Date: Mon, 21 Jul 1997 20:42:09 +0100 To: canals@blacksheep.org From: David Long Subject: French Canals: France > Belgium (Long) 1 >On Fri, 11 Jul 1997 05:06:23 -0500, "Robert Hall" > wrote: > >>Looking forward to a thread on French Canals Well, here's my report of the trip I did last week with a party of kids from the Parish aboard the KENT PETRA. We arrived in Calais on Sunday, July 13th - the eve of Bastille Day, which was a deliberate choice. After being given the boat drill by the Skipper/ Project Director, Alan Perkins, we began to settle into the 72' x 13'6" Luxemotor in the Basin Batellerie, which is within striking distance of the Town Hall (and clock). At about 11pm there were loud explosions, and martial music. We dropped everything, dived into the cars, and headed for the sound - with our chances of finding where it was coming from enhanced when we could see the fireworks themselves. We arrived at the beach in time for the last few explosions. Next day, being THE French Public Holiday, the canal was closed, as expected. It was gloriously sunny. In the morning we explored the almost deserted town, and found the one open supermarket where essential supplies (staff beer) could be bought, and then went off to the hills above the town. Here Allied bombing had pock-marked the site of massive German fortifications, leaving an ideal terrain for off-road cycling. Unfortunately, it is also the playground of the 4x4 kids, so we were soon dislodged by a dozen assorted Jeeps, Land Rovers etc. After a disastrous excursion looking for quieter places to ride, which ended with one lass falling off and getting shook up and grazed, and my bike getting a puncture, we picnicked on the hill, and watched the ferries steaming in and out of the harbour. Unfortunately, there was too much mist for us to be able to see back to Blighty. After returning to the boat, we repaired to the beach, with boules and cricket gear. The kids leapt into the sea - and found it warm enough to stay in for quite a while, which was a surprise for this time of year. The adults and the shy stayed up the beach for a game of boules. When all were back together again, we divvied up for a game of rounders - which went on for hours, thanks to good-natured cheating and a ref. who changed allegiances whenever he though it most fun. The local kids gathered round to watch the mad Anglaises at play. Eventually we tired (well, *I* did!), and slowed down to stop - with still a couple of hours to go before it was dark enough for the fireworks to be set off. We had a packet of frites each to stave off the hunger and the coolth of the night, whilst the beach and promenade filled up with locals - many of whom were setting off their own fireworks in ways which made us glad we were out of range. At about eleven, with light still in the sky against which the fireworks would explode, Alan tuned in his scanner (he's a ham - G7 RBB) - to see whether the ferry captains were talking about the display to come. At 11.15 a skipper waitimg to come off his berth called up Port Control to ask when the display would start. Without hesitation, the controller replied that the display *would* begin at 11pm. Ten minutes later, as the skipper swung off the berth, the magic hour struck, French style. I felt sorry for the yacht which was trying to creep down the side of the breakwater out of the ferry - he must have felt the mortars were aimed at him, as they shot off within yards of his craft and showered him with debris as their remains fell downwards in his direction. But what a display - the earth shook with the power of the detonations, and the starbursts were awesome. If you're able - it's worth getting to Calais for Bastille Day - the big shops are shut, so you won't get the range of wines and beers - but the fireworks compensate! And so to bed. On the Tuesday we set out for Bourbourg, en route for Veurne via Dunkirk. The journey down to the only lock on the Canal de Calais was uneventful - except that the automatic bridges and locks aren't any more. This is the result of an horrific accident a couple of years ago, I understand - a woman returning from Mass ignored the siren, the flashing lights and the barriers which operate before the bridges began to move. As the bridge lifted up towards her under her feet as she reached its end, she chose to try to cling to it as it went to the vertical, rather than sliding down it as it rose. She lost her grip and fell to her death... until the resulting enquiries and recriminations are resolved, the bridges thereabouts are operated by travelling keepers. After Hennuin Lock, however, the engine started to overheat. As we'd been ploughing through considerable beds of weed from Calais, the obvious cause seemed to be a blocked inlet filter... but it wasn't. Air locks were eliminated... which left the pump as the probable cause. And so it was - five of the nine blades had disintegrated! Fortunately, a spare was carried, and we were soon on our way again, with a healthy jet issuing from the outlet. Only a two hour delay.... Bourbourg, a lovely town which, like nearby Bergues, is well worth turning off the A16 for, was reached without further incident and, after the Belgiums already on the pontoon had shifted up, PETRA was securely moored for the night. More to come... David Long E-mail: David@scars.demon.co.uk SCARS Page : http://www.scars.demon.co.uk/scars/index.htm Last Update: 15/6/97 - Page Created Date: Mon, 21 Jul 1997 21:18:11 +0100 To: canals@blacksheep.org From: David Long Subject: French Canals: Calais > Belgium [Long] 2 The Canal de Bourbourg is very effectively by-passed by the Grand Gabarit from Dunkerque, so only a few pleasure boats are seen on it most days. It's rather shallow, too, so it was almost like boating in England until we emerged onto the main line. As we approached, we could see vessels - paired peniches mainly, in line or abreast - batting across our path. However, we slipped neatly between an empty pair and a laden single peniche moving in our direction. The water was quite exposed at this point, and the wide channel was quite choppy thanks to a fresh breeze off the coast. The spray broke over PETRA's bows as we cruised on. Surprisingly, the laden boat was gaining on us - on most canals they're scraping the bottom, so pleasure craft can usually overhaul them in a wide enough spot - but here she had plenty of depth, and was gaining on us, fast. Just after the junction where the Grand Gabarit heads off to Dunkerque Docks and we headed up the continuing Bourbourg, the peniche should have slowed up on the approach to a restricted-width bridge (Green and White split diamonds, with the green halves over the channel you must take to avoid grounding... which PETRA had done here, once). But she kept coming. Perhaps, coming all the way from St Jean de Losne, the master of the ROSIANE was unfamiliar with this northern waterway... or perhaps he didn't care... but he started to overhaul us in the narrows - which were continued beyond the bridge as a "Restricted Channel" on the port bank showed. In the unequal (50t v. 400t) tussle which followed, we managed to touch sides around our respective wheelhouses before we were pushed shorewards by his wash. A mile or two further on the increasingly restricted depth of the minor canal finally told on him, and we crawled behind him into the lock at Jeu de Mail on the edge of Dunkerque, where we stopped for water while he carried on to the Canal de Furnes, which runs up the coast, parallel with the Evacuation Beaches, to Belgium. Eventually, we followed on, to find him struggling through the series of bridges beyond the one lock we would go through before journey's end. We overtook him before he reached the factory at which he would be discharging his cargo. At the first swing bridge after, we unloaded the bikes, and headed for a ride along the beach, to meet PETRA on the border, after the next bridge. We did over 12 miles completing the ring back to the boat, about two miles up the canal. After a hurried tea, we piled into the cars we had ferried up to Veurne earlier, and headed for Ieper (Ypres) for 8 o'clock. At that time, every night, buglers from the Fire Brigade sound the Last Post beneath the arches of the Menin Gate - the memorial to the British soldiers of the Ypres Salient who have no known grave. Very moving - even the kids thought so. After fritures from the chippy just off the square, tired and happy, we retired to our bunks. More to come... if you want, tomorrow. David Long E-mail: David@scars.demon.co.uk SCARS Page : http://www.scars.demon.co.uk/scars/index.htm Last Update: 15/6/97 - Page Created