Friday 7th June Fish Friday

After an itching I detest gnats interrupted night, we awoke to yet another stonker with 28 degrees splattered all over the meteo.  Marvelous!

Bumped into Arlette steel brushing her superb iron garden gates. Discovered her house had 9 bedrooms and was built in 1749 so plenty of history their. She advised me on boulangerie and so off to the artisanal Bannette I trotted.  Point of order needs investigation here.  

What is the difference between a Banette shop and a Boulangerie?  Well it would seem that a group of millers decided in 1981 to set up a franchise which guaranteed the use of a premium type of flour for consistent production. They named the franchise after an ancient french loaf the Banette.  So essentually it is a boulangerie. Out of interest I have also discovered that if a shop is a boulangerie, French law dictates that the dough is kneaded, proven,shaped and baked on the premises and can never have been frozen. Bread is taken very seriously in France and justifiably so in the authors humble opinion.

I digress, Clamercy being a decent sized town, we headed off on the wheels of steel in search of vittals. We found an AUCHEN after one of those terribly embarrassing ask for directions conversations. The young lady concerned seemed mystified when I kept asking for ouchen. After several attempts she exclaimed with a huge smile "ahhh ARSHAA"

Fish friday and the salmon fillet was on offer. Can you cut that monster in half please. No came the reply you have to buy it all to get that price.9.95euros per kg. The cut fillets were a staggering 25 euros per kg. Thats a hefty mark up for a bit of slicing. I took the whole lot, we could freeze it.

shopping always takes longer than expected and so it was after midday when we got back. We set off in the tradition of many an englishman in the scorching midday sun to explore the city on a two hour tourist route walk. The narrow hilly  streets were deserted for Lunchtime. Some beautiful timber framed  houses provided loads of character.

We of course gravitated to the church

As we explored it we are struck by how immaculately clean it is and the number of chairs laid out. The side door opens and the vicar enters with a fairly solemn "Bonjour" as I take in some of the best stainglass work I have seen for some time.

Collette drifts over with news "they are readying for an important funeral" I snap an impressive 12ft high crucifix statue commanding the whole church before we make our exit quietly.

 

Back at Doucette we have a sunbathe and a nice cup of refreshing yorkshire listening to the very sombre church bell striking a monotonous two note funeral march. I need cheering so thoughts of dinner invade. Tonights is cobbed chicken and salad but we still needed salad as the arshaa stuff was not up to standard.

We remounted the steel stallions and headed off for a farm I had spotted on the inward journey. Got there about 5.30 and were greeted by two very real guard dogs who only had eyes for Collette.

 

 The farmers wife soothed them and we came out of her shop armed with some very fresh lettuce and one day old eggs.

 

we set off under the watchful eye of the four legged sentry past the enormous farmhouse

 

and out onto Clamecy back roads and by chance, fell upon an Aldi store. Perfect as I was after some rose and muscadet exclusive to the store. 6 bottles of muscadet but sold out of rose was a partial result.

Back at Doucette, we find Randal has arrived and moored. Captain Tim is having pre dinner champers with his clients before they set off to dinner and then he comes over and joins us for drinks. As a result it is ten before we open the cob to reveal a magnificent cajun crusted poulet. Being a tad drunk we sit and devour the whole thing with our lovely fresh salad and drift past midnight listening to some gentle tunes and watch Tim`s returning guests fall back aboard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday 6th June D Day for the Gnats

It was a dramatic dawn with the sun breaking round `Harpers` rock clearing the river of its misty shroud.

By 9am the sun was basting the saussoir crags as we set off for Clamecy.

 

accompanied on our way by the usual suspects.

 

 The towpath was already busy with walkers and cyclists. We were impressed by the radcliffe styled elder who clearly under doctors orders was strengthening the heart walls and shedding a few unwanted stones. Indeed, all appeared well with the world until the folding chair incident. A dark stain on this skippers forrages around France and one that Doucette may have to live with for some time. With no locks for a while, the crew decided to join me on the poop. She picked up her chair and attempted to unfold it. This is a process which takes approximately 5 seconds. 3minutes later with a bruised toe to add to her woes, our sweet natured crew was beginning to make smoke. Amidst my mirth at this spectacle, I noted an elderley couple approaching on bikes. They had that look of Englishness. As the leading lady breasted Doucette and her arm started to raise waving a greeting, our totally exhasperated crew blissfully unaware of the passing cyclists exploded a far to loud single word. F***. The ladies wave was curtailed and a slightly shaky "good morning" drifted across the bank. Her trailing husband was obviously struggling to contain a smirk as I exchanged "lovely morning`s". The crew was on her knees mortified. I was still laughing at bedtime.
With the crew still slowly coming to terms with her awful fopar we approached chatel-censoir, a pretty hilltop town.

 

We passed the privately owned chateau de Faulin

At the village of Lucy sur yonne,  the crew displayed just how much the days dark event had affected her when I snapped a picture of four gorgous geese saying arn`t they beautiful, a reply of "oh are they real" left me lost for words.

 

 The fluvial showed bollards on the bank here but with grass growing 3ft high, no sign. I glanced upstream where the sight of Eric dressed in just his speedo`s launching himself into the grass and nettles made me think everyone has gone mad today. Our brave hero ignored the pain of the nettle rash adorning his bronzed calfs and heroically came and took my lines attaching them to the newly discovered bollards and thus we stopped for lunch.
Collette had her lovely tomatoe and mushroom without the mushroom macaroni dish knocked up in 20minutes. This recipe was a little gem of a find. I proceeded to spill the tomatoe sauce all over a wheelhouse cushion, made by the crew only last year. I am pleased to report that our still shaken crew dealt with the situation with little more than a shrug.
Things improved after lunch with Collette managing to lassoo her first bollard of the trip following further training from the skipper. The jubilation seemed to help her regain some composure after this mornings event.
We approached a lifting bridge. Eric was now in front on Duet and so moored on the quay and went to press the button which lifted the road bridge. Much excitement. A cyclist approached from the road and waited patiently as the bridge slowly lifted. Problem was the system stopped as soon as you lifted your finger from the button. I moved on through and watched as Eric followed. The cyclist just kept watching. Having assumed he was waiting and would press the button to lower the bridge for himself, we cracked on as it started to rain. Where had this come from. I glanced back to the bridge which amazingly was still up. I searched for our friend only to spot him heading back down the canal towpath having not been looking to cross at all and having not lowered the bridge. Telling Eric to move on, I returned to the bridge where the crew jumped carefully off and lowered the bridge. It had been quite an episode and we had many more self service bridges ahead.
The war with the gnats was now at its peak as I had ammo available and was fighting back after yesterdays attacks but a couple of the blighters still broke through the lines and managed more facial carnage on this now craggy looking skipper.
At 5pm we arrived at Clamecy joining the wider than expected River Yonne for the entry stretch behind Duet.

 

The final bridge entering the port bears a statue of a `flotteur` holding a `picot` in commemoration of the towns importance in the flottage of logs to paris from the morvan forests. From 1549 to 1927, huge log rafts up to 72m long floated down the Yonne and the Seine reaching Paris in 9 days. The picot was used for dragging logs.

 It had been our `longest day` 23km 14 locks and loads of fun and finally a travel day with no mechanical issues, marvelous! I was topping  the water when the shout came.  Andrew, No water, the light on the water pump has gone out. I was relieved that there were no passing cyclists! Half hour later an obscure in line fuse in of course an innaccessable position with no give on the wires had been replaced and it was definately time for fluids. We had tied up directly outside an imposing looking house with impressive steel gates into a well tended garden. From the gates came a smiling Arlette. She greeted us and asked how long we intended staying and the usual niceties. Ten minutes later she returned and presented me with two magnificent roses as a welcome gift. It was a beautiful gesture and a shame that it took collette ten minutes to remove the multitude of tiny thorns embedded in my already gnat bite scratched shambles of a hand which took the mighty hit when I dropped the roses on reciept and made an ill percieved grab to recover.
Wounds tended and more cream applied we enjoyed and a fabulous BBQ of steak and chicken with salad washed down with drink.
We retired quite exhausted.

Wednesday 5th June Smallest market in France?

Wednesday is marche day in Mailly La Ville. We strolled up the lane into the town square with keen anticipation but inevitably delayed by Duck and swan feeding by the much ooohing crew.

 

Looking back down the quay, I was just pleased to be here

This was surely the smallest market in France. It consisted of 3 stalls and one of these was a sad young man who displayed 3 half sized baguettes, 4 cakes and some maginificent gougeres. That was the first purchase sorted. The fruit stall was a lovely display of freshness and more purchases were made.

