Sens to Paris......Finally!

Is that the Notre Dame I see ahead?? :)

Well, we finally made it to Paris and back out again, but with a catch up to do, I think I’ll split the last couple of weeks over a couple of entries – don’t want you getting bored……..

You were left last time waiting with us at Sens for the hydraulics chap to arrive, and he did arrive, after a phone call at 1.45pm he arrived 15 minutes later and got stuck into our hydraulics reservoir.  Having explained in pictures and google translate what was wrong, he took off the unit Simon had tightened up, and lo!  There was a warped/perished washer.  He cleaned everything up, changed the washer, cleaned all the screws and gave us a row for allowing Simon to use some Locktite on them and was good to go.  We, however, still weren’t convinced this was the sole problem as this unit is at the front of the reservoir and our weep was definitely at the back.  However, he went off and Mike cycled down to the shop to part with our 70 euros and on his return we cast off and set off for a couple of hours cruise to Pont sur Yonne.

After we moored up, Mike couldn’t face looking under the boards at the hydraulics, so I did the deed and was gutted as the torch showed up a glistening pool of oil on the back of the reservoir.  However, it also showed a golden drip coming from one of the hoses, so we took a photograph and emailed it to the people at Sens, not expecting a reply (the French haven’t entirely embraced email) but not having motivation, not to mention vocabulary, to deal with it over the phone.  We washed the boat then headed into town for a quick look and bought a kebab for tea, getting back to the boat just as the heavens opened for the evening.  Well, at least the plants wouldn’t need watered…..

The next morning was a bit fractious as neither of us wanted to phone the hydraulics people, but we’d had no reply to the email and didn’t know what to do – continue on, or go back to Sens.  I couldn’t bear the thought of going backwards again, so very grumpily decided to phone, basically reading out the email we’d sent.  I got put through to the engineer who had visited us and explained, and he said he’d come back out to us at 2pm, as he was with other clients at the moment.  As we waited for him, Kevin and Michelle arrived on Kendra Erin, so we shared our woes with them, had some lunch and then looked out for the van arriving, which he did at 2pm.  We showed him the leak and he said the hose was loose, which we were surprised at as Simon had tightened it up, but this chap looked like he might burst a blood vessel whilst turning the spanner, after taking the hose off completely and cleaning it.  I guess hydraulic mechanics are similar to IT helpdesks in that respect.  The first thing the IT guy gets you to do is switch off and switch on again, as this often clears any errors.  The hydraulics guys must be taught to take it apart, clean it, put it back together and 9 times out of 10, you’ll fix it.  He was sure this was now fixed and said if it still leaked after that, then there was nothing more he could do ie. thank you and goodbye.  We ran it a few minutes while he was there and it seemed okay, but it had also seemed okay after the last three fixes……..  As he’d had further to travel today, it cost 90 euros for the pleasure and we decided that if it was still leaking, we’d just seek to replace the entire unit as we’d almost nearly paid for one!

We decided to stay put and have a final evening with Kevin and Michelle and took advantage of the tarmac road to do some Ninebotting.  However, this was cut short when the heavens opened again pouring torrents of water over our newly washed boat and put paid to an after-tea trip to the local bar with our neighbours.  We dashed to their wheelhouse instead where we had some wine and nibbles and Michelle gave us a wee pressie to cheer us up.

I've always thought Quaintrelle was hot stuff, I'm glad Michelle does too :)

The next morning we set off behind Kendra Erin, in the rain and approaching the first lock, I went to the front to do the rope, which is when we discovered our long locking rope had been stolen off the front of the boat.  We were really pissed off.  I remember it being there when we arrived at Pont sur Yonne as it was on the port side and I briefly considered moving it to the offside away from opportune seeking fingers, but we were on a pontoon with a gate, in a small town so decided we’d be okay.  How I wish I had now, but it was tied on and I thought it would be okay.  I was doubly annoyed because it had had a bad fray in it from rubbing on the locksides so only a few days before I’d cut the bad bit out and spliced the ends back together.  It was one of my best splices, and had the rope been frayed it might not have been knicked……….  With that heavy on our minds we just knew the bow thrusters would still be leaking.

It wasn’t a great day to be honest.  The locks on this stretch of the Yonne are ‘V’ shaped, and with one of the walls crumbling into the lock, it was only to be expected that at some point a boat would catch the side as it went down.   Well that boat was us.  Despite us polling off the side at each end, she caught on a dislodged brick and started to tipple.  I screamed at the lock keeper to stop the lock, which he did and we got ourselves pushed off and recommenced our descent.  I was shaking like a leaf, blood pressure up somewhere it’s never been before and was muttering all sorts of , “Right, that’s it.  I hate this shithole, just get us back to Migennes, lifted out and back to the UK……”.

In this V lock, there was one short floating pontoon to keep you off the sides, so Kendra Erin was on the pontoon, us tied to her and Potter tied to us..... three in the bed and the little one said.....

We tried to stop at Montereau but the space available was too short and NB Lazy Notes, who we’d finally caught up with, although happy to help us with lines, didn’t seem too enamoured with the thought of us mooring alongside, as when Mike asked if we could, Mr Lazy Notes looked a bit troubled and said, “Oh, well, I don’t have my fenders out at the moment….”  We pulled away and decided we didn’t want to stop there and continued on. The rain had stopped and the late afternoon was pleasant, so we continued on, waving goodbye to Kevin and Michelle as they turned off down the Loing and we continued up the Seine, to our first lock sharing with the big boys!  The locks on the Seine are big and busy with commercial traffic and you have to radio the lock keepers if you want to know what’s going on.  It’s a simple phrase to announce your arrival and request to go down, or up, but sometimes the answer is quite complicated and longer than you’d like, with a hit rate of understanding one word out of 20…………ish……… 

Sharing with the big boys!

The Seine is still busy with commercial barges working away.

We managed though and at 6pm pulled in at Samois-sur-Seine, which is behind a little island and gives shelter from the wash off the river.  There was a space we could only just fit in, but the lovely family from Cherbourg in the boat behind came out to help with our lines and then moved back a bit to give us more space.  We were just settling in when they then knocked at the door and handed in a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies, which were absolutely delicious.  After a difficult day, this restored our faith in life and the kindness of humanity – it’s the little things.  It helped that a peep under the floorboards showed no leak from the bow thrusters….!  But we’re still pissed off about that rope.

We had a wander through the little town, where Django Reinhardt lived and it is an incredibly pretty little town which we were happy to spend the night in.

Our kind neighbours from Cherbourg on their way to the Meditarean

The beautiful waterfront at Samois-sur-Seine

Django's pad

The next morning we were off at 8.30am battling the waves and big boys on the Seine – actually it was fine and reminiscent of parts of the Thames with big houses and gardens along the riverfront.  There was a fairly misunderstood conversation with a lock-keeper on this stretch which to this day I still have no idea what he was asking/telling me, or whether he was indeed speaking to me at all……..  I picked out ‘rive gauche’, pour vous, normalement and quelle, but the rest was lost to me, but as the conversation stopped and no boats were harmed I assume all was well.

Big river, lots of room to avoid the big boys.

Always be polite and let them go first - well, we don't have a choice with that, they have priority over leisure boats.

Houses of every shape and style line the Seine.

Some of the big boats ignore you but others are quite amused to see us and wave and give the thumbs up :)

Horse having a cool down and socialisation session with the Canada geese

Yes, there were even a couple of thatched houses!

Personally it's not a stretch of water I'd fancy skiing on with all these huge barges around.....

Rain was forecast and we’d hoped to get up to the Port de Cerise at Draveuil before it started, but we didn’t and when Mike phoned them, they were full up having just given up the last berth for the evening.  We tried another port nearby but one number was unrecognised and the other was a rather confused, but terribly pleasant lady, who clearly didn’t have any moorings in her garden.  When we passed this port, it was clearly no longer managed, with the gate broken, the sign hanging down to one side and the port full of house boats, reminiscent of London.  We continued on in the pouring rain with our last hope of mooring being a floating pontoon at the end of the lock mooring above the next lock.  If that wasn’t there, or full, we’d have to turn around and come back upstream and moor up on the side next to some penniches.  This would be fine, although the area didn’t look great and we’d be banging against a concrete side all night with the wash, but it would do.  Our luck was in though and the pontoon was clear, and our bow thrusters still not leaking – there is a god!  We were knackered but decided on an early start again the next morning which would mean we would be in Paris by lunchtime!

The next morning I was up with the binoculars trying to work out which lock was being used as there appeared to be one on each side of the weir.  Our large commercial neighbours who had moored next to us on the lock Quai had departed and as we pulled out I radioed the lock keeper and asked permission to descend.  I managed to comprehend “aller a l’ecluse a droit barrage”, so we headed into the lock to the right of the weir – phew!  Tricky stuff this French malarkey.  We pulled up to the front of the lock and another three boats joined us; two pleasure boats and one commercial.  The cruiser and commercial pulled away ahead once out of the lock and we travelled close to Sina for a while.  

Doubler

The large town of Melun on the outskirts of Paris

Sina provided some company for a while

Approaching Paris the scenery gets increasingly industrial.

We do like to catch a train in the pic!

An awful lot of water just for little old us!

Our last lock at Port d’Anglais took us on the really busy waters of Paris and we lost Sina as she turned right and headed up the Marne.  There was a lot of chat on the radio between the other boats, at least most of it was until I heard the words ‘bateau anglais’ and ‘votre silence’.  Shit!  They were talking to us.  Not only that, they were wanting me to talk back to them…..oh crap………  At least, I think they were………  Then I heard another message with ”Saint Michelle” in it, then silence.  Oh bollocks…….. “Nous sommes le petit bateau de plaisance anglais.  Pardon, mais je ne comprends pas bien, mais nous allons a la Bassin d’Arsenal.”  I figured that would do; if they were looking for a response, they’d had one and they knew where we were going.  If they weren’t talking to us, then they’d think how kind I was announcing who we were and where we were going…….or that we’re just daft English tourists on a boat who have no idea what they’re doing on the radio…..  After that there was silence, so I think they were satisfied.

Pont de Bercy, with train

Lock entrance to Paris Arsenal - can we come in please!

Hingin' aboot waiting for the lock

Going up?

And here we are. Central Paris.  How feckin' cool is that!!??!!

And here is our mooring in the sun :)

We were getting really excited as we started passing landmarks we’d seen on our visits to Paris by train, exploring the river and our potential routes.  All too soon we were coming under the central bridges and radioed ahead to Arsenal to announce our arrival, as entrance to the basin is through a lock.  Another boat was just going up (the cruiser who’d pulled ahead of us), so we had to wait 10 minutes and did a few circles, avoiding the Bateau Buses as we did so.  As we waited it started to rain again but soon we were in the lock and on our way into the basin.  We were moored alongside another narrowboat, adapted with a wheelhouse, but they mustn’t have liked the company as they headed off early the next morning, after rousing us from a long lie and deferring our bacon butties until after they’d moved out and we moored up again – in the rain.

But how exciting, here we were, in our home, in the centre of Paris, under the Bastille – it takes a lot of beating!!

Rain, rain go away!!  Go away to the UK!

Our selfie with the Bastille in the background.  Note to self: Must wear glasses next time!!!  Yes, it's a lampost, the Bastille's behind my head!

All dolled up for a delicious dinner at La Chemise - mmmmmmm