The Mighty Rhône: Part 2 Valence to Aramon

When we arrived at Valence l’Épervière marina we planned to take a quick trip back to the UK for maybe a couple of weeks. The marina office advised us that it would be cheaper to pay for a month. Just as well we did, as we didn't arrive back until 13th July, just under five weeks. Time flies when you're enjoying yourself.

Arriving back at Valence l’Épervière after this break made me see it with fresh eyes.  The canals, the Saône, the upper reaches of the Rhône are all so stunningly beautiful that after a time you come to take it for granted.  Our son Viktor had joined us, keen to see the south of France and willing to share the driving. He brought a fresh perspective too.

He very kindly agreed to drive the car back home once we reached Port Napoleon. In case you're wondering why we didn't just fly, which would have been a whole lot quicker and cheaper, we had to bring the sails, the tender and lots of other bits and pieces back to the boat. You can't pack that stuff in hand luggage.

Sitting on deck in the marina, gazing at the scenery, I could truly appreciate what a special place it was. As it was the weekend of Bastille Day there was a fabulous firework display once night fell, accompanied by the chirping of crickets and the frogs making their weird croaking. So good to be back.

Our initial plan was to spend the 14th cleaning the boat, provisioning and generally getting back to the boat life, then setting off on 15th.

We had booked to step the mast at Port Napoleon on 19th so a tight schedule but doable. What is it they say - 'Man plans and God laughs'?

The forecast for Saturday 15th was 35kts of wind on our nose. As night fell on the 14th the wind picked up from the south and, coupled with the southerly flow of the river created nasty little choppy waves with breaking foamy tops. Us boatie sorts call this 'wind over current with white horses'. It wouldn't have been dangerous but progress would have been slow and uncomfortable.

We sat on deck in the evening enjoying an even more spectacular firework display than yesterday and decided to delay our departure until Sunday.

Saturday wouldn't be wasted though, we would take the opportunity to bring the car to a point nearer to Port Napoleon, do some sightseeing and then return to Valence.

We drove to Avignon.  Igor wanted to have a look at the Halte Nautique (or river stopover place), while Vik and I went for a quick wander around the old town.

It's a fascinating place and was in the middle of some sort of festival, flyers everywhere and lots going on. I immediately regretted only paying for an hour's parking, as we would have loved to have stayed longer and explored properly.

There was just about enough time for an ice cream, a high spot of the day, lime and basil flavour, sort of like a cold and refreshing pesto (way better than it sounds, especially if you haven't got much of a sweet tooth). We met up with Igor, got him an ice cream too and drove to Arles, which looked like a good place to leave the car.

The city is well connected with a direct train back to Valence Ville and it would be about an hour's drive to Port Napoleon. This would be convenient to collect the car as we passed the town on the boat. The only thing I hadn't considered was parking. All the parking in the area by the railway station is paid-for and everywhere has a 10 hour limit. Vik turned to Google and told us we should cross the bridge as it was all free on the other side of the river. Good plan, except that Google maps sent us on a tortuous and impassable route to the bridge so we had to more or less work it out for ourselves.

We eventually parked by the Arles Halte Nautique, then had a hot and sweaty half hour walk back to the station and an hours wait for the train.

Once we reached Valence we had a bite to eat then tried to get the last bus back to the marina just after 8pm. We waited about half an hour, no sign of a bus and no information available so gave up and walked back, about 3 or 4 km. The last part of the route was along the river. The wind was still blowing and it was choppy.

Delaying our departure was definitely a good move, we would have used a ton of diesel fighting the elements if we'd set off today.

Sunday 16th July 2023

It was a beautiful morning and we left Valence just after 6.30 am. The river was calm and the wind was behind us, perfect conditions.  It was still cool, a very comfortable 19C, though this rose to over 30C as the day wore on.

Around 8.45 we reached our first lock, Beauchastel. The lock keeper told us that we would have to wait for another boat, so Vik and I took the opportunity to stretch our legs and have a look around. There wasn't much there apart from the lock, which was closed to the public so we couldn't recce it.

As we walked back to the boat we spotted a barge in the distance, Occitanie, so we followed her in at around 9.20.

We'd told Vik a lot about the 'singing' locks and I was excited for him to hear one but Beauchastel was quiet, just a few squeaks. It took us about 20 minutes to pass through.

