Amongst the stream of boats that left Calais Marina on the morning of Saturday 28th May 2011, three mast-shipped sailing boats left the line and turned towards the Ecluse Carnot for the inland waterways. We didn’t know the boat behind us very well, Laurance and his wife, having only chatted in passing, but the last boat, with Laurie & Kate aboard, we got to know quite well over the past week, sharing thoughts over what was to come. Like us, all were heading to the Med., but at differing speeds. Laurie & Kate were all for spending the entire summer in the waterways whilst Laurance were on a mission to get South.
Ecluse Carnot is the first (or last) lock and separates the canals from the sea. It is humungous and, luckily for us, opens on a free-flow at high water. It leads into the commercial basin where, I guess, sea-going ships transfer their loads to the péniches. The second lock, Ecluse de la Batellerie is only 6m wide but 38m long, which is just the proportions of one peniche. Having had to wait for the lock-keeper to arrive, and ascertained via our pigeon-english that he was the man who would be operating the swing-bridges on that section, the three of us stayed together through the first stretch of the Canal du Calais. We passed through the six swing-bridges within Calais and waved ‘au revoir’ to the lock-keeper at Pont de Coulogne, who quickly informed us that the next swingbridge at Pont les Attaques would be opening until 1415hrs, after the lock-keeper had had his lunch. We arrived there at 1300 so, likewise stopped for lunch.
Pont du Coulogne marks the boundary of Calais from the leafy suburbia that surrounds it. The Canal du Calais is 30km long and winds it’s way down to the River Aa, which has been widenend into a canal to carry traffic from Gravelines. 5km thereafter, the l’Aa joins the mighty Liaison du Grand Gabarit which allows the péniches to carry their goods from Dunkerque to Paris, Belgium and beyond. The Grand Gabarit is the collective name of a number of smaller canals that have been widened and merged to to allow the péniches to operate. These are where we are going to find the big locks – the Fluviacarte gives a minimum size of 145m x 12m wide.
After Pont les Attques, Laurance headed off whilst we ambled our way along. We’d agreed with Laurie to make for Watten, where the Aa joins the Gabarit and stay overnight. We actually caught up with Laurance at the next lock as they has to wait but after that, they disappeared into the distance. At 1800hrs we arrived at Watten to find the ‘halte’, as marked in the guide, was nothing more than a stretch of concrete quay. After mooring up, using the concrete rails as mooring points, we had a look around and found a branch off the canal ran to some dubious moorings used by local craft. We decided to stay where we were as both of us had gone aground on the Aa and didn’t want to risk getting stuck again.
It was a quiet night, and after the early morning wake-up from passing péniches, we had a wander into the village of Watten, which was only a short distance from the boat. A lovely rural-type village with friendly people. So nice in fact, that we both stayed an extra day to enjoy the atmosphere. On Monday 30th May, both boats slipped their moorings and moved off moved down the Gabarit to meet our first large lock at Flandres. Yes, a big lock with a peniche in it! We both moored up behind the peniche and watched it wander about as we rose 4m. The next lock at les Fontinettes was even bigger. As we entered we saw the previous peniche in what can only be described as the cavenous interior of a cathedral – it was vast, and about to take up 13m. As we both went entered we went to moor behind the peniche, but both he, and a lock-keeper were waving us further into the lock. Another peniche was coming in and we had to moor alongside the wandering peniche of the previous lock! The mooring points in this lock were floating bollards so it was easy to tie on to. When the gates were closed and the water came in, well it actually comes up from the floor of the lock, Laurie and I looked at each other waiting for the peniche to squash us against the lockwall. But it didn’t, in fact it didn’t move an inch, we were the ones thrown about with the upsurge of water. I was so relieved when we finally moved out.
Laurie pulled ahead as we travelled down the Gabarit. I’d noticed that my engine was starting to get hotter than normal, so pulled over to check the raw water filter. It’s amazing how much weed and floating grass-cuttings you can travel through on a French canal! When we moved off we passed Laurie tied up on the canal-side and told them we would try to make Béthune, where a port du pleasance was noted on the guide. They waved us goodbye as we passed. We didn’t quite make Bethune as the engine was starting to warm up again so we’d slowed her speed down to compensate. Luckily, we stumbled on a brand new halte in the middle of nowhere. It was clearly a nature reserve of some kind, but they, whoever built it, had included two wooden pontoons with stainless steel bollards on each. It’s actually marked in the guide as a 'boat cemetery' and I can only guess that the local council had renovated the area. I am grateful to them.
