Can't take Namur

Givet to Namur

52 km

9 locks

14 hours

It was with trepidation that we headed out of France and into Belgium as we still had bad memories of busy commercial shipping lanes and having our ropes snapped.

Leaving Givet the landscape started off quite industrial

We cruised a short distance before mooring at Hastière. The banks were slopping for at least a mile, but luckily we managed to find a flat side that appeared to be made for us.

Our mooring at Hastière just before the rods turned up

Quick change of flag

It's a rat trap baby

Once tied up, we took a stroll. If there was a square with shops we didn’t find it and only came across a bread machine on a street corner.

There was a picnic table only feet away from the boat and we thought it would be a good idea to have our tea on it. We never got the chance, however, as the canal-side was rod to rod with fisherman and it soon became apparent that the picnic table was as sought after as a solitary sun lounger at a German holiday resort.

They were a miserable lot too. As I went to close the back doors, a whole family fishing turned and stared at me like extras from the walking dead. “Bonjour” I shouted in the chirpiest manner possible staring them full in the faces. There was no response. I repeated this futile gesture only to be met by the same slack jawed faces. Then it suddenly dawned on me, maybe this how they caught the flies to use as bait.

At 8.45pm, I decided to walk over to the bar for a drink and, being used to the French friendly mannerisms, nodded and said “bonsoir” to the staff and customers. Once again, I was met with expressions you could curdle milk with. I sat in solitude and after a bit of a wait the waitress finely addressed me “you’re too late, we close soon”.

“I only want one beer” I replied. With this she disappeared and moments later there was a loud slam and a wet puddle on the table. My beer had arrived.

The next day we ambled up to Dinant.

We saw some interesting sights on our journey up to Dinant

As we approached the scenary was like something from ‘Sinbad the Sailor’.

Can you see Sinbad?

There was one last space at the far end of a long floating pontoon. Unfortunately, the space had been commandeered by two unfriendly fishermen that weren’t too chuffed about us mooring there.

It was a tricky windy manoeuver trying to dodge fishing lines on the strong river current. It turned into a bit of a crash, bang, wallop affair as we butted up to the jetty for the entertainment of the crowded restaurant frontages looking upon us.

Our mooring on the town jetty

Shortly after this undignified approach, we found ourselves walking down the main street where restaurant leapfrogged bar. In the middle of all this, there was a funicular train to take you up to the citadel high up in the cliffside. At €8 each, whether you walked or took the train, we thought this was too steep (pun intended) so didn’t bother.

More questionable street art

Hugging Adolph Sax (inventor of the saxophone). I should be choking him really as he made my life hell in my first flat. One of my neighbours would practice 'Pig bag' daily but could never get the last 'Derrrrrr' I always ended up finishing it for him.

It's only a wee plaque as the Scottish would say

We returned to the boat to find the fisherman still scowling at us. So as beautiful as the view from the river at Dinant was, after an hour or of looking around we felt we’d seen pretty much all we wanted to see. We decided to untie and pushed off up the river arriving moments later at the lock. We radioed the lock keeper twice without getting a response and after sitting on the lock mooring for 15 minutes, secured the boat and walked up to the office to find out what was going on.

We were like two unexpected visitors arriving as the man jumped up sheepishly. “I’ve not picked up your radio calls” he insisted before hurriedly trying to get rid of us by shouting the words “Go through now.”

We told the chap that now we were settled we’d decided to stay for the night and continue our journey in the morning. This mooring turned out to be only a short walk back to the river front and saved us a staggering €17 (and this didn’t include the slot meter for the water and electric). We spent our savings on Belgium beers overlooking the river instead.

Our lock mooring in Dinant

One of my favourite beers, at 11.3% you can't drink too many

The following morning, we were all lined up under starters orders, a motley selection of cruisers, peniches, sailing boats and one narrowboat. We entered the lock and engines were revved as we eyed each other up suspiciously like some hillbilly drag race.

Gentlemen - start your engines!

We all bolted as the doors swung open. I say all, we merely drifted with the current like a child’s radio controlled boat with its batteries running low.

