Sunday 27 th May Bourg et Comin to Variscourt

Trip 27 Kms. Departure 11am. Locks 2 of 42

We said our farewells to Kiwi Pete and johnny marsden and made a hurried exit to get in front of an approaching labouring peniche. I broke the speed limit of 8 Kms per hour by a tad to make distance between us and settled into a fairly routine cruise. Not many locks so was pleased not to have to keep lifting the engine bay to start port.

Reached Berry au Bac and saw the familiar stern of Colin and hillary's broom. They were sunning themselves on the stern deck and asked us if we were joining them. They had enjoyed a nice trip here but had lost there Davits in a lock when the gates closed and Colin was a little too close. Nasty!! Lovely steel ones and bent to buggery now. Funny how things turn out, Colin was a very nice chap but had clearly been the basis for enfields "you don't wanna do it like that" character. Whilst coming alongside at a tunnel entrance, with doucette caught in a back current, I missed a bollard. Once moored, Colin was straight off his broom and approaching me. "got a bit of rope". Yea sure Colin, what's up? I just want to show you how to lasso you need to make little circles....

You get my drift, but it was such a tempter. " Colin, you don't wanna leave those lovely shiny Davits in the lock gates etc etc"

Sorry Colin! Cheap shot!

 

Bollocks, no I am not, you deserved it!

They were heading off to Reims tomorrow which meant a right turn here whilst we were continuing on so I said we were happy to crack on as it was so nice and cruising actually gave one a little breeze to cool oneself.

We drifted on until 4 ish when we stumbled upon a delightful halte at Variscourt.

2 very nice Dutch gentlemans motor yachts were already nestled and the 2 couples were sat at one of the picnic tables enjoying a very late and extended lunch. They watched us intently as we came alongside. The drop down to the bank was big and collette was vary wary of hip and coxsic issues, it was clear she was struggling to drop down with our lines. No move from the table. Just so disappointing.

An hour later the clearly enebriated Dutch men lifted temperature gauges from the river hung from their craft and nodded in agreement. Next Dutchy 1 dons a full fluorescent orange flotation suit and plunges into the canal and starts to scrub, with a tiny bog brush, his already immaculate blue hull. Dutchy no 2 attempts to make a raft utilising 3 of his fenders roped together. He reversed down the boarding ladder and mounted the clearly flimsy contraption holding aloft with some pride a similarly pathetic hand held toilet brush. On landing, his bulk slipped straight through, the fenders parted and drifted off and at this stage I realized he could not swim. Collette came too mind, so I lifted my glass and smiled as he flailed away desperately groping for a drifting fender. Life can be so sweet sometimes. Twice in one day! Yes I know my turn is surely coming!

The wives then entered the fray and swum past gloating how it was 23 degrees in the water so ok to swim.

Where was that bloody viper when I needed it?

We settled down to a lovely evening at this most picturesque of halts. There was a very new born baby horse (foul, fowl ? Who knows) with the mare never more than a Fag paper distant and showing incredible, only mothers, patience as the baby horse played and experimented with break dancing in his new set of gangly pins. We enjoyed the cabaret as we sipped some bubbly as the sunset and Collette revealed that "this is one of your better pasta dishes darling". I staggered to my slumbers quite bemused and refused to entertain her with a hand of cribbage.

Weather. 23 degrees in the water, need I say more!