Conflandey (Karen’s gendarme encounter)

After saying we’ve been pretty lucky avoiding the worst of the rain it did rain all through Wednesday night having started in the middle of the afternoon.  A lot more rain must have fallen further upstream and on days previous to that as the river had risen quite a bit during the night.  I was glad we’d loosened our lines yet again just before retiring.  We had a further notice from VNF that the whole river and not just the reach below us was now closed until at least midday on Saturday. We obviously wouldn’t be moving in the boat for a few days, so we thought we’d better go and retrieve the car from Baulay having only moved it there yesterday. 

Just as well we went to get the car!

It was only an 8.5-kilometre walk which we managed in the dry - almost.  It’s not that it rained but the road was flooded under a railway bridge and as there was no way around it there’d been nothing for it but to wade through.

At about halfway we went through Port d’Atelier which had been the scene of an horrific train accident in 1949.  This was when passenger trains still ran through here on their way from Paris to Basle.  It was also a busy junction as another line ran from Nancy to Dijon as well as a third local line.  The accident involved one of the passenger trains in a collision with a freight train and 43 people were killed.

Recent memorial to the 43

When we arrived at Baulay we walked along beside a railway cutting which was the scene of several successful sabotages by the French resistance in 1944 during WWII; German munitions and troop trains being the target.  As we’ve seen in other places, there were several information boards showing pictures of the aftermath of some of the attacks and also descriptions of the work carried out by the resistance.

Information boards marking the 70th anniversary

The cutting today

You may have noticed the telegraph pole in the picture above, still with many intact ceramic insulator pots.  We’d passed dozens of these poles in the same state as we'd walked alongside the railway line on the way into Baulay, although some of the ceramic pots had been replaced by glass versions. Railway telegraph poles with these insulator pots intact are a rare sight these days and it's not just because young lads use them for target practice, the pots fetch a tidy sum on auction sites like Ebay. 

We had to walk through the village to get down to the river where I'd parked the car.  As the river came into view, we could see it had burst its banks and the track running down to the car was also flooded.  I dropped Karen and Buddy off where the track left the road and went down to the car.  Once again, I had to wade through the water and fortunately was able to get the car out.   The river had risen so much that the mooring pontoon was completely covered so I was glad we hadn’t moved the boat there yesterday.

A salutary lesson in where not to park the car

When I got back to the road, Karen was being interviewed by a gendarme.  Someone had reported our car down by the river and there was concern it was going to drift away as the levels rose.  The gendarme couldn’t really understand why we’d left the car there to go for a walk until Karen managed to explain that it had been left there the previous day when the river was lower and there were also camper vans there.  After checking Karen’s id and taking a picture of it, he seemed happy with the explanation and let us carry on our way.

We decided to spend the rest of the day on board checking the water levels and lines every couple of hours.  A depth gauge at the exit to the lock was showing that the reach below us was rising by 10cm every couple of hours but the reach we were on was rising more slowly and even looked to have stopped during the afternoon.  VNF were clearly monitoring levels and adjusting the weir heights accordingly.

Gauge shows the level has gone up by 1.5 metres in 48 hours 

Less sophisticated: measuring how high the boat was rising against the bank

The water was flowing very fast past the boat, but pictures make it look quite tranquil.  It seemed that every time we looked out a branch or a tree was going by.

Branches on their way to the weir

We counted ourselves fortunate compared to countries further north, especially Germany and Belgium where the disastrous flooding continues.  Although I have to admit that we had bags packed in case we had to make a sudden exit and we set the alarm so we could make regular checks on the situation during the night.

The river where we were moored was 60cm higher by Friday morning, so it looked like another day of monitoring every couple of hours.  The reach below had also risen, and the water was almost at the same height either side of the weir.

First thing on Friday - lock gates will soon be under water

24 hours previously the lock landing and weir was still just visible

A really friendly VNF guy, Davide, came to check we were OK during the morning.  He wanted to know if we felt safe and if we needed electricity or water.  We told him that we didn’t need electricity and couldn’t believe they would have run a cable from the control hut in the lock if we’d wanted it.  We had a long discussion about how all the flood locks and weirs are automatic on this river and that since the morning all the weirs were laying flat. We said we wouldn’t be worried until the bottom of the boat was level with the top of the bank as we had no way of stopping the boat moving over the side.  He said they didn’t expect the level to rise by more than another 20cm so we were relieved but will keep an eye on the data from the river monitoring stations via vigicrues.gouv.fr.  He also said they are hoping to start reopening the river on Monday.  All this made us feel quite relieved and more in the mood for planning what to do over the weekend as we wouldn’t be moving. 

The next monitoring station upstream

As you can see, the levels here are three metres higher than they were during the previous 30 days.  There is a wealth of information and even one tab that shows the water level every six minutes for the last 30 days (Mike Fielding, please note).

During the afternoon on Friday, VNF Davide turned up again and told us that he and the team were worried about where we were moored as they expected the levels to rise higher than they originally thought.  He asked if we would spend the weekend in the lock as it would be safer than where we were.  We jumped at the chance and got the boat ready while he got the lock set.  Our hearts were in our mouths as we let the boat drift back on its own with all three of us pulling it into the side.  Fortunately, we were on the inside of the bend, so the current wasn’t too bad.  When we neared the lock entrance the boat sped up because the river became narrower hence the flow increased.  I jumped on the boat and put the engine in forwards to bring the boat to a halt and we were able to control the entry into the lock.  We were soon tied up and, as Davide was practically insisting we use their electricity, we hooked up into the lock control room.  