 The rather incongruess huge array of tatty cheap clothes at the final stall was overseen by a well fed lady worryingly choosing thick tights to wear on this 82 degree morning. Her face spoke a thousand un uttered words. Buy something Please just buy something. A 5euro t shirt was added to the days swagger. I left the now beaming and a touch sweaty lady feeling good with myself as we headed for the boucherie pondering on just how many sales she would make in this tiny sleepy little french village every wednesday. More evidence of the idiosyncracies of the French economy.
The boucherie was straight out of the movies. The sweet old lady who had almost certainly already ordered her plot and stone meticulously removed any trace of fat from my entrecote before the weighing and pricing. This I liked! I added a fillet mignon of porc and merguez and chipolatas to the order. She opened what looked like a larder door. Beyond was a huge dark vault. Like so much in France, there was more to this shop than met the eye on entry.
With the Boulangerie another victim of the rural recession, the bread depot was last night mini market shop. We had purchased at every shop and at every stall of the market. Nice one! This place had bundles of appeal.

With swagger stashed, we slipped lines mid morning and approached the first lock of the day under the watchful gaze of this marble beauty. A very nice entrance!

 

The beautifully presented locks became a feature of todays journey,

 

Through Mailly le Chateau where we had picnic`d with Mum eons ago. The canal provided a very different view of the domineering chateau which gave the town its name

 

After a run which gave the fabulous zorn valley in alsace a run for its money in the "most beautiful leg" charts, we cruised under the 50m high limestone cliffs of Rochers de Saussois. A world famous spot for rock climbing training. A  stunning `amorage` for the night.

 

Eric and Jill rafted alongside and set off on bikes in search of a pharmacist. This would surely be no problem in France where they clearly have a massive hypochondriac issue with decent size towns offering at least 3 pharmacy stores despite not having a boulangerie. The french "exception".
We donned hiking boots and set off in the footsteps of Hillary and Tensing. The rock shapes were fantastic and this heart shaped hole was just too tempting for one romantic old fool who scurried up to shout to the world his love for his crew.

 

 

Sadly, this bravado was not well rewarded. 6 gnat bites would be a bugger later.
Another formation bore a striking resemblance to a chum recently celebrating his 60th. Happy birthday Steve;

It was easy to see why this spot was a climbers favourite and there was ample evidence of ropes and old pitons. stretching up these overhanging crags.

We toiled up the slopes which degenerated from steps to loose gravel with increasing care and breathlessness. These two intrepids conquered though and were pretty pleased with themselves.

 

Our endeavours were richly rewarded. We did question health and safety issues with terrifying sheer drops to certain death seducing one of our adventurers uncomfortably close to too many edges. The skipper was far more circumspect of course.

 

The boats looked so tiny below us

 

The village of Merry sur Yonne was picture postcard.

 

After a lovely walk along the cliff tops we chose an alternative route for our descent. The top section stretched our sinews and our nerves. The effort proved worthwhile and during one very tense traverse the tension was melted following a close encounter of the butterfly kind.

The crew held up magnificently and finally we had cracked the exceptionally tricky top section

 
A rather less welcoming encounter was the increasingly irritating attack of gnats. They were in a feeding frenzy and seemed to be all over us to such an extent that we were quite relieved to finally get down off of the grassy lower slopes.
We strolled to the bridge and over into Merry Sur Yonne. Delightful, but a walk to the laverie through the park proved to be another gnat nightmare. Was it my suntan lotion, was it the black shirt, they were surely tartgeting me. I took 2 hits to the face which immediately ballooned and collette suggested we should retreat at pace. Back at Doucette, Eric and Jill had returned, they too having gone to war with the pesky little blighters. An adjacent noddy boat were spraying and fighting with the buggers as we spoke having made the schoolboy error of bbq`ing and the smoke attracting wave after wave of the darting blood eaters. We hunkered down in our foxholes, drank on hydrocortisone and started to scratch.
What a day of adventure yet again! The night however would prove to be uncomfortable.

Tuesday 4th June and they`re orff!

awoke early full of anticipation for the orff. At last after 13 days in Accolay, the navigation was open and we could set off once again on our nivernais adventure. Eric and Jill were joining us but Berlin Bertie and Monica had elected to leave Tao at Cravant for the duration of there return trip to Berlin and so it was time for sad partings.

Monica presented us with a gift. It was a fridge magnet of a now iconic east German traffic light sign which has now been adopted all over modern Germany. We had green for go whilst Eric and Jill had red for stop. Monica felt it was an apt gift for us. She was oh so right.
As we slipped away from the village in which we had become part of the landscape for the last two weeks, I admit to a tinge of fond sadness whilst exhilarated to be once again on our way.
The journey soon provided evidence as to the reasons for our enforced quarantine in the Accolay holding pen.

It also served notice of the delights we had to look forward to on this delightful waterway and for Eric a warning to be on his toes when helming the rather narrow locks for his Cat.

