The locks are a different pattern again. The early ones are all automatic. They magically show you a green light when the doors are open and in you go. Then the fun starts!
To operate the lock, you have to pull a blue rope attached to a pole mounted on the side. Unfortunately for us, there appears to be no consistency about how close to the gates this pole is sited. On many of them, we found it to be much to close to the gate for our encumbered and rounded stern. We tried to pull the cord from the boat but it involved so much toing and froing that we gave up and now I always drop L at the ladder (usually but not always beside the pole). She climbs up, puts the ropes on
the bollards taking care to ignore any that are too close to the gate) and then pulls the cord for a few seconds (until the little orange lamp on the hut starts flashing)
From then on it is all very smooth. The gate behind shuts and then the paddles open. The flow is powerful but surprisingly free of turbulence. It pulls you hard backwards and then hard forwards. Finally the upstream gates open and you’re off.
The mystery is how the gates know you have arrived. There are no sensors. Talking to a keeper, it appears that the ‘center’ knows where you are on a big board – based just on reports of lock keeper. Then there is a keeper checking for trouble (and presumably for surprise travellers who have been moored) who drives between several locks.
The next surprise was when we rolled up at a lock at 6.30 expecting to have another ½ hour to find it shut and dead with nobody anywhere to be seen. We did a wild mooring with our trusty Ronde anchors and asked in the morning what had happened. Oh says the keeper – you’re on a new canal now. The hours are 8.30 to 6.30 with no hour for lunch. Nice of them to let us know!
The third difference we noted is the towpath. On the Nivernais and Lateral, this is reserved for users, the VNF service and bikes. On the central, it is a road. This means that you lose the feeling of rural isolation. It does have the advantage however that services, such as small shops, restaurants and fuel stations are all frequent as they pick up custom from both the canal and the road. That said, the canal edges are distinctly challenging for a fragile boat like Rosa. They are mostly made of corrugated steel plates or sloping concrete. Elsewhere they are very shallow and often have underwater chunks of concrete or stakes.
We went on to Montceau les Mines – which is a real surprise. It’s a pretty heavy industrial city complete with a huge factory and cooling tower as you approach. But they’ve made a huge effort to make it attractive. The bridges are all brightly painted and the Port au Plaisance is superb with large high-quality pontoons and VERY modes fees. The town has everything you could want except a chandlery including a launderette. I have to say it is a thoroughly recommended stop. We missed it, but were told that it has a really excellent market on Tuesdays and Saturdays right by the quay side.
We hit the first lock at 8.30 as we had told the lock keeper. We had a green light so we went in moored up and pulled the blue cord – and nothing happened. We tried again but still nothing. We hung around not knowing what to do and in a few minutes the lock keeper appeared and pulled the blue cord for us with an air of “I’ll show these English amateurs how to do it”. Nothing happened. Slightly sheepish he realised he hadn’t turned the lock on yet!
At the next lock, the gates were open but no lights at all. We cautiously went in, pulled the blue chord and, yet again, nothing happened. We sat for 10 minutes but there was no sign of anyone. Eventually we spotted a small plack on the lock-keepers hut giving the number of ‘central control’. I called it, and sure enough a woman drove up in the obligatory white van and confessed that she had forgotten to switch it on this morning (she has 6 locks to manage).
It all illustrates the weakness of the automatic systems. When they work, they are very efficient but there is no way for boats to signal that they are there and nobody at the lock to notice a problem and correct it. If you are stuck outside it can be very difficult as there is nowhere to land and no way to get help. Writing down that number for central control is a very good idea – but sadly one I didn’t think of till now.
We had an uneventful journey up to the summit. The scenery is pretty, the villages have shops and there was little or no other traffic. The summit itself lacks the drama of the Nivernais with its tunnels although it does boast a longish cut. And then it’s down the staircase. Very impressive and all the deep locks (5 Meters or so have floating bollards which makes it much easier. Now we knew this from reading the book but, depite that, we both missed what those large lumps of metal were in the first one and had an uncomfortable passage with ropes attached to bollards on top and getting very close to their ends. Just shows, you don’t see things if they are unfamiliar and unexpected – like the Gorilla on the football pitch.
We soon got behind a hire boat who were less that expert. Their technique was to drive like a car but have a bloke with a boat-hook scurrying around at the back fending off the sides of the lock. Very amusing but a little slow.
Two huge hotel boats came up the other way(one with the captain dressed up like Crocodile Dundee) which gave us some sweaty moments.
And finally we reached the last lock. Completely different and very impressive with a huge 10Meter fall and its own lock keeper. It had floating bollards too so very easy. After another Killometer, we entered the river Saone – wide, free, and there was someone sailing!
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