And there off

This was one of the things we were dreading about the canals of Belgium. As we had played this game before, we decided to amble along at our own pace. As the next lock came in to view, surprisingly the green light was still glowing and all the boats were waiting for us, although it was like entering an arena of scowls.

Thinking that the boats would all be waiting for us, I pushed the boat for the next lock. This time, only yards away, the light flicked to red and before our very eyes the boats all descended without us. It was another half an hour before we were allowed to enter the lock and in this time the same amount of boats had joined us than had previously gone on before us.

As before, the boats bolted out of the lock doors and as we approached the next lock, true to form, the light once more flicked to red. This order of events continued for the rest of the day and added four hours of waiting by lock sides to our journey.

Some of the scenery on our journey to Namur

Brave, very brave

This boat came equipped with a waterslide

And we loved this ship-shaped swimming pool

Eventually, as we left the last lock and wearily entered Namur we were met with the smug smiles of all the boats that had passed us on route now filling the town mooring. We chugged past and found an unofficial spot next to a main road.

One of our lock keepers had proudly informed us that Belgium was the Techno capital of Europe. This accolade was apparent as we moored right opposite a rave with decibels so loud the windows almost rattled (pass me my glow sticks Tracy).

Our mooring in Namur - get off the fence!

Eager to stretch our legs, we soon found ourselves in the middle of Namur’s very busy centre. If you love shopping, this is most definitely the place for you. Every corner we turned had shops, bars, restaurants and even more shops. All that aside, disturbingly it was also a place of two very different worlds, the filthy rich and the incredibly poor. Nowhere we had ever visited highlighted this contrast more than Namur. There was a fine line here drawn between the gutter and golden piss pots, and it made me feel sick to my stomach. Be more giving and less self centered you rich that walk among us (you have our email). 

I’m not saying we didn’t enjoy Namur, but the highlight of our visit was sitting at a bus stop eating a sugar waffle we had bought from a street vendor and mine was under cooked and half rat-gnawed.

Part of the town mooring ahead

Keen to get off the next morning, we were just preparing breakfast when there was a knock on the canal-side of the boat. It was the river police taking exception to us tying to the fencing. “Can we move off in ten minutes?” Tracy asked. They reluctantly agreed to this and started to move away “We are just going to have a cup of tea first” she added waving her mug at them.

“Are you taking the pish” I could see the chief thinking and he ordered the boat to turn back around and with that he asked to see our paperwork.

Tracy will happily admit that she is one scruffy bugger but fortunately she is as organised as a hive of honey bees when it comes to anything clerical. All our papers are stored in one humungous file and the chief and his assistant went through every piece of paper like a school nit nurse. Some time later, not finding anything to ‘do’ us on, they demanded to check our fire extinguishers. Luckily, they had been replaced when we were last boarded by the rozzers in Dijon, so finally and reluctantly, they departed.

It was with a huge sigh of relief as we headed off to continue our journey through Belgium, as we couldn’t take Namur.

As our comments box doesn’t work, please leave comments on: www.werubbedthelamp.com

Moorings in Hastière

Cost: Free.

Facilities: None

Location: Small village, one bar and a bread machine.

Moorings in Dinant

Cost: €17 on town mooring, free on lock mooring.

Facilities: Both water and electricity available at town mooring for an additional charge. None on lock mooring.

Location: Small holiday type town with every type of bar and restaurant you could wish for.

Moorings in Namur

Cost: €10 on town mooring, free on roadside where we moored but beware of where you tie to, the fence is apparently out of bounds.

Facilities: Both water and electricity available at town mooring for an additional charge. None on roadside mooring.

Location: City with all amenities available.

Lumes looms

Consenvoye to Lumes

92 km

16 locks

25 hours

The next morning it was up early and off to Vilosnes. The weather by now had taken a turn for the worst and on top of being wet was also very cold. By the time we reached Vilosnes I had the stove lit. The rain did not stop that day or the next and eventually with our hoods up we decided to brave the elements. On leaving the comfort of our home, even the dogs complained.  We walked up a long road through the village, which now resembled a river, and out the other side.

Our mooring in Vilosnes

One of the sights on our wet walk around Vilosnes

It was nice to eventually get back to a toasty warm boat.

Luckily, I did remember to take down the French flag before lighting the fire

Before we set off the next morning, Tracy took the dogs for a walk and came back laughing her head off. She had bumped into a very wet and excitable Labrador on her journey and could hear an English accent shouting “Wilson!” “Wilson!” “Wilson!” Then watched as a large Yorkshireman ran over like a monster truck out of control. There was fear, desperation and panic in his eyes (anyone who owns a dog will understand the feeling when you are trying to control your dog and the hound has other ideas). “You’re not the man from that Youtube video are you?” Tracy asked him. Bright red and completely out of puff he ignored her as his dog continued to coax him in to some form of exercise.

The following day was warmer although not sunnier but it was nice to be back just in our t-shirts. Looking at our guide, we decided to head for Dun-sur-Meuse. Although the lock just before the port had other ideas and gave up the ghost as we entered. Tracy did the usual and jumped off to contact VNF, just as an English chap walked up. He was on a peniche waiting on the other side of the lock to ascend.

We could see one space left on the jetty and were both looking forward to getting tied up and the kettle on. Once VNF arrived the English chap had a conversation in French with him and established that the port on his map didn’t exist so he decided to turn around and moor on the free space we had our eye on. “You can tie up next to me if you like” he said sheepishly.

With the two dogs it would have been very awkward as our boat was much lower, so we shrugged our shoulders and said “Thanks anyway but we’ll have to say c’est la vie”.

We motored for a few more hours looking for somewhere to moor, before eventually reaching the next port.

This was also full so we continued even further. It was 5.59pm when we finally reached a lock with a short grass bank on one side. We pressed the remote to activate the lock and knew that going through would be all or nothing, as the lock would be turned off as soon as we exited. Tracy leaped from the boat once I was in place and scouted the lay of the land. As it turned out, the banks of the canal on the other side of the lock were very high and it would be impossible to tie up. With the lock turned off, we knew our mooring pins would be safe from being ripped out of the soft grass by larger boats, at least until morning so we decided to reverse out and moor up next to the short grassy bank after all. Worryingly, the lights on the lock remained on green all night and were still on green when we were leaving the next morning at 7.30am.

Our lock mooring. We don't really like using stakes as boats whizz past very fast

After such an early start, we reached Mouzon at lunchtime.

The mooring in Mouzon

And a quick trek around the town

The unusual tourist information office at Mouzon

You had to make a quick dash through here as the pavement runs out

A stroll around town established that there was not much in the way of entertainment so rather than pay the €8 at the port, we decided to carry on eventually tying up next to a barrier at Remilly.

Our mooring tied to the barrier in Remilly

There was an auberge advertised with ‘amarrage’ (moorings) and a map to show the way down a side arm of the canal. Fancying lunch out, we set off the next morning but unfortunately, there were no further signs and the people we asked for directions just looked at us blankly.

Eventually, we gave up hope of finding it and resigned ourselves to the fact that it would be cheese sandwiches for lunch. As we were approaching the lock before Sedan, a huge troll of a man was facing our way shamelessly having a pee. “bonjour” we shouted thinking he would quickly turn away from us, but no he just carried on, had a shake, wiped his hands on his trousers and zipped himself up.

This wasn't the troll having a pee but a random fisherman I captured. Nobody seems embarrassed or wants to turn away

Casually, he strolled over to us and stood slack mouthed beside the lock without blinking. In fact, the only time we got any reaction from him was when Tracy asked about the cows out on the field (there was a farm next to the lock and she presumed he worked there). His whole face lit up and by the time we were waving him au revoir, there wasn’t a thing you could tell us that we didn’t know about the four-legged beasts (in French that is).

We pulled into Sedan, the grey sky didn’t help, but the whole place looked very, very depressing. We nipped into the town centre had a quick look around, and bought a loaf and a couple of small pizzas for lunch (one turned out to be fish, yes that’s right fish pizza, and was even more disgusting that it sounds). We just couldn’t bring ourselves to stay there, some places just don’t have a good feel to them and Sedan was one of those places.

