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Published: August 26th 2010
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CS:
Leaving Auxerre in the afternoon we backtracked down the canal to Bailly. Seven locks negotiated seamlessly, save for a minor crisis when the barge in front of ours decided to broadside just in front of the lock mouth because a blow-up lie-low had gone over the side. Not tied on, obviously, and not equipped with a line the mattress scooted across the water defying all owners' efforts to retrieve it. Meanwhile we, in a much larger vessel are tight in a narrow channel approaching the other with nowhere to go and two other barges are backing up because having come out of the lock their way is blocked by our 'friend'. Skip again saved the day and lie-low finally retrieved and stowed we proceeded into the lock.
We had already had a problem with said 'friend' when their skipper attempted to open the sluice gates at an earlier lock, much too soon and PP, on the back gate winch, nearly got flung into the brink and collected a nasty bruise on his belly for his pains. We were not unhappy to see our 'friends' chug on past our designated stopping spot.
Said spot at the tiny village of
Bailly was a long stretch of clear bank where we intended to gain power and water, as well as visit the much vaunted Les Caves Bailly Lapierre. Unfortunately both junction boxes had been vandalised so power was out but we could get water at the second one, immediately adjacent to the stairs up to the winery.
The sun had been pounding all day, Skip in particular was reduced to covering himself with one of his favourite Wallaby footy jumpers, hat and sunscreen to cope with the relentless rays. Other crew also suffered bravely, with IJ 'manning' the forward line, EB the stern and CS hopping ashore at each lock. JJ assisting with fending off, lining us up and occasionally taking the helm. PP, despite his earlier mishap, continued to be our gate man. That was made more pleasing when the lock operator was an attractive young woman, as many of them are, clad in short summer dresses commensurate with the weather.
Bailly village proved very small indeed so we missed out on the ice-creams, cold beers at the (non-existent) pub (to be provided by Moulin Rouge lookalike serving wenches) and gentlemen capable of intellectual conversation which we respectively,
collectively hankered for. A BBQ dinner on the dock under the trees with swans and ducks passing by, had to do - and it did nicely. We are in the river here and it is quite wide, not that we saw much traffic. The locks close at around 7pm so after that we know who we are sharing our part of the waterway with.
Apart from an occasional but constant 'boom-boom' from the far shore, the purpose of which we were unable to discern, and the squealing of the battery alarm in the middle of the night, our overnight in Bailly was uneventful. We woke to rain and thunder and were all relieved that the heat had drained away. A lovely refreshing walk into Vincelottes and then on to Vincelles allowed us to find a supermarche where we could resupply. Picking blackberries and sour apples along the way helped us feel very french.
Up the short steep hill from the barge and we were in the cavernous Caves, tasting a selection of sparkling and red wines the region is famous for. The underground storage for the local wine cooperative extends for some 8 hectares of passages, the rock
having been hewn here centuries ago to provide stone for building in Paris. What a win-win that proved! (Perhaps not for the diggers).
Dejeuner au plein air proved impractical in the pluie so we remained on board, visited briefly again by the swans. A short lunch time kip to fit in with the lock closure times (oh how quickly one acclimatises) and we set off again to do some fishing. More of that later.
The rain abated during the afternoon, and we rang our friends at France Fluvial who agreed to meet us at Cravant around 3pm. We cruised easily into our past mooring spot and Brian and his wife joined us there for afternoon tea. Replacing two batteries was diagnosed as the cure for our middle-of-night squeaks.
Setting off again we had the canal to ourselves through 4 locks to Pregilbert. Mooring along the canal beyond the bridge we enjoyed dinner on the roof, having failed to find any shop or pub in the little village. We saved the fishing venture till Monday morning but JJ and CS walked the tow path and met a French fisherman who netted a largish carp as we watched. He
threw the critter back indicating he only fished for sport. He nevertheless took his activity seriously given he was kitted with tent, 4 sophisticated lines (all with noise devices which activated when he got a bite) and various other fishing paraphernalia.
The night was indeed squeal-free, thank you Brian!
PP:
Well the fleshpots of Montmartre proved overwhelming for the Scurrilous Skip and the matelots of the Scurvy Crew - they have been looking for the skimpily-clad dancing girls and the Pub ever since!! The Skip has proved to have a talent for nosing out the pubs in any town that has one. When approaching Pregilbert, hopes were high because apparently some time ago (a couple of centuries or so) the Pope decreed there were too many nuns there and ordered the number reduced, so we thought they may have retrained as dancing girls(??)! They must have been hiding, because there were “nun” visible!
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