Oh la la!

Time to move on. Heading south. Vineyards to the right of us, play parks to the left, here we are, sailing down the middle and fast approaching another long tunnel. “Billy le Grand” is a 2.3km of wall to wall Lobelia subterranean experience. Andy is unshakeable. Lobelia unscathed.

For now…

The tunnel was at the top of the hill. We now had great views but needed to work our way back down the hill via a closely grouped set of locks. Small locks. No lock keepers. No onlookers.Edged into the first and set the lock in motion. The chamber emptied quickly. Lobelia lurched and alarmingly the bow dipped as the stern rose. The rudders were caught on the back sill. We were in trouble.Andy raised the alarm rod and I ran to the lock intercom. I spoke to the kingdom of far far away and pleaded for assistance. Meanwhile the lock had stopped emptying and Lobelia sat at a crazy angle, her rudders taking far too much weight.Within ten minutes the lock keeper arrived. He came to look and shook his head, muttered in French, wagged his finger and set about refilling the lock.He saw us safely through and Lobelia seemed to be ok. Our lock keeper stuck to us like glue as we worked our way down the chain. His disdain gradually disappeared and he seemed to warm to us. “Mais oui” – he liked the garden. Though he declared that the tomatoes had a mould problem due to too much heat.Seven locks later we bade farewell and gave him a bottle of wine. He seemed happier.

Moored at Conde sur Marne and heaved a sigh of relief.

An agreement is reached!

Spent the morning in the playpark. Cost a fortune to get in. Still don’t understand why adults have to pay to watch their children play. By 2pm Andy and I had had enough. We stamped our feet and demanded to have our playtime. The boys nobly complied and allowed us to visit the hills.

Eleven years ago and in a time before children (B.C.) we had visited Reims and purchased a champagne which had knocked the socks off the taste and price of Vintage Veuve Clicquot. Our purchase of six bottles had lasted long enough to welcome the arrival of our first child. But then, alas, it was gone (A.D. “after Daniel” or “all drunk”) and we could not find anywhere that sold the same champagne. On an interim visit to Reims we realised the shop had gone too. We were desolate. Even our visit to the caves in Reims this week had proved fruitless.

Luckily we still had a cork/capsule with details of the town name and the maker’s name. We headed straight for Verzenay :

a tight, twisted cluster of red tiled houses clinging to the hillside surrounded by acres of regimented vines, that line up as far as the eye can see.

Spent an entertaining couple of hours at the Verzenay lighthouse which has been developed as a museum dedicated to the life and culture of the vineyards. Fantastic for both adults and children alike. We were kitted out with audio guides and swanned around the exhibit at our own individual speeds. The boys seemed to love it, took it all in and were able to remember it too! They enjoyed the climb up the lighthouse and the views were breathtaking.

But still no sign of our favourite champagne!

However, back in the museum foyer we found a leaflet for our favourite champagne house. It was just minutes away. We raced. We parked. The place looked closed. I rang the doorbell and pleaded. No pleading necessary. The garage door raised and an Aladdin’s cave was revealed, complete with tasting table. Andy danced for joy. The kind lady smiled and opened a few bottles.

A little while later we loaded the Volvo.

Some time later, out on deck, we sat with chamagne glasses in hand and watched the sun set over the vines (our backs to the play park!)

Escape from Reims

Left Reims and fled south to the Champagne hills.  Views up to the vineyards seduced us and our spirits were high. We tried to moor. Agony! Torment! Again and again, we failed to find a deep enough mooring. And all the time the vines called out to us.

A potential mooring revealed a lively wasps nest as we tried to tie up. Three hours and three locks later we finally found a place to stop. At last, our dream of bringing our own barge to this blessed area of France had come true. However our mooring revealed a conundrum. On one side was the road leading to a life tasting champagne. On the other side was a playpark with bouncy castles and go-carts. The ensuing battle could get ugly.

Reims

Walked into Reims and visited the Cathedral. Like so many others, it is partially swathed in scaffolding and undergoing extensive renovation.

