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| Jogging along the Charente |
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| Monday, 18 June 2007 | ||||
Page 1 of 2 Being excerpts from the log of rivercruiser ‘Cirrus 2’, Dave Blake pilot in command, arrrgh Jim-lad… It’s all the same river: the Charente, up here in Civray (86) where it is only navigable by canoe, south past Angoulême (16) where it becomes a boating ground for shallow-draft cruisers and lock-bashers, and west past Rochfort (17) where it’s tidal and falls into the Atlantic Ocean. Vienne, Charente and Charente-Maritime, all the same river. I wanted to tell you about it, but I needed a boat so I called Crown Blue Line, based in Jarnac (16) and they lent me a 9m (30’) 40-horse-power diesel river cruiser named ‘Cirrus 2’. Unusually for a small boat, she has two steering positions – inside for bad weather and a flybridge for sunshine and high-up all-round visibility – a blessing on lock-approaches. I didn’t expect any hitches with Crown Blue, an established firm I’d dealt with over many years in England and pretty much the experts in the field of holiday boat rentals, and there were none. Upon arrival in the sprauncy brandy-town of Jarnac, I sought the Quai Mitterand and found it next to the river (which was a relief, let me tell you, as quays halfway up mountains make for difficult moorings.  And then lade my cargo (clothes, food, wine and beer) and cast off. Crown Blue guys Dominic and Michael proposed to come with me through the first lock (écluse), just to give me a good start, and I was glad of their company. You never know what lock-rig you’re going to encounter in France. The Charente locks are sauvage. Manual, with no keepers. Moreover, the fluvial service has taken the handles off the gate and paddlewheels because they had a tendency to flick back and knock your teeth out, so we are left with simple round–rim wheels like steel bicycle-tyres. Hard enough work, but harder in the rain, when your hands slip on the rims, and harder still for me. Why? Because I was alone. Consider the evolution: you approach the lock, which is fully closed. You moor up alongside the lock–quay, which in itself can be dicey in an offshore breeze or a weir–eddy. You walk along and raise the paddles to fill or empty the lock, depending on whether you’re going up- or down stream. Once the water–level is the same as the boat’s, you open the near gates. You go back to the boat, cast off, manoeuvre into the lock, secure the boat, go ashore (either by stepping off if you’re going downstream with a full lock or by climbing the somewhat slimey ladder if you’re going upstream in an empty lock) and close the gates – remember to lower the paddles. Then go along to the other end, raise the paddles to empty/fill the lock. Wait until equalisation. Open the other gates. Back to the boat and manoeuvre out of the lock, mooring up again at the next quay. Then back to close the gates behind you – remember to lower the paddles. And back to the boat to be on your way. And you do that for every single lock. The river authorities require you to leave each lock fullyclosed after your passage – and for liberally–crewed boats, this is a good, easy and polite thing – it conserves water and makes life easier for the next boat (in 50% of cases). But for a lone skipper? To have to moor up again and close gates? Gruelling. |
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