On Seine

25/8/05 Thursday

We set off from Honfluer (PK355 = 355 km from Paris) at 0830 hrs on Sunday 21st, one hour after low water so that the incoming tide (springs) would carry us up to Rouen (PK 241) but not so low that we would run aground when exiting the lock. Getting out of Honfluer was dramatic with two other yachts rafting up to us (trusting!). Once the downstream lock was open we were exposed to a swift tide sweeping us into pylons on one side, or shallow banks on the other side.
Arrived Rouen at 1600hrs. Rouen is a very old, big, partly industrial town surrounded in green forested hills. Here we could get the mast taken out before the bridges across La Seine become too low for us to get underneath. We found the pontoon for "yachtsmen" which was free to tie up to for 48 hours. We tied up and took off on our bikes around the docklands. These were relatively deserted but had a yesteryear feel to them- huge poplar trees lining the avenues, big sheds and enough parking space to cater for a free Stones concert. We cycled along the busy promenade along the Seine upstream, found the harbourmasters office for the morning and, on the way back, scavenged some wooden planks for the mast cradle out of a discarded heap of pallets (why pay more?).
The next day….We cycled franticly (just because that’s Nicks cruising speed) to the harbourmasters office and he booked us in for the crane to take the mast out within the half hour. RUSH back to the boat, loosen the rigging, make a cradle and motor across the wharf to the crane. Where is the crane? Surely not… the crane was a ship loading 500 tonne monster. We could just make out the driver waiting on the ground beside it, mite like. You’re kidding right. Amazingly, the de-masting transpired without any damage to Pina Colada, despite the fact the driver did not speak one word of English. During the exercise more adrenalin squired out of my pituitary glands than my last motocross start. The mast came out. The wharf was far too high for Nick or I to get off the boat. Instead, much to my grief and desperate suggestions for alternatives, Nick put both of his arms through the crane hook and the driver lifted him dangling through the air, high above Pina Colada (just like he had the mast), and then swung him over the dock and put him down so that he could prepare the mast for settling on top of the boat. Soon thereafter, when I patted the wood in place to carry the mast and offered "ce’ bon" to the crane driver, he laughed down at us. When the mast had been set on deck we motored back to the yachtsman’s pontoon for the night, and lashed the mast securely to the boat. It sticks out a long way past the pulpit.
The next day we obtained out canal cruising guides "Voies Navigables France navicartes" (89 Euro for five to take us all the way to the Med) and our canal license (68 Euro’s for the first 16 days), and set off up the Seine for Les Andelys. On this trip we encountered only one lock.
A bit about the locks (our only actual source of tension, fright and well, work I guess).
The lock walls are either vertical concrete, or concrete pillars with cavities for bollards, or steel pylons also with occasional ladders, rings or bollards to tie too. As the sides are submerged regularly the bollards and walls are slimy and covered in dirty dark mud that smears onto the ropes, hands etc whilst trying to secure the boat against the rushing waves of incoming water filling the lock and raising you up at alarming speeds. The verticle increments so far have ranged from 2.8 m at Elcuse d’Andressy (Ecluse means lock) and 7.9 m at Elcuse d’Amfriville. Amfriville was the first and by far the scariest as we were confronted with visible waves of water funneled towards us as we were still trying to put the ropes on. The last lock we motored upon was the best so we must be getting better at it.
At Les Anderleys (PK174) we rode our bikes up to the imposing Chateau Gaillard, a ruined castle overlooking the Seine built by Richard Lion heart in 1196 to protect the city of Rouen (35 km downstream) from the French. Dick lionheart was English and supposedly the son of Robert the magnificent who was mates with Robert the Diable (otherwise , Bob the devil). How do people get these names? their mothers? or do they give them to themselves? From now on I Nick will be known as Nick the Wicked and I shall be Blue the Willing. Okey doky?
Anyway, we tied up so that we could see the caslte from the deck all illuminated in changing red and white lights. Pretty nice. The river being nice and wide here (120 metres) gave enough room for the one or two working barges to go past in the evening.