Gallic Peregrinations #1, Plombiers to St. Jean de Losne.

 Hello . . . and welcome to France!

Above it says: 'Plombiers', which is shorthand for: Plombiers les Dijon; the erstwhile home of VENT DU NORD. It is also the home of Mm. Simone Duval: the vendor of our new purchase; and (sadly) her deceased husband: Jacques . . . a mortal victim of 'le Covid' . . . R.I.P.

Whilst, immediately on our arrival, we found much to like about VENT DU NORD (hereinafter written as: VDN); an ongoing impediment has been Simone's huge lack of knowledge about almost every technical aspect of this boat. (Talk about a steep learning-curve!) However: within less than a week of our arrival in France, we were navigating VDN down the Canal de Bourgogne; through Dijon. This initial foray was greatly aided by the services of a 'captain-for-hire': Scotsman: Johnny Parmetter; a wild man if ever there was one! Johnny knows everyone on the water, but few recognise him, after a twelvemonth of allowing his hair and beard to grow, luxuriantly and unrestrained. His ship-handling talents and generous tuition got me off to a flying start . . .  thanks Johnny!

Being keen as mustard to proceed (See what I did there???) within two days we arrived at Atelier Fluvial, in Saint Usage; in order to have a few essential repairs carried out, preparatory to commencing our northward trek.

We were fully aware that such reparations would occupy several days . . . perhaps, even, a week . . . but A MONTH??? I'm being kind . . . five weeks and two days!!! It's not correct to say that the work went slowly; it was getting it to go at all which was the frustrating part. For a start: Atelier Fluvial - and its proprietor: M. Philippe Gerbet - has bigger (much bigger) fish to fry or, rather, boats to repair.

If M. Gerbet had an actual list of priorities, we didn't feature anywhere near to the top of the first page . . . or anywhere on any page, insofar as we could perceive. Please be in no doubt that Philippe - as we came to know him - is anything other than a charming and honest character; but he is the 'busy' in businessman! Multiply that by the complications of the impact of the pandemic, on everything from spare-parts location and delivery, to absentee essential workers, and . . . well . . .

Mind you, compensations abounded. There is a small, but lively and interesting, international boating community, semi-resident in and around the Quai de Canal du Bourgogne. Italians, Germans, Scots, French, Irish (me) and even English. (Counting Lyn, there were five of them!) There was Alberto: a cheese and wine expert from Parma (cheese, geddit?), Italy, and his partner: Ursula; an opera-singer from Munich. Paul and Mal, professional boat-deliverers and house-sitters, from England; and generous with knowledge of all aspects of European waterways. The gorgeous Monica, from Bavaria, and her Scottish - but very generous, with it - (career, ex-British Army) electrical specialist 'toy-boy': Jim. France was very graciously represented by brand-new boaters (and almost brand-new 'couple'): Mylene and Antoine. Whilst England was also represented by 'volunteer' European refugees: Vanessa and Spike (my YouTube guru; of whom I made mention in an earlier missive).

Each and every one of these 'new-found friends', are graciousness personified; and are the reasons why our long-awaited departure from Saint Usage was bitter-sweet.

After replacing the hydraulic pump for the bow-thruster, bringing  the 'black water' tank into usable status, routine servicing of the 5-cylinder main engine and 3-cylinder generator (both Beta Marine units), fitting a new rudder-angle indicator and recommissioning the lower steering wheel back into use; we were finally . . . FINALLY, ready to commence the journey to Zeebrugge. Ursula and Roberto acted as our 'matelots', to get us through the 'écluse' (that's French for 'lock') onto the River Soane, and tie-up at the floating fuel pumps, to take on over 1,500 litres of diesel; THEN we were ready!

Bawling 'Bound for the Rio Grande' at the tops of our voices, we headed upstream on the Soane, with 25 kilometres and three more écluses in prospect before our initial overnight stop, just short of the entrance to la Canal entre Champagne et Bourgogne; with its daunting one hundred and fourteen locks, two hundred and twenty-four Km. length and one hundred and seventy metre rise, before entering the five kilometre tunnel at the summit . . . but that's another story!