Sunday 16th September Saint Florentin to Briancon

Trip. Departure 1pm Locks

We had one of those fantastic Sunday mornings laying in bed taking it in turns to go and make tea. eventually we got up at 11.45 and at 12.15 I was hurtling to try and catch the boulangerie. They were clearing the shelves but I got a still warm pain and baguette.

Chicken mayo and gherkin baguettes for brunch and after a stroll taking shots of the marina, we were ready to slip lines at 1pm.

Saint Florintin looks lovely from the lock.

The short trip was yet again gorgeous. We passed through a beautifully tended lock where all hell was breaking loose. Four chaps were running around organising the readying whilst an old couple sipped wine under a sun umbrella. It looked like the French family werer having an afternoon together and we had interrupted the party. I noticed one chap busy taking snaps as we got onto the glide path for final approach. We settle in and I congratulate the old lady on her beautiful flowers. She laughs and points towards the dodgy chap with the camera. All his work. I congratulate him and he practically breaks down in an it's all too much larry Grayson moment. He rushes round toward me launching his camera at mum as he crashes past her. He wants a picture. I am perturbed but hold out a strong manly hand. He grasps it in the wrong hand! This is not a handshake grasp. I smile nervously at the camera wondering what website I will end up on.

I reciprocate and ask him to pose in front of his prize roses. He is chuffed to nuts!

We escape the lock with much ado and I notice the slight change in the tree colours. Autumn is definitely fast approaching, I take a picture of this long straight section looking forward and aft.

We chance upon a fisherman with one of those 15m rods fishing 1m from the far bank. Usual nonsense as he tries to ignore the fact we are on the canal. I am just sick of them now and have run out of patience so I nudge the throttles forward a tad and Doucette burps a throaty "let's have some". It has the desired effect as the fisherman immediately hauls in the rod. I pass and look toward him. As expected he immediately looks away. They really do need help!

Briancon is a halte with improvement works in full flow. We tie up and the smiling rotund capitinnaire, clearly friar tuck in a previous life, comes to rob the rich. 10 euros fully inclusive of electricity and water, a bargain.

I go into pay and am confronted by four ageing hells angels from the dodgy prostate chapter. They all wanted to avail of the wc but were super friendly and I got away without being gang raped. They were all rather impressed with the fact I had crossed the channel in " what in that!"

I departed thinking " yea well hard I am"

The crew unleashed another washing machine frenzy whilst I settled for a cold one on the poop before retiring to the sun deck for a snooze on the sunbeds. I fear we are running out of days like these with the temp now up at 75 and a gorgeous sunny evening in store and manage to persuade the crew to join me. A lovely hour.

I cobbed the pork and readied some buttery mash. Fried some lardons and garlic and added some par boiled haricot and leeks. Boiled some finely shredded cabbage and with a touch of white wine and butter fried them all off together for a couple of minutes. The crew was delighted. Eppoisse and Roquefort with biscuits and the skipper was a happy chappy.

I was then subjected to a further 30minutes of teeth grinding torture as the crew remembered x factor was on again. I really do need to get her medical help!

A dose of piers and roger Moore and I went to bed almost ready to slip quietly overboard and look for Bob Maxwell but salvation was at hand as the electricity suddenly went. Result!

With much glee we retired to the aft cabin. It was 20 past midnight.

 

 

 

 

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