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June 3 Sunday
In Esnon.
Have been trying - slightly half heartedly - to settle down and sort web site, which by now is properly mashed, with only 2 weeks of this year working, and even previous years misbehaving.

Therefore, as we had good quiet mooring, and a cool quiet day, and a good signal on the mobile, we stayed put, and virtually the whole day was spent tapping away at the dls. (dls = devious little sod)

Managed to sort another 3 weeks of this year, but still lots needs to be done.

Cannot pin point problem, but think am able now to cure it when it occurs. Did, however, discover that the cordless mouse and the mobile phone interfere with each other if too close to-gether, and the mobile phone, when transmitting, can do horrid things to the computer. As all 3 are integral parts of web publishing, once again the gremlins of the dls have scored.

June 4 Monday
Esnon to St Florentin
Cool night, cool but bright morning. Dragged ourselves up, and got ourselves going again.

Decided to continue with Sunday’s practice of tying ourselves up in rising locks with a single rope from the bows back to a bollard about midway along the boat, and then driving into the rope so that the back end can be kept in control, and the front end cannot go anywhere, rather than our 18 month custom of holding the boat on the engine at the very back of the lock.

This is the traditional method of doing it in England, and we have re-adopted it as we shall be sharing a lot of locks over the coming weeks (broken throttle/gear cables are not clever in a shared lock) and it does let us lie a lot more quietly than our method, although it is more work, and entails the assistance of someone on the lock side to place the rope.

In the past have always climbed the ladders with the rope, but feel those days may be at an end.
Hence, basic requirement is a rope, thrown accurately and free from tangles up onto the lock side.

We seemed to get every single one wrong. The rope used was 14 mm - far too heavy and thick, and about 5 years old, so stiff and full of dried (later wet) mud, and so thoroughly kinked, that virtually every cast went adrift. The thrower was suffering a frozen shoulder, and poor sense of balance, so altogether we looked like first day hire boaters.


Into Brienon quite early for bread and water (sounds biblical). Filled water, and because it was a public holiday found a boulangerie open. No, that is not a mistake - normally boulangeries in France are open on Sundays and closed on Mondays. Except Monday public holidays, when they stay open and close on Tuesday. (crisis at breakfast - not a crumb on the boat).
Then on very pleasantly to St Florentin, with it’s beautiful church up on the hill.
Passed a lot of fun in the making. Hotel Boat with a swarm of hire boats all round it at a lock! Later discovered capt on first trip after qualifying, age 20.

Moored up on the edge of St Florentin basin (looked too like a marina inside - horrid). and trotted up to the church to have a look. Magnificent! and the town was lovely, as well. Very ancient, higgledy piggledy, but also open.
Fiddled with computer until all hours - this digital fotografic lark is giving enormous pleasure, but it is a most appalling consumer of time.

June 5 Tuesday
St Florentin to l’Isle sous Tronchoy.
Idea was to get up early to get some good shots of St Florentin Church, but light that we calculated would be in the right direction, wasn’t, so all angular shadows.
Pushed off about 9, trying to arrange a hire boat in front.
No joy, but one came up behind - enormous, driven by crowd of youngish Americans, one with the long hair and clothes of a "Nam Vet". Fascinating. Very friendly, and quite happy at being pushed into the front of the locks.
This part of the Canal de Burgogne is very nice, pretty, luxuriant, green, but a bit featureless, with very long straights.
Regrettably the hire boats are very large, very powerful, very luxurious (3 separate bedrooms each with en suite facilities!) and go very fast, resulting in enormous - no exaggeration - stern wakes dragging the canal banks into the water (along with any boat foolish enough to moor to said banks)
This has resulted in banks either being in a dreadful state of repair - great long lengths of 2 or 300 metres - completely collapsed into the water, and eroded back 2, 3 and even 4 metres in the towing path, with shelving shallow sides of sand and earth, or heavily revetted vertical banks, either concrete or steal piling, with rock and rubble placed along them on the canal side in the water to protect them from the wash, but leaving only about 3" of water for about 2 feet out from the edge. From the point of view of the VNF and tourist industry, it is probably makes more sense to get the tourists here, not hassle them over speed limits so that they come again, and repair and guard against the damage after.
But it’s not much fun for the rest of us!
As decided yesterday, sorted out our tying up in locks with a light single rope backwards from the bows, and all went well.
Tried to find good mooring on revets at lunch time, but no joy - rocks and sand. Managed somehow, then went on looking for somewhere for the night. Trying to avoid formal moorings until Laroche hirers (they that shamboleered our Saturday night) start back, which must be to-morrow mid-day, and there is room on the canal for us again.
Got good bush mooring, but much too close to noisy main road, which runs parallel to the canal all the way up to Tanlay.
Tipping still fascinates us. As far as we could see the hirers were dishing out silver - probably 5 francs at each lock (If they make it 10 francs = £1 pre lock, and do 40 or 50 locks, the cost could be ugly!). This is slid into L.K.’s pocket unobtrusively, with minimum acknowledgement as far as we could see. We now - normally - hand over 1 bottle of cold French beer, or if a female L.K. offer a cold can of cool drink or bar of chocolate instead. This seems to be extremely popular, and much open and friendly gratitude is shown.
The whole thing still embarrasses us. We were most impressed by a bunch of Swiss hirers, who had made up lots of little pokes of Swiss chocolate miniature bars, and dished them out. Could see they were going down very well - even we came in for one, and enjoyed it.
To English readers, a poke in this context is a little bag made of a sheet of paper or a napkin that is twisted round the contents so that it has one or more ears to carry it by.

