Mascaret

Written at Bègles, which is a reasonable port de plaisance some 5 km outside Bordeaux; there is a good cycle path which I have used to get there. There is a good bus and tram service, but the last bus from Terres Neuves (the tram terminus) to Bègles leaves at 8pm. Stick to the bikes. The bloke who runs or helps run the port de plaisance is helpful.

Bordeaux is a lovely city with a great tram network. I went on a guided walk, which I enjoyed, the guide pointing out the many beauties of the city's architecture, including mascarons, the stone images by balconies. I also went to Compas Marin, a nautical shop at the western end of the basin (bassin) in town and bought a proper chart of the southern end of the Gironde (7427L). I tried to buy other Breil guides but no go. I should have bought a tide table.

On 3 August we left Bègles for Blaye, a town on the Gironde with a castle owned by a troubadour I had read. I had also read the Breil guide to the Gironde, but not carefully enough. I thought I knew about tides but, apart from mooring at Bègles, had no experience of tides so fast and with such a range. Of course we went with the tide, which ran fast, and got to Blaye early in the afternoon, mooring at the end of the pontoon, facing the ebb. I went on land, gave the tourist office an exorbitant €20 for the mooring; I was given no receipt (which is very unusual) or warning about the tides: this I find irresponsible; where I live I would have had to sign a disclaimer, undertaking not to sue the authorities if something went wrong. I then went to see my troubadour castle. When I got back to Mathilde the tide had turned (as it does) and water was washing unpleasantly into her stern. When another boat left and yet another moved forward, I turned Mathilde so that she could face the flood, and all was well. After that I saw a small sign at the mooring saying: moor facing the current. I pumped and sponged out Mathilde's bilge—it could have ended badly for her.

By then I had seen what I had wanted to in Blaye. I left around 0500 the following morning, at slack water (which is a very short period). The buoys in the estuary are lit, so I made my way, using the chart, to the mouth of the Dordogne, where I hung around a bit, because the buoys there are not lit. Once in the Dordogne we were doing 16 km/hr, which means the flood must have been about half that, because I chose to go slowly through the water, bearing in mind the debris. We passed a few moorings (shown in Breil) and eventually moored at Libourne, on the river Isle. As I went for a walk away from the pontoon I could see, once on land, the signs saying: don't use this pontoon, it's unsafe. There is another pontoon a hundred or so metres away in the Dordogne itself; it was locked and it was Saturday. Libourne is very pretty, with defences built by the Black Prince (a town can't really hold its head up in this area if it doesn't have defences built by the Black Prince or was not pillaged and burnt by him). Later in the afternoon we went a couple of km up the Isle, which was pretty, though certainly not in the class of the Baïse. The ebb was still flowing, so I anchored mid-stream (I had seen no tourist traffic all day). At 1930 I heard a roar and saw the mascaret coming up; I had time to start the engine and face it, though it was only 20' I mean 2' or so high and would not have done much harm anyway. It's just the terrifying roar that made it sound like 20 feet high. So now I know that: one minute you have the ebb, then next minute you have the mascaret, the water in the Isle has risen by a metre and there is a strong flood. I went back to Libourne, moored and had a drink.

There is a bit of flotsam in these rivers, which bumps against the hull when moored. When Mathilde is moving I like to keep a lookout and move through the water not too fast.

Guys at the river bank at Libourne told me that the mascaret at the mooring was not a big deal, and the pontoon rose with it. I was not sure: it probably would have been all right, but I did not want another cleat pulled out by a sudden wave, perhaps with the boat rising faster than the pontoon.

I could have gone further up the Dordogne but I wimped out and headed back. I got under way so that we would not face the mascaret when moored. We bounced around a bit when it came but it was not a problem at all. Went back to Libourne, moored and waited for the ebb. We left shortly after noon, and soon the current was running at 6 km/hr. I got to the Gironde and hung around for the flood up the Garonne, mooring at Bègles a bit after 8 p.m. At slack water near midnight I moved Mathilde a bit further in, to a pontoon where the current was not so strong. This was for comfort rather than safety. I don't turn Mathilde here, but she is moored facing the flood. A sign at the office gives times for the mascaret, but most days there is none—depending on the moon.

We have the Loire on the agenda for next year. I may have another go at the Dordogne then. I think I would then plan to go from Bègles to somewhere upstream of Libourne in one go, and I would avoid a full moon, i.e. choose a time of lower tidal coefficient.

