Rueil-Malmaison and Paris (on foot)

Over the long cold winter we have watched a lot of videos about people doing the same trip as we are now undertaking. The only one we watched where they stopped at Rueil gave us cause to worry. The YouTubers said that the pontoon was a meeting place for feral teenagers who spent the night trying to get on their boat. Offputting.

We had another easy trip up the river from Port St Louis, the only hiccup was at the Bougival lock. Trusting our ancient guidebooks we attempted to call the lock keeper on Channel 22 but no reply. Checked both guides again. One said that the lock was only open when the river flooded, the other said it was closed when the river flooded. Igor checked the guide again and we decided to give it a miss and go to the next lock, Ecluse Chatou, on the other side of the long narrow island that separates them.  

There was no problem passing through this lock but it meant we had to detour back downstream for about 4km to the Halte Fluviale. Luckily, downstream is quicker than upstream, important when you're tired after a long day's sailing.

We were later told that the lock keeper at Bougival is on channel 18, like Ecluse Chatou. It changed years ago and now they are run by the same organisation. Not only that, the lock wasn't working even if you called on the correct channel.

My lovely niece Lucy lives quite close so we called her and, what a hero, she brought dinner, wine and chocolates and her friend, who gave Igor a lift to the nearest garage where he was able to buy 40 litres of diesel!

Her perspective on the mooring was very different.  She told us that this is one of the nicest arrondissements in Paris, and any youth hanging round are nice kids just enjoying Saturday night. Her opinion was that the previous people were simply unlucky and we were as safe here as anywhere. Local knowledge is priceless. She was right, and we had a peaceful night's sleep.

Next day after breakfast we walked to the nearest supermarket, a Super U over the bridge. It was Sunday morning and the church bells rang and rang, reminding the less devout that they should have gone to church. I drew this conclusion because people were standing outside chatting and they don't usually do this before Sunday Mass.

After we dropped our groceries at the boat (we had to do our shopping in the morning as the supermarket closes at 1pm on Sundays) we walked back into town for a look around. Igor suggested catching the train into Paris to do a recce of the Arsenal Marina. I hadn't brought a handbag or a jumper but the sun was shining and I had my bank cards and phone so it seemed like a good idea. The ticket into Paris, one way, was just over 4 euros and within half an hour we were at the Metro station overlooking the Arsenal marina.

From the Seine the marina is entered via a lock, and sits well below street level. We walked all around it. It was very busy and we saw hardly any boats remotely like ours. At the other end from the lock was the tunnel. Neither of us liked it, hard to put a finger on why as we've heard a lot of very positive reports. We decided to give it a miss.

As we were in central Paris we had a lovely lunch at a brasserie. Igor had fish and chips, I had pan fried chicken breast with chips. Only problem was that I discovered, after eating about two thirds of it, that the meat was still pink. The waitress took it back and the kitchen refried it until it was golden. It looked lovely but had the texture of a piece of leather. I think I preferred it rare but I don't take chances with chicken.

After lunch we went to have a look at the renovations at Notre Dame. This is such an impressive project. The cathedral was nearly destroyed by fire in April 2019, and the French government has pledged to repair it by 2024, an ambitious goal. It seems like the work is being done apace and, who knows, they may actually manage it.  I remember visiting when I was 10, with my Mum, and it left a lasting impression on me.

After this we decided to go back to the boat.  I'd bought a delicious pork stew from Super U, which we had for dinner with some slightly stale bread. Neither of us were terribly hungry and this hit the spot. We discussed whether to set off next day, but it was a public holiday, so we decided to stay put until Tuesday.

Monday was another day for sightseeing. No pretence at a recce, just go and gawp at the Eiffel Tower and Sacre Couer.  The Tower was very busy. There is airport style security to enter the grounds below it and this part is free. If we'd wanted to go up to the first or second stage the queue for tickets was nearly 2 hours. The top was closed to further visitors as it was full. There were signs saying visibility was limited (it was a grey, cloudy day). We decided to come back at another time when it was less busy, and set off to Sacre Coeur.

