Very hot and sunny, cloudy later in the evening with distant thunder, but no rain for us. Up early as the chef was coming to let the water back into the dry dock at nine. I did a quick vacuum of the carpets before Mike reeled the electric cable in, and then I got off with the camera to take a few photos. A scruffy looking péniche houseboat had arrived the previous evening and had moored by the dock, had a suspicion he was waiting for the now nicely painted, but prop-less, péniche houseboat to come off the covered dock. First the chef read the water meters and I checked the numbers with him, then he wound the paddles up to fill the dock.
Mike had forgotten to knock out the wedges under the bows – they floated free as the boat came off the steel bostocks (the chef fished them out later). The gate floated and the chef poled it, gondola-fashion, along the bank. Bill untied his ropes a little too early and Mike made comment to him that he was coming to knock our paint off before we’d even got out of the dock! The chef wanted the boats to be pulled out rather than use props to get out of the dock. He explained afterwards that there was a lot of mud just beyond the gate which gets swirled in by reversing props. Mike took ours out of gear until he’d cleared beyond the cill to avoid pulling mud into the dock. After we’d left they put the gate back in place and started emptying the dock, confirming our theory that the other boat was waiting for the covered dock. We went to pay for the docking (we’d withdrawn enough cash from the CCP a couple of days before). A different Madame was in the office, (a short, middle-aged lady with blonde curly hair, the other one was about the same age but had dark hair and a crