Up just after eight, pouring with rain at nine. It stopped, so we set off at 9.30 a.m. It was still grey and overcast, but at least it was much cooler than the day before, which had been a scorcher. A couple of kilometres to the first lock. I got off at the wooden landing below Laval two-rise with two ropes to drop down to Mike once the boat was in the lock. A converted Dutch Barge, painted in crazy paving blue and yellow, was coming down and had just entered the lower chamber.
A cruiser was on the landing above the lock so I asked the keeper, (an older bloke who was talking to a younger guy with a VNF shirt) who was filling the upper lock chamber, if the cruiser was coming down; no, he said, there’s one coming up. Well, that would be us, but surely he’d let the cruiser down at the same time? Apparently not. We went into the bottom chamber and got severely flushed off the right hand wall. The lock was about half full when the guy emptied it again! He’d let the cruiser in the top after all and was starting again. Mike thought we ought to have moved to the other side of the chamber because of the powerful swirl from the paddles. Later we were more astute and looked for the “feed” paddle, as on each lock one paddle had been left manually operated to be set for running water through the lock when needed, and we put the boat on the opposite side of the chamber to the wind-up or “dead” paddle, as it didn’t lift when they pressed the buttons. When our lock was full the centre gates opened, we passed the cruiser and went into the top chamber and got blown off the wall again. Another converted large Dutch Barge was waiting above to come down. 1.4kms to Gardouche. A large German cruiser and a yacht were moored beneath the trees just before the lock. The lock was empty and I got off as before. Shouted “bonjour” to the resident lady keeper, who was in her house but keeping an eye open for boats, and she came out to press the buttons to work the lock. A shallower lock, only 2,10m rise, it was much calmer as we’d swapped to the left hand side, so the two paddles came up on our side of the lock and the flow kept the boat against the wall instead of blowing it off. As we left the lock I told the lady keeper that we would pause for water as I’d seen the sign on her house that indicated there was water and toilets a bit further along the towpath. She said there was a proper tap on the other side by her lock at the end of the long quay and she had the key – the tap further up the towpath was a push button thing for cyclists and walkers in a toilet block. I asked if it was free, she said yes. I told her we only needed about a third of a tankful and were topping up before the downhill side of the canal. She said yes it was all pay, pay, pay, on the other side! There were lots of campervans parked on the lockside, several blokes came out to watch and one wanted to take our bow rope. He tied it to a ring and I had to ask him to untie it again as Mike needed plenty of slack to be able to swing the stern end in as we had to go along the lock wing wall at 45° to the quay. The lady keeper held out her hand for the stern rope and blushed when Mike stepped off with the rope and took her hand in gentlemanly fashion! I emptied the rubbish while Mike topped the tank up. Wiggled back out from where we’d moored and set off on the 4 kms pound to Renneville. Two British boats came down, a small brand new replica tjalk (Dutch sailing boat) complete with lowered mast and lee boards (had seen lots of those in the Netherlands but that was the first one we’d seen in France) followed by a cruiser. There was an older bloke at Renneville to work the lock, which had a long building alongside it which was derelict, so (like Vic) there was no resident keeper. He mimed “were we stopping to eat?” so we told him (in French) we would stop below the next lock to have some lunch. He smiled (just about). Mike spotted a cruiser coming in to moor below the lock as we left. On the next pound we saw a single Locaboat, followed by two more, then a boat that looked like a Connoisseur but had Europa on the side (must be a new hire boat company?) Moored on the wooden staging below Encassan two-rise for lunch. No sign of the cruiser catching us up. The bottom chamber was empty with the gates open, so at 1.25 p.m. I walked up with two ropes again. A cheery young lad worked the lock. We came up on the right hand side of the chamber as a Locaboat came down in the top. It was 1.50 p.m. as we left the top. A short pound, 1.6 kms, lead to the next lock Emborrel, a deeper one at 3,10m rise. I chatted to the young student girl who was temporary lock keeper for the summer break from Uni, where she was studying to be a maths teacher. I thought the lock house was derelict until I spotted a car parked and a few chickens wandering about. The girl retreated to the lock office at the end of the building as we left. We passed another pénichette heading downhill, we thought it was an ex-hireboat. On a blind bend we saw the bows of a large vessel and Mike quickly went into hard reverse. It was the trip boat from Renneville called Surcouf. He only had about half a dozen guests on the bows. (Surely that wouldn’t cover the diesel costs?) Off at the staging again with ropes and we went up Océan, the last uphill lock until we start on the Rhône. The usual resident keeper came out to work the lock using a remote control set hanging around his neck like a lady usherette in a cinema selling ices. The few spots of rain decided not to become a full blown shower as we chatted with the keeper and an American cyclist. A large group of kids on bikes, with teachers, started shouting ‘allo ‘allo and ding-a-linging on their bicycle bells, so Mike had to reply by hooting which cause even more ding-a-linging! The lock keeper had reminded us when we said we would probably be staying on the summit for the weekend that it was the day of music on Sunday (midsummer day) and there would be a fete on at Le Segala. Maybe we’ll move on if we get the post! Crossed the summit, passing the site where the canal originally went up another lock to a higher, shorter, summit level before Riquet made a short cutting which eliminated the two locks. At 3.45 p.m. we tied to the wall by the bridge in Le Segala; shallow as always, we dropped two tyres below the bottom and pulled the boat in tight so we weren’t scraping on the bottom of the canal every time anything went past. A hireboat moored in front of us as we were tying up, but only stayed for about an hour. Mike went off in the car to the post office in Labastide d’Anjou about 2km away from the mooring. They were shut; they had closed at 3.30 p.m. A cruiser went past at 5.50 p.m. heading for Méditerrannée, but stopped on the quay just through the bridge.
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