Overcast until midmorning then the sun came out, hot and sticky again. Rain for a short while in the later afternoon. We left at 9.10 a.m. Just before the junction at Montech the towpath edge was eroding badly and sections had been edged with large rocks; the cycle path dipped in places where rodent holes went underneath it. Turned left at the junction heading uphill towards Toulouse. Quite a number of boats were moored in the port at Montech. We’d still got ants. Several days earlier Mike had spotted them trooping across the ropes into the engine room so he’d sprayed the ropes with ant killer and now the advance forage party was stranded on the boat. Every now and again a few would appear and we’d kill them; then we’d find a few more and repeat the procedure. A British yacht from Salcombe went past heading downhill by the wooden footbridge in Montech. Lavache lock 10 was full, so I twisted the pole and we waited while it emptied. I went up the ladder – a deeply recessed row of twisted metal bars covered with slimy chopped weed – to press the button. While the lock filled I went to look at the access below the lock and spotted an ancient wooden roller positioned to take the wear from towropes as horses crossed the bridge as it was once a towpath changeover bridge. I had to wait while a bunch of helmeted and lycra-clad would-be Lance Armstrongs cleared the bridge and then I took photos of it.
We set off on the long pound (18.5 kms) at 10.25 a.m. There were lots more rocks along the banks instead of piling. The sun was out and the weather hotting up again. Lots more rocks lined the cutting going up to Lamothe, but they’d left an old section of wooden bank piling for mooring (no one there) and a digger had been used to scrape off the top surface of the towpath ready for a machine to lay gravel for the cycle path (what an cyclist unfriendly surface – gravel!) Took photos of the machine. The short quay at Grisolles was full, a red yacht at one end and an ex-Connoisseur hireboat at the other end. We went through the bridge and moored at an old commercial quay which was about cabin roof height. Mike decided to leave the car at Lacourt until we reached the far side of Toulouse, probably Vic if we could find a mooring there. It was 1.30 p.m. The red yacht carried on uphill about half an hour later. I made sandwiches for lunch. Mike went across to the station to take photos from the footbridge which was right opposite where we were moored. The restaurant boat from Montech, Vent de Nuit, (Night Wind) arrived and tried to wind by the bridge, got stuck and went past us to the winding hole beyond the quay to turn around.
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