We took another metro then had to catch a bus the rest of the way. By now it was lunchtime so we bought some tuna and salad baguettes from a boulangerie and ate them on a bench.  Then it was onto a bus. The route took us past all the fashion houses and I realised that even if I had all the money in the world there was nothing in their windows that I would want.

Once we reached our stop we had to climb the hill to the cathedral. I suppose the clue is in the name Montmartre.  It was a fairly steep walk up cobbled streets but the views were stunning. It just kept going up and up, getting more and more crowded with people.  The streets around the cathedral have endless shops selling souvenirs, from blatant tat to arty bits and bobs. I felt a lot of sympathy with Jesus when he threw the people selling stuff out of the temple.

My memory of Sacre Coeur, back in the late 60s when I was a child, was that we walked up some steps, wandered in, had a look around everywhere we wanted to and then left. Not any more. A huge queue, half the circumference of the cathedral, was waiting to go in. Every other space surrounding it was jam packed. We walked to the railings and were looking at the splendid view when there was a deafening clap of thunder. We looked for shelter. At least being under a tree we weren't at the highest point locally in the storm, that would be the cathedral. The rain started, huge drops, so we ran down to the funicular railway station, past a brave 'living statue' dressed as a Roman emperor or maybe a statue of a saint, and tried to shelter under the awning. A lot of other people had this idea before us so we got a bit wet until another layer of people joined us and shielded us from the weather. The gutters had inches of water gushing through them and the rain went on and on. My jeans were soaked. Eventually it eased and we walked back down some stairs to street level to look for a station, the water cascading down like a waterfall.

Metro services were disrupted because of strikes, apparently a tradition on May Day.  I realised we were in the Pigalle district. My mum and I had stayed here and I remember tiny streets with lots of interesting shops that she wouldn't allow me to look at. Nowadays it's a wide thoroughfare with loads of sex shops and 'adult' cinemas. Where do they get the customers when apparently everything and more is available on the internet?

We stopped at a very crowded McDonalds and got a hot chocolate to warm up a bit, then made our way to the Metro.  It was still relatively early so we decided to have a close up look at the Arc de Triomphe on the way home. It's way bigger than Marble Arch and much more impressive. A real bit of nationalistic chest beating about how the French armies beat all their neighbours. Worth a look. Once we'd seen what we wanted (the observation platform was closed, either because it was a Monday or a public holiday, not sure) we went back to the boat.

This should have been straightforward, no changes, all the way from Charles de Gaulle-Etoile to Rueil-Malmaison. Oh no. There was a disruption on the line so the train stopped at Nantes University. We got out. The bus stop had hundreds of people and when the 259 appeared they all tried to get on. There was no room for us. We had a choice: wait for the next bus, which would probably be just as crowded, or walk the 4km to the boat. Well, we like walking, don't we...?

In the morning I can run 5km before breakfast, but in the afternoon, after walking around sightseeing all day...well, it was a little bit tiring. It took less than an hour but by the time we reached the boat I felt a bit exhausted. We considered going to one of the restaurants next to the Halte Fluviale, in the Place des Impressionistes, but all I wanted to do was take my shoes off and slob out. I suggested this to Igor. He was very happy with the idea. I found a can of Stella and some little bits of Boursin wrapped in speck ham in the fridge and we ate them on the deck of the boat in the evening sunshine. Absolute bliss. Several people kindly complimented us on the boat, which is always nice.

Dinner was one of our two precious remaining tins of curry with naan bread. I do miss proper Indian food. Afterwards I curled up in bed and we watched box sets.

What a great day.

Amenities/Marina office, boatyard and staff: N/A, nothing, none of the above, it's just a pontoon. Nearest toilets are by the station, about 10 minutes walk.

Overall impression: If we'd believed the scary stuff about this Halte Fluviale that we saw on the internet we'd have missed out on a really good stopping place. It is near restaurants, a supermarket and the train to Paris and yes, people do stand outside and talk but why shouldn't they? Is it an English thing to assume that strangers are automatically up to no good?
Well worth stopping here, it's very convenient for doing a bit of Paris sightseeing and it's probably the last place to stop before you tackle the big city itself.