Our mooring in Sedan

A bit grim really

There were a few random pontoons provided for mooring along the way but they were way too short, didn't have anything to tie up to and the notice on them stated '15 tonne or less'

We were really glad we did leave, it was a very long cruise but eventually Lumes loomed into sight and we couldn’t believe our eyes as the only other boat there was another narrowboat. We moored up and went over to say hello to our neighbour. Gill was waiting for her other half to return from a trip to England and had been looming in Lumes for a few days (pardon the pun).

Our lovely Lumes mooring

The next day we went in search of the café Gill had told us about as our supplies were running low and we fancied something different. We didn’t realise that it was Bastille Day and a public holiday in France. The café was closed when we got there. We asked an old lady if there were any other alternatives in the village and she pointed us in the direction of Charleville some 7km away. In desperation, we began the long walk in the hope that something would be open in this large town. On route we met another couple and after a conversation, established that it was unlikely that anything would be open even in Charleville either. Resigned to making our own lunch, (not more cheese sandwiches) we turned around and started trudging back. 100m further along the road and we could hear “monsieur, monsieur” it was the chap we had just left on the Charleville road. “I know somewhere that is open” he said and insisted that we follow him. We turned down a road and he triumphantly pointed to a building in front of us. There it stood, ‘Loomy Land’. Not wanting to offend him, we went inside and soon realised that it was a children’s play factory with brightly colored everything. 

As it turns out, the steak kebab and chips weren't half bad

We both had misgivings about this place but were at this point ravenous and would have eaten a dead rat if it had been presented with a few chips. We had had a similar experience a few years back when we were in a campervan in Cornwall. Our campsite had no facilities and the only place available was a Haven holiday park up the road. We got there fairly early sat at a table and ordered our food. As we were waiting for it to arrive all the children turned up with Lizzie Lizard who began to lead the dancing for the kiddies’ disco. We were sat on the edge of the dancefloor and felt like a right pair of numb-nuts. When our food finally arrived, we couldn’t finish them fast enough.

A dog toilet was thoughtfully provided, not sure how often it is used though

When Graham returned the next day he showed me an ingenious gadget he had picked up off Ebay. The device screwed into a gas bottle enabling you to fill up at any garage that sold gas from a pump and worked out much cheaper than buying a new bottle every time. As we were probably going to run out of gas imminently he offered to drive me to a garage and show me how it worked. Fantastic! A full gas bottle for all of €15, this would normally cost us around €25-€35.

We all decided to have a walk into Lumes village centre the following day and have a drink at the bar. It was closed (again). Instead, we all got our fold up chairs out and sat in the shade drinking wine. Later, Gill being the amazing hostess that she is, whipped up a wonderful spicy chorizo stew for us all.

Graham and Gill with us

We ended up staying at Lumes far longer than we had anticipated, as it was just so nice to be around likeminded, friendly people. Gill writes a funny and interesting blog herself and should you wish to follow it, the URL is: www.contentedsouls.com.

When we did eventually head off, we only managed one lock and a short cruise into Charleville-Mézières as the washing looked once more like the north face of Everest and I’ve not got a head for heights.

As our comments box doesn’t work, please leave comments on: www.werubbedthelamp.com

Moorings in Vilosnes

Cost: Free

Facilities: No water or electricity available.

Location: Rural location with no facilities.

Moorings before Lock 32

Cost: Free

Facilities: None.

Location: Rural location.

Moorings in Mouzon

Cost: There was a charge for this mooring

Facilities: Both water and electricity available for a charge.

Location: Small town, everything closed when we visited on a Monday.

Moorings in Remilly

Cost: We were wild-moored and tied to a barrier, no charge for this

Facilities: None.

Location: There was an auberge advertised but we failed to find it

Moorings in Sedan

Cost: There was a charge for moorings

Facilities: Both water and electricity available for a charge.

Location: Large town with all the usual amenities.

Moorings in Lumes

Cost: Fee

Facilities: Water available for free.

Location: Small village with a bar/tabac, hotel and the unique ‘Loomy Land’