Canal du Roanne à Digoin

 

After our morning coffee with Serge we were late leaving Briennon, so just went a little way, no locks but lots of narrow bridges. Being new to the barge it was not surprising we were not quite lined up for one of them and ended up in shallow water at the side of it. No problem, we thought, just push ourselves off with the bowthruster. But we were not accustomed to the use of bowthrusters either! There was a horrible noise of rattling pebbles being pulled into the bowthruster’s propeller box and it all ground to a halt. We had to push off the old fashioned way with long poles, and continue on without the help of the bowthruster and do the manoeuvring as Martin was accustomed to, with the engine.

Some bridges were just plain awkward!

We stopped at the village of Iguerande for I had wanted to see the 11^th century Romanesque church which stands on the top of a hill. Real leyline stuff! We could see the hill from our mooring, and it looked a bit steep and far away, but in the afternoon I set off on my bike and it was worth the effort. 

Iguarande Village from the hilltop church

The strange name of the village actually means ‘on the river boundary’ in Gallic, which could hardly have been more apt for the situation in any language. The village was lovely, and the church with its long sloping roof was typical Romanesque. I was pleased to find the door of the church open – something that happens rarely in France - and useful leaflets about the place inside. I returned to the barge, whizzing down the hill on my bike with brakes squeaking, to find an English narrow-boat out of Roanne trundling past. The owners, who we hadn’t met before, were wrapped up in raincoats and steering with their tiller from the back of the boat, looking very cold.

Iguarande Romanesque Church

Next day was as wet and windy as ever so we decided to stay put for the time being. We had electricity from a box on the shore at our quiet mooring amongst a few houses. When we had moored up the day before, a young woman jogging past had exclaimed with pleasure that we were the first barge of the season to stop there, so we felt quite welcome, though there was not much sign of life in the houses around.

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, though frosty, so we trundled on a short distance to Melay. For the first time we set out the deck table and chairs and sat in the mid-day sunshine, even though the air was cold enough for our jackets. In the afternoon Serge, the bargee from Briennon came along driving a restaurant barge, and blew me a kiss as he expertly turned his barge round in the space beside us.

Winter Sunset at Melay

We had made arrangements with the lock-keeper by telephone to go through the series of three deep locks between Melay and Marcigny, but when we came to start the engine Martin discovered the gear refused to go into reverse. It had been stiff before, but now it was impossible! When driving a boat that is new to you for the first time there are always anomalies and things that go wrong, but we had had all winter to sort them out. So now what? Had we been sold a barge with an expensively dodgy gear box? The big old equipment on these barges is hard to replace. Martin disconnected the wires to the gearbox and, by operating it by hand, discovered there was nothing wrong with the gearbox. Though when he reconnected it, it refused to work again! There had to be a practical solution! Finally he realised the connecting wire had simply been bent down, perhaps by being leant on when working on the engine, and it was catching on a nut. The simple expedient of bending the wire back again solved what we at first thought must be a major problem! With great relief we set off once more and arrived at the lock still on time, only to find that it was not ready for us, so we had to hang about manoeuvring the barge without our bowthrusters while they filled the lock.

2. On the Move

By mid-March there was some improvement in the weather. We planned to leave the port and head north to Digoin and the Canal du Centre, on up the Rivers Saone and Doubs then onto the Canal du Rhone au Rhin, before heading down the Rivers Saone and Rhone to the Canal du Midi in the autumn. We had already explored most of the northern French canals some years before, so this time we wanted to find waters that were new to us.

As with most of our journeys, it was full moon when we were due to leave. We later realised it was the spring equinoctial full moon, and a special one that only happens about every ten years when the moon is closest to the earth. However, there were too many clouds for us to see it! It was the first time to move off our mooring, so it was a rather anxious moment. The day came wet and windy, blowing us onto the quay which made it more difficult to manoeuvre off, but Fat Alice was equipped with powerful bow-thrusters beneath her bosom, and with Martin at the wheel, she moved away from the quay like magic.

 Nutty’s first anxious barge trip

We had made quite a few friends in the port where everyone had welcomed us newcomers with open arms. Just before leaving, several friends came to bid us goodbye then hurried down to the lock to take our lines. We were moored at the far end of the port, whilst the lock was at the opposite end, so as we motored slowly towards the lock we passed all the other assortment of boats and barges. As we went by, people came out to wave and call to us, hooters hooted and we hooted back, for we were the first boat to move that season. We had not expected such well-wishing and it was very touching to receive it. As we reached the lock the wind was blowing strongly from the side and the barge slewed round as we approached, but Martin got it under control and we were in the lock with only a small bump dampened down with a prudently placed rubber tyre. There were more hugs and kisses before the lock emptied and we were on our way. What a send-off! But what a relief it was to be on the way after so many months of waiting and anticipation.

On the way at last. Canal du Rhone a Digoin

It was a shame the weather was so cold. The ropes seemed enormously heavy, full of winter rain, and by the time I had coiled them nicely after one lock, it was time to heave them out again as we reached the next lock. But we were not going far, and after 3 locks we moored up at Briennon. Martin brought the barge in perfectly; I jumped off, and in no time at all we were tied up and plugged into the electric box – our umbilical cord. A glass of red wine was in order, and lunch with hot soup was on the table. In spite of the weather it was lovely to have a change of scene, and the canal-side trees and houses made me want to start painting again. 

Briennon used to be a small manufacturing town producing tiles and bricks which were loaded onto the barges for transporting to all parts of France. The factory was closed but a single 38 metre working barge formed the basis of a small maritime museum. An antique crane that used to place the tiles or bricks into the barges had pride of place on the side of the small quay. Everything had been beautifully restored, but it was let down by the state of the local boats on the quayside that looked half derelict and uncared for, though I dare say the whole place would have looked very different in the summer season, when there would be the choice of three restaurants around the quay. 

A little further along the canalside, under the bridge, there were notice-boards showing what the canal usage was like in the old days. It mentioned how first of all men and their families pulled the barges along the canal with a harness over their shoulders just like a beast of burden, completing as much as 20 kilometres in a day. Then there came the use of horses, and even oxen and other animals, then the steam engine and finally the diesel-powered barges such as our own. Now the canal is only used for pleasure boats, there being no commercial traffic on this part at all. 

Also mentioned was the flood of 1846 when the waters of the River Loire flooded to the height of the canal and the boats at Briennon were all washed down onto the flood plain in the valley! After that, the canal was rebuilt and 3000 trees planted to support the banks along the lower side. This must be what makes it such a lovely, leafy canal.

Nutty takes a look at the big River Loire

Martin was worried about the state of one of the engine-starting batteries as he had been unable to start the engine with them the day before, having to make use instead of the domestic batteries. One was completely dead but the other was fine, and thinking we might have to purchase a new battery, we decided to ask the people on a barge permanently moored at Briennon whether this was possible in the small town, before deciding to move into the countryside where we knew it would be impossible. The man we asked turned out to be a real bargee called Serge. Over a coffee he told us (amongst many other things) that the lock at Roanne is notoriously difficult even for experienced bargees, because the water rushes from the river under culverts there to feed the canal. Also the lock is not in a straight line with the angle of the port. In a side-wind he said it was really difficult, so Martin felt a lot better about his slight bump on the side of the lock, especially since he had never handled Quo Vardis before.

Port Roanne

We found the barge that was to become our home at the port of Roanne in central France. It was an old steel Dutch sailing tjalk, built in 1908 to carry commercial cargo, but it had been beautifully converted for luxurious mobile living for two people or more. At 21 metres she was fairly large, but we weren’t fazed by this, as some years before we had owned one slightly larger.

When we first saw Quo Vadis we knew it was to be our home

When we were younger! On our first barge 15 years before.

 It was November 2010 when we moved onto Quo Vadis, meaning something like "Where are you going?" But I nicknamed her Fat Alice, which suited her well with her big round bows and equally large backside. We had to wait until March before the locks opened and we could move off our mooring in the port and start our travels down the Roanne à Digoin Canal. There were three of us – Martin ‘the captain of my heart’, me, and our dog Nutmeg, affectionately known as Nutty, a boxer-cross who had journeyed with us from Turkey. 

Our barge's wheelhouse had a door on either side so you could moor up and step out on whichever side you wanted. From there you went a few steps down into the saloon, which had a luxurious Wedgewood-blue carpet and large windows on both sides. Two steps further down was an apartment-sized kitchen-diner with a secret entrance to a ‘cave’ where we could store all sorts of goodies. A corridor led to the bathroom, a guest bedroom, and a large owner’s bedroom the full width of the barge, with his and hers built-in wardrobes and cupboards on either side running beneath the deck. 

 In front of all that, down a separate entrance, was a working area where the batteries, generator and fuel tank and central heating boiler were installed together with a jumble of ropes and old tyres. Beneath the wheelhouse and part of the saloon-lounge area was the big old diesel engine with its own batteries and fuel tank along with a multitude of useful tools and gadgets. 

On the side by the land we drew the net curtains, as the French liked to walk along and have a look in – but on the other side we looked out over the water to the boats moored across the port. There were other barges like us, as well as small canal boats and motor boats. Directly opposite us a converted tug boat was moored.

All snowed up!

Soon after we moved in, we were all snowed up and the ducks were swimming around with piles of snow on their backs – they looked so strange and they must have been so cold! There were dib-chicks as well, tiny little things that bobbed up and down in the water. One day we had an invasion of cormorants – about 50 of them – when a shoal of fish must have come into the port. They were diving and coming up with fish, and at the same time were being attacked by seagulls for any bits of fish they dropped. Then they all left as suddenly as they had come. We saw them again later, all sitting on an island in the River Loire. 

 Although it was snowy outside, we were snug and warm in the barge with our oil-fired central heating. We put up some pictures – old favourites that had followed us from boat to house and to barge, as well as treasured ornaments and photographs. ‘Uncle Leonard’s chest’ acted as our filing cabinet – it was ideal for throwing things into and forgetting them! After our journey by van from our previous home in Turkey, nothing was broken when we reached France, which was rather amazing. It was impossible to do anything outside in the snowy weather, but there was plenty to do inside and lots of new things to learn about – the engine, generator, electrical system, bow-thrusters, and so on. But we wanted to be on our way.