Sunny and hot again. We were ready to go just after nine, but Bill thought we were staying so that Mike could retrieve the car, nope that’s Friday. We left as a British cruiser went past heading downhill at 9.30 a.m. A fisherman who had stationed himself right behind Rosy’s stern (he had the whole pound – 3.4 kms long – to fish in, so why right behind the boats?) caught a large fish as we were getting untied. Rosy winded with the aid of the current (there’s a permanent flow of water down the canal from the feed off the Garonne in Toulouse) and we headed uphill to lock 17, St Martin. Bill turned the pole and I went up the muddy ladder in the lock chamber to press the green button (rant: why couldn’t they have nice easy to work rods in the chamber wall like everyone else – or even a zapper? The commercial boat crews used to use a mop to knock them down when they were simple levers, not buttons, but that’s not so easy nowadays as there are no commercials left in the Midi); there was nowhere to alight below the lock and I couldn’t jump off on the access platform below the lock as we had to go in through the centre of the arch carrying the road over the tail of the lock due to the height of our mast. A very young man in a van arrived just after I’d pressed the button (was he supposed to do it?) and asked where we were going. Mike threw a rope up on the lock side but there was no bollard, so I stood on it, then went to stand in the shade under a young walnut tree while the lock filled. Crowds of kids aged about eight or nine with minders came cycling down the cycle piste/towpath in bunches of ten at a time. I made some tea as we went up the long 4.5 kms pound to lock 16, Escatalens. Mike dropped me off at a very high landing point covered with rocks and I walked up to the lock and pressed the green button. Two large Dutch cruisers were waiting above to come down (The first one sounded distinctly English although Amsterdam as his home port was on the back of his boat) It was 11.20 a.m. as we set off along the 1.7 kms pound to the bottom of the flight of five manually-operated locks up to Montech alongside the Pent d’Eau (water slope). Twenty minutes later we arrived at lock 15, Pommies, which was empty with the gates open ready for us. A young lad with a moped worked the lock from a console on the lock side. We’d changed sides as there was a bollard almost in the right place (still too far up the chamber) but my rope wouldn’t fly right and kept missing it - four attempts before I got it. Mike roped Rosy alongside. The lad locked the office by the bottom lock, followed on up to lock 14, Escudiés and worked that for us then went back down to the bottom lock. We scooted on up to 13, Pellaborie, as it was getting closer to the lunchtime closing hour. A young lady pressed the buttons and we rose ropeless. She locked up and rode up the towpath on her bike. The young man worked 12, Peyrets; this time he only lifted one paddle which caused a swirling in the lock. We rose ropeless again. The final pound up to 11, Montech and it was 12.30 p.m. and we thought we would have to wait for an hour while they had lunch but the lad opened the gates and worked the lock for us. When the lock was full Mike told him we were off to Lacourt-St-Pierre and gave him two bottles of beer for working overtime. I asked what the derelict factory alongside the lock used to make, but he didn’t know as he didn’t live in Montech. (I must find out.) We went across the “new” canal access to the water slope and turned left into the Montech arm which leads to Montauban. It was quiet and there were loads of grass cuttings floating in the canal. A grey heron kept flying off in front and landing just a few hundred yards in front, then it started to let us go past it before it flew off again as Rosy got closer. Eventually it flew up and wheeled round to pass us, flying just above tree level, and went back to its patch of towpath fishing rights. A little further on a little egret posed very elegantly on the stub of a dead tree trunk as we went by.
At 1.30 p.m. we moored at the empty quay at Lacourt. We were just on the bottom about six inches from the side. A sign said 3€ per day. At today’s fuel prices that’s cheaper than generating our own electric. We plugged in and dozed in the heat. It was hot and noisy as a grass cutter mowed the already razored bank opposite the boat. Mike went to get the car. He’d left the two relevant IGN road maps and his fleece in the car when he and Bill went to Toulouse on Tuesday. Tut! Somehow I got the blame for that! A large Dutch klipper called St Louis went past, nice and slowly, with a few guests on board heading down into Montauban. Its skipper had a mobile ‘phone glued to his ear, steering with one hand but managed a wave as he went by. I had soaked Mike’s filthy jeans (from working on Paul’s boat) in the sink all day so I put them in the washer, then put the laptop on to catch up with the log as I hadn’t done any updates since Monday. Just after the washer finished the power went off. I couldn’t find out what had tripped - the post on the bank didn’t seem to be working. Back to 12v! Mike was not amused when he returned. He couldn’t find where the problem was. There was no incoming mains power at the two posts by the boats and he couldn’t find another box. No one came to collect any money for the moorings. Mike put the PC on to check emails. I suggested he tried searching to see if there was a better service than 2G, yes! Whoopee, we got 3G! (We were close to Montauban and the motorway at Lacourt) 3.6 Mbts per second instead of 238 kbts, fifteen times faster!
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