Aire-sur-la-Leys
The following day, we motored off into the sunshine heading for the port du pleasance at Bethune. We found it a short time later on a branch off the main canal. What a shock! Somehow it had developed into a peniche graveyard and gypsy-site. The cut to the basin was lined with dying house-boat péniches and in the basin itself, the short quayside was lined with a motley array of anything that just floats. Half a space was left at the end, I presume the regulatory visitors berth, which was short of water and put my bows in the bushes. Had I known for sure where the next water stop was, I would have turned and showed them my stern. As it was, we needed water and tied up as best as we could. Fortunately, the locals were friendly and I borrowed a length of hose to connect to the cobweb of tubing around the single standpipe some 300 metres away. The electric supply was closer – a broken-open electric box on a nearby lamppost. The mass of wires leading away from it was frightening and there was no way I was even going to attempt to connect up. We left early the following morning.
On Wednesday 1st June, we carried on down the Gabarit heading towards Counchy Lock were I wanted to stop for a few hours to visit a cemetery. I thought it would be at the waiting pontoon of the lock but as it was, a dedicated mooring quay was sited just before the lock at the road bridge. My Great Uncle is buried at Camrin Cemetary following his death in the First World War. I know of no one that has ever visited him and it seemed uniquely opportune to stop off. I must admit that I was surprised at how well kept these cemetaries are - bowling green grass, blossoming trees and flowers. A perfect tribute to a generation lost.
We left Counchy Lock heading for the port du pleasance at Courcelles sur Lens. The guide shows it as a lake off the canal that has pontoons, water and electricity – just what we wanted. I remember thinking I’d reserve judgement until I got there. In fact it took us some time to get there as the engine was warming up again. The past few days had been very hot, 30°C or more during the day, and I’d been blaming that on the problems with the engine. She would travel for around four hours at 8km/hr (4.3 knots) but only one hour at 12km/hr (6.5 knots) before things got to hot. By the time we got to Courcelles at 2115 hrs, I was travelling on tick-over (around 3knots) or coasting to cool her down. It was slowly becoming clear that the problem could be more serious than I had thought.
We entered the quiet backwater of Courcelles and saw the pontoons, just like a ‘proper’ marina, unfortunately all were filled with obviously local craft leaving an awkward alongside berth with a Dutch motorboat on it. Fortunately the Dutchman came out and gave us a hand in mooring up. It was while we were talking to him, that we realised that all was not as the guide had showed. Yes there were pontoons – almost all taken by locals, yes there was electricity but switched on by the Capitaine who had gone home, leaving only the water supply without disappointment (and we didn’t need that). A further surprise was the existence of a toilet and shower block, but, as you’ve guessed not quite what we expected. The block was sub-divided into separate cubicles of showers (two), French toilets (two hole-in-the-ground type), an invalid WC (English type) and a communal urinal. Unfortunately each cubicle required a 50 centime coin to gain access and the general cleanliness was abysmal. We went to sleep that night thinking it was, at least, better that the side of the canal.
The following day we spoke more with the Dutchman. John was in fact a naturalised Australian which accounted for his unusual accent. His wife, Josephine was also Australian, but of Maltese stock. They had been marooned a week previously following a steering failure and had taken refuge in Courcelles as the nearest place to civilisation. We got along famously with John and Jo, especially knowing that they live not far north of my son in NSW. It was a shame that his 3-month vacation on the canals had come to an abrupt stop, but repairs were in hand and he was hopeful that he would be continuing shortly. We spent an extra day with them as they were such good company and I think they appreciated being able to chat in their native language.
We left Courcelles on 3rd June intent on making for the port du pleasance at Cambrai where we intended to spend a few days. I’d been mulling over the over-heating problem, trying to fathom a cause. Sno’ Rush had been fine after all the repairs in Dover and I couldn’t put my finger on a cause. I’d decided to have a good look at the whole system in Cambrai. We carried on through Douai with not to many problems in the two locks there, then through the Goeulzin lock further down and passed the entrance to the Canal du Nord which goes towards Paris. I was hoping to stay the night at a halte at Estrum which is a town situated on the entrance to the Canal l’Escaut. This would at least takes us off the ‘M1’ of the canalworld and into smaller but quieter waters. The péniches passed us quite regularly on the Gabarit and although didn’t cause to many problems they were regular and always appeared at the time you least expected them. It makes matters worse when two opposing péniches decided to pass at a point alongside you! We didn’t quite make three-abreast but it came close. The problem with Estrum was that there was no water for us to enter. We grounded on the soft ‘stuff’ beneath our keels on the two attempts we made to enter. Unfortunately I’ve found that the up-to-date Fluviacarte is not so current as I’d hoped. There a halte’s that don’t exist or are not in use, ports that are not what you expect and even bridges that don’t exist (not even a sign of where it was). Still, it’s better than nothing. We reverted to the back-up plan and motored the few kilometres down the canal to tie up for the night at Iwuy Lock.
The l’Escaut is the canal that takes the Gabarit up to Valenciennes and Belgium, but at Estrum it heads towards the Canal du St Quentin and has has not been updated to that of its bigger brother. Surprisingly it’s not that much narrower but the locks are smaller, taking only one peniche at a time. My theory of not seeing another peniche went out of the window early the following morning when one passed us by to enter the lock!
It took a little time to work out the lock as I couldn’t fathom how to enter it. I resorted to walking up to the lock-keepers office to have a chat. Unfortunately it was deserted. It was only when I noticed a sign and intercom system that I realised what to do. I spoke to the lock-keeper via the intercom and a remote control ‘plopped’ into the tray beside me. These are the type of locks that when you approach, a quick press of the remote actuates the lock to fill/empty and open the gates. Once inside two vertical bars are mountedwithin the lock wall which are operated to continue the process. One causes the lock to empty/fill then opens the gates while the other is for emergency purposes. Fortunately the lock-keeper turned up a short while later and we had a pigeon-english chat about how it works. After taking all our details, the French like to do that, he gave me a leaflet in English explaining the whole system. He even helped me through the lock explaining what happens, something I found fascinating.
Iwuy Lock
So, on the morning of 4th June we set off along the l’Escaut, in glorious sunshine, with a new toy to operate the four locks to Cambrai. As it happens, the temperature rose to 35°C and Hil was suffering badly. I had watched her over the past few days and we both thought she was feeling the heat more than normal. She did have a pain in the abdomen that steadily got worse and we had to stop after one of the locks. She wasn’t happy, dosed herself with pain-killers and took to our bed for some comfort Unfortunately they were having no effect. I guessed it was something more than heat, or trapped wind as she thought, and pushed to get to Cambrai. Reluctantly, she agreed and we continued through the two remaining locks. I could see from her face she was in agony. When we got to Cambrai, we moored up and I walked to the local pharmacy. Here the Pharmacists are the first-stop for medical problems. I was given very strong pain-killers for Hil in the hope it would relieve her pain. It didn’t, and by late evening it was clear something more was needed, so I called for the Pompiers. We spoke through an interpreter and they arrived shortly afterwards, lights blazing and two-tones blaring. I could see the other boaters looking through their windows wondering what on earth - but I didn’t really care. More speaking pigeon-english, jotting down of details and after another phone call we were whisked off to the local hospital. At midnight, lights and two-tones through empty streets seemed a little over the top but once again, I didn’t really care. When your wife is crying with pain, all other concerns fly out of the window. After blood tests and pain-relieving injections came the diagnosis – Hil was passing a kidney stone! More injections and within two hours of entering the hospital, the pain was subsiding. Another couple of hours and the pain was under control, so, armed with a fistful of painkillers to tide her over the weekend we gathered ourselves together to leave the hospital. Unfortunately, the taxi’s stop working at midnight, buses only during the day and there is no patient transport. With Hil in her pyjamas, the boat 5km away and thundering rain outside things were looking difficult. A private ambulance could be arranged for some time later in the morning but at a cost of €120, but we decided to walk it. The rain cleared and since Hil was now ‘high’, we ambled merrily through the deserted streets of Cambrai watching the sun rise above the towering gothic facades. Back on board, straight to bed for some well deserved sleep. Aah, we’ve arrived at Cambrai.
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