(Val Writes)
After 14 hours sleep we all feel a lot better and get up to have a healthy breakfast, walk the dogs and wait for the VNF man to arrive, as he has to accompany us through the next few locks. He duly arrives around 9 am and Carol has already spoken to the Dutch people on the barge who are going to go through the locks with us. They understand that we swing about a bit in the lock and need to stay forward of us to give us room. So, off we go.
This is easy compared to yesterday. The locks are so close together and the VNF man keeps on helping us to rope the bollards. Whats more, its easy with the barge in front of us taking all the turbulence from the lock gates which means that we sit still in the water and Trish and I have very little to do in comparison to yesterday. Oh yes, this is turning into a good day.
Five locks later we say goodbye to our lovely VNF man who informs us that the next lock is “automatique” So we sail through the last lock with the help of the dutch people who kindly slip our ropes on and off the bollards for us. Carol suggests that we moor up for a spot of lunch and to get some shopping from the Intermarche which is right next to the canal. We moor in a beautiful spot, write a shopping list and do a BIG shop. Then after this is stored away, we saunter out for lunch at the local restaurant.
This is where things begin to unravel. The restaurant has closed for the weekend.
So, back to the boat, make a lovely lunch, eat it, and decide to continue on our way to a mooring which is outside a restaurant about 10Km away. Just as we cast off, the guy in front of us does the same, and heads for the lock. He fails to see us so we have to back up as the lock gates close. This means reversing up the canal using the bow thrusters to stay straight, as the wind has got up, and is blowing us about.
All is not well. The noise coming out of the bow thrusters is not healthy, and then they pack up completely. We limp back to our mooring, fighting a strong breeze which is pushing Wild Bird in all directions. Eventually, moored up. Carol suggests that we need to look at the bowthruster propellers to see if there is something snagging them. On enquiring she explains that she really needs a dinghy to do this or she has to jump in the canal. I head off up the line of boats and suss out that the large one on the end has a dinghy.
After a rather convoluted exchange (they said they spoke no English, and I spoke no German, so it had to be in French), they agreed to lend us the dinghy. The guy kindly brought it up to the other end of the mooring and handed it over to Carol. He then walked off, and I held the rope, whilst a rather unattractive Carol, clad in old clothes and a snorkel emerged from the boat to board the dinghy. She then submerged her head in the water, issuing a string of instructions through the snorkel which were totally unintelligible to Trish and I, and using manic hand signals, waving her bum in the air, as she traversed the front end of the boat apparently doing something.
I was then instructed to take her around to the far side where the same procedure was followed, equally unintelligibly, bum still in the air and head under water. This time things did not proceed so fluidly, she went a lean too far and flipped the dinghy over! Carol disappeared under water, and I am ashamed to say that I was less worried about Carol than I was about telling the German that his pristine outboard motor was upside down in the canal.
However, she fortunately re emerged, looking worse for wear but much calmer than I, and politely asked me to lower the ladder at the back of the boat so that she could board. This I did, at the same time as rehearsing in my head, how I might tell the German about his dinghy. Fortunately Carol, dripping and bleeding from a cut finger, made it rather obvious that something was amiss. The German was not amused. By now, we had been joined by a Frenchman who helped to haul the sorry dinghy and motor out of the water. Then an Englishman arrived and the three men took off with the motor to try and rescue it using “man language” and leaving Carol (dripping) and me hovering. There was no attempt to ask Carol if she was ok, the engine needed to be attended to. We all breathed a sigh of relief as said engine sputtered back to life after major surgery, and smiles all round, and a few pats on the back, and I rather thought we might have been forgiven.
So back to the boat and Trish and Carol agree that Carol should use our meager water supply for a shower as the Eau de Canal Vosges was not too pleasant. Carol then dashed off to get some decent wine from the shop to give to the German, by way of apology, along with her insurance details in case the engine suffered a relapse.
Next, the lovely Frenchman next door turns out to be a marine Engineer so he offers to have a look at the bow thrusters. Trish now has a Frenchman in her bedroom although the oily overalls are perhaps not as romantic as one could wish. He is delving into the bowels of the boat with Carol testing the engines. On checking the manual it appears that the Frenchman knows whatn he is talkign about, and also knows how to contact the french suppliers. . We are therefore staying put until Monday so that he can help us to sort this out and allow us to continue with confidence.
We are all rather frazzled again so I am therefore “volunteered” to ride the collapsible bike, down the road to the Intermarche, where a pizza van with a feu de bois pizza oven is awaiting our order. I park my collapsible rather nonchalantly in its semi collapsed position. This draws a crowd, there are clearly no collapsible bikes in Girancourt. I am now the centre of attention so my pidgin French and my admission that it is pretty crap draws laughter and a crowd sourcing support system to order the pizzas and understand that it will be at least an hour before they are ready. Laughter and bon homie all round. However, pizzas ordered, collected, eaten and all is well.
A day off tomorrow, and we might even go out for a bike ride. The only obvious hazard is that this is Sunday, we are near the church, and Sam appears to like howling in unison with any bell ringing, so it may be rather noisy.
Addendum
Well it seems our day was not quite over after all. Not sure what was in the wine we drank but I woke at about 12.30 am absolutely convinced that we were floating down the canal in the dark having somehow slipped our mooring. Not wanting to disturb anyone erroneously I even took the time to take a panicked trip up on deck to double check. No, we were definitely in the middle of the canal and had water on both sides and seemed to be travelling at speed. I rushed back below deck shouting to Carol that we were drifting down the canal and she emerged from her slumbers to tell me that this was impossible. However, I was so insistent that Carol climbed out and took a look. She then, much more politely than I deserved I think, told me I was not quite right in the head and got me to look out again. It seems the rippling water I had seen was actually rippling long grass on shore to which we were still securely moored. Doh! Back to bed chastened and embarrassed
But the night was still young and a couple of hours later I awoke to hear Trish crashing past me on my sofa bad, with Sam in tow. She was muttering about needing to get on deck and then that she had forgotten her shoes and she would go back for them. “Trish?” I said. She stopped, looked at me and said “WHAT?” then “Oh I thought I was wanted outside” With that she promptly marched into her room and went back to sleep. There was definitely something in the red wine last night.