The Canal de Briare Part 2
Yesterday's post saw us moored in the town of Rogny, bowled over by the sight of the ancient Sept Ecluses. If you think that was overwhelming, wait until you see what we saw today (though a photograph barely does it justice).
I was so gobsmacked yesterday I forgot to mention that all the restaurants in Rogny seemed to be closed, even though it was only about seven in the evening. Why is it that everywhere we go all the restaurants are closed? It didn't matter in the end, I was having stomach pains from overdosing on wonderful cheese so just made simple pasta on the boat and had some ginger tea, which sorted everything out.
10th May 2023
We were very excited today as we were going to be mounting the modern equivalent of the Sept Ecluses, though there are only six of them now. It sounded daunting, six locks over a distance of only 1.7 km.
It was raining again. We were smart and dressed warmly from the start. Igor put his thermals on. I put on a merino base layer and jumper plus both layers of my marvellous Decathlon jacket (it has a quilted inner lining you can wear separately if you want, wonderfully warm as well as waterproof). We knew we'd be too busy to be feeling cold and wet
Yesterday we told the lock keeper we'd be ready to go at about 9.30, and shortly after that we arrived at the open gates of lock 18, Sante Barbe. The lock keeper did his stuff and up we went. He explained that he'd be with us for all six, making sure everything went smoothly. Shall I call him Gaston? No idea if it was his name but it's easier than saying 'the lock keeper' over and over again.
Once we were safely in the lock chamber with the gates closed and the water coming in, Gaston would drive to the next lock, open the chamber to empty it then drive back and open our lock gates when the water levels on both sides were even. We would see his white VNF van tearing up the towpath or adjacent road, and he'd get back, nonchalant, to let us out of the now full lock.
The second lock, 17 Rogny, was a bit scary. Gaston let down a rope with a hook and took my mooring line up to a bollard. He expressed concern that it might be a bit short so I lengthened it (there was a long end tied around the cleat). The process of filling the lock began.
As always I was holding tightly to the rope, controlling the boat so it didn't move too much as the water came flooding in. Suddenly the line went slack. I looked down. The 'oxo' round the cleat (called an oxo because you wrap the line all around the cleat in a circle, then make a figure of 8 for the X, then around once more, a very quick and usually secure way to hold your rope in place) had somehow come undone. I yelled to Igor to take my end of the rope, thankfully he was right next to me, and I redid the oxo. This took maybe a minute. I don't think anyone saw. No harm done.
As we rose up the lock we felt a crosswind. It wasn't coming consistently from a particular side of the boat, rather, from behind, erratically, lulls then a gust that might be towards either side of the boat. It made it tricky to clear the narrow exit.
As we passed through the remaining locks, 16 Chantepinot, 15 Saint Joseph, 14 Racault and 13 Javacière, the wind grew stronger. This may well have been because we were ascending a steep hill. The final lock is at an altitude of 165 metres. If we hadn't been so excited to be through the locks it might have been chilly. Gaston gave us instructions for the next part of the canal. It involved red buttons and blue buttons, we all nodded as if we understood each other then he went on his way, telling us that there were a couple of hotel peniches using the canal today so he was very busy. From here onwards we would be descending, a new challenge for us but a colleague of his would help.
The distance between Javacière and the next lock, 12 Gazonne was nearly 5 km, so we had time to have a cup of tea. The heron we saw yesterday had rejoined us, making sure that we knew where to go. He'd fly ahead of us, land, wait by the water's edge until we passed then fly onwards. At one point we saw him swallow a fish, which made me wonder whether he was just trying to catch his dinner and we kept disturbing his prey.
It was strange to enter a lock full of water. Gazonne was open and ready for us but no lock keeper. I hooked a bollard next to a grey console with two buttons on top, blue and red. You hit the blue button and the gates close and the emptying cycle begins. It seemed a bit easier than rising as you can see what you're doing at the beginning. Once we reached the bottom it was just a matter of pulling the rope in and flipping it so the sopping wet thing didn't hit you as it fell.
Lock 11 Petit Chaloy was a kilometre on from here and when we arrived the lock keeper, a young lad with a chubby round face who spoke so quickly I could barely catch a word, told us that we'd have to stop as it was lunch time. Admittedly it was 11.58 so fair enough. There was a waiting pontoon which we tied up to with his help. We had some bread and cheese, there haven't been any shops to get anything more exciting but sometimes simple food is best. It was still raining so it was good to stop for a while. We set off again at 13.05, through lock 10 Notre Dame.
One of the differences between going up and going down in the lock is the amount of attention I could pay to the wall. When you start at the bottom you see a lot of slime and it's all a bit dark and damp. When you descend the slower part of the process is at the top, where conditions are more amenable to growing things. The variety of organisms on the canal walls was fascinating to me (given my background in biology). Some walls were very much biased to aquatic life, with freshwater mussels and sponges.
Others had terrestrial plants growing - grasses, tree saplings, even mint (at lock 9 Fées). My guess is that these locks are angled to receive more sunlight (the opposite walls tended to be bare). If only I'd paid more attention to my degree I might be able to enlighten you.
We passed Fées and the young lock keeper told us we'd have to wait after we passed this lock as a hotel peniche was coming through. When I say he 'told us' what I mean is that he said something very quickly and I didn't catch a word, so he called his supervisor. He was still speaking to the supervisor when we exited the lock, so he drove to the waiting pontoon before the next lock and gestured that we should tie up. The canal walls were sloping so Igor and I spent the next 15 minutes making sure that the boat didn't hit the bottom.
The young guy gave me his phone number in case we had any problems going forward as he'd be occupied with the peniche from here on. I dread to think how we'd have communicated if there had been an emergency, it was difficult enough face to face.
As the lock, 8 Moulin Neuf, started to fill up we could see the floating hotel rising up. It took up all the available space. No wonder the lock keepers wanted us safely to one side. I wondered what the passengers were thinking. Sitting inside they'd just see dark walls and the levels rising with no idea of what was involved. Smaller boats are definitely more fun.
The boat swept past us once the lock gates opened, a terrific wake behind and turbulent water in front. We waited for the ripples to subside before moving off and into the lock.
The next one, 7 Ouzouer-sur-Trézée was about a kilometre away. The saddest thing of the day happened there, seeing a poor drowned ginger cat in the water just as we passed through the lock.
There was a very pretty wall with lots of mooring bollards not much further on. If we hadn't wanted to continue it looked like a very pleasant spot to tie up, with electricity available.
Locks 6 Courenvaux and lock 5 Venon were close to lock 7, all three within 1.2 km of each other. At Courenvaux the sun actually came out for 10 minutes. This was a very pleasant change as at one of the previous post-lunch locks we'd had a cloudburst as I waited for the lock to empty. All the lock keepers' cottages along the way show the name and number of the lock. Courenvaux had an added detail.
Igor had been sheltering under the bimini, sorry, I mean he was monitoring the engine as good seamanship requires, while I stood on deck holding the line. I pressed the button and the gates closed behind us. The rain increased from drizzle to definitely raining. Then the wind started and the rain got heavier. I couldn't go anywhere as you have to keep a close eye on where the boat moves when the lock is working. The rain got even stronger, it was almost horizontal. I turned sideways to it to present the least area to the downpour (or should I say sidepour). I was hoping that as we descended, the lock walls would shield me but that was a bit overoptimistic. By the time we exited the lock the shower was over. I was soaked but luckily my jacket stopped the water from getting any further. Igor thought this was the funniest thing he'd seen all day. I wonder why I didn't note exactly which lock this was in the logbook? Amazingly I didn't get wet under all my protective layers. Good to know.
With lock 5 passed we realised that we were now leaving the Canal de Briare. Locks 4,3 and 2 lead to a dead end branch of the canal where there is a marina but we'd been warned that there often isn't much water there. Lock 1, the junction with the Loire, is also hard to navigate. Before long we were at the parting of the ways, saying goodbye to the Canal du Briare as we took the left hand branch of the waterway towards the Canal Latéral à la Loire.
Shortly after this turn we saw the Briare Basin moorings alongside the canal but didn't stop. We wanted to enter the Lateral Canal because......
Well, I promised you we saw something ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR, and five km on from Briare there it was, the incredible, graceful, beautiful Briare Aqueduct.
It's hard to describe how beautiful this is. The aqueduct is slim and narrow and absolutely straight for 660 metres. Art deco streetlamps are arranged at regular intervals and there are footpaths on either side of the water. Statues on both banks guard the entrance and exit.
A bridge 660m long is a thing of beauty in itself when it's as lovely as this, but the really disconcerting thing is that the bridge passes over the Loire, a big, wide, lazy looking expanse of water far below us. A flock of sheep was baaing on the riverbank. Trees and forest and water were all you could see. The juxtaposition was utterly bizarre.
The bridge itself was built with the help of Gustave Eiffel, who designed the concrete pillars (which of course we couldn't see as they were underneath us). That man got everywhere!
As we entered the aqueduct I took some photos, then Igor asked me to take the helm so he could have his turn at the photography. This was very daunting. The waterway is narrow, and tourists were walking up and down, treating us as part of the whole aqueduct experience. I didn't want to be the one to hit the side so I concentrated so hard that most of the experience passed in a blur. As we neared the end it narrowed even further. Nope. If anyone's gonna hit the side I don't want it to be me. I called Igor and told him to do the last 50 metres or so.
Our minds have been blown two days in a row. Schools don't teach much about engineering in general, probably the only famous British engineer anyone can name is Isambard Kingdom Brunel. We are so short changing ourselves and our children. These incredible structures, the ancient Sept Ecluses and the Aqueduct, show how imagination can be translated into structure. At least the French had the good sense to name that big tower in Paris after the engineer Eiffel. Credit where it is due.
It was a long day, a lot had happened, and we pulled into the marina in Châtillon-sur-Loire just before 5pm. By the way, the restaurants here were all closed as well but we managed to get more than decent kebabs from a place ten minutes walk away. What a great couple of days it's been!