The river took us to the Baix-Le-Logis-Neuf diversion canal. The surrounding countryside was beautiful with wooded hills heading to the distance. We hopped between radio stations but eventually asked Vik to provide the music as we had enjoyed his playlists on the drive here. Mellow jazzy instrumental music was the perfect soundtrack to a Sunday on this incredible river in the sunshine. (Music was Go Go Penguin, Mammal Hands etc if you're interested).

We reached Logis Neuf lock at around 11.35 and were told to wait 30 minutes. A massive barge arrived, Poseidon. Its length was 110 metres and the beam 11.4 metres, wider than we are long.  There was barely any spare room between the barge and the lock wall.  

I thought how skilled the barge pilots must be to negotiate these tight spaces. We tied up behind Poseidon at midday, and smoothly descended the 13 metre drop.

We now had to wait for Poseidon to leave the chamber before we left. Her engines revved and revved, sending waves along the water surface towards us. It looked as if she was jammed against the lock walls.  We could just about see the open lock gate ahead and Igor spotted something moving there. Maybe Poseidon was waiting for someone to move out of the way? Of course, we weren't told anything. There was no point asking the lock keeper as my French probably wouldn't be up to understanding his reply.

We waited and waited. This might not have been a 'singing' lock but the bass notes from Poseidon's engines vibrated our chests as effectively as standing next to the speakers at a heavy metal concert.  

Finally, after 40-45 minutes, she cleared the gates and we were able to exit. Another cargo barge was moored on the waiting pontoon, this was what Igor had seen moving outside.

Something very noticeable for a Brit moving along the river is the number of nuclear power stations. We've got a few in the UK but they all seem to be surrounded in controversy. The French have embraced nuclear power, I've lost track of how many nuclear power stations we've seen along the way.  Here is just one.

At 2pm we entered the Montelimar diversion canal. As a child, whenever we had a box of chocolates one of them was called 'Montelimar'. It was one of those exotic words you hear as a child, like 'Hilversum' on the radio dial, that doesn't mean anything but points to a more exotic world out there, beckoning you to the mysteries of adult life. I have to confess that I didn't realise Montelimar was a place until this weekend.  The canal was pretty, with a group of maybe a hundred swans by the river bank in one place. I've never seen so many.

The next lock was Chateauneuf. I called them at 15.05 and was told to wait 10 minutes.  In due course a barge, Baccara, appeared. Igor and I simultaneously started singing 'Yes sir, I can boogie'. The crew must have heard us as they cheered and laughed.  

She was a big boat too, 105 metres by 9 metres wide, but this time we were in and out of the lock in 20 minutes despite ti being 18 metres deep. No faffing around from Baccara's crew!

After Chateauneuf lock it was only another 20 minutes to our stop for the day, Viviers.  There is a small marina. We found a berth between a couple of other boats of a similar size to us and a man on the bank tried to tell us we couldn't moor there. We didn't want to move and he didn't look official so we stayed put.

We took a walk into town. It's very old and the walk to the cathedral was steep and hot up the cobbled streets. The view rewarded us, we could see all the way up river, spotting landmarks we had passed, for miles and miles, with mountain ranges in the distance. A sharp peak was visible behind a line of hills, I wondered if it was Mont Blanc. It was sort of in the right direction but a very, very long way away.

The streets were narrow and cobbled, and some of the buildings had information plaques. At least one of the houses was over 900 years old and still being lived in. It makes the 300 year old cottage opposite my house look like a new build.

Actually, the 900 year old house looked considerably more well preserved than a lot of more modern places.

As it was a Sunday nearly everywhere was shut, but we managed to get an ice cream in the town, sitting in a small cafe in a square to eat it. A beautiful and fascinating town.

Monday 17th July 2023

We set off from Viviers at around 7.30 am. Despite our berth being quite cramped, almost touching the boat next to us, we exited smoothly. This is one of the joys of being on a non tidal and largely tamed river.  

By now the landscape was changing, the hills and mountains flattening as we headed towards the river's delta. The banks have been raised, probably for flood defences to protect the surrounding farmland, so there isn't much to see.

By 9.30am we were at the Bollène lock, at 22 metres depth formerly the deepest in Europe. We were told to wait as a barge was exiting. Fair enough. We headed to the waiting pontoon but a boat was already moored there with no room for us.  The name was Hippo Blau, and I recognised her from our stop at Viviers. It looked to be in the sole charge of a lone sailor, an older man. We hovered around outside the lock.  Igor had seen Hippo Blau leaving a while before we did. We realised that the locks ahead would be unlikely to open just for him unless he waited for a while to see if any other vessel could join him.  If he was arriving at locks ahead of us we would have less time to wait so no point at all in hurrying and using extra diesel.

