Wednesday 22 August 2018

Aigues Mortes to Marseillan (or, Wooohoooo!!!! Beach time!!!)

A favourite mooring at Maguelone

After the last epistle of an entry, someone (who shall remain nameless, John Suddes), remarked they’d prefer shorter and more frequent entries.  Well, to be honest, so would I….. it takes ages to catch up when I fall behind and yet here we are again, only getting round to writing up from the 12-22 August when it’s actually 9th September…..  Thank blogspot for allowing date manipulation is all I can say!  So, sorry John, it’s a bit of an epistle again, but by the time I reach you and the family’s visit (minus the teenagers…) you’ll have had three mentions, so I hope that makes up for it.

We’d had a long day, fallen out and were still asleep when the capitaine knocked at the front of the boat looking for his money.  He’d been long gone when we arrived the previous evening and clearly didn’t want us to do a runner without paying for our night.  We were staying three nights which came to a princely sum of 111 euros – yes, that’s right 111 – our second most expensive mooring only to Paris.  And he didn’t take cards – cash or cheque only.  And he was finishing in 50 minutes and wanted us paid up before he left at 10am.  So leaving Mike in bed (we were still not speaking), I got dressed, went into town where the first cashpoint was closed, found a second, got our money and headed back to his office and handed it over.  He became a bit more friendly once paid and said if we wanted to stay longer just give him a call as the space we were in was available for longer, and gave me some information on getting to the beach and about the town.  I then headed back into town for some croissants for breakfast.

We headed out late morning into the town which is like Las Vegas in terms of it’s the biggest town for a while in the region and the tourists flock to it.  It is very pretty and after a walk around, we decided to walk the ramparts/city walls, before catching the train to Grau de Roy and the beach on the 1 euro train.
Sunset view of the Aigues Mortes dungeon from the boat.

Couldn't decide if I loved our little neighbours or was completely freaked out by them - they came to gulp each night!

View from the tower of the port at Aigues Mortes for the passenger boats.


The salt lakes just outside the town are pink, as if there is blood in them....... hence the Camargue salt in the shops is pinkish.

Rooftops from the ramparts.

After exploring the town we took the 1 euro train down to Grau de Roy.

At Grau du Roy the arm of the canal reaches the Med - not going to be bringing Quaintrelle down here......


We both loved this sculpture on the front celebrating the women of the Carmargue

Although a bit overcast, it was warm and the beach was packed - all we needed were 'Kiss Me Quick' hats to appear!
Relaxing in the warm med we began to thaw to one another, but things were still a bit tense as we grabbed a burger for lunch, swam again and headed for the train home.  However, by the time we’d had a lovely meal at Bistrot Palou we were friends again, which was good cos I miss him when we’re not speaking……

After a well-deserved lie-in and an overnight storm, the next morning was spent putting the Heritage Stove back together, after swabbing out the water and letting it dry following the storm at Avignon rendering it useless with rain getting in the air inlet duct.  Some admin followed, then a walk round the town with a top-up shop at the butchers and small supermarket before settling down to watch The Lobster – a film we felt rather lost itself as it went on and no one (disappointingly) turned into a lobster.

We left fairly sharp the next morning and around an hour into our travels plucked a juvenile bee eater out of the canal, very wet and we weren’t convinced it would survive.  But survive it did and four and a half hours later after we’d moored at Maguelone, he attempted to fly off but landed in the canal again.  A second rescue was mounted and this time his recovery was much quicker, so an hour later, I put an agitated little Orville in the biscuit tin, crossed the bridge and took him to the edge of some vineyards where he was released and promptly landed in a nearby tree.  The day had been really windy and I suspect that was what had caught him out and landed him in the cut to start with, and as it was still windy we weren’t too surprised to see him still sitting there an hour later.  Thankfully the winds dropped and as we made our way to take the little train to the nearby beach for the day, there was no sign of him.
The Canal du Rhon a Sete is cut through the salt lakes which means you have vast expanses of salt water around you.

Flamingoes live in the etangs (salt water lakes)

Being near the Med means there are seabirds swooping around too.


Orville, freshly plucked from the cut.

A bit drier a few hours later.....

Almost ready to leave us :)

Our mooring at Maguelone

From our mooring you crossed a bridge across the canal to take the train to the beach 2km away.

The beach train.
After a day on the nudist section of the beach, or rather, the section where you can choose to wear something or not, as opposed to the section where you MUST wear something, we headed back and picked a message up on FB from one Beccy Suddes.  No one I knew so I asked Mike and it was an old colleague of his’ wife.  John and Beccy were camping with their family just 5km away, so took the opportunity to pop over for a couple of hours and have a look at the boat.  The two youngest, Philip and Zoey (hope I’ve got that name right!) asked some excellent questions – we were most impressed!  After they headed off, sent packing by a sudden onslaught of mosquitoes, we covered ourselves in insect repellent and walked across the carpark to the little food and wine festival that was taking place; a showcase of local foods, wine with some live music – when the musicians weren’t being eaten alive by mossies!!

Next morning a quick trip into the village by bike to post a letter and get some cash and then we headed for a last day at this part of the beach, to bare all, as our mooring was limited to three days.

It was a great little mooring and we were sorry to leave, but leave we did and shuffled onwards along the Canal du Rhon a Sete another few kilometres to the small hameau (hamlet) of Les Aresquieres, where rumour had it there was a shiny new 80m pontoon.  And there was!!  And because it wasn’t in the books yet it was empty!  We took our position and after a 5 minute walk got naked again on the beach trying desperately to toast the white bits!  The sea was amazing – cooler than expected but incredibly clear and not a bit of plastic or rubbish in site.  It was truly spotless – well done the French!  We decided to eat out and headed off on a 20 minute walk to the nearest restaurant.  After 35 minutes and the blue dot going bananas on google maps, we arrived at a campsite, which had a restaurant but was closed!  We tried to hitch back for a few minutes but no one stopped so we walked back.  Thankfully it was a nice evening and we had wine and snacks to keep us going.

The new quay by night, looking towards the lights of Sete.

From the bridge crossing the canal at Les Aresquieres - can you see us? We're on the left, just before the bend at the top of the canal.  Fishermen's houses line the canal.

The Med, just a short walk from the mooring :)

Toasting our white bits!!

Looking back the other way at night.
The following day we cycled an easy 3km to the beach at Frontignan for lunch, where there was a little Blackpool-esque strip with beach shops and restaurants.  I plumped for moules frites and very delicious it was as well and Mike polished off a burger before we eventually topped up at the little supermarket, headed back to the boat and then enjoyed the rest of the day on the beach again.  We were absolutely loving our time on this canal; the superb scenery, the wonderful beaches and the guaranteed blue skies and sunshine each day – bliss!

On Sunday 19th, we reversed our day and headed to the beach for a last morning before heading into Frontignan itself in the afternoon.  Now, there is a lift-bridge in Frontignan that only lifts twice a day – or so we thought, so we’d timed our arrival to make the 4pm lifting.  However, the previous evening, a stream of boats had passed us just after 8pm and I had suggested that it looked like the bridge was opening in the evening.
4pm came and one of the hire boats was right off his marks and up at the bridge, but nothing happened.  On further investigation we discovered that it opens three times a day in August; 8.30am, 1.30pm and 7pm…….  We whiled away the time at a local wine cave whilst boats arrived at both sides of the bridge for the 7pm lifting.  We were worried (as usual) about getting a mooring as we were really low on water and there was water in the port but if there was no space…?  We didn’t need to worry, as a walk around the port enlightened us to the presence of Anne and Steve and Hector the Bassett Hound on Sa Marche – who we’d met last year towards the end of the season.  Steve kindly invited us to pull alongside to get water if all the spaces were taken, so we knew we’d be okay.

  
So, 7pm arrived and we thought that there might be a light system or something to control the boats going through from each side, but no, it was a huge free-for-all, including the large commercial who, for once, was not given priority and had to fight his way through with the other 20 or so of us.  It was really hilarious but we got through and got a space on the quay, so we were finally able to settle down for night.

Jousting boats is apparently a popular sport in this area and these two were moored opposite us as we waited for the bridge.


Chaos ensues as everyone makes a dash for it as soon as the bridge is up!

And then safely moored up on the other side.
For the last few days, weeks even, Mike had again been watching the wind and weather like a hawk, as the time to cross the Etang du Thau was drawing close.  Today, 20th Aug, was the day and with a  blazing sun in the sky, we happily left Frontignan and continued our journey West.  We had phoned the harbour master at the port of Marseillan town to make sure conditions were good, but also to book a mooring there.  The ports around the Etang (big salt-water lake) are notoriously expensive and many people are just keen to get across the etang safely and back onto the canal.  However, conditions were good for the next few days and having spoken with Nicki and Gorette who stayed on the Etang at Meze and loved the experience, we had decided to stay a night or two.

Quaintrelle was a bit reticent as she thought we were heading towards the Wash again, but it couldn’t have been more different!
There are a lot of boats as you get nearer the Etang.

Dry storage for the light weights :)

"Please don't make me go out to sea!!!!!!!"

Perfect conditions.

Oyster fishing is the main thing on the Etang and there are miles and miles of nets.

