Saturday, 2 November 2013

Up Yonne creek without a paddle


Ris-Orangis to Auxerre

186 km
32 locks
74.4 hours



After spending five days in Ris-Orangis and noticing that there were a good few boats now passing us, we decided to have a bike ride down to the broken lock at Coudray.  To great relief, we discovered they were letting boats through in batches, so the next day we set off. 

Waiting to go through Coudray lock

Coudray lock behind us

Travelling upstream was extremely slow and we were grateful to eventually get through Coudray lock by 4pm.  We chatted amongst ourselves for a while before realisation slowly set in, we had not seen a place to moor since first light.  Anxiety started to build as the day grew later and later. By 7pm we were using the last rays of the sun to navigate.

We kept saying to each other “We’ll be fine. Just keep away from the edge of the river until we come to the lock gates, we’ll moor there until morning.” So as darkness fell, the idea of the engine stopping and us drifting into the pitch black void seemed terrifying. Then, just as we were giving up all hope, a concrete staging loomed in the middle of nothingness.  We were both elated and tied up with just enough light from the moon shining in the night sky.

Mooring up by the light of the moon.


Darkness fell very quickly once we had tied up

We set off at first light determined not to be caught out again.



By 5.30pm we reached Avon and the port de plaisance. At first, it all looked to be full but cruising up we noticed a Genie’s Wish sized gap.  The finger pontoon for visitors was arranged at a 90o angle to the river. Mooring up, we approached the staging very quickly side on and once butted up we were stuck like Oddjob’s nose to a piece of cheese.

The finger pontoon at Avon port de plaisance

Leaving Avon in the early morning light


Up with the dawn chorus, and we were on our way once more, anxious to get off the Seine and on to the River Yonne. Reaching Montereau Fault Yonne and the town mooring later that day. We had done it, the river should be calmer now, or so we thought.

Our moorings in Montereau Fault Yonne




The next day we had a leisurely morning. Tracy and Oddjob had a mooch around the town and I gave the boat its 200 hour service (the first since Ghent). Afterwards, I nipped off the boat to take some photographs walking over to the empty finger pontoons adjacent. They were tiny and without thinking I walked straight to the end of one. It began to wobble, then the wind began to push and without the aid of a boat either side, I couldn’t turn around. With my camera and phone in my hands, vertigo began to take hold. Instantly, I dropped to my knees ditching any shred of dignity and nervously all fouring it backwards across what can only be described as a very narrow plank covered in bird shat.

We idled for a couple of more hours enjoying the sun with the understanding that we were now off the Seine and everything thus far was going to be a piece of cake.  Finally, at around 1.30pm we set off. 

Some of the wildlife we saw on the Yonne




The panic feeling slowly started to grip us again as we realised that the Yonne was indeed just as big, bad and fast as the Seine with just as few moorings. 

Looking at our map, we could see moorings identified at Courlon-sur-Yonne and this gave us some comfort as we could easily make this before dark. Just before the town, we entered the final lock of the evening only to be met by the lock keeper shouting at us “en panne, en panne”.  The lock was broken.  A fellow lock keeper screeched up in his VNF van and the two of them twiddled knobs, pulled levers and shouted at each other. After about an hour the doors eventually closed and we were lifted up and out of the lock. 

It was now around 6-ish but we were far from worried as the promised moorings were just out of sight around the corner.  Slowly inching upstream the town centre gradually came into view through the binoculars, but no matter how hard Tracy searched she could not see any moorings ahead.  Eventually, we crawled our way through the town and out the other side.

The river began to widen once more as the evening sky darkened. Even with our lights on we could only see a few feet either side of the boat.  We both remained very quiet not wanting to panic the other. We were up Yonne creek without a paddle.

We cruised on like this for some time and we even tried to moor up against the banking and tie to trees but it was far too shallow even for us to get near.  Then, just as we were giving up all hope, a blazing light appeared around a corner dazzling us both.  Shielding our eyes we crept past. Looking back I noticed a defined line against the bank so went to investigate.  “We have got absolutely nothing to lose, it’s not going to get any darker than this” we said nodding at one another.

It was a concrete jetty with two small mooring pins. We were ecstatic. Maneuvering the boat into the pitch blackness with large trees protruding out either side with what turned out to be an illuminated swimming pool blinding my vision, and no moon, was no laughing matter. Somehow, I managed to get us alongside and Tracy leapt off like a gazelle with night vision goggles strapped to its head, lashing the bow to the mooring in double quick time. 

