Gallic Peregrinations #2, St. Jean de Losne to the top of the hill.

SALUT! (Sounds like: 'sal-you'.) I'm sure I mentioned, earlier, somewhere, that the telling of this tale was likely to be 'non-linear', and thus it shall prove to be.

Prior to starting out where last I left you, gentle reader, I was enjoined to notice that I was far from qualified to be in charge of the boat intended for the journey we were envisaging. Whilst Lyn and I had, prior to leaving Ireland, investigated the qualifications necessary; in large part due to the current world-wide health emergency; no person or organization willing and able to supply such qualifications, was available in Ireland. Turning to United Kingdom sources: we ascertained that the Royal Yachting Association could - in normal times - supply such requirements . . . i.e. an International Certificate of Competence (I.C.C.). However . . . that qualification consists of two, separate parts: the theory and the practice! The theoretical part: the C.E.V.N.I. (Code Européen des Voies de la Navigation Intérieure), and the practical part: in this case the RYA's 'Helmsman's Certificate.

Now, this last, is a qualification Lyn and I received many moons ago. However: where the paperwork for it might be, neither of us could remember. Sadly, upon enquiring of the RYA, they informed us that they only kept records for five years!!! Again: due to pandemic circumstances; testing for this part of the I.C.C. was 'suspended for the duration of hostilities', both in Ireland and the U.K..

Coming to the rescue, allow us to present Steve and Jo Bridges (of Buzet-sur-Baïse, South West France, on the Canal de Garonne) who's lovely, 21 metre barge: 'SOMEWHERE' provides the platform for the requisite training and examination; whilst Steve and Jo provide the training. (Jo also provides excellent hospitality and scrumptious cuisine, and SOMEWHERE does double-duty as a luxurious, and exclusive, cruising hotel.

Check out: https://www.bargecraft.com/) So, off we went on a 3-day, 1,200 Km. round-trip to the South Of France. That, in itself, is a tale worthy of telling . . . at some later date. Suffice it to say that I feel relieved to have set out on this voyage, suitably qualified; or at least confident that I wouldn't be arrested for 'driving without a licence!

Here are Jo and Steve, with SOMEWHERE providing a suitably scenic backdrop.

Now . . . where was I? Ah, yes: the Canal entre Champagne et Bourgogne (that last is 'Burgundy'. to you and me), which used to be called the Canal de la Marne à la Saône; connecting two big rivers, separated by a very large hill. If the name was changed by some tourism consultant, to attract more people to use it . . . it didn't work! There are a lot of locks (42 'up', 71 'down'; in 224 kilometres) and short - average about two kilometres - pounds. On a British canal, this would make for a lot of heavy work; but the French decided there was a better way. At the very first lock/écluse we were met by an éclusier/lock-keeper, who handed us a piece of kit which looked like a 1990's remote control . . . and such (sort of) it turned out to be! Pressing a button, whilst about half a kilometre from a lock, instituted an automatic system to prepare the lock for our entry. Once safely ensconced in the lock, pressing another button closed the lock-gates behind the boat, and instituted the procedure to, appropriately, flood or drain the lock, and: et voila; open the gates in front of the boat at the appropriate moment. Wonderful! On the very few occasions when this technology failed: a short telephone call - in our 'exécrable Franglaise' - would bring an éclusier, in five or ten minutes. This made us somewhat blasé about climbing up through many miles of grain fields, but at least it didn't exhaust us. The weather, whilst we were delayed in St. Usage/St. Jean de Losne, had been glorious, so we, and our new friends, spent quite a bit of time of VDN's upper deck; where we were high enough to enjoy any vagrant breezes, and take advantage of the welcome shade provided our 'bimini'.

Back in Ireland, hopefully, it will do similar service for the 'liquid sunshine. 😉

Three days got us to the top, and the dreaded five-kilometre tunnel. However, it was well lit and well ventilated, so five minutes of terror, quickly became an hour of dimly-lit ennui. (See how my French is improving?) Au revoir, Tom.