First Locks
Tuesday evening Jacqueline drove me into town to shop and we passed these Camargue horses at Port Napoleon.
Wednesday 8 June
This must have been just about the worst day of our lives. I can’t think of a worse one, though there must have been. We rose at dawn and motored down the canal once again to the Port St Louis lock. At 6.10 am I called the lock keeper on channel 19 and he said they would only open at 7 am and we were told to go in behind a large cargo boat which duly arrived at 7am. He told me to use two lines to tie up. Well, once the cargo ship was in and tied up (with LOTS of help from the guys on the quay), we were waved in and Mike steered to the wall. The bollards were set way too far back from the wall so I flung myself upwards and clambered onto the quay, trailing a rope. The bollards were much too far apart and our ropes were not long enough to go round and back to the boat again, so I had to tie bow line loops and slip them over the bollards. I did the back one by which time the turbulence had pushed Forever’s nose out. I rushed forward and Mike threw me the forward line, which now had a knot in it! Well, we of course got no help at all and the whole bloody exercise took ages, lock keeper and crew on the neighbouring Bella waiting with resigned patience. Not so the early morning traffic being held up by the still open bridge who began to hoot loudly and long. When I got us finally tied up I stayed on the quay whilst the lock filled (or emptied – I was too distressed to care) and the lock keeper told us to exit first. I untied the ropes and Forever immediately slid away from the quay. Mike shouted to me to hurry and I only just made it back, sliding ungracefully over the lifelines into a heap on the deck. A totally horrifying experience for me.
Here we are leaving the lock....
...and into the Rhone
It is 41 kilometres from Port Saint Louis to Arles. The current wasn’t too strong and we were making between 3.6 and 4.9 knots over the ground, so the journey took us less than 5 hours. The day was now pleasant and sunny, though quite cool and the trip was uneventful, only a couple of large peniches about. The approach to Arles, which is actually a lovely town, was very disappointing with endless heavy industry cluttering up the river bank all the way along the Rhone. In Arles itself we’d heard the Halte Fluvial was operating but it was full of small local fishing boats so no chance to moor up. The only other option is to tie against a floating restaurant ‘Le Peniche’ but there were already three boats there and no more room. We were sad as we’d hoped to stop there. However, we have visited Arles quite a few times before by bus or car so it wasn’t too tragic and we carried on.
The next theoretical stop was the Vallabrègues Halte Fluvial a few kilometres past the lock at Beaucaire, a further 19 kilometres. We weren’t really in the mood for another lock but decided to give it a go. The stretch of Rhone just before Tarascon and Beaucaire has a very strong current and we slowed up considerably. However, our 50hp motor had no real trouble.
Going past the medieval town of Tarascon. The town of Beaucaire is on the opposite bank.
As we rounded a bend in the river to the Beaucaire lock we saw a boat coming out and then the lights turn green. There was a yacht waiting to go in and Mike put on throttle, but the lock keeper closed the lock before we could get there. A bit unfriendly we thought as we would only have been another couple of minutes. However, no problem and we tied up on the waiting quay. I tried calling on the official VHF channel 20 but there was no reply, so I telephoned and was answered by an electricity company who put me on hold with music and regular affirmations in French and English that my call was important to them and I would be connected shortly. Eventually the lock keeper picked up the phone. I mentioned the lack of response on VHF and he sort of slid past that. He told me there was a large passenger ship coming and we should come into the lock behind it. OK. The passenger ship hove round the bend and then another small yacht appeared.
When the lock eventually opened the cruise ship went in and we followed. I had agreed with Mike we would tie up to our left (port) side and that’s where I stood with my ropes. We entered the lock, hugging the right hand side which I couldn’t understand but assumed Mike had it under control. (He told me later that the turbulence from the cruise ship kept pushing the boat to the right and he was struggling to move it left.) We’d never been in one of these locks and had no idea how a floating bollard worked, though I had hunted in all the literature and blogs that I’d downloaded. I figured it must be dead easy if no one thought to give any details. Well, we entered the lock with some turbulence from the big ship and then I spotted the bollard in the wall. I hunted for the second bollard. I had assumed there would be two of them and was completely thrown by the concept of only one. I shouted to Mike to head for the bollard which we tried to do but we were too far in and overshot the mark. Oh god, what a cock up. Very long story cut short we farted around back and forth, but couldn’t now get near the wall, constantly being pushed by the turbulence away from the wall (desperately trying to fend our mast ends off the concrete wall) into the centre and up against the Danish yacht that had come in behind us and tied up on the opposite wall. They kindly took our ropes and told us to tie onto them which we did. The passengers on the German cruise ship ahead had all congregated on their back deck to watch, of course. I’m convinced they were all rolling about laughing at our antics, though at the time I couldn’t have cared less.
Finally tied up the lock gates closed and we started to fill – it is a 14 metre fill which is a lot of water. The Danish couple were awfully nice and didn’t make us feel bad about the whole thing. The picture shows us tied to the Danish yacht and you can see the bollard in the wall. They looped one rope from the front cleat which she is holding and another rope is looped from the back cleat which he is holding from the cockpit. Easy, when you know how. Mike boarded their yacht and helped the lady hold the rope, but it was not too much of a strain.
So, now we know how to do it, it should be easier the next time - please god. Getting out of the lock was easy and we said goodbye and carried on. We tried the Halte Fluvial at Vallabrègues but it was much too small and crowded so we just carried on, heading for Avignon. At this point we were extremely disappointed in the lack of facilities for boats making this journey.
However, at 7.30pm (14 hours after getting up that morning) we came into the absolutely divine town of Avignon.
Avignon, the Alpes in the far distance and the bridge in the foreground is NOT the Pont d’Avignon.
Once again we were to be disappointed with the facilities. The Port de Plaisance was washed away in the storm in 2003 but there are still bollards on the wall with water and electricity. Having been assured that the Halte Fluvials were free, we found this not to be the case and discovered next day that the cost for these minimum facilities is the same as the marina in Port Saint Louis. However there is one shower ashore, a washing machine and drier and a few magazines in the Capitainerie. Anyway, that evening we found a spot, tied up and had dinner on deck in the late sunshine.
This is the sort of thing that makes it all worthwhile which is fortunate because we can’t exactly change our minds now and sail up the Atlantic (though at this point we are both rather wishing we had done so.)
Those friends who were thinking of joining us can forget coming for any lock manoeuvres – just come and sit in a marina for a while!
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