The pace of life on the canals is slow. Recently, cruising the last 7 km and 3 locks into Clamecy on the Canal du Nivernais took us 3½ hours – an impressive, even by our standards, 2km per hour. Snail’s pace, you might say, except that Burgundy snails probably move faster to avoid the dinner plate. We had set off at 10.30 hoping to reach our destination before lunchtime but on arrival at the first lock the gates were closed against us and there was no sign of the keeper. As the river crosses the canal immediately before the lock gates you need to wait well back in order to avoid the cross currents so we backed up 100m into an open stop lock outside the lock keeper’s pretty house and waited. And waited. There are surely worse spots to spend a summer morning.
After an hour or so 2 boats entered the lock coming the other way. Still, no keeper. 20 minutes later a 3rd boat arrived accompanied by the keeper on his bicycle. It seems he is responsible for the next lock as well. By the time the 3 boats were through and we were in the lock it was approaching 12 noon. Perfect timing for a cheery “bon apetit!” from the keeper as he trundled off on his bike for his lunch break. So, we continued our wait.
The 12 o’clock stop work for lunch is sacrosanct. Today, we called in at a boat yard for water. To ensure you pay you have to go to the office to get a tap fitting which you return when you’re finished. An increasingly agitated Frenchman hung about as we filled up, checking his watch and muttering to himself. I’ve never really thought about the origins of the expression hopping mad but there he was, actually doing it. ‘It’s full. It’s full,’ he grunted grumpily as he danced from foot to foot. It wasn’t anywhere close to full but he eventually demanded the tap declaring that if we wanted more we’d just have to come back a couple of hours later, after lunch. Time? 12 noon exactly.
We are now at the summit of the canal! Cause for celebration as we’d been told by many that our boat, at 1.2m underwater draft, was too big and we’d never make it. ‘You’ll be fine as far as Clamecy,’ they said. Well, we decided to give it a go and in order to reduce the weight at the stern we dumped nearly all of our water (no showers for a week or so…) and moved everything heavy as far forward as we could. This included me at times and at moments of crisis, I’ve done a fair impersonation of a figurehead hanging off the bow. We’ve only been actually aground once and scraped along the bottom a couple of times but we have certainly been helped by the fact that this year the canal authorities have decided to empty the huge reservoir at the summit in order to check the condition of the barrage. Coming from Australia that seems slightly scandalous and also somewhat at odds with the drought notices downstream but what do I know? Anyway, there has been plenty of water pouring downstream which has meant that the canal is as full as it’s ever likely to be.
The past couple of days have been spectacular scenery-wise but absolutely exhausting when working through the many locks in temperatures of just under 40 degrees C (the no shower policy causing further torture and not just to us I daresay). From Clamecy to the summit (about 45km) there are 46 locks, several self (me) operated, lifting bridges
and 3 tunnels. The closer to the summit the more heavily locked it becomes culminating in a flight of 16 locks over 3.2km. Apologies for the quality of these pictures. The most beautiful part of the canal and I had my camera on the wrong setting...
We did this final flight in an afternoon having arranged with the lock keeper the night before to meet him at the first at 10.30am. By the time he turned up it was the feeling slightly peckish hour of 11.15 and really much too close to noon to make a start, so, once again, we waited.
We had one final wait at the top of the flight before entering the narrowest of cuts through the mountain and the first of the three tunnels (212m, 268m and 758m).
Because it is so narrow a one way system applies and our enforced delay of an hour or so was due to the trip boat running late. Unfortunately, during that time, the weather changed and the pre thunderstorm gloom made the trip through the creepers and waterfall gullies of the summit chasm a little less magical than we’d hoped.
Tomorrow the descent.
A word on the internet. I’m not sure when I’ll have a chance to post this but obviously if you’re reading it I have. Monsieur Orange France seems to be upset with us and has broken off our relationship…. No comment.
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