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, 6^th 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 8^th 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 10^th.  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 11^th, 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.