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Back in Meilhan I saw a notaire about my problem with Cathare Marine.

Canal de Garonne--Agen

Mathilde is going strong, having reached beautiful Agen. The only cause for her failure to post is lack of wifi.

Down the Thames to Greenwich

I took a ferry downriver, travelling deck class.
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Past Tower Bridge, holding in its arms has The Shard (Europe's tallest building pending an effort by the French)

Past the building from which John Cleese hung naked, in A Fish Called Wanda

And so to Greenwich and the Cutty Sark

whose bow has a fine entry

and much the same technology as the tall ship James Craig (they were built just five years apart). The main difference is in the colossal amount of government support which Cutty Sark receives--apart from the tiny fact that James Craig actually sails,
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while Cutty Sark rests on her bed of glass.

Who needs the seaside when you have a Thames beach?

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Portsmouth

Visiting England, I had a fun day in Portsmouth, site of Europe's largest naval base.

Warrior was built in 1860 as a response to the construction of the French Gloire

 

 

 

Halyards trailing on deck: ropework not up to James Craig standards!

The crew handling the guns worked, ate and slept here

Mary Rose, pride of Henry VIII's navy, sank in 1545--was it the result of French gunfire?

Sailors streamed the log in Mary Rose, as is still done aboard the tall ship James Craig

Sadly, Britain's sovereignty is lost, as daleks have taken over the Royal Navy

Oxygen Masks On!

Mathilde reached the highest point on the Canal du Midi, almost the height of K2, a dizzying 189 metres above sea level. Australians are proud of the Snowy Mountains Scheme: over three hundred years ago Monsieur Riquet brought about a canal connecting sea to shining sea, and he turned rivers around to provide water to feed it (each time a lock is used, water goes from one level to a lower level so that, without replenishment--30 million cubic metres per year--the system would run dry).

There were many signs saying parting of the waters. 

This sign "parting of the waters" made me think of Moses and the Red Sea but of course it means watershed.

Riquet's descendants erected an obelix to mark his achievement, with a symbolic girl replenishing the canal, which links Poseidon (representing the Atlantic) and Venus (I'm sure it's significant that this goddess was chosen to represent the Mediterranean). 

 Then Mathilde went to bed.

Mostly Castelnaudary

Castelnaudary (meaning Arius' New Castle—new in the 12^th century) is fun for the photographer.

 I caught snow on the Pyrenees to the south.

I was intrigued by a sign saying Semi-Pedestrian Way: I found this puzzling till I saw some one-legged people hopping along. Maybe it's all in honour of St Roch.

As I make these notes I enjoy practice at the Ecole de Musique across the water. Reminds me of classes in Toronto.

I'm reading a book by Alison Weir on Eleanor of Aquitaine, redoubtable ruler of these parts in the twelfth century. She was quite a girl—a good-time girl--and it helps to know some of the places mentioned in the book.

Today Saturday I went by public transport to the market of Revel—a village, not a composer. Going northeast, we drove up into the foothills of the Black Mountains, past an artificial lake which feeds the Canal du Midi, and which is itself fed by streams from the said Black Mountains. Very pretty countryside, patchwork of fields with crops including wheat and sunflowers and forest. Like the Shire, good tilth pleasing to hobbits.

Then back to Castelnaudary.

 Strange to think that in less than a week's time I'll be in England. Christopher Ecclestone is playing in Antigone. I believe it's not a comedy, but it may be worth seeing.

Castelnaudary

Don't you just hate it when you read an important official notice to boaters which says “Un cerclage vert repère les arbres chancrés” and you look up “cerclage” in your French–English dictionary and it translates it as cerclage? 

 

Mathilde briefly visited the Grand Bassin of Castelnaudary, which had a very Mediterranean look, I thought, before moving to another marina in the same town. 

I walked up to the highest point of the town, finding an old windmill. On this high point, a good place for viewing battles, there was a helpful plaque described battles fought here: in 1211 (the Cathars lost) and 1632 (the revolting people of Languedoc lost). 

There was another helpful plaque about the water supply from the Black Mountains to feed the Canal du Midi. Castelnaudary is 180 metres above sea level; soon we should get to the Seuil de Naurouze at the watershed, at 189 metres the highest point of the Canal du Midi, from which you either go down towards the Mediterranean or, in Mathilde's case, down towards the Atlantic. So far this year we been through 103 locks (counting a double lock as two). The last was quadruple, called for St-Roch, the guy with the sore leg. The previous lock was called Gay.