June 6 Wednesday
l’Isle sous Tronchoy to Tannlay - Canal de Bourgogne.
Extraordinary events before we left - Main road runs on a level well above the canal, with the bank down o the canal well grassed and bushed.
Saw a youngish reasonably neat girl/woman (+/- 25 - 35) wandering about in the grass as though hiding.
Picked overcoat, knapsack, and bike out of grass and left - slightly surreptitiously. We lost Interest.
Did normal "winding up the elastic" checks, came to leave, and saw brand new man’s bike in canal about 50 metres from girl’s ex position.
Went back and picked bike out of canal - most of it was exposed - found virtually brand new, high quality, every imaginable bell and whistle attached.
Took it down to L.K. at next lock, who muttered that it only meant extra paper work. I wonder - probably put it in the back shed for a week, then sold it.
Said L.K. one of the difficult ones this canal is getting a name for. Insisted on putting mooring ropes on inappropriate - dangerous - bollards. Certain amount of argey-bargey. We eventually agreed to placing of bow rope where he wanted it so long as he took second or stern as well! What a waste of time and energy!
Otherwise continued placidly on to Tannlay - still lovely open green land - typical around here, valley bottom and sides cultivated, hill tops forest
Turned corner into small Port to find, moored up on the "wrong" side "Leval" 45 ft narrow boat - Eamon and Pat, see last year at or about Berry au Bac. They were "teamed up" with a pair of Aussies from St Kilda in Guerdon, a Dutch Barge type boat, large but tiller steered, Lyal and Jenny.
The "proper" moorings - complete with water and electricity - were taken up, almost entirely, by a permanently moored peniche - Gites de France, complete with all signs, but no guests, and blue signed hotel boat moorings. Blue sign means they have permission to moor there - i.e. if us lesser mortals are moored there, and they arrive - get orf! On the other had, help yourself, but no one actually knows when they will want them, so tenure is always insecure.
Moored on same bank as Leval - 4 pins 1 gang plank, put chairs out, then - ultimate embarrassment - found we only had half a bottle of red, and one whole one of white to our name! plus lots of beer, but people don’t seem to drink beer like we do - most odd.
Gossiped evening away, and to bed to find, that whereas we had moored up tight and more or less level, the pound had dropped, and we were sitting at a horrid angle.


June 7 Thursday
At Tanlay.
Lived with awkward mooring until morning, then corrected - let out lines by 9", and boat slid down without loosing ladder/gangplank.
Then decided, somewhat slowly, to go across to Hotel Boat moorings, when hire boats left it and fill water.
Having moored up comfortably, and discovered that hotel boat
was not likely to arrive until to-morrow or Sat, decided to stay and go to local restaurant for lunch with rest of Leval/Guerdon gang.
Definitely a good plan - most enjoyable lunch.
Dozed afternoon away - bit of boat cleaning etc.
Went round in evening to "make farewells". More gossip sessions.
Rained (the weather - not us) during night.


June 8 Friday
Tannlay to Ancy le Franc.
Dull and cloudy - mild.
Had heard that L.K.s on this stretch were bad at work, surly, and unhelpful.
1st L.K. common type with rings in top of ears, male student, knew it all.
Opened wrong paddle first, fully, then other one. When asked to close them as a matter of safety, opened further. No drama or disaster ensued, but not his fault.
Tried to explain correct method, but he didn’t want to know, reckoned we weren’t tied up properly!. Thoroughly unpleasant creature - HOWEVER, all subsequent L.K.s on this stretch were competent, charming, and when female, young and easy on the eye.
Passed 2 hotel boats during course of morning - heard subsequently that the both spent the night at Ancy le Franc. Wish we’d been a fly on the wall - there is only mooring enough for 1.
A very pleasant run through rural Bourgogne, but wet - showers extending to full blown rain in p.m. but no wind, whatso-ever, so we travelled in reasonable comfort under the sun brolley.
Stopped at Ancy le Franc - nice little mooring, newly cut grass ready to spread into boats on boaters shoes, hardstanding again reserved for non present hotel boats.
Tied up, connected electricity, looked around. had some tea and fell asleep in chairs.
Ed of N.B. Jamand, (Edwin and Marylin Gledhill) knocked, made himself know, and advanced gossip session ensued - they had come out with boat, beautiful, with all and more bells and whistles - last autumn, lived on permanently, and had survived spring floods in Joe Parfitt’s yard.
Went back over to them - after, in theory, supper, to see boat and have coffee. Stayed too long and had wine.
Unfortunately second puncture in Brompton, followed by failure to re-fit 3 speed cable properly, had delayed meal, and had to leave re-assembly until to-morrow.
This drama precluded our having supper before visiting, so we went before ours and after theirs. Admired boat some more - really beautiful. BUT how does one do uphill locks with a cratch, and without climbing ladders? With difficulty?
Rain, off and on all day, returned.

June 9 Saturday
Ancy le Franc
Wet and rain - all day
Heard Jamand go off first thing - glad someone else’s prop whittles.
Looked out of windows - raining.
Stayed in bed.
Got up and mooned about - no question of going - the boat gets slightly sordid and grubby even when moored up - moving in the rain is chaos.
Got better at mid-day.
Walked to village for bread, then fixed bike.
1500 taxi arrived with Australian couple and 2 large expensive suitcases. There is absolutely nothing at the moorings - or any moorings - other than boats, water taps, and lekestry points. i.e. no shelter or huts! If there are showers, they are usually locked, and no one knows where the key is.
Emerged from boat to succour Australian "waifs", while taxi slid off.
They were due to meet a hotel boat at that very moment. But no hotel boat!
Refrained from pointing out, that in France, no one had told them and wouldn’t think of telling them - that either the hotel boat was broken down some miles away, or their boat was on the other side of the ubiquitous floods, or their travel agent had got it wrong and they were on the wrong canal in the wrong country, or their boat crew were all off on a public holiday, or they had forgotten their itinerary, or were overbooked and left yesterday, or were underbooked and weren’t leaving at all, or were moored up on the other side of the first lock 500 metres away, and everyone knew they always stopped there.
In fact, first rumour had it that boat was indeed meant to arrive at tea time. Second rumour that their particular boat was seen at lunch time changing sheets and getting read for guests some 10 kms (half a day’s trip for a hotel boat) away at Ravieres.
Gave them a cup of tea - they came from 2 hours north of Perth, so talked Australian.
After tea, they took themselves off - leaving luggage, and found a conducted tour of fine chateau in village.
The boat was disgusting, and knowing they were returning galvanised a major hoovering and general cleaning campaign.
At 1800 stated getting good-neighbourly worried. We still had their luggage, they hadn’t returned, no sign of hotel boat, rumours had dried up, mobile phone in black hole, and local box assured us all numbers rang were "pas attributable".
Australians arrived back on foot - still striding out - really very calm considering they had been dumped in the middle of rural France, without transport, and had found local hotels full of a wedding, and only English speakers on - to them - very strange boat without accommodation required by £300 a day hotel boaters.
At that moment taxi arrived with usual enigmatic driver. Tried to grab it, but no he was not available, as he had been sent to "bateau Albert á Ancy la France" to take 2 plus luggage to Ravieres.
Much laughter and relief, BUT who knew the passengers were on Albert, indeed, who knew where Albert actually was, and who knew they, the passengers, would be quite happy to wander around for 3 hours? and who had sent the taxi? We’ll never know - but it worked.