Viviers to Glun

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Thursday 16 June

Just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do.  We have had a really torrid time since leaving Viviers.

After an early morning walk up to the old cathedral, we left Viviers in lovely sunshine at about 10 am.   Our first lock was Chateauneuf, a deep one at 18.5 metres and we were the only boat.  Although the lockkeeper kept us waiting for an inordinately long time once we were inside, he then proceeded to fill the chamber very quickly.  (I don’t actually know if they can control it but it seems to me that it must be so because some fill quickly and some more slowly.)  The Danish couple with whom we shared our first lock looped their lines round the bollard and then each kept hold of a line in their hands whilst the lock filled, and so we had

copied this style – nearly tragically for us in this lock.  The turbulence was so extreme that the bow of the boat swung out, more and more, and I (on the bow side) was unable to pull it back in again.  The stern, of course, had swung inwards and our solar arch was now grinding against the wall.  Mike constantly shouting at me to ‘Pull it in’ was of absolutely no use whatsoever and caused me more distress and panic than I was already experiencing.  I really thought I was going to have to let go in which case the boat would have been flung out of control in the chamber – a horrible thought.  I screamed at the lockkeeper to stop but that made no difference either.  Well, we survived, but I’m amazed all the bones in my right hand were not crushed.

Very chastened, we carried on.   I was tempted to give the lockkeeper the finger on exiting but decided against in case he called ahead to the next lock and they also gave us a hard time.  We agreed that in future we must snub our ropes off tightly and use our hands to push the bow or stern away from the wall in case of turbulence.  We passed through the next two locks, Logis-Neuf (13.75m) and Beauchastel (13.65m) with no problems at all, but admittedly there was manageable turbulence.  It poured with rain on both occasions and it seems to me that both lockmasters kept us standing about in the chamber for excessively long periods.

We passed the cement works and nuclear station at Cruas, had a close encounter with a shallow bank, and pushed on to Valence.

The rain had eased a bit by the time we reached the outskirts of Valence.  Having motored trouble free all day we suddenly saw smoke oozing up through the space between the roof and cockpit hatch.  I rushed below and checked the batteries which looked fine (not warm and no smoke) but the exhaust pipe was boiling hot.  The pipe leads to a cupboard in the aft cabin so I opened it and exceedingly toxic smoke came billowing out.  We slowed the motor, opened everything up and the smoke dissipated - then everything seemed fine.  We never did find the problem but assumed there had been a blockage in the exhaust which had subsequently sorted itself out.  It’s all very mysterious and worrying and we must investigate that more thoroughly.

Totally wired up and exhausted, we entered the Valence area cautiously.  At Valence we had various mooring options available – the marina, the public quay in the town, the waiting pontoon at the next lock 3 kilometres further on or the Halte Fluvial at La Roche de Glun another nine kilometres upstream.  We wanted to stop at Valence because we had agreed to meet up with our friends Jean Pierre and Jacqueline there and also we wanted to have a look at properties in the area, having been told that it is a
pleasant farming area and not too expensive.  I telephoned the marina but it was very expensive.  I asked the man about the public quay and he confirmed we could moor there and he told me how to get there.  When we arrived there were three other boats tied up including a small yacht so we figured it must be ok.  A polite Frenchman came out of his boat and helped us tie up and we settled for the night.  It wasn’t an ideal spot with a busy and noisy motorway just yards away but we only wanted to spend one night, check the property market the next morning and then intended to move down to Glun.  The wash from the occasional passing boat was tolerable and all traffic stopped at 9 pm anyway (which is when the locks close). 

Friday 17 June

River traffic started again at 5 am but was still no problem.  But then - at about 8 am a very fast motor boat hurtled by leaving a huge wake – it was horrific and Forever banged up and down for some minutes, finally smacking hard against the wall and severely cracking the teak toe rail and even the gelcoat. 