Completely exhausted from the adrenalin and the sheer anxiety, we had just enough energy to open a tin from our emergency rations and had a sausage and sauerkraut supper.

The next day, we were up before dawn to make sure we made Sens before dark.  To say we were travelling at walking pace would indicate that the person walking was an arthritic old lady with a heavily-laden shopping bag wearing concrete slippers with balls and chains for pom-poms. In fact, she had got home and fed the cat even before we had moved 50ft.

Another early start, this time with fog



The river was moving very quickly now and as we approached locks with the mighty roar of their weirs, we could not have been travelling more than 1mph.  At one village, an old chap laughed and offered to push, I was even mentally devising a harness for Oddjob to wear on the towpath to pull us.

The river was starting to get us down and the ship’s morale lay as heavy as a lead anchor. It was therefore a joy to be overtaken by a couple of fellow boaters who slowed next to us to chat. They were Scott and Trish from Canada. Shouting across to them we discovered they were also on their way to Sens and so arranged to catch up with them there (if we ever made it).

The only thing keeping us going was the beautiful weather. 

The town wharf at Sens was like a sight for sore eyes and we were delighted to moor up in front of Scott and Trish’s boat. They were a lovely couple and Scott gave me a quick lesson on how to use my anchor on the river in case we ever got caught out after dark again. 

Our mooring in Sens with Scott and Trish's boat behind

Sens bridge with Peter's barge in the distance

The next day we decided to have the day off from cruising and spend sometime around Sens. We bumped into a kind and generous Dutchmen called Peter who had spent his life on the waterways and was an absolute mine of information. 

On the streets of Sens

Sens Cathedral

We had been speaking to lock keepers throughout our journey to plan our trip through the winter. We had heard rumors that some canals were closed to pleasure boats from the middle of November and each lock keeper would give us a different version of events. Peter spoke French fluently and so rang the VNF for us and give us the definitive list of which canal closed and when (thanks again for that Peter).

Even better than this information, he told us there was an Indian restaurant in Auxerre a couple of days upstream, we were overjoyed.

We left the next day at first light and said our goodbyes to Peter. Scott and Trish had gone on before us and we had arranged to meet up again with them at Joigny. We were in really good spirits. We had met some truly lovely people and could almost see the end of the Yonne in our sights.  

Saying goodbye to Peter early doors

The first lock of the day was having a new weir built, so we were plunged into the middle of a construction site with cranes, portacabins and building detritus strewn willy nilly and workers crawling everywhere. 

The locks on the Yonne are unique with sloping sides and so either the lock keeper will help with the ropes or they provide a floating pontoon to tie to.  This lock had a pontoon and Tracy leaped off the boat, once more like a gazelle, but this time with greased hooves and as she cantered on to the pontoon she slipped like Bambi on rollerskates. She remarked afterwards that she could see the crane driver high in the sky looking at her between her toes. Fortunately, she’s Manchester built and as tough as a clog on a cobbled street, so no serious damage done. It wasn’t half funny to watch though.

Tracy on the pontoon at St Bond lock after slipping
An example of where assistance is needed from a lock keeper  
We made it as far as Villeneuve-sur-Yonne the first day, not a great achievement but we were inching our way forwards. Eventually we made it to Joigny but were too late to meet up with Scott and Trish.

Our moorings at Villeneuve-sur-Yonne
Taking a walk around the town walls


Our moorings in Joigny


Some pictures from Joigny town centre


Oddjob playing hide and seek with a local cat



The first lock (Pechoir) after leaving Joigny

From there, the last leg of the Yonne lay before us.  Up as the cock crowed, we ventured out determined to make Auxerre and the end of the Yonne by lock close. Needless to say, we were in a hurry for a curry.

And into the sunrise yet again




Then just before the junction where the river turns towards the Canal du Nivernais, we spotted Scott and Trish moored in the distance.  We crept snail-like over to their boat and shouted across to them our plans for winter cruising.  Before I could finish speaking, their English neighbor off a large peniche strode forward. He was an oldish man, with a grey beard and was shaking an imaginary staff. He shouted across to me, what sounded to my ears like Nivernais - None shall pass! None shall pass!

What he actually said was “It will take you a week. Turn back.” To which Tracy pointed out “That’s great, we have two”.

“You will not make it” he kept insisting.

“Get one up ya Gandalf” I wanted to shout back but instead waved and thanked him as we set off giving our impression of a hobbled old woman walking on water. 

