Friday 29th June Pagny sur Meuse to Toul

Trip 14kms departure 11.30 Locks 12 of 147.

What a night it had been. We went to bed with a free lightning show thrown in. It seemed moments later that we were woken by a crash on the cabin roof. Leapt out of bed thinking youths were away with my outboard but what was that roaring sound and who was flashing there headlights at the boat.


The roaring was the wind, the lights were sheets of lightning and the crashing was thunder. It was 4 am and this was some storm. The canal had waves and was littered with debris. Something white and solid was drifting down river. The fair line in front was swinging out at 45 degrees straining at its single stern rope.

We established the table as the bang on the cabin roof culprit. It had blown over. The maelstrom continued. We heard sirens and saw headlights and feared for some poor souls. The thunder and sheer amount of lightning was awesome in its power and provoked a respectful fear of its unstoppable natural force. We watched for 30 minutes with no abatement yet we were waiting for a tree to come down, a roof to blow surely something had to give way to appease this god of wrath and ease the peril.

We eventually felt so tired we fell back into the pit. We woke at 8 to a blue sky and blazing sunshine and not a breath of wind. I surveyed for any damage. All seemed well but the canal was strewn with broken foliage and the white thing revealed itself stuck in the undergrowth as a flower box torn from the town bridge. The storm had got the fish in a feeding frenzy. I saw the biggest fish of the trip close to the surface clearly hunting. I grabbed my poachers rod and fed some cereal bread onto the tiny hook and cast. A school of minnows showed interest but suddenly from the depths he came, he took the bait as a petit morceau. The Line strained, surely it would break. I played out some more as he thrashed under the boat in comprehensive of why he was stuck on this breakfast morsel. I slowly brought him to the surface. This is when my problems began.

The crew was still asleep. I needed a picture. Darling I sort of whispered but shouted, I've got a big un.

I heard the groan!

No it's a big fish, quick get the camera. This monster of the deep was about to get off the hook, I was getting impatient, come on honey, it will get away. The crew came with th camera in there own time and finally I had my picture. I netted th beauty but not being a lover of fresh water fish, I released it back, hoping it ha learnt a valuable lesson today. Don't mess with the fishing meister!

We prepped the boat, Collette showered and I went for bread eggs and some lovely ripe peaches. The post announced with a tiny sign that it opened at 1pm til 4. I want a job in France.

We set off and spent the whole trip dodging drifting debris from last nights carnage.

We even tried to pick up one of the several flower boxes which we spotted further upriver. They were far too heavy to lift from the murky water. Huge snapped branches were hauled out of the way by the crew and progress was slow. We had a painful 10 locks in 9 Kms to get through. They were spaced every 500 metres in places. We left one lock to see just a couple of minutes ahead a Dutch boat which had shared our mooring last night about to enter the next one. They had been delayed by boats coming the opposite way as they had left much earlier than us. I was gob smacked when the lock gates started to flash and close with us just 250m away. I should explain that these locks are controlled by us so they had clearly seen us but closed the gate meaning we had a 20 minute wait for them to go through and the lock empty again for us. I was steaming. Absolute gits!

We got to Toul and saw people helping these same tossers with their ropes. The pontoon fingers were very short and pretty tricky. I reversed into one on the same pontoon. I watched incredulous as the couple stood in their heel whouse staring and watching us struggle in yet not moving a muscle to help. Quite unbelievable!

The good news was as we messed with lines I heard a shout Andy, how are you! It was rheinhart. We had watched England Sweden together 2weeks earlier and we had moored alongside him. He was going home tomorrow for July and August and leaving his boat here. Too hot for him. His colour would make you wonder how this was possible. A proper nice bloke!

I went off and got 4 cans of fuel to top up the tanks before tone and rose arrive while Collette gave Doucette a once over. Nice job. It was sweltering and we sat and had a late 3 pm lunch of bread crackers, boiled eggs tomatoes, wild boar pate crab pate cheeses and even the left over pork which was still succulent. My sort of lunch. Got through 3 cans of 1664 in the heat.

As we finished lunch, like bulls in a china shop, in came vim and Ajax. Sweet revenge as they nestled either side of the tossers who I knew would just hate this pair of dutch bruisers. I liked vim but was not so sure about ajax(real name burt). It was lovely to see a neighbouring old women come and tell tosser he had not moored properly and had to move his lines. We helped vim and Ajax in but Ajax was not happy. He found a spot alongside the quay which was better. This after we had got him nestled right in. The other mooring entailed him moving two boats and getting through a gap one meter narrower than his boat. At this I left him to it and as he passed us he shouted a mocking" are you angry "I decided right then That Ajax was a little too Dutch.

He barged his way into the new mooring just 10 meters away causing panic on the 2 boats in his sights. I was reminded of the battered white van driver parking between two Mercedes with that "well they shouldnt have Mercedes should they" and "if I hit it ain't gonna do to much to mine is it" attitude. My impression was confirmed.

I showered in the plaisanciers block. Classic French weirdness. Firstly it is a mixed block. 1 toilet. 3 showers. 1 washing machine and 2 sinks. Two of the showers had 1 € to enter but the third was free. What is all that about. I went for the free one. Very nice but no hooks for clothes. Bloody French always half do a job.

We had drinks on the poop before a stroll in to this rampart enclosed fortified town. It had suffered badly in the second world war and it was easy to spot where the bombs had fallen. French architecture also had a dodgy time of it when cement and concrete became fashionable, still the very gothic st ettienne Eglise had survived alongside the chateauesque Marie.

The castellated fort was in a poor state and much renovation work was underway. One thing the French do very well is flower decoration around their towns and Toul's are exceptional. No expense is spared on every roundabout and in every square and with showy water fountains and a bit of modern art, quite an attraction in there own right. I have grand ideas for brockhurst roundabout !

We sat on the poop and watched the sunset scoffing a ridiculously late dinner of cassoulet appreciative of some breeze to cool the hot humid evening. Started a bottle of merlot and sat in the unlit wheelhouse listening to music and slowly got drunk. We retired at midnight with dark threatening clouds once more filling the sky.

I checked the lines!