tuck our little boat up at Port St Louis for
the winter.
We thus continued with about 1.5 knots
of current under us towards Camargue,
this being the Rhône delta-land. Within
minutes we were at the confluence of the
Rhône/Saône and although this was
distinctly unremarkable, the difference
between the two rivers was soon to
become very marked.On to the Rhône
Whereas the Saône was wide and clean,
meandering through undulating
countryside and vineyards, I was
expecting to be disappointed with the
Rhône. I’d envisaged huge leviathans with
monstrous wakes, industry and pollution. I
was proved wrong on all counts.
Instead, the landscape, particularly on
the northern half, was rolling hills
blanketed in vineyards, with the clean
Rhône sparkling below.
We were anxious about our first Rhône
lock, Pierre-Benite, albeit a modest 11.8m.
Unlike the locks on the Saône, this
required a lot of waiting around before we
could enter. Though there was a small
waiting pontoon for pleasure boats we
opted to hold Keppel’s bow into the
breeze and current. Nervous anxiety, I
suppose. Later, we’d take advantage of
such pontoons.On entering Pierre-Benite we were
surprised to have the lock to ourselves.
Huge though it was, it turned out to be a
pussy cat! We exited into one of the
several canal stretches of the Rhône.
Despite the pilot book showing ‘industry’,
it was all screened by wooded canal
banks, and was in fact very pleasant. For
the first time ever on inland waterways I
used the tiller-pilot, though maintained a
proper watch, as I tucked in tosandwiches handed up from below. We
ate ‘on the hoof’ quite a lot.
Alas, our confidence from our first day
on the Rhône was soon to be shattered.
Before stopping for the night we had one
more lock to negotiate, Ecluse (lock) de
Vaugris. At a paltry 6.7m depth, what
could possibly go wrong?
Well, it would have been OK had we not
entered, at the lock-keeper’s invitation,
behind a cruise ship. These brutes fill the
entire lock with no more than a hand’s
width each side. It wasn’t too bad while
we were being lowered in the lock, but
when the captain rammed his two huge
propellers into gear to get the monster
inching forward, the effect on Keppel was
terrifying. I was braced for the mid-ship
warp to break, or the cleat to be torn out.
Fortunately, with her thick ply/epoxy
deck construction, she’s as strong as an
ox but lighter built boats might not have
faired so well.
Avowed never to enter a lock with a
cruise ship again we recovered our
composure and pushed on southwards.
That evening we pulled over into the
marina at Les Roches-sur-Condieu, which I
fully expected to loathe. Again, I was wrong.
Reminiscent of a Greek harbour on one of
the more wooded islands, it was delightful.
Sadly, there was no boulangerie, and both
restaurants were shut (August, remember?)
but we had a lovely starlit evening with the
lights of villas twinkling through the trees.
We listened to some mighty prog rock and
consumed some large glasses of chilled
rose as we recovered from our harrowing
lock experience.
The following day we motored downSAÔNE AND RHÔNE
‘We watched a national boules championship,
where there were barbecues, beer and wine
aplenty and everyone was made welcome’
◗➜ABOVE Janet
Wragg (right), a
friend from Greek
boatyard days
joined Janie and
me on the Saône
ABOVE RIGHT
River Ouvese, a
quiet tributary to
the Rhône
RIGHT The Saône
is wide, clean, and
meanders through
undulating open
countrysideProvence detail, Arles – the landscape of
Van Gogh