Seconds later, Scott and Trish zoomed up hanging off their boat shouting at us. “He says you must turn back. You will not get through the Nivernais before it closes on 10 November”. 

“Tell Gandalf to kiss my ring” I replied. 

Scott and Trish laughed and wished us good luck as they sped off to find winter moorings on the Canal de Bourgogne.

Turn back, turn back they yelled

After turning towards the Nivernais, we kept saying to each other “The Yonne must surely calm down soon”. Proving us wrong, as we approached La Gravière lock, the weir was amongst the strongest we had come across and the run up to the lock nearly threw us up the bank. The waves from the weir were crashing up and above the boat windows it was more like being on a rough sea than on a river. Finally, as we entered the lock I expected the lock keeper to hand me a photo, Disney-stylee, which I could encaption on the blog ‘Martin looking truly terrified on the La Gravière lock approach’.

An example of the powerful weirs boats have to contend with
Someone who didn't make it
Tracy looking worried on an approach

Three locks from our goal and who should appear out of nowhere but Peter. He had travelled from Sens to see if we had made it to Auxerre in one piece. Peter was one of the most kind hearted fellas we had ever met.   

6.30pm and as rain began to fall, we reached the final lock with the lock keeper anxiously looking at his watch.  Peter was then waiting for us at the town moorings in Auxerre.

After a quick freshen up, we were up and out and all sat having a slap up curry in what seemed like no time.

Auxerre town centre
Tracy and Peter chatting to an old lady they met

Moorings – General
In the unlikely event that someone from VNF will read this, please could you consider providing staging on both the Seine and Yonne every 10km. It is prohibited for pleasure boats to travel at night but without basic facilities there is often no choice.

Moorings between Coudray and Vives Eaux lock
Cost: Free.
Facilities: None.
Location: In the middle of nowhere. No shops or houses and the road didn’t seem to go anywhere either.

Moorings in Avon
Cost: Unknown. Havenmaster was not around when we moored at the port de plaisance although there would be a cost we presume.
Facilities: Again, both water and electricity available but not sure of the cost.
Location: Five minute walk to a retail park with an Aldi supermarket and town approximately 5km away.

Moorings in Montereau-Fault-Yonne
Cost: Sign board indicated that it would cost us €12 and the havenmaster would collect the money each morning.  He didn’t turn up the morning we were there so it was free for us.
Facilities: Water and electricity available. Not sure if there would be an additional charge for usage.
Location: Five minute walk into the town centre with a good selection of shops, bars and restaurants.

Moorings in Serbonne
Cost: Free.
Facilities: None.
Location: Outside a swimming pool, Peter informed us that a trip boat once used the moorings.

Moorings in Sens
Cost: Free.
Facilities: Electricity free, no water.
Location: Five minute walk into the town centre with a good selection of shops.  Garage across the road from moorings, supermarket 15 minutes walk away.  Laundrette also available approximately 10 minutes away.

Moorings in Villeneuve-sur-Yonne
Cost: Free.
Facilities: Electricity free, no water.
Location: Five minute walk into the small town.  Limited number of shops available.

Moorings in Joigny
Cost: There is a port de plaisance in Joigny but not sure of cost as it was full.  We moored outside a DIY store for free.
Facilities: None.
Location: Ten minute walk into town centre with a good selection of shops, bars and restaurants.

Moorings in Auxerre
Cost: Free.
Facilities: None, although the town is in the process of providing both water and electricity and there will be a charge for usage.
Location: Five minutes walk into the town centre with a good selection of shops, bars and restaurants, although it was a ten minutes walk up a very steep hill to Agra Indian restaurant, which worked out great for our journey home.


Monday, 28 October 2013

An Englishman, Irishman and an angryman went into a shop…


Paris to Ris-Orangis
22km
2 locks
8 hours

Leaving Paris, we were now travelling upstream and progress against the current was very slow. Where the current was strongest, through bridges, we didn’t feel like we were moving at all.


A couple of interesting pictures from our journey out of Paris
The Josephine Baker pool which floats on the Seine


A massive Chinese restaurant

The morning started bright and very cold, but wrapped up in fleeces, hats and gloves we enjoyed the sunshine. By mid-morning black clouds were beginning to form and it wasn’t long before the rain was lashing down both vertically and horizontally through the open door of the wheelhouse soaking us both through.

The capitainerie at Port L’Arsenal had confirmed that the lock at Coudray was indeed closed for repair until 27 October, so we decided to head south and find somewhere to moor on the Seine and wait it out.

Moorings were not to be found. By Villeneuve-St-George lock, we were both wet and freezing cold. Lock staging was provided for pleasure boats needing to wait and had a time limit of one hour. Unwilling to go any further and with most pleasure boats wintered up, we decided to take our chances and move off if the lock keeper asked us to.

After tying up, I got the stove lit and within no time at all the three of us were snuggled up on the sofa, toasty warm.

The view from our lockside mooring

The next day, we decided to walk into the small village as we need a few supplies and the laundry was starting to present a health and safety hazard.  There was a problem. The staging up to the lock was fenced in and other than a locked gate there was no access to the outside world. We shouted up to the lock keeper high up in the tower and leaning out of the window she beckoned us up.  As communication is still very limited, we managed with the aid of Google translate on the lock keeper’s PC. 

Our plan to stay on the mooring until Coudray lock was reopened was scuppered as the first thing she tapped into the computer was “You have one hour, then you go”. She also provided us with a key which is used on all the canal and river networks in France (similar to the BW key we have back at home). This is something we should have applied for before we left the UK, but taking pity on us and after consultation with her colleague, she let us have hers. We treated them both to a couple of cakes from the patisserie as a thank you for their kindness.

As the day was bright we were in good spirits and set off again after lunch. To our dismay, no sooner had we untied than the heavens opened again, luckily, it was just vertical rain so we did manage to stay dry.

The further upstream we pottered the more desperate we were to find somewhere to moor.  “What about there” I would say “No, too high. Odgers won’t be able to jump off” Tracy would reply. “Ooh that looks good” Tracy would shout. “No, it says private on it” I would mutter.  This went on for about three hours.

Eventually, I spotted a likely looking spot and we both danced about like loonies when the boat glided beautifully into place. There was an Aldi supermarket a short yomp across a field and a town ten minutes away across the bridge.

Our mooring in Ris-Orangis





Boats travelling past us would create a huge wash which caused a wave to crash over the back deck and fill the engine room

Needing to top up my phone credit, I wandered into a local shop. “Parlez-vous Anglais?” I asked the shopkeeper and with that all hell broke loose. “Are you English?” one young lad asked. Then a chap with a mono-brow who was loafing by the counter leapt in front of me gesticulating aggressively, spitting out words I didn’t understand apart from “American, English” and “we hate”!

Quicker than you could say ‘rocket propelled grenade’ and moments before the braying mob thought to lynch me and drag my naked body through the streets behind a Toyota pickup, I shouted in my best, proud to be Irish voice. “JE SUIS IRLANDAIS”.

Stunned silence. I shifted my gaze and stared without blinking at the shopkeeper whilst holding my nerve. Did they believe me or was an RPG about to appear from under the counter and blast me back to Bradford-on-Avon?

“You are from Belfast?” asked Mono-brow. 

Knowing what he was implying I replied in my best Irish accent
“Absolutely not. I am from the south, it’s a separate country, so it is
(noooo just stick to the facts, Martin).

He didn’t look convinced.

“Remind me, what is the capital city of Ireland?” he went on.

I opened my mouth to reply but my mind had gone completely blank. Stalling for time, I remembered a holiday Tracy and I had taken a few years ago.

“I’m from a lovely little fishing village called Youghall, so I am
(not again).

In the beautiful County of Wexford
(shit, I meant Cork, hope they don’t know Irish geography).

It wasn’t working. A flash of inspiration.

“Our capital city, where all your lovely Guinness comes from.
(Help! These lads are hardly likely to drink it, are they?).

Sweating profusely now and desperately looking for my exit strategy, I rummaged through the wastelands of my brain.

“If you fellas
(Think!)

Ever fancy a trip
(Think Martin think)

You will get
(Seriously you are going to die – think)

A very warm welcome from me in
(Think you eejit)

DUBLIN!” 

The shop went berserk. One chap shouted “Welcome to France” and Mono-brow leaned over and man hugged me.

Relieved that my plan had worked, I left the shop with my phone credit. It was more than likely that I would bump into these characters again during my stay and it was good fortune that I had once kissed the Blarney stone which had obviously bestowed upon me the gift of the gab, just for that moment.

Shaking with adrenalin, I was quick to get back to the boat. “Whatever is the matter” Tracy said “I’ll tell you later, just hide that red ensign”.

Me kissing the Blarney Stone. Despite Tracy saying all I would get is a cold sore, I think it did give me the gift of the gab that day.


Moorings
I would strongly advise arranging moorings along this stretch as other than private marinas, there are no official places to moor between Paris and Ris-Orangis.