OPEN FEATURES: YO-HO-HO
BY
ASTRA WARREN
It was 9.30 am, temperature 8 degrees, with a chilly April wind driving rain horizontally
across the fertile fields of the Upper Loire valley. I was standing in the bow of a canal
boat, fending pole at the ready, as we approached the first lock of the day. Encased in
thick sweater, and waterproof padded jacket, I peered out from under my beanie and
realized I was actually enjoying myself on another U3A learning experience.
Our group of 15 from Western Australia (average age 68) had rendezvoused at the
Corbigny departure base on the Nivernais canal to find three boats ready for us. After a
short familiarization run, we were let loose on an adventure that for most of us
landlubbers, had assumed the epic proportions of rounding Cape Horn in a howling gale.
Our objective was to reach Joigny, further north on the Nivernais, in 11 days.
The distance of 136 kilometres seemed laughable - we could walk it in less time. But
there were 67 locks along the way and a few bascule bridges thrown in, which latter
involved leaping ashore and wrestling with reluctant and rusty mechanisms to raise
them. Our three boats fortunately fitted line astern together into each lock so we were
able to travel in convoy. Since it took about an hour to clear each lock, with everyone
alert and ready for mishaps, it began to dawn on us that there wasn't going to be much
of that loafing around on deck and basking in the sun that the glossy brochures had
promised us.
There was much to learn; after some spirited admonition and a touch of sarcasm from
our leader, we more or less mastered the skill of coiling and throwing a rope correctly -
falling short, it had to be hauled unpleasantly wet out of the canal; too far and the
receiver was left hunting for the end while the boat drifted helplessly down the lock. We
learned about inertia and the fiendish ways of currents when lock gates opened and
water cascaded in or out.
Soon we all slotted into the niches which best suited our abilities: steering, ropes,
fending off, or simply keeping the refreshments coming. We were able to enjoy the
superb and tranquil scenery, a paradise for photographers, old bridges, quaint villages,
bird and animal life, and stunning reflections in the still waters. Those of Northern
Hemisphere origin indulged in nostalgia, as rain and sun produced a miracle of bursting
spring greenery. Although most days were cool this early in the season, the upside was
an absence of crowds and long waits to get through locks.
There were many great memories; sunny days gliding through placid waters as if the
rest of the world didn't exist; the thrill of mooring one evening in the heart of Auxerre
virtually in the shadow of the cathedral; a visit to the caves of Bailly, once used by the
Romans, which now store 5000 bottles of wine at a constant 12 degrees; the woman
lock-keeper with a stall of produce and no intention of letting us through until we had
made substantial purchases; May Day with country children selling bunches of wild Lily
of the Valley; a walk along an isolated stretch of the Via Agrippa.
One evening, with the boats moored three abreast, we decided on a progressive dinner,
one course on each boat. Scrambling over rails on wet decks, carrying bottles and
plates, the miracle was that nobody fell overboard. Prodigious efforts were made to
support the French wine industry; after all nobody had to drive home, and steering didn't
count.
On the last day, with time in hand, we diverted into the Bourgogne system to experience
one of the deepest locks in Europe, where the lockkeeper, having squeezed in the three
boats, emptied the lock and shouted down that, as it was now midday, he was going for
his lunch and would be back in an hour, which he did, returning to open the gates
without warning, and panicking us all in a deluge of surging water and slackening ropes.
A great trip; we learned and did things we didn't know we were capable of.
Cape Horn next?