glass of Navy Rum but we will miss the lovely, kind, helpful and generous people we met and made good friends with while in there.

Thanks once again Karen & Paul for the home made chutneys, cakes and the trips out to the car boot. Sorry the leaves fell off the lemon tree we gave you, we’re sure they’ll grow back - maybe change the shampoo. Chris and Helen for the homemade fudge. Jean for sharing his knowledge of the local area and helping us find all the essential supplies we needed. Phillipe & Christine for being the best neighbours we have ever had and for the fantastic CD of Phillipe singing and playing his guitar (Phillipe Catinaud – La Vie a L’envers). 

Phillipe's wonderful music - what a lovely gift

Michel & Edith for their amazing hospitality in their beautiful home and in particular Edith’s Dutch apple pie that we will never forget and Albert & Anita who made the whole experience a lot more bearable and for introducing us to Grand Frais (like picking your own fruit and veg from an allotment) and for donating a hat which we converted into a jumper for Piglet.

Thanks Albert for the woolly hat/jumper

Grand Frais - the best shop in the world

The salad is misted to keep it fresh

And a huge thanks to Ivonne who has given us the gift of communication.  Tracy even had the confidence to telephone the VNF to make arrangements for our moving day and we were both amazed when they turned up at the appointed day and time and took us in the direction Tracy had asked for.

Albert and Anita came down to the automatic locks and waved us off into the distance.  Decize next stop.

Finally leaving Nevers

Contact us at: werubbedthelamp.gmail.com

Never say Nevers (it is pronounced Nuh-Vairrrre!)

Decize to Nevers

32 km

7 locks

5 hours

After 3¹/₂ months of continuously cruising, it was crunch time. We had to make a decision about where we were going to spend the next six weeks whilst VNF carried out inspections and repairs to the locks and bridges on the canal. 

After consulting our map, it appeared we had two choices: either Decize or Nevers.

We didn’t know anything about either of these towns but had three days to make our decision. Arriving firstly at Decize we moored next to the VNF office and got chatting to the chaps there (when I say chatting I mean miming and pointing). To have a comfortable existence we needed a water tap, somewhere fairly nearby to buy supplies, a launderette and somewhere to buy coal and gas.

We established that there was a supermarket around the corner which also sold gas and diesel and bizarrely also had an in-store launderette, coal on the other hand was to be found about 8km away (although the VNF chaps implied they may deliver). Best of all there was a water tap next to the boat.  This all looked perfect, although we were surrounded by high rise blocks of flats but we felt this was only a small aesthetic matter.

Perfect mooring in Decize

We didn't even mind the high rise flats at the back of us

Then just as we thought we had cracked it, the boss appeared and told us they would be draining this canal and if we wanted to stay in Decize we would have to moor our boat at the port de plaisance between the two automatic locks we had just come through. Now, if you think the houses in Coronation Street are squeezed tightly together imagine being a gunwale’s width away from your neighbour, window to window. Besides, the port just looked a miserable, dark and gloomy place to stay.  

Our only hope was to head to Nevers, fingers crossed things were better there. We set off early the next morning. This gave us an insight into French winter cruising, as it was wet and freezing cold. After wrapping up in almost our entire wardrobe we turned the heater in the wheelhouse to blasting. Nevers next stop.

The heater kept us toasty and stopped the windows steaming too much

Eventually, after around five hours of cruising like a pair of oversized woolly onions, we turned down a side arm and through two automatic locks.

The last lock before the port at Nevers

The sign on the lock house indicated there were 1.5km to the port de plaisance. This short stretch of canal was truly beautiful. Trees lined the poker straight canal right the way down to a bridge which opened into a basin at the end. The basin contained the port de plaisance in a semi-industrial setting and was not the prettiest place on the planet.

After mooring up at the port, we went to see the captain. There were a group of men chatting in the foyer and we introduced ourselves and asked about mooring. Luckily for us, one of the chaps in the group, Jean, spoke fluent English and stepped in acting as translator between us and the captain. 

Not wanting or needing to be in the port, Jean negotiated on our behalf and agreed with the captain that we would moor the other side of the bridge outside of the basin and port de plaisance, and enter the port once a week to fill up with water.  Jean was a godsend and a mine of information and we soon found where we could get hold of all the other supplies we would need. 

No the bike is not steam-powered - all supplies had to be brought in by bike, even the new chimney.

Choice in the supermarkets is unbelievable.

We settled into our new home outside of the port and over the next few days started to make friends with the dog walkers, joggers and our only neighbours who lived in the cottage almost opposite the boat, Phillipe and Christine. We waved and shouted ‘bonjour’ across to them and they invited us over for a coffee. Armed with our French/English dictionary we were soon sat in their cosy warm living room. In conversation we told them we loved the wines in France and also admired the foliage in their garden. We waved goodbye to them laden with white wine and cuttings from their plants. (lovely, lovely people).

