Piepape to Langres

Thursday 21^st July

It rained in the night and started drizzling again early in the morning.  So, despite having told the vnf girl we’d be leaving at 8 am, we had a lie in, walked into Piépape village to buy fresh bread, and then set off at 10.30 am.  I telephoned the vnf and a man in a van duly turned up at the first lock to let us through.  There are no radar detectors here but the locks are very close together and once you go through one it sets the next lock into operation.  The design and layout of all the locks was identical so the process was quite smooth apart from a couple of them refusing to open or close, in which case I called the vnf (there’s an intercom system on the dock which saves using one’s phone) and someone always arrived very quickly – even during the lunch hour to my pleased surprise.

The countryside here is very agricultural with lots of wide open spaces and gently rolling hills in the background – just the sort of land I’d like to live in.  There are lush green fields (the drought is well and truly over) dotted with fat, healthy looking cattle, mostly white or a soft cream or occasionally brown and white.  They stand about placidly in herds of ten or twenty munching the grass or lie lazily chewing the cud.  They are beautiful.

 

On flatter ground the crops are grown – tall leafy stalks of green corn already tasselling but still too young to warrant stealing a couple for dinner; spectacular sunflowers, heavy yellow heads straining to tilt towards the sun; and short stems of ripe beige wheat rustling in the wind, much of it already harvested.

We are passing through many small villages with pretty, well kept gardens full of vegetables and fruit trees.   Along the tow path are people, not too many, walking, cycling, camping, swimming or fishing. They are usually families or groups of school age kids on an organised outing.  People are generally well behaved and the children make hardly any noise – they don’t scream, like English kids.  And no litter, anywhere.  Shades of ‘Stepford’ - must be something in the water.  There’s a pleasant rural tranquillity about it that belies the crime statistics, apparently.

Early afternoon we finally got to Ecluse Number 1, our last ‘up’ lock, where we were greeted by an endearingly friendly chap who took all our details (he was charmed to hear we were from Zimbabwe which he’d never heard of, but seemed to think there may be a lot of Irish people there) and said he would arrange approval for us to go through the Balesmes Tunnel.  This would take 15 minutes so we tied off in the lock and gratefully relaxed with a cup of tea and sandwich.  When he returned with the go ahead he insisted on giving us a chocolate each and so delighted with him were we that we gave him a jar of our apple chutney – I warned him it was spicy but he assured me he would like it.

A few kilometres along we reached the tunnel which passes under Balesme-sur-Marne – this is 4,820 metres long and only 5 metres wide so only one boat can go through at a time.  It took us nearly an hour to pass through.

Despite what I’d read in our chart, inside it is well lit, dead straight and deathly quiet until we came upon a group of workmen putting in new light fittings.  Their calls to each other echoed weirdly down the tunnel and gave us quite a start before we identified them. 

I believe the tunnel was finished, along with the canal, in 1907 so over the last hundred years the constantly dripping water on the walls has formed wonderful stalactites in places.  My camera just wouldn‘t take a good picture of them.

The tunnel marks the highest spot on the canal and a couple of kilometres after it we reached our first descending lock – oh, what a pleasure that was!  We slid slowly into the lock, then without leaving the boat we looped our ropes gently over the bollards at water level, pressed the remote control at the blue rod and down we went, so calmly we barely had to hold our lines.  Bliss!  No more slimy ladders, wildly swinging boat, us shouting at each other, and the end of calluses on my poor little hands.  The whole thing took a few minutes and we were on our way, slipped with equal ease down the second lock and arrived at the Halte Nautique near Langres (PK 149) at 5 pm in very good spirits.  The vnf man was there to greet us and wanted to know when we are leaving again and I told him 11 am Saturday.  We’d had intermittent light drizzle all day, but the good downpour held off until we arrived, as usual, and we got drenched again.

Once again the Halte is free with water and electricity (from 4pm to 9am which is fair enough) but the water is shallow and once again we have had to tie up some way from the dock.   Isis is also here and also has its stern sticking out into the canal.  To get to shore we rigged as a gangplank the board we usually have hanging along the side of the boat.  It was still slimy from the lock walls and Mike managed to slip on it when it was wet and hurt his back, poor chap.  Luckily, and amazingly, he didn’t fall in. 

Despite his bad back, Mike spurned the bus this morning and he managed the long uphill hike into the ancient and lovely town of Langres, birthplace of the philosopher Diderot. 

We took a wander into St Mammés Cathedral, stunning architecture with beautiful soaring arches.  I am constantly delighted by the sheer beauty of Catholic churches and in equal measure appalled by the almost pagan symbolism of the interior decoration.  There is no doubt that Christianity (particularly the Roman Catholic bit of it) has inspired man to the heights of his artistic ability.

Today, Friday, was market day but we found the fresh produce rather disappointing.  However, we bought a Langres cheese which is delicious and have treated ourselves with a ready cooked roast chicken for dinner tonight.  The rain has held off all day and we’ve even had long sunny periods.  However, it darkened again this evening and is now pouring.  We haven’t had a meal in the cockpit since leaving the Saône a week ago and I really miss that.  Of course, it is high here and much further north, so one can expect it to be cooler and wetter.  Mountain weather, I guess.  The countryside is slightly different – more hilly and more trees, almost alpine.  There are still plenty of cows, but not many crops.  We’ve passed quite a few lumber yards along the canal.