 

We were joined by a third boat at the second lock where we were greeted by a stern looking rounded female eclusier. The bollards on the lock are set back some 3 yards from the edge and as we were climbing and hence low down, it was pretty impossible for the crew to lasso the bollard. With 3 boats squeezing in, it made even less sense that the eclusier was making no attempt to help as was and is the custom by taking ropes from the crew and making fast to the bollards. I told Collette to take a line to the bars fixed into the wall which we often do and collette was soon attached.
With this the burly unsmiling hag approached telling Collette that she could not use the bars. Now I have locked over a thousand locks and this was a first. is there a problem? I politely enquired only to be scorned at by sour face and told that she was the eclusier and we must use the bollards. Meanwhile, the two boats behind are both struggling to try and Lasso and because of the tight squeeze, I am the only one near a ladder. The hag leans on the lock gate and watches as I climb the slimy slippery ladder and take there ropes and round the bollards. Of course as we rise within a couple of feet of the front lock doors, and with just a centre fixing on bollards with 5 yds of line Collette struggles to hold Doucette who turns and bangs her aft quarter on the opposite lock wall. I explode at the hag. We row and I leave her in no doubt that I have never met a more unhelpful eclusier in France. She is straight on the phone and of course we are greeted at the next lock by her twin stasi sister. Same issues and no help at all. Very very sad to say that this has been a first for me on the waterways and the fourth lock showed that a surly student had clearly been taught the ropes by sour face hag at lock 2. Thank god my faith in human nature was rewarded at the next lock by a smiling guy waiting to take the ropes and locking was suddenly delightful again. 
We lunched bank side on a rick stein goats cheese salad and met two passing cyclists from Christchurch. Now motor homers they yearned to be fit enough to be boating again having been forced into boating retirement a couple of years earlier but who still constantly gravitated towards the waterways. We thus arrived at our night stopover in Mailly La Ville shortly after 3.
With free electric and water it was a great little halt and withing a couple of hours we had been joined by 4 other boats. A stroll round the village and we discovered a tiny store where I was chuffed to find a box of 5lts of the grand ordinaire for the princely su of 19.95 euros. about half the price this dope paid for them in Chablis but at least I now had a solid stock in Doucettes cave.
The sun set on a fantastic evening where we reflected on the sadness of the strange affair with the utterly horrible lock keeper and in total contrast, the sheer delight of the weather, the scenery and the utter delight of the rest of the days events. We were definitely orff again.

Monday 3rd June Oh when your tiling!

Eric and Jill had read scary reports of the Nivernais being closed to boats over 4m in width due to a canal breach repair, they are 4.2m. Bertie and I were convinced they would be ok and this notice was aimed at the big heavy hotel barges so we were pleased to talk them into checking it out before phoning the vnf who would simply tell them No you cannot pass! It was 30miles round trip. We lent them our bikes and they set off at 11. Foolhardy lunatics?
I decided to get the Tiling finished bar grouting as it was annoying me when I opened the door. Despite it being a typical glorious June day. This was a very good plan. I was still working at 4pm when our intrepids returned healthily tired but pleased to report that they would indeed have no problems. They had only stopped for 30mins at lunch so it was a pretty impressive time trial. Peace of mind was crucial and I was happy that their nivernais adventure was back on.
I worked and finally fixed the last tile at 6.15. Switched on the Internet and was ecstatic to see a new skippers notice finally announcing, "navigation recommenced conditions back to normal". Tomorrow we could leave. I rushed around telling whoever would listen, all 5 of them but It felt like the night before the start of a new adventure and the crew dashed down to the aft cabin to re-organise her clothes as if she were packing for a holiday. women are just so bloody weird.
I was chuffed to finally take the dish down and store it hopefully for months. I prepped the boat, all the covers off and windscreens down. water topped and we were ready for a 9am start tomorrow. Bed at 10.30, cramp attack at 1am, no sleep til 3am. Brilliant!

Sunday 2nd June Vide greniers

This month really has been a stonker and today was no exception. A blue cloudless sky encouraged Collette to finish her washing with just the "reds and blacks"  to do. Washing is now carried out in teams I assume.
By 11, we were mounted and riding down the towpath heading for Vermenton for a very french Vide Greniers. Empty attic is the French version of a car boot sale. In France it is more of a social occasion for the whole village to congregate. Just as in the UK it is full of total junk with the odd diamond. I was looking for some table legs as I want to have an extension available for the poop deck table to provide comfortable dining seating for four. It is a bit cramped at present.
The town center was closed off, with quite literally hundreds of stalls. The place was thronging with people and this had started at 7am.
I am definately not a fan of car boots at home but somehow I find these in France very entertaining. I think as much because it is impossible not to get involved with speaking to strangers and helping my French speaking. We wandered up and down the streets and with no purchases and with no surprise gravitate towards the buvette. I grab a pression and collette has a beaker size plastic cup of vin rouge. At 1 euro it has every right to be a tad raw but in helping her finish it, I am happy to report, "nothing wrong with that"
We bump into Berlin Bertie and Monica. Berlin is hopping from one leg to another and hurredly makes his excuses. Monica tucks into 3 merguez and frites which entices us into a portion of the slightly greasy chips. Bertie returns in an excited frenzy. He i thrusting a painting in an old frame at me, "its an original, these French have no idea of its worth, it is 1645, the frame is rubbish but I cannot believe it at 10 euros, I feel I have stolen it" I look at the black and white picture a tad bemused. Rheiner then reveals that he studied art history and is an avid collector. This explains his desperation to get into every church he finds to take pictures and study religious art.
This chance meeting with our two lovely boat neighbours becomes revelationary. Over chips and mayo, I discover that they are from east berlin. He talked of the stazi and how even after the wall had come down, he and Monica were once terrifyingly arrested following there taking part in a protest against Germany`s getting involved in Iraq. He explained how following ww2 laws had been passed making it illegal for any future  german goverment to get involved in any war. Clearly, his previous life in East Germany and the danger of arrest was not easy to forget so it was still chilling for them to be followed home and arrested by the Police.
We left the Berliners to shop for some French kareoke videos. Marvelous. I picked up a little table with perfect legs for 2 euros, the top would be useless but the legs at 2 euros, well  even more marvelous.
Back at Doucette, sanded down the table (which we now decided could be useful for the cob and magma) and the legs and got a coating on them before I cobbed our first chicken of the trip. Superb with the slightly heavy garlic flavoured Dauphinoise and haricot.
Watched Englands second half with Brazil. 2-2. I have to say that International friendlies are drab as dishwater. Glad the footy season is over for a couple of weeks.

Saturday 1st June New month New weather

Watched a dated and disappointing 2hr episode of Morse in bed after last nights excesses which was very naughty as it was obviously a beautiful morning out there. The new month has hopefully heralded new weather and we had our first breakfast on the poop deck.
Collette cracked on with her washing which she wanted to finish and get dried the old fashioned way so I rigged a line and it was good to see Doucette looking like a laundry barge again. I fitted a new carpet in the shower/heads before we mounted the steel wheeled steeds and hit Atac for a shopping raid. I have grown to love shopping in France. I wander round spending interminable amounts of time studying wines, cheeses and meat cuts and trying to make some sense of the pricing and what the hell is what. For example I needed some single cream for dauphinoise. The bottle said creme freiche. Now whats that all about. Thankfully it said in English on the small print on the reverse label, single cream. You need a bit of help over here! The crew purchased loads of fruit of course. Only time will tell how much of it goes overboard, although I am slowly munching my way through an orchards worth of cherries whilst penning this blog. I did get a result hopefully on a new water hose. there were two identical tickets pricing the hose at 32 and 21 euros. I enquired and was told I could have it for 21 so in the trolly it dropped.
Back at Doucette, excited with my spanking new hose, I uncoil its enormous length (as someone once said) only to discover my fittings would not fit on the 19mm newby. Maybe not such a bargain still I would be able to fill up in a couple of minutes once I found some new fittings. Sounds like a minor issue but one has to remember that the French specialise in have a plethora of different fittings for water hoses and I have just about completed my set. My only hope is a one off adaptor which I have assured the crew is the case. For now she seems placated.
We hit the loungers for some lobster time. Eric and Jill on there catamaran "Duet", out of port solent were on the front sunbathing and inevitably we started chatting. The boats are just a few feet apart so it was a novel way of having drinks without anyone actually hosting. Nice one. We talked and drank on this balmy evening. This was what it should have been like for the last month and suddenly it was 8.30. I knocked up the dauphinoise which was never going to cook in time and lit the magma. Collette prepped the esperges and these were soon on. The phone rang and we spent a lovely 35 minutes laughing with the smeds, frammo`s and browns on Just Betty. Excitement levels are past bursting point for our chums who count the days before they too set off across the channel for a 3 month French sojourn.
Thanks to them the esperges have gone too soft and well past there best but it was very worth it. The dauphinoise had still not cooked even though the gas bottle is still running somehow. We had bread as an able substitute with the belly pork and the meal was still a delight which we enjoyed  sat on the poop with some mellow Andorra skiing grooves drifting into the night sky.
One day of perfect weather and a new month and the world is a wonderful place again.