Getting to Auxerre...

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It was sunday we left Sens, and the sun was once again shining brightly. We'd decided to get to Auxerre and the Nivernais canal in two hits – the first taking us to Joigny for the evening. We were lucky with locks and only had a long wait at the first one. Several were equipped with floating pontoons which meant less jumping off of the boat and doing rope work for me! The trip took a few hours, and during it we enjoyed the sun, chatted, sung along to show tunes and power ballads and sipped wine (naturally!). I tried my hand at driving the boat and found it quite enjoyable – until a boat came the other way... I had a little flap about what side I was meant to pass him on, passed him on the wrong side anyway and then handed over control to Mike. Some people are born to be skippers – I'm not one of them! I'm much happier to do rope work and navigation … or nagivation as we call it, due to the amount of times I've had to repeat instructions after Mike hasn't listened fully or has tried to do his own thing despite me having the pilot guide in my lap!
We saw evidence of some seriously shoddy parking as well. Back home, there are photo's in the Ferry Boat Inn of car owners who've parked in front of the pub, forgotten about their car or stayed longer than intended only to have the car swallowed by the incoming tide. We have often chuckled at the pics of car roofs protruding from the water, but have been able to see what an easy mistake it is to make if you don't know the beach is covered at high tide. Well, we saw a real life version of these pics but couldn't for the life of us work out how the cars got into the river. There is no tide on the Yonne, and there wasn't a car park anywhere in sight, yet two cars were in the river, boots open and sticking up and roofs protruding from the water. How had they gotten there? Were they dumped getaway cars? Had mobsters put bodies in the boots? Had some joyriders crashed? Had a practical joke gone wrong? Did France have a version of Punked and was this the result of a filmed prank? We would never get our answer. Mike guessed that I had tried to park the cars. I told him that joke had only been marginally funny when he used it about the smashed up barge and he wasn't allowed to use it again.
When we arrived at Joigny it was late afternoon. We headed to the marina and spotted a parking place. A man came dashing out of a boat, waving his arms and shaking his head. “These are all private,”he said in a Brummy accent, “But the quay over there is easy to get on and off and it's free.” we shouted over our thanks and headed off to the quay. We got on easily and tied up to the big metal rings embedded in the concrete. As we were tying up, a locaboat full of Kiwis passed and also tried to go into the gap in the marina. They too were waved away. We helped them tie up behind us, and as we did so saw a third boat pass and head for the marina space. “Looks like we might have to have someone tied alongside.” He said. But it seemed that the boat was the owner of the space and he drove straight in. Ten minutes later the Brummy chap who'd waved us away came over and introduced himself. He and his wife had just moved here and bought an ex-rental boat to retire on. He told us where the shops and restaurants were and we offered him a glass of wine while we chatted about our trip and listened to his advice about good stopping places. After he left we got showered and changed and headed over to the town in search of food on the way we were treated to a moody sunset over the water, turning our view into a Monet painting. I thought again how lucky we were to be doing this trip.
Being a Sunday evening, a lot of places were closed, but we walked on up through the winding cobbled streets and found a chinese offering buffet for ten Euros a pop. We went in and were seated next to another couple around our age, who were smiley but very quiet. I soon noticed that they were deaf and conversing in sign language. By the end of our meal, the couple had struck up a conversation. The man was able to speak a little and luckily I found I could understand his French. We managed to hold a conversation about who we were and how we'd come to France. He was impressed, as was his partner, who signed to him that she used to live on a boat herself. We carried on the conversation for a little while before the combined obstacles of their being deaf and my being able to understand and speak only limited French forced us to resort to writing on napkins instead. I had not written French since my GCSE exam but found I could write easier than speak. It also took less concentration! As we got our dessert buffet (very odd- Haribo sweets, marzipan balls and tinned fruit!) the couple were paying their bill. They said goodbye to us both then left. “That was impressive.” mike said. “What?” I replied “You managing to understand what he was saying even though it was French and unclear, and then held a conversation. I didn't have a clue what he was saying at all.” I smiled. “It's my teacher and drama training.” I grinned, “I can read bodies well from working with performers and performing myself and understand unclear speech from working with teenagers who mainly communicate in fast chatter or a series of grunts.” We both laughed, paid up and headed back to our boaty home, this time being treated to views of beautifully lit bridges and water.
The next day we left early to get to Auxerre. It wasn't as sunny and the sky even looked to be threatening rain. We chatted to a lockeeper in our second lock of the day who had good English. “The weather is to change today,” he said “Maybe we will have rain later. Where are you going?” “Auxerre” I replied, “Is that possible before the locks close for the day?” “Yes, you can be there by 4 0'clock” Next he informed us that there were going to be strikes the following day. “We are all unhappy. For the many workers our pension money is being taken away. We work hard for this government and they are cutting our money and taking our pensions because they say they have no money, but they have been spending our money on homes and things for themselves. We are going to strike to make them listen to us and show them we are not happy with what they are doing.” “It is similar in England,” I said “Members of our government have been in trouble for using tax money to buy homes or pay members of their family. Some have been made to pay it back.” “We need to all get together,” said the lock-keeper, “Us in France, you English, the Germans – it's happening all over Europe that the governments are not spending our money wisely. All the people should join hands and strike to show the governments we are not happy with the way they run things. The people of Europe need to fight together against the ones in charge.” I agreed. Here I was planning a revolution with a French lockeeper and it wasn't even 10am on a Monday. The lock was now full and we said goodbye to the lockeeper. “Good luck getting the government to listen,” I said “I hope you win.” “Thank-you,” he replied “Bon journee, remember do not go to the locks tomorrow. ”
His prediction about the weather had been right, less than an hour later it started to rain. We passed the time by drinking wine, playing cards and with Mike teaching me how to do bowling and reef knots. My knots got pretty good I then practised tying on fenders. I could do all of the knots and the fender tying. “Why can't I do it this well when we actually need them?” I said “You just need to practice doing it under pressure.” said Mike. “I'll time you, you have to do them within 20 seconds. Go.” I did the first couple OK then started to get panicky and cocked up a few. “You're right, I said “It's the pressure, I'm rubbish. If I ever got tortured for information I'd be the first one to crack and tell them everything. I'll keep practising.” I soon got bored with the knots though and decided to practice my lassoing instead. That was something else I lost the ability to do under pressure. Mike re-capped with me how to do it. I set about trying to lasso various items around the cockpit. I very nearly knocked over our pet Basil plant that we'd had since Vernon. “Careful,” said Mike “You know you're a human wrecking ball, don't go breaking anything.” I responded by lassoing his head and laughing. “Good one,” Mike retorted “That's a great idea, lassoing the driver when he's moving along. We're at the last lock now, put your toys away, there's a good girl.” he winked. I did, but not before taking a comical picture of Mike's lassoed head. Half an hour later we were moored up under Auxerre cathedral, listening to the rain fall on the roof.

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Comments

[mum]

keep them coming my little peas as it is great to read your adventures .They are much better than alices adventures in wonderland love you two millions xxxx