Edith was one of the dog walkers we got friendly with.  A Dutch lady now living in France who would pop in for a coffee on her morning stroll out with Gunievre her gorgeous Weimaraner dog.

Generously, Edith would often bring bread and croissants with her for us to share for breakfast.  As we were not around one morning, she left us a care package on the doorstep and sent a text saying ‘enjoy your breakfast, with love from the king sized Dutch Barbie’.  The only problem was she had forgotten that she had a Dutch SIM card in her phone and her text went to a random bloke in Holland who was bitterly disappointed that the king sized Barbie with brekkie was nowhere to be found.

We had mentioned to Jean that we were looking to take French lessons while we were moored up and he introduced us to Ivonne, an American lady living on a boat in the port, who was a language teacher. We signed up for French lessons twice a week.

All seemed perfect. Then VNF dropped the bombshell.  The bridge at the entrance to the port was to be closed the next day threatening to cut off our water supply until the end of December. What were we going to do?

We were left with no choice but to move into the marina. Managing to position ourselves at the end of the first staging next to an empty boat, this at least gave us a gnat’s garter’s worth of privacy.

Entering the port

Genie's Wish just visible at the end of the walkway

The lighting at this time of year was beautiful - these were all taken from the port

Bizarrely, the majority of the residents (like us) hailed from the North of England. It was truly an ‘ee-bye-gum’ enclave in the middle of France. We even managed to get some suet off one couple, Albert and Anita, and were able to make a steak pudding (heaven).

Edith introduced us to the ‘mouse-house’ (http://www.emmaus-france.org/) which was like a gigantic indoor car boot sale. Tracy was highly delighted to be able to rescue an Andy and Fergie mug she found languishing at the back of a cupboard (sad to think it lasted longer than their marriage).

We had to save Andy and Fergie from languishing in the mouse-house

The scenery around Nevers is stunning and with the weather turning icy cold with bright blue skies, cycling and walking has become fresh and crisp. One beauty spot, le Bec D’Allier, a 15km bike ride away has a fantastic auberge at the end where three courses and a bottle of wine can be had for a tuppence halfpenny (very good too).

We bumped into Edith and her husband Michel on the way to Le Bec D'Allier, they took this picture of the three of us (Oddjob looking embarrassed in the jumper Tracy knitted for him, or was he just embarrassed to be seen with us?)

The auberge at Le Bec D'Allier

At Le Bec D'Allier

And other pictures around Nevers

Most trees were covered with mistletoe

This was an old lock off the River Loire which has now been converted into a college and skate park

Tracy and Karen (one of our neighbours from the port) off to the brocante (or car-boot sale as we say in English)

The 2 December, our 25^th wedding anniversary and the canal froze. We decided to go out for a romantic meal for two, as it turned out we had an alarming dinner for three as a cockroach scurried on the table to join us. I placed a glass over it and the waitress removed it unfazed with not so much as an apology. Needless to say, we won’t be going back to that particular Chinese restaurant again.

The second week of December finally saw Christmas arrive to Nevers (and probably the rest of France). Nevers lit up the town decorations and held a fete over a number of days. This was very jolly with the wine tasting going down a treat.

The Port de Paris in Nevers

The Christmas elves even had a snow machine

Christmas turned out to be a very quiet affair, we went out for a very long walk across frozen fields with only cows for company, in fact we did not see another soul out and about all morning. Returning later that day Tracy had put a spicy leg of lamb on the stove to slow cook and we ate it with home made samosas for a starter and I out-did myself with a rum and raison spotted dick using the last of the suet we had acquired.  All washed down with a €4 bottle of sparkling wine that tasted as good as any bottle of Champagne we have ever drunk.  After tuning in the satellite dish we settled down to watch Christmas TV and, as with every year, it wasn’t long before we were switching it back off again and rifling our box sets for something to watch.

The bridge finally opened just before Christmas

We did manage to get the tree and decorations up

New Year’s eve was a hoot, quite literally as I gave a couple of long toots on the horn to welcome in the new year to resounding silence. I think I could hear a church bell a few miles out in the distance and a piece of frozen tumbleweed hit me in the face.  We found out the next day, everybody else in the port had been in bed by 9pm and hadn’t heard a thing.

Hope all our friends reading this had a more exciting Christmas and New Year than we did – all the best everyone.

Moorings in Nevers

Cost: €195 for mooring and €20 tourist tax for six weeks

Facilities: Electricity €45 for six weeks

Location: Nevers centre was approximately 1km away across the Loire.  All types of shops and restaurants available.