The temperature during the day is pleasantly warm—it was no pain to cycle a few hundred metres with a jerrycan to get petrol—but the sun on Mathilde is strong, so she is uncomfortably hot for much of the day. This is not a great problem, as there are other places, like this internet café, to lurk. And Castelnaudary has several pleasant squares.

I have booked a few more nights here, planning a visit to a market in a neighbouring village tomorrow (Saturday). Rain is promised on Sunday, which may make housekeeping in Mathilde comfortable. Monday is market day in Castelnaudary; I will leave for Toulouse around the middle of the day.

Canal du Midi by Bram

I visited Villesèquelande, viewing a 500-yr-old tree planted during the reign of Henri IV—a good thing for a king to be remembered for.

Then the village of Bram, which had a circular wall defending the church and some houses, then an outer wall defending a greater area. Now it doesn't have walls but a great ring road system. Sadly, at bicycle level, there's not much to see, and I didn't bother to charter a helicopter. 

In Bram church was a lovely statue of St Roche, displaying his sore leg. He has been a great support this year, because Mathilde had a sore foot, since fixed, and Mr Pither (pictured) had two flat tyres, also now fixed. The saint's dog also brings him food--unlike any dog I've known, including Inspector Rex.

 A peaceful bedroom for Mathilde.

Back to Carcassonne Citadel

Strolled to Carcassonne Citadel, scene of much fighting over the centuries but retaining some glorious architecture. The medieval depiction of Noah's Arkin a stained-glass window appealed to me--five oars per side, plus a rudder.

Returned to Mathilde via the central square of the “new town” of Carcassonne (meaning 13^th century), where the central square has a plaque commemorating events including devastion by the Black Prince in the 14^th century. At that rate there'll still be plaques about Nazi atrocities in the year 2,745.

Back to Carcassonne

Mathilde has returned to Carcassonne with its stunning citadel. We'll spend a couple of days here provisioning and then head to Toulouse, where she will rest while I fly north.

We've seen a lot of beautiful canal and met some pleasant boats along the way. I've seen some beautiful villages and lovely old bridges and other 17^th-century structures, dating back to when the canal was built. We've gone through many locks. Normally Mathilde motors into a lock, stops near a ladder of 3 or so metres height, which I climb, holding on to her mooring ropes, which I then make fast, whereupon the lockkeeper closes the gates through which we have entered and opens the sluices so that the lock fills—sometimes with quite dramatic splashing and turbulence. The upper gates then open and we go on our way.

This procedure (which is for heading up, i.e. towards higher ground) can go wrong when I overshoot the ladder and have to manoeuvre to get back to it, or people who know less about boating than I do (there are a few) let their great heavy boat swing alarmingly close to delicate little Mathilde—or when there is no ladder at all, just 3 or 4 metres of lock wall. It's all fun—well, mostly.

A switch seems to have been thrown, and summer—or something like it—is here. I have packed away my jackets and long-sleeved shirts and have started hitting the iced coffee and the rosé wine. Very pleasant. I've also discovered Olives Artisanales du Languedoc, varieté Lucques. Yummy, plus cheese, French bread (what else?) and pâté.

Life is not without setbacks. In Argens-Minervois I promised myself a cup of coffee and a glass of wine at Le Sourire de la Grenouille, where I dined hugely on cassoulet last time I was there and also enjoyed the wifi. It was closed. So was the general store opposite, because it was Wednesday afternoon. Poor me. So I consoled myself at the café at the port, which has no wifi but does run to French cappuccino and a waffle. Oh, the suffering. Plus I looked at a tourist booklet about the South of France, with motto: le vrai luxe c'est d'être là, the true luxury is being there. Fair enough.

More Dordogne

In the Dordogne I visited St-Cirq-Lapopie, reminiscent of the village in Hot Fuzz: it is publicised as one of the Most Beautiful Villages of France and doubltess has an efficient service for keeping itself pure. It was charming if also a trifle overwhelming.

Back near my base in Montignac, I visited the village of Fanlac, which is advertising a “world fête” on 26 May 2012—reminiscent of Billy Connolly's World Tour of Scotland. There were fresh flowers on a memorial to members of the Resistance shot by Nazis.

Inspired by Jack Aubrey, I took to the waters again, this time in a hired canoe on the River Vézère. Among others I passed the Château de Losse.