Locked out

We are sitting in a cozy bar, the Havana, in Nort Sur Erdre in the South of Brittany after completing our week on the river Vilain, Canal Nantes Brest and river Erdre. After three deceptively benign Belgian beers and a couple of champagnes, I am probably not best placed to write much of the past few days, but…

Today is a banque holiday (VE Day, perhaps) and pretty much everything is closed, but the Havana bar has kept its warm saloon open and its wifi connected to enable us to relax and catch up on the world. We must have looked like nerdy misfits, with beers in one hand and phones and iPads in the other, seeing what had happened to the world in the week since we have been out of touch.

From Gruenrouet, our plan was to get to Blain, a slightly larger town, stay overnight, then get to our destination base of Nort Sur Erdre, where we need to hand back the boat on Friday morning.

The stretch from Gruenrouet to Blain has about five locks and we really getting the hang of it until the last one when we lost manoeuvrability when our bow thrusters refused to work beyond an unhelpful “clunk” when engaged. The thrusters help to push the boat laterally at the front, and from our point of view were essential when entering the narrow gate to the locks, through narrow bridges and when docking. We got to Blain at lunchtime (13.45) a bit apprehensive about finding a cafe open as many towns and villages seem to have a siesta close from 13.30 to 16.00. Luckily the pub/cafe was open and we lapped up the fabulous meal provided for us. Full regard to the French for their food. Delicious.

We had put a call through to the boat base at Messac (left a message as they are closed for lunch! (Businesses are either closed for lunch or siesta!) Laurent was was most helpful and said he would drive over to inspect the problem. Sure enough he was there by the time we finished our meal. His method was fairly rustic, driving in at speed up a launching ramp to expose the thrusters. He did not quite manage this so he had to strip down to his underwear to wade into the cool waters of the canal to dig and scrape in the thrusters. It seemed that some stray debris had made its way into the thrusters and jammed, and despite Laurent’s digging, and we assume French swearing, they remained jammed tight. He gave us some tips on manoeuvring and bade us farewell and good luck.

Blain is a neat and lovely town. There us a Twelfth Century castle which was appropriately grand with nice views from the turrets. Not a lot else in Blain but Jenny, Fiona and Don explored the local shops while I rested my still sore back with a well-earned siesta of my own.

Blain to Nort Sur Erdre is a fairly long stretch of about 40 kilometres, but with eleven locks, is a full day’s boating. About half the locks have lock keepers while the rest have to be operated by the boat crew. Don proved very adept at negotiating the narrow gates, so he did the bulk of the driving. The gates, and many of the bridge spans are only around 4.5 metres wide, and our craft is 4.1 metres, so the margin of error is quite small. We were surprised that all of the lock keepers are quite young and mostly female. “Young” is always relative, but they would be under 25 years, at a guess. (However at this stage of my life, anyone under 40 looks about 25!)

We became quite expert at the lock operation. We were glad to have a crew of four, as if it had just been the two of us, it would have been problematic, and likely impossible. Fiona became the default lock operator, being nimble enough to leap from the boat to the shore to sprint ahead to the lock. Jen was the rope girl, making sure the boat did not drift about in the lock. There is a strict routine to follow, firstly to close the lock gates to fill or empty the lock to the height we enter it, then open flood gates to fill or empty the lock (depending on our position) and open the gates for us to proceed to the next level. It is rather basic, but strenuous work, and we quickly discovered that not everyone is au fait with lock etiquette.

One of the important lock processes is to close the floodgates at both ends of the lock. On one occasion, the previous users had forgotten to close the floodgates at one end, so while we were busily trying to fill from one end, the water was silently and in equal measure, escaping from the other end. We were waiting patiently for several minutes until it dawned on us that was not rising as it should. At the next lock, a family decided that every member of the group, from an aged grandma to a six year old, should all have a go at using all of the equipment, and be photographed in the using thereof! To exacerbate things, they did not seem to know how to use the equipment, and even when Don tried to show them the proper operation, he was rebuffed with a rather rude: “non!” We sat patiently at the mooring while everyone took a picture and they cranked the machinery in slow motion, or the wrong way.

Each lock has a mooring pontoon upstream and downstream, so that for manual operation of the locks, a crew member can get off the boat to operate the lock, and then get back on. There are signs that indicate this restriction. However this rule seems to be overlooked as other boats were moored with picnic tables set up for long lunches. On the first occasion we encountered this the picnickers were a bit indignant that we might want to get our crew back on board and suggested that we could walk to the next lock, just a couple of kilometres down the canal. They refused to move, so we just moored alongside their craft and stepped through it to access ours. The same thing happened on the next lock except that the group on that boat embraced us as friends of the family, asked us to share a wine and were very helpful in allowing us to scramble across to our boat.

Generally, our fellow canal and river users have been very friendly, with a cheery bon jour and a wave. There are very many fishers along the way with lines in the water, but we have yet to see anyone with a fish longer than about 10 centimetres. Every so often I inquire with what I hope means “caught any fish?” with “capter poisson?” though it seems to come out as “Captain Pissant?” and I seem to get bemused French cocks of the head in response. And rarely a smile, so perhaps I should refrain from asking.

The Erdre river is very wide where the canal joins it but soon narrows as it meanders its way to the village of Nort, where Emanuelle, from Le Boat greeted us as long lost family with a beaming smile and outstretched arms. She was full of praise for our perfect attempt at reverse parking sans thrusters. We decided to complete the paperwork there and then to save time in the morning, then went on a shore excursion to check the chance of an open cafe, and the walking distance to the train station. Apart from the Havana which serves booze but no food, everything is dark and unwelcoming. The station is about a twenty minute walk which is just manageable with our luggage.

What a wonderful week we have had. We have had a marvellous time on the boat, even with our small misadventures. Our pleasure has been multiplied in sharing it with Fiona and Don who have been terrific company, and of course, we could never have managed a boat this size on our own. (It is over 13 metres.)

On Friday we caught a small train to Nantes, and after some brunch there, we head for Paris while Fiona and Don continue to explore regional France for another week. They will then have their own East African holiday.

The train service from Nort sur Erdre to Nantes is quite new, and luckily there was a station attendant to assist patrons with the purchase of tickets. Even the locals were struggling with the machine that seemed to require about a dozen separate selections. It would have been difficult for Fiona and Don. Luckily we are able to use our Eurail Pass as today is one of the days were going to use it anyway, for the Nantes to Paris TGV. Emanuelle from Le Boat offered to take our bags to the station and assist us with the ticketing transaction. She was an extremely helpful and kind person, and typical of most of the folk we have had to deal with in rural France.

The trip to Nantes is only 35 minutes and seems to be used by commuters working in Nantes. We had one small bit of excitement en route when the train engaged brakes very heavily. Fortunately we were not going very fast. It seemed that an old codger was walking across the railway line quite oblivious to the large railed vehicle bearing down on him. He must have found some extra energy to leap back to avoid becoming a statistic.

We deposited our luggage in a secure luggage hold at the railway station and then assisted Fi and Don to their hotel, where they will probably stay for a day or so.

Nantes is a lovely city, nicely laid out with wide boulevards, plazas, a massive cathedral with flying buttresses, outdoor cafés, and a botanical garden in the centre of town and just opposite the railway station. We had a pleasant meander around the gardens which relaxed our spirits, ready for the trip to Paris. The TGV rocketed along at over 300 kmh through the picturesque countryside. We passed alongside nice little villages and farms, occasional chateaux and castles, interesting looking churches, but by the time something registers in the grey matter and I turn to alert Jenny, the sight is about 5 kilometres back.

Next stop Paree!