Trip 13kms. Departure 9.30. Locks 3 of 107
We decided on an early start as we had spotted a poster advertising a town brocante today at a small village called Lion devant dun. I popped my head onto the grid at 08.30 to find the first 2 rows already full. This was getting silly. The lock is 200 m away and opens at 9 and only takes 2 boats. Farcicle.
We had a lovely breakfast of poached eggs cheese and ham and left after the nonsense. It was a little drab early in the route as we passed through a large flat area on a long straight canal but improved drastically as we neared Dun sur Meuse and returned to the navigable Meuse. We noted a magnificent looking church dominating the hillside.
The cattle knew it was about to get a lot hotter as they drifted toward the riverside.
We passed the remains of what were clearly impressive bridges in their day but had been destroyed sadly, war Victims I guess.
The halte was bankside, shared as often the case, with a campervan aire. We were greeted by barbara ( the German pronunciation is beyond me). She helped with mooring and pulled us close to there linsen yacht " as others will need ze room later" was her most refreshing of concerns. By the time I had finished demolishing the Dutch with Barbara, Collette had sorted Doucette and made tea, parfait!
After a light lunch of tomato and egg salad, pâté en croute( pork pie) some smoked sausage, bread and cheeses, we mounted the iron horses and set off in now baking sun. It was a delightfully short 5 Kms to the remote farming village of lion devant dun. We arrived to find the whole village turned out with every house on every street offering car boot wares. All pretty crap to be honest but still interesting to stroll round.
The very good news was that outside the town hall was a locals run bar offering a choice of four drinks. Beer cherry beer red wine or champagne. The crew had a couple of coups of bubbly while I savoured some cold stuff. Champers was only 3€ per glass so not too shabby. It was pretty cool sat in the square wondering what the hell we were doing there but the locals were all very welcoming and we were clearly of interest to them.
We bought a dozen fresh eggs to feel part f proceedings before heading off to investigate the 11th century church spotted earlier en route.
It was a short 5 km hop to mont devant sassy. The Eglise was majestic from a long way off perched high against the dark green forest behind. We first stopped at the tiny village Marie. Fascinatingly we discovered a well and water pool on the ground floor. The water was crystal clear and bloody cold.
Up to the church we met 3 miserable old women with harsh faces and an affliction to smiling. On such a day in such a place it was sacrilege to be so unfriendly. I offered a bonjour only to receive one of those looks you get on a bus when you have had the audacity to have a seat.
The Eglise oddly enough called de Norte dame same as every other Eglise in France had a wooden door and vestibule to blow you away. Inside did not quite live up as many repairs had been rather shoddily carried out but there was a chapel down centuries old steps below the main alter which more than made up for this.
We sat outside admiring the magnificent views in all directions and gave a bloody good riddance wave to the exiting trio of sulking madams.
Back at Doucette it was time for a beer and a sun deck session. Just drifted off to sleep when I am startled by a bang on the boat and a cheery " bonjour Doucette". The rounded capitainairress lifted 7€ off me with such cheer that any frustration over being disturbed from my bliss subsided instantly.
We chilled through the evening soaking in a glorious sunset
and dined on steaks with new potatoes and haricot vert fast become a favourite staple veg for us. I had been unlucky fishing again and nor did it appear did luck shine on the fanatics who returned in their punt
at 9pm having gone out in the boat early this morning apparently.
Even as they rowed back fanatic with the hat and waders was spinning with scary intent until there punt hit the shore. He got out and once his mate had removed his bulky frame from the dinghy, hat and waders was off down the river casting into the river edges trying here and their to lure one last fish. His mate started to unpack the dinghy but still hat and waders persisted. The intensity was carried across the river as he now tried his luck at a drain outlet. It was clear he was on the hunt as his approach to the drain was stealth like, meanwhile His mate soldiered on gainfully packing gear away but eventually called to his chum when it was time to put the dinghy on its trailer. By 10.30 some hour and a half after returning they were finally packed. But no, hat and waders leapt from the van brandishing a poachers rod. In it went, not once, twice but a dozen times. Still no bloody fish, we were longing for the equivalent of a centurion tench on his last legs to take the bait and put this raging fanatic out of his misery but then we considered this may make his condition worse.
We never did know what time they finally left because we retired below leaving hat and waders to their last vain fanatical casts. Fisherman are seriously missing something upstairs!
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