Much more relaxed than on the Wash.
The day was glorious and the conditions near perfect with only the wash from the odd speed-boat rocking us a bit more than usual.  A few short hours later we pulled into the port at Marseillan and almost immediately fell in love with the place – it was like a little Greek port on the Med, full of charm and smiling people.  The capitaine came out and waved us to a space and once moored up we headed over to see what the cost would be.  The husband and wife team were just delightful and immediately said, “You’re about 15 metres aren’t you?” and put us in a lower bracket than we should have been, however, it was still 56 euros a night.  We were so taken with the place though that we decided it was worth it and booked two nights.  Again, and surprisingly, they didn’t take cards, so we’d need to come back with cash.  They weren’t in a rush for it and said either later today or tomorrow was fine – so laid back!
Coming into port at Marseillan.

Pay for two nights - get one free? Don't mind if we do....... :)
We had a wander back through the port and just off to the left stumbled across Noilly Prat – the place where they make the famous vermouth.  We went in to book a tour and ended up in their new bar area having a cocktail – this place just got better and better!!!
Another fave!!

I can't remember the name but it had basil in it and was delicious!
On the way to dinner we went to pay our fees and were totally gobsmacked and delighted when Madame Capitaine pointed out on our receipt that she had marked it that we had paid for two nights but were offered a third night free!!   She said it in French so I assumed I’d misunderstood and got her to repeat it in English and it was right enough!  We didn’t need a second invitation!  She further explained that sometimes they do this for private boats as they know the fees are expensive.

Dinner at the Chateau du Port was the icing on the cake of an amazing day!  We were squeezed in as they were short-staffed, not that you’d have noticed, there was no delay in the service at all and Mike had one of the best steaks ever and I tucked into a fantastic platter of beautifully cooked seafood.  We enjoyed it so much that we made a booking as we left to come back for our last night!
The Chateau du Port restaurant - mmmmmmhhhhmmmmm
The next day we had a tour of Noilly Prat at 3pm – it’s at that time everyday in English, no booking required, so we decided to hang around the town and explore the very large market in the morning.  We didn’t buy anything at the market but I spotted a rather lovely plump, soft stuffed sheep in a little interiors shop and was so taken with its cock-eyes that I had to go back for it……
In these barrells is made the juice that is added to the wine to make it vermouth.

The wine is kept outside and cooled by sprinklers allowing the wine to take on the taste of the sun and salt air...... apparently.......

This is what happens if you drink too much Noilly Prat.  You become one :D
Energised by our vermouth tasting and cocktail, once back at the boat, Mike researched a wine cave that his friend Jim, of Sandringham St Beer Shop fame, had visited earlier this year and highly recommended.  It was a cycle away, so off we went, only got a bit lost and arrived with 25 minutes to spare before they closed.  It was the local cooperative so we were able to taste a variety of wines made by local growers, and of course the local Picpul de Pinet.  This is quite dry and we like a fruity wine so we preferred one of the chardonnays but bought half a dozen mixed bottles of the two.

The bikes were in action again the next day as we packed up and headed for a 5km cycle to the beach.  It turned out to be just over 6kms and the sandy beach was packed with families all enjoying their summer holiday – how we yearned for our peaceful nudist beaches back up the coast.  However, it was the beach, the sand was hot, the sea was cool and it was lovely.  Keeping an eye on some thundery clouds over head we spent a pleasant few hours before heading back in time for our second dinner at Chateau du Port.  This time we had the Chateaubriand for the two of us and it was absolutely amazing.  The restaurant is run by a Belgian couple and whilst they use local produce for everything else, admitted they bring their beef in from Belgium as they don’t think the French beef is as good.  We love both!!!  We couldn’t believe how quickly our three nights had passed here and didn’t want to leave.  It is one of our favourite moorings ever and we can’t wait to come back and visit again, although it probably won’t be in Quaintrelle!
 
More jousting boats at Marseillan
But another excitement awaited us in the morning as we would be going on to the world famous Canal du Midi!!







Saturday 11 August 2018

Lyon to Aigues Mortes (or, WE’RE ON THE RHONE……..and off again – phew!)



Up before the sun to beat the wind!
Right, before you start, get a cuppa/glass of wine/soft drink and a comfy seat as this is a long one…. I felt it would be unfair to leave you at the end of an entry wondering if we’d got safely off the Rhone so have decided on doing our complete navigation of the Rhone in one post.  Should you feel the need, feel free to just look at the pictures, I won’t take offence…… I won’t know…… which is good, because if I did, I might take offence…….