We swung so violently that the side of the boat dipped in the water, something that has only happened once or twice in all our years of sailing.  Upon investigation we then discovered that the wooden mast support at the front of the boat had broken and the mast had crashed down into the stainless steel pulpit and had slipped slightly sideways.  We untied our ropes and left immediately for the next lock.  On the way we passed a fast motor
boat (maybe the same one, we will never know) and we could see his wake banging against the shore in a long trail behind him.  Five fishermen sitting on the banks got drenched and waved their fists angrily.  We were better prepared this time and Mike steered the boat into the waves.  Though there was nothing for the boat to hit, we were still concerned about the stability of our remaining mast support.  I should have taken a photo of the boat and sent it to the authorities.  Bastard.

No sooner had we passed this menace than the battery light and alarm went off on the engine board and the volt metre showed a sudden weird drop to 11volt.  I rushed downstairs and looked at everything, fiddled with the fuse to the Sterling regulator and it all went back to normal – almost.  The alarm light went off but not the alarm.  I’d phoned the lock keeper earlier and he’d given me a 40 minute wait so we were travelling slowly, but now I saw the downstream boat exiting the lock and heading towards us.  What do we do I yelled at Mike and he said Go into the lock anyway. 

Despite the continuous wailing of the alarm our passage through Bourg-lès-Valence lock was delightful.  The lockkeeper was quick and efficient, he filled the chamber at a decent rate, and then let us out quickly.  I gave him a big wave goodbye and he put a farewell “we wish you a pleasant journey” type message over the loudhailer in three languages.  Good man.

We’d heard from a couple of people that there was a good and free mooring at Roche-de-Glun.  You turn off the canal and into the Rhône proper where there is a wide bay designated as a sailing area.  The charming village of Roche-de-Glun is to the left and on the other side of the bay is the smaller sister village of Glun which is even prettier.  The mooring was very nice and very peaceful, free for the first 48 hours and then only €10 per night.  There was neither electricity nor water but we didn’t mind.

The battery alarm had continued to whine away until we reached Glun and switched the engine off, and it still squawked so I switched the batteries off for a minute and it stopped.  Then Mike switched the engine back on again and it was fine.  Obviously just a glitch with the alarm switch.  There are so many odd things happening on the boat – it is quite nerve wracking.  Some little gremlin has moved in.

Once tied up, we went straight into town and approached a gaggle of men outside the local bar, explained our predicament and asked to borrow a jack.  One of them jumped in his car (which didn’t have a jack), went home quickly and came back with a jack from his other car.  I told him we were down at the Halte Fluvial and he said “don’t worry, I have every confidence in you, just return it to the bar when you have finished – tell them it is for Donny” and off he went again.  Very nice man.  We then went on the hunt for a suitable piece of wood to prop the mast on but in this extremely neat and well laid out village there was nothing to be found.  I telephoned the sailing club and was told that a man called Jacqui was down at the Halte working on his boat and I should ask him.  Jacqui and his buddy, Jean Pierre, located a good piece of wood, came aboard and helped us jack up the fallen mast and repair our support system.  They were very kind indeed and did a good job of it.  The people in this small place just couldn’t have been nicer.  Our offers of beers or cups of tea were politely but firmly refused.

We’d no sooner finished our work and returned Donny’s jack than the heavens opened again and it poured most of the night.

That afternoon the German motor boat Carolin arrived and shared the pontoon with us.  We had seen this boat originally in Avignon, and then met Bruno and Heidi at Viviers when Bruno helped us tie up.  They were sympathetic and we swapped notes on possible mooring points ahead.  Bruno and Heidi have done this part of the river before so have some knowledge.  Heidi, like me, hates the Rhône.  Of course, that’s not true.  The Rhône is a lovely river and passes through some beautiful countryside, but I hate being in a boat on it. 

On Saturday we took a long walk over the bridge to visit Glun and detoured through acres and acres of apricots.  After the heavy rain of the previous night there was a lot of fallen fruit to which we helped ourselves - the sweetest and juiciest apricots I’ve ever tasted.   Later we visited an estate agent who advised that she had nothing at all in our budget, so I telephoned Jacqueline and explained that we were going to move on.  We have agreed to try and meet up at Les Roches de Condrieu.