The barge soon exited and we were tied to a floating bollard at the front of the lock chamber ten minutes after we arrived. Hippo Blau followed us in. He seemed to have some difficulties securing himself but in fairness it must be hard work doing everything by yourself.

The gates started closing behind us and a loud voice boomed out over the PA, in French, then English, then German, that everyone using the lock must wear a lifejacket. Igor, Vik and I were wearing ours, I wonder who the announcement was aimed at?

For such a massive lock everything happened very quickly and smoothly. Us two small boats were lost in the enormous space and once the water started to leave it we descended as smoothly as in a hotel lift, the executive one. We noticed as we left that the massive downstream lock gate was curved, not flat, presumably a stronger shape for the volume of water it needed to contain.

As soon as the gate was open Hippo Blau overtook us. This was a man in a hurry!

We however just pootled along until we came to Caderousse Lock, about 25 km downstream. We got there just before 12.30 and were told to wait for a barge that was heading our way, and that we must go to the pontoon. Again there was no room as Hippo Blau was already there.  We hung around outside until the barge, Jumbo, came into view. We had seen her earlier by a wharf, being loaded with white powdery stuff, maybe limestone, and had to avoid it so that we didn't breathe in too much of the dust.

She was heavily laden, huge piles on the deck, and once she was secured we went in along with Hippo Blau.  Again, the announcement 'wear your lifejackets'. We know this, mate.

Caderousse was much smaller than Bollène, only 9m deep, but emptied a lot more slowly. We didn't leave until 1.30.

It was getting hotter. We travelled down the river past Roquemore, a ruined castle on the left bank with scaffolding and a crane, as if it's being rebuilt.

At 3.30 we called Villeneuve lock, and entered it five minutes later, again with our 'friend' Hippo Blau. Yet again the PA boomed that we must wear lifejackets. Again, we already were.

Unusually, Igor turned the engine off as we waited for the lock to empty. It was very quiet, no singing, just peace. The drop was 10m and we were out in 20 minutes.

Our original plan was to moor at Avignon. This would involve going round an island and heading a way back up river. A road bridge signalled that we were nearing the turning. We followed the red and green markers but then thought a bit more about what we were doing. When we did our recce on Saturday Igor hadn't been very impressed with the Halte Fluviale. It would mean heading a couple of km upriver against a significant current. After all, we saw, or at least had a fleeting glimpse of, le Pont d'Avignon on Saturday so why double back on ourselves?

The French Waterways website suggested that we could carry on for just another 15km to Aramon which sounded much more appealing. A quick discussion and we decided that it would be better psychologically to carry on, and probably wouldn't take us that much longer as travelling upstream against the current to Avignon would be much slower than our downstream journey.

We passed under a beautiful TGV railway bridge, twin concrete tracks on supports gracefully crossing the river. The French really know how to do infrastructure, even a lot of the modern stuff is lovely.

We reached Aramon just before 6pm. The capitan and another man were ready to take our ropes and the capitan, a retired fighter pilot called Oliver Pallier, told us to come to his barge which was the capitanerie. There were no facilities at this relais fluvial, ‘Les Estères’, but M. Pallier was very friendly and helpful and the place was secure, with a locked gate to which he gave us the combination.

Once we had settled with him we set off on a walk to town along a hot, dusty road, half devoted to a cycle track and the other half a one way street for cars. A bicycle was in the car lane and when a motorist arrived she seemed quite cross that her space had been invaded. M. Pallier told us it was only 400m to the town but we decided to cut through some playing fields rather than the direct route along the road. By the time we arrived in town we were hot and sweaty but joy of joys, a small bar was open. We decided to treat ourselves to a cold beer.

The walls had old flyers from the 70s - for the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, David Bowie and AC/DC. There was English football memorabilia on the stairs. Camden Ale was prominently advertised. Maybe it was run by an Anglophile?

We limited ourselves to one drink each then set off to the supermarket. It was after 7 but still very hot and the aircon in the shop was a blessed relief. We bought some food then set off back along a different route, which Vik reckoned would be quicker. As we left the shop the heat hit us again.

Thankfully Vik's navigation skills were spot on and we were soon back at the boat after a long and busy day.

We may not have got to dance at the bridge of Avignon but we definitely had a great place to stay for the night.

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