Beautiful inside and filled with history. We were all drawn to the magical stained glass window created by Chagall. Dan and I enjoyed swapping bible stories about the images!

We wandered into Reims. It was a mess. Major roadworks and regeneration projects. We had had enough. We gave up on Reims and went home.

Arrival in Reims

Boat moving day. Departed Berry au Bac and began our way on a new waterway – the Canal de L’Aisne a la Marne. The locks on this canal are operated by a “perche”. This is a rod which is suspended over the middle of the canal. You must line the boat up and hope that your crew have long arms! One quick twist of the rod and the lock swings into action.
Wheelhouse down, sun blazing, we pottered through 9 locks and 24km to Reims. It was a very sociable day. At one lock we were assisted by two bouncy black labradors; at another we deposited our unwanted blackcurrant/gooseberry bush with an anonymous gift tag for the lock keeper; a bit further on and we entertained a former lockkeeper and her three grandaughters and took them on a tour of Lobelia; and we purchased a bucket of spuds at another. 

Along the way we chatted in French with passersby who were all eager to know about the barge with the garden and the English flag. We waved to familiar faces on the working barges as we edged past one another on the narrow canal. Normally barge crews nod and smile as they pass us. But with our new friends on Zen, Medea and Vage we are now at beaming and waving stage. We have chatted with a few of them and some remember Lobelia in her former life on the waterways.

We approached the city of Reims at our sedate pace. Traffic raced alongside and above. It was noisy and ugly.

We moored in our ribbon of green and blue trapped in a realm of grey. The noise of the city thundered around us.

Some light relief

We toured the area by car and visited a fabulous park at Lac Monampteuil. The boys swam, played on the beach, climbed on the extensive play equipment and defeated the parents in a football match. Boy bliss!

Chemin des Dames

The countryside around Berry au Bac was wide and open and calling to be explored. We set off in the car and headed up onto the ridge known as the “Chemin des Dames” which translates as “The Ladies’ Way” and refers to the origins of the route as a road created for two princesses, daughters of Louis XV.

However, the ridge has a sad history as a much sought after strategic point : in 1814 5000 French and 7000 Russian soldiers died on this hill in a matter of days during Napoleon’s victorious Battle of Craonne; a mere century later the toll grew as four years of bloodshed stained the countryside.

We visited the “Caverne du Dragon”, a quarry with extensive tunnel systems which sits on the top of the hill. The French had lost this quarry to the Germans in 1915. The Germans had then converted it into a large underground barracks, complete with electricity, first-aid posts, chapel, bath house, cemetery and firing positions. It took the French two years to recapture it. And then the Germans counterattacked and reclaimed a section of the cave. Bizarrely the enemies lived in the same place, separated by mere walls, some of which had ventilation holes. The men were in constant fear. Above ground soldiers worried that the enemy was below them and that they would be blown up. Below ground they suffered from cave collapses and feared attacks from the neighbours.

It is a very eerie place.

World War 1 involved 60 million people from 90 different countries. The Chemin des Dames became the living hell for many of these nationalities. On the hill beside the quarry there is now a striking monument to the “Senagalese” soldiers who suffered heavy losses on this hill. There is archive footage of them doing drill and images of them seeing snow for the first time.

In April 1917 the French launched a massive attack on the German positions. Five million shells fell on the hill over five days. Amazingly, the German positions were not destroyed. Unfortunately, the shells remained.

After 1918 they tried to clear the battlefield. Farms and villages were rebuilt and vast war cemeteries were created. However, some areas could never be reclaimed. Brave souls from the Forestry Commission planted trees in these areas. They are now mature forests but you must not enter them. They are the camouflage for the old trenches, shell holes and fragile ordnance. Every year the ground releases these dangerous relics. Last year they retrieved 40 tons.

It is so hard to believe that this happened on such a beautiful hill. Dan, aged 8 and wise beyond his years, wrote about it in his journal :

“…in place of all the sorrow, evil and pointlessness that had taken place on this land, there were dozens and dozens of fields of sunflowers…”

Long may that be.