Our first day on the Rhone was to be a short one, by design and we would just head to Vienne, a few hours south of Lyon, where we’d spend the night along with Derrineel before continuing south the next day whilst Derrineel would come back up to Lyon.  The usual tasks of dumping rubbish, filling with water were completed and as we saw Trevor and Alison pushing off, we did the same and set off for our last kilometre of the Saone to the Confluence with the Rhone.
Being followed out of Lyon by Derrineel

At the Confluence


And we're on the Rhone and within minutes are passing a huge commercial.....
As we approached the first lock, Pierre Benite, we encountered our first issue – a non-responsive lock.  I called on VHF 19 three times to no avail, so rang the number in the book from our French mobile.  After being on hold a few minutes, it was answered and I was told 10 minutes and the lock would be ready.  No idea why they didn’t answer the radio, but it was very annoying.  You try to do everything the way they ask you to and they can’t be arsed responding!  Anyway, within 5 minutes a small boat had exited the lock having come up and we had a green light to go in.  Issue 2: the floating bollards were spaced 30m apart which meant we could only get one line on.  We had been expecting this and had experienced it on some of the Saone locks, so we put the stern line on and kept the engine running to use the bow thruster to keep the nose in if needbe.  Our slight worry that they might insist on two lines was unfounded and with Derrineel tucked in behind us we, we were welcomed with a recorded message over the loud speaker in French, English and German to the Pierre Benite lock and we were soon dropping down.



Leaving the lock (to another recorded message wishing us a good day and safe travels in a rather Blade Runner-esque way) we felt as if we had left one country and locked through to another.  It smelt of the south and with a chorus of chicadas accompanying us, it sounded like the south.  The cutting taking us away from the lock has a flow on it and we found ourselves doing about 12 kms an hour, compared to our usual 8 on a river with no flow.  It was a narrow cutting so of course, this was where we passed two commercials and a river cruiser hotel boat all in the space of an hour or so……….

Once the river opened out again our pace settled and we began to enjoy it, the big river, the scenery, the endless blue sky and hot sun.  At the small town of Givors, Trevor radioed that the dogs needed off the boat for a comfort break so they were going to pull in, which would give them another chance to see how Derrineel coped manoeuvring in the river.  We decided it would be nice to have a little break as well so aimed for the small port only to find on getting closer it was really, really small and the pontoons tiny so there’d be no way we’d fit.  So we turned around and headed back upstream to a 25m pontoon where we could tie-on for a short while.  Quaintrelle pushed upstream with no problem at all and as we got nearer the pontoon I reminded Mike that on a river you should always moor pointing upstream.  Against his better judgement, Mike said we’d be fine pointing downstream, so began to turn the boat and as we travelled sideways down the river I watched the pontoon pass us by………… We spent about 20 minutes fannying around trying to go backwards to the pontoon and on finally getting hooked on realised there was quite a strong flow around the pontoon and that our hopes for a quick, cooling dip in the river were dashed.  The gate at the top of the pontoon was locked so Mike climbed over and headed down towards the port to see how Trevor and Alison had faired.  Not much better it turned out.  Having got in and on a pontoon, they discovered that the big high gate was locked, as it was a private port and there was no way to get out to let the dogs do what they needed to do, so they were coming out and up towards us on the pontoon.  We pulled off thinking they were ready to go, but a quick radio call got the message to us.  We told them the gate was locked here to but they’d be able to lift the dogs over, so we decided to continue on downstream and leave them to the pontoon.

This fannying around probably added an extra hour on to our day, but we saw it as a chance to play around with Quaintrelle in the river and see how she coped with the flow etc.



Late afternoon and our mooring came into site – the pretty town of Vienne with a lovely long empty wooden quay, where we pulled in, tied off and watched for Derrineel arriving.  No sooner were they tied on behind us than a small boat passed, quite slowly and with a smallish wake, at which point both boats began bouncing, bucking, rolling, banging like none of us had ever seen our boats do before.  Quaintrelle’s rear dipped down so low at one point that her white tunnel stripe disappeared completely and I actually thought that was it.  Twenty minutes later, the boats were still bucking as the surge continued to bounce of the walled sides of the river and we concluded that it wasn’t safe for us to stay there.  An inspection of a nearby floating pontoon which was bucking and bouncing as much as the boats was written off and we all climbed aboard and headed back upstream to a mooring off the river a kilometre back the way we’d come.

Despite being next to a main road crossing the river and a railway line, this little spot was bliss – a little cutting off the main river meaning no matter what passed on the river we were protected.  There was some grass with trees for us to lounge under and a little bridge across to an island where there was a wee bar and lots of picnic tables – it was a local beauty spot.  We settled in, couldn’t swim unfortunately as there were signs forbidding it due to pollution, and enjoyed a barbecue together in the evening.  All in all, we were all feeling pretty good about the Rhone, although the Vienne mooring issue did mean Mike had to get the plans out and rethink our moorings to be ones off the river.
The main road flies over the river here but despite this it was a great little mooring, really peaceful.
We were off around 9am the next day and turned to head south leaving Alison and Trevor to head back up north to Lyon.  
Saying goodbye to Trevor and Alison - hope we see you down south sometime!!
Passing through Vienne again......all calm for the moment!

CNR manage the Rhone, like VNF do the canals and I'm guessing from the size of these premises this may be their head office - not too shabby a location!

Our second lock on the Rhone - not that we were counting them down or anything.......

We expected to see a variety of vessels on the Rhone, but the little group of hovercraft that passed were a real surprise - Kathy, this could've been Peter!!!!!

Stunning scenery on the Rhone, quite different to what we've seen in the last 18 months.

The big commercials keep their distance so we didn't get thrown about too much by them.  It was the speedboats that were the worst.

We caught him up at the next lock!
Six hours later we had covered 49kms, passed down 2 locks and were ready to stop, but as we approached St Vallier saw the 25m pontoon was occupied.  We continued on but kept looking back as I’d seen someone returning to the boat by bike and wondered if, just if, they might then be leaving.  Sure enough, as we watched, the cruiser pulled out and came after us, so we quickly turned around and headed back 1km to the pontoon.  Just as we were reaching it, another little day boat appeared from the opposite direction and pulled onto it!  However, as we approached I asked if he could move up at all, and he replied in perfect English that he could if I would give him a hand.  It was a bit close for comfort, but he seemed okay for Quaintrelle’s nose to be within inches of his outboard, so there we stayed.  He was waiting for some friends, then going for a cruise, then dropping them off here again later, then taking the boat back upstream to a slipway where his car was parked.  His friends never turned up though and three hours later he went on his way alone………  We had a quick look round St Vallier which was a bit rundown and appeared moreso because it was Sunday and everything was shut, but regardless of that, it’s a good overnight stop but there is nothing worth stopping for, if you see what I mean.  Although the river is huge here and had natural banks and the shipping channel was on the other side of the river from our pontoon, we still got rocked around a fair bit when boats passed and decided that if we wanted a good night’s sleep we’d need to moor overnight in ports or cuttings off the river.
 
The river is huge at St Vallier - can you see us?  We're moored up on the right....

And looking downstream from the other side of the bridge at St Vallier.

Feeling very, very small and vulnerable, we set off the next morning with the port of Glun our target, but when we got there, we were having such a smooth journey and had both decided that the sooner we were down the Rhone, the better (not least because less favourable weather conditions were forecast for the end of the week) so decided to continue on to Valence.  We pulled in onto the fuel pontoon and at 1.57 a litre decided to top up our tanks while we waited for the Capitainerie to open.  A quick wander round the marina led us to understand that the pontoons were for boats less than 14 metres and anything larger could use the end of the pontoon.  There was only one end left so we quickly claimed our spot and headed up to the Capitainerie to part with our 26 euros for the night.  For the first time since being in France, she asked to see our Small Ships Register certificate, and this seemed to be the norm on the Rhone.

The marina is a fair distance from the town, so we had a wander round the marina before chilling out with our books on the front deck.  It was a very peaceful mooring with great scenery and we spent a very pleasant night there.
 
Passing the King's Table (Yes, that little bit of rock with the channel marker on it.....apparently it was once big enough for King Louis IX to stop and have dinner on it as, for political reasons, he did not want to go ashore on either bank!

Passing the 100km mark - only 180 to go.......

Waiting for the lock

The river is too strong to swim so these kids' alternative was to get dad to chuck buckets of water over them :)

In fact it was so peaceful, I wanted to stay, forever, but we had to head back out on to the river and we did so at just gone 9am on Monday morning, 6th August.
On this stretch we were accompanied by the Alps in the distance - who'd have thought we'd ever be looking at the Alps from Quaintrelle!

Strange viewing portal as we leave the lock.

Lots of little medieval forts are dotted around the countryside.

And there are power stations galore harnessing the energy of the river.
Arriving at the port of Cruas there was a complicated array of channel markers instructing us to go past the port, then turn and come in upstream.  As we fought against the current to get in and not be pushed back onto the channel markers, we realised why………. It was a tense few minutes…….and the Capitaine had said nothing about it when we’d rang in the morning.  The port only takes boats up to 15 metres, but he said he could accommodate us, but you wouldn’t want to go in there if you were any more.  The capitaine and his wife were charming and as in Valence took the details from our SSR Certificate which they wanted to see.  Having run out of fizzy water, we headed up into town only to find the supermarket was closed – of course, it was Monday.  However, the butchers was open and we got some cracking lamb and chicken skewers for the barbecue and the Tabac provided us with four bottles of fizzy water and two of coke.  We don’t normally drink coke at all, in fact, really quite dislike it, except when it’s really, really hot and with temperatures consistently in the mid-30s everyday, the odd glass was hitting the spot!

We enjoyed another quiet evening in a lovely little port until about 8pm when we heard a boat motoring hard and looking out towards the entrance saw Shippy MacShipface approaching the entrance.  She was hammering away, but was still being swept sideways and towards the channel markers….the froth at the front of the boat drawing our eyes to the fast-flowing current she was fighting against. “It wasn’t like that when we arrived…was it?”  “No.  It definitely wasn’t.  It’s got worse…”.  Shippy made it in safely and we had a chat with the young german couple who were on their first trip on her on a six-month voyage – baptism of fire, or what………..  But despite the peace of the port, we didn’t sleep much that night, terrified that the flow would be as strong in the morning when we tried to leave which would mean exiting the narrow entrance to the port and turning hard left into the current and if we didn’t turn quick enough or with enough power we’d be dragged onto the markers………

We decided to leave at 6.30am as we figured the extra flow may have been brought on by the hydroelectric power station nearby, as at 8pm everyone would be home from work and tvs and cookers all over the region would be on.   At 6.30am they should all still be in bed…… Also, there was no wind forecast for that time and it was due to come on later, so we wanted to cover as much ground before the wind came and made life difficult for us.  In reality it was 6.45am when we left, me taking a last photograph of Quaintrelle and both of us with life jackets on in case we hit a marker and got bumped overboard.  All was calm and we pushed off and headed out into the river…………. And there was barely any flow at all…………
Potentially this could have been the last photo taken of Quaintrelle - thank god it isn't!!!

The very cute Shippy MacShipface after her ordeal

Leaving Cruas behind and not another soul in sight.
We don’t do early starts but I can see why people do – it was glorious cruising at that time of day with barely a ripple and we didn’t see our first boat until two hours later when we reached our first lock of the day.
 
Mike was getting a bit bored so decided to wash the roof as we went along, which I permitted as long as he wore a bouyancy aid - a soapy boat is not a safe boat!!
Our second lock of the day was the deepest in France and one of the deepest in Europe, Bollene, at 22m deep and we were excited about passing through.  Despite its size, it was so smooth, you’d have hardly known you were moving apart from the huge walls swallowing you up.  When we left, again, the channel had quite a flow on it, not only that, but there was a huge amount of debris in the water, huge tree trunks, shoes, bushes – it was like a very unpleasant obstacle course.
Waiting at Bollene

Down, down, down.........


Massive!
By the afternoon, we had winds of 25km/h and the going was not enjoyable.  As we came past St Etienne the river was huge and froth-topped waves were breaking across our nose-fender and the flotsam seemingly endless.  As I felt myself getting tense I asked myself, ‘Is it as bad as crossing the Wash in 2016?’ and the answer was no.  I am so glad we did that as it gave me a comparison and I knew Quaintrelle could do this if she’d done the Wash in the conditions she did.
200 down - 80 to go!!!  We now felt the end was in reach.....almost......

An open, windy stretch as we pass St Etienne

This was some of the smaller flotsam......
 
The pretty scenery had been replaced with industrial power stations and didn't enhance the windy journey much.

We waited at the lock to let this in first and then tucked in behind it.  It was fairly small as far as commercial barges go.

Through our last lock of the day, we turned right and travelled 4kms upstream, up an embranchement to the little port of L’Ardoise, but it felt like it was 100 miles away.  We were desperate to stop for the night and felt quite exhausted after a hard day and our early start.  The port looked a bit run down through the binoculars, but as we approached someone ran out onto a pontoon and waved us in, and thus we were welcomed by a delightful capitaine.  He spoke really good English and helped us moor up before leaving us to cool off “Yes, it’s safe to swim here.”  Wooohoooooo!!!!! And said to come to the office at 5pm to pay.  The little restaurant on the port is meant to be good, so we thought we’d eat there, but sadly the chef (and the usual Capitain) had cracked ribs, so the temporary capitaine offered to do us a plate of L’Ardoise goodies and a drink for 9 euros.  So we had that sitting on the deck of the little capitainerie/restaurant enjoying a cool breeze as the sun went down and spent a very restful night in another great little port.
L'Ardoise - a very warm welcome and lovely peaceful little port.
Despite sleeping well, we were still knackered when we reluctantly left the next morning, but we had to move.  We just wanted to be off the Rhone desperately now.  It was almost as if the longer we spent on her safely, the higher the likelihood of something happening……..

Wednesday 8th was an exciting day though, as we’d be reaching familiar grounds.  Not familiar to Quaintrelle, but we had visited Avignon by car in early spring 2016 and had driven to one of the locks on the Rhone for a look.  Today, we’d be passing through that lock and heading into Avignon.  We recalled how horrified we’d been with the size of it then and were bemused to note that at 9.5metres, it’s one of the smaller ones!


Some more amazing scenery accompanied us on this section, once we'd passed the sand quarry above.

Avignon lock where we had to wait to let the commercial boat go first, but were then allowed in.  Unfortunately it was a bit windy and we had a bit of trouble getting our front line on - you'd have thought it took us an hour the way the commercial skipper had his head in his hands and was waving his arms around in frustration.  The reality was Mike got it on on his second throw, once I'd fannied around a bit trying to get the boat lined up and failing, and it was probably about 7 or 8 minutes after we entered to being tied on.


At the Avignon ecluse I could see the gold statue on top of the Palais du Papes in Avignon and felt a surge of excitement – we’d done it!  We were nearly there!  We were SOUTH!

However, I was brought back to reality sharply when we left the lock and were travelling at a comfortable 10km/h on 1400 revs until we turned up the side branch into Avignon and our speed dropped to 6km/h without touching the throttle………  It was quite a grind up past the (Sur le…) Pont d’Avignon but we reached the port and got moored up easily. 
Avignon - here we come!  (Just a bit slower than normal......)

Altogether now...... - Sur le Pont D'Avignon
Our first port of call was a nearby Carrefour where we stocked up on fizzy water, milk and were ecstatic to find they had HP sauce for our bacon butties – we’ve been out of it for some weeks now!  In the evening we had a barbecue on the front deck and having checked the weather and flows realised we’d be here at least a couple of nights as storms were forcast for the next day, Friday 10th.  And boy, did they come…

I have never seen rain like it and it was relentless, and yet, I don’t think we had it as bad as some other areas nearby.  We had one casualty, the Heritage Stove.  The rain was such that the next morning when I put it on for our morning cuppa, it was making a strange glugging sound, and then later when I put it on for our coffee, I could see smoke coming out of the chimney reflected in the water…….  After speaking with Heritage we spent the rest of the day fucking about (as Mike so succinctly put it) with the stove.  We needed to take it apart and clean and dry it, but one of the hotplate bolts disintegrated as we tried to undo it so we had to take a bus out of town to a shop that didn’t have extractor kits but sent us to another, 3.5km walk, which we didn’t reach cos we went into another who didn’t have one, but sent us back 400metres from where we’d come to a shop that DID have one – yipppeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Back at the boat, we stripped the stove down, hoovered up what soot we could find (not a lot) and then stuck a brush wrapped in kitchen roll down the air inlet vent.  It made a gulping sound and came out wet.  Rain had got in the air inlet vent (which the chap at Heritage had said was not possible that morning!).  We ‘mopped’ out as much as we could but after another call to Heritage were told we must not under any circumstance use the stove without the hotplates screwed back on (both screws were broken and they’d have to send us more) and the emissions had been checked by a qualified engineer…….

Okay, first world problem, but this meant no cooker, so no kettle, no tea or coffee.  We could barbecue or eat out in the evening, but no hot water either.  Now, as it is, we’ve had the hot water setting switched off for the last month because it’s been so hot that when we’ve cruised and heated water that way, even if we’ve not cruised a day, the water had still been hot the next night!  (Also, it’s been so hot, we’ve been having cool showers, so not using up the hot water.)  But now we would be heading into cooler September and October.

Not in the best frame of minds I headed up to the Carrefour to do a last minute shop before leaving the next morning and was surprised to find they not only had an electric kettle for sale, but a single electric hotplate as well!  I bought the kettle and on returning to the boat consulted with the first mate on the hotplate – “Buy it.” Was the response, so I went back and I did.  What I wasn’t quick witted enough to do though was also buy some bacon, which I hadn’t because we had nothing to cook it on.  So for the first time in ages, we had HP Sauce for our butties but no bacon!!!

By the time we had had a few glasses of wine (well it was Friday) things didn’t seem so bad and as we knew what the problem was with the cooker, we didn’t see why once it was dried out it shouldn’t work any differently than it did before it got wet.  We’d just need to get by until we could get the screws from Heritage, which we could get sent to the house which we are going to visit in a couple of weeks time.

So still knackered, and stressed about the cooker rather than the river, we went to bed, with the river levels decreasing we’d be able to set off in the morning – our last stretch of the Rhone.

If you compare these leaving Avignon pics to the arrivals you can see how the colour of the water had changed with the storms.
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This day, Saturday 11th, was to be the longest day we have ever done (89km, 2 locks, 11 hours) and we wouldn’t be speaking by the end of it.
 
Beautiful blue skies

........but not such a blue river.  The storm had churned and it was a muddy brown all the way.

Leaving our last lock on the Rhone - Lock 13 Beaucaire

Mike spotted that they've named this cruiser after my mum :)

We knew it must be windy on this section or why else the wind turbines.....
Two hours into the journey it still felt as if we were going to be on the Rhone for ever, but two hours after that, the junction of the Petit Rhone came into sight and we could see Arles in the distance on the main river.  The feeling of relief and jubilation was incredible!!  We’d done it! We’d made it!  We were off the Rhone and would never need to go back on it ever!!!  It wasn’t that anything disastrous had happened and it really is a beautiful river with quite spectacular scenery, but it would be wrong to say we had enjoyed it.  We had endured it because we had to do it to get to the Canal du Midi, rather than choosing to do it as a cruising option.  But now we were off, and how small and gentle the Petit Rhone was by comparison.

Taking a right at the junction on to the Petit Rhone.....

......and Breeeeaaaaaatttthhhhhheeeeee.......aaahhhhhhhhhh.......
Another couple of short hours went by in a flash, the feeling of joy and relief sustaining us and we were soon coming through the Saint Gilles lock and back on the canal system.  Canal!!!! Canal!!!!! Canal!!!!  Never have I loved canal so much even though it was just a big, long straight, lined with rusted cars pulled out at various points…..
Another right takes us to the Saint Gilles lock and onto the Canal du Rhone a Sete!



I love you canal - even with your rusty old cars :)


We even caught our first sightings of the beautiful wild horses of the Camargue - superb!

A more Quaintrelle-sized bridge methinks!

I think I caught this one having a wee - he has a strange expression on his face......
It was probably the feelings of elation that led us to make a fatal mistake…..  Our mooring option was to turn off the canal after the Saint Gilles lock and head up the old route of the Canal Rhone a Sete to a mooring there, but rather than do that, our sheer happiness made us both decide to continue.  When we reached the port at Gallician, we tried to pull into the side just before the port, but the wall had crumbled in and we couldn’t get in.  The port was only for boats 15metres and less and has them mooring bum into the side, nose sticking out and we were too long for that.  The one suitable spot was reserved for hotel barges and there was nowhere else to go into the side……  We were hot, knackered and now had another potential 2 hour cruise to do, and it was just gone 5pm………  Mike wanted me to phone the Capitaine.  I didn’t want to.  I hate phoning, cold calls, always have, don’t know why, it just puts the fear of God into me.  Mike would have, he doesn’t mind picking up the phone, but he doesn’t speak French.  I do.   A bit.  But when someone then talks back to me in French I have no idea what they’ve said and feel like a right twat, therefore making my fear of cold calling even worse………  I had a huge tantrum and went in the huff and Mike turned the boat around to head back 16km to the first mooring we should have taken, which would take us two hours back the way we’d come.
Eventually, I came and took the tiller and Mike phoned the marina at Aigues Mortes – 20km away – but in the right direction.  The chap didn’t speak English and I tried in French but was so stressed and angry I didn’t have a clue if he understood what I was asking or what he was saying by reply.  My understanding was that we were long, but very narrow (he actually laughed when I told him our width), so we couldn’t go in the visitor moorings but we could go to number 32 – whatever number 32 was.  And there were two huge boats.  So, I didn’t know if we were to moor alongside the big boats who were on number 32 or we were to take number 32.  He further confused me by saying “A demain.” “Until tomorrow.” When I’d definitely been quite specific we’d be arriving tonight…….

After a two hour cruise in silence we approached Aigues Mortes and having looked at it on Google Maps satellite had a rough idea of where to go to.  Once in the port, all became clear; the berths were numbered and are not pontoons, but stern on moorings with poles at the front to rope onto.  As we counted down the numbers, up ahead were two big boats, the ones he’d mentioned and just before them, to the left, was empty berth number 32. 

I realised then that he’d finished work for the evening, the office closes at 7pm, hence he said he’d see us the next day, and I felt utterly elated that we had got moored up, and in such an amazing place.  Mike went straight to bed, it was just after 8pm, so I sat out on the front deck with my book, had a couple of glasses of pink champagne, some cold meat, cheese and bread and watched the little fishes at the surface with delight.  Nothing could spoil my mood at that minute………. We’d made it!
Arriving at Aigues Mortes as the sun was going down.