Moored in the lock with some spectators from the lock cottage

Davide made sure we would call the emergency number any time during the night if the level rose near the top of the lock.  We promised we would and had another night with the alarm going off every few hours.

Our view of the weir – it’s going to be a noisy night

The weir wasn’t that noisy overnight as the water was flowing straight through rather than thundering down a two-metre drop.  We now have rain-free days forecast and with some days back into the 30s it seems summer may be returning and fingers crossed that's the end of the rain.

The sun was up early on Saturday morning and as soon as I opened the doors Buddy was straight outside to sit on the lock side. 

Looking calm at sunup on Saturday morning

We saw the levels rise slightly during our overnight checks but by the morning they were back to where they were when we went to bed so that was reassuring.  A little while later we received an avis from VNF stating that there will be a delay in reopening the river.  Rather than noon on Saturday it will now be 17.00 on Tuesday and we weren’t surprised as there’s a lot of water to get down to join the Rhône at Lyon and then the Med.  It meant we would be in the lock for at least four more nights, so we set about making it more homely by doing this like putting out our table and chairs.

We also wanted to make sure we had access to water so put our containers in the boot of the car and set out for the port at Fouchécourt which was a little further upstream than where we’d had the car/gendarme debacle at Baulay.  Our journey took us through Port d’Atelier, the village of the train stories, and we couldn’t believe we were caught at the level crossing.  Usually, there is only one train a week and it’s the one that carries the week’s production from the wire works at Conflandey.  At least we knew what the coils of wire were on the wagons and where they'd come from.

As we left the village, we passed a lavoir that had two firsts for us: a cast iron basin and wooden washing ‘stones’.

The unusual basin in the lavoir at Port d’Atelier

The next village was Baulay where the road to Fouchécourt, our destination, crosses the Saône where I’d stupidly left the car.  The road leading to the bridge was now impassable, so we parked up and walked as far as we dared.

Bridge from Baulay to Fouchécourt

When we had the issue with the car it was parked on the other side of the two poplar trees in the distance just to right of bridge, so we understood why the police were concerned.  As we couldn’t get over the bridge, we gave up the idea of going to Fouchécourt and went back to our new ‘lock’ home.

The lady in the lock cottage caught my attention when we returned and asked if we needed any food or drink.  I thanked her and explained we had access to a car which she hadn’t realised.  I took the opportunity to ask if we could use her water tap to fill up our containers which she readily agreed to.  We had quite a long conversation but one of those where I wasn’t sure how much either of us really understood.

It turned out to be a bit of a palaver fetching the water as there was a steep bank up to the house.  There were steps down to the lock, but they were at the farthest end of the lock which was also the furthest away from the tap.  As I’m bound to end up doing myself a mischief if we do it again, I think I’ll leave a bottle of wine on their doorstep with a thank you note.  I will then brush up on my hose vocabulary so before we leave I can ask to connect our hoses (we will need both because of the distance) direct to her tap and top the tank right up.

After lunch we drove back down to Scey-sur-Saône to see the state of the river and also have a walk.  Scey was where we were moored right above the weir and we’d had a hair raising time turning in the strengthening stream to moor up.  It was also the place where the weir kept us awake.  Not surprisingly there were no boats moored there as we suspect VNF ensure everyone gets to places of safety when they know the river is rising.  The small, popular campsite by river had been flooded and we could see a few abandoned tents and patio furniture.

I bet they weren’t expecting this July

As the gorgeous weather was back, we spent the evening sitting outside enjoying the peace and solitude, almost disbelieving that we would have four more nights in the lock.  We had to bear in mind that we're in a river lock and therefore when it's back to its normal level the water will be a couple of metres below the top of the lock wall.  That's why, in the picture of us in the lock above, it looks like everything is normal as it would be in a canal lock.  As long as we keep an eye on our lines and loosen them every so often we'll be fine as the level drops back to normal.

To finish this update, I’ll include a joke sent to me by an Australian friend, Ian McCaulay.   We met Ian & Lisette on their boat on the River Yonne during 2019 and sadly for them they have been unable to get over to Catherina Elisabeth since, hopefully they will be allowed over in 2022.  Ian saw the joke in a book he reviewed on off grid life by Mary-Jane Houlton and immediately thought of us:

An elderly village priest felt awkward when the local women told him they had been unfaithful to their husbands during confession. Instead, when they had committed adultery, he asked them to say ‘Monsieur le curé, I’ve fallen in the lavoir.’ Eventually the old priest retired and a young priest took his place. Each week the day of confession arrived and the new priest noticed a particular phrase kept cropping up – ‘Monsieur le curé, I’ve fallen in the lavoir.’ Concerned that somebody could get seriously injured, the young priest went to see the mayor to request that he carry out work on the lavoir to put an end to these accidents. The mayor, who was fully aware of the real meaning of the phrase, patted him on the shoulder and reassured him, saying there was nothing to worry about. The young priest persisted ‘It is serious. You must know this already for your own wife fell in three times last week.’  

The author’s source was https://vanessafrance.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/restoration-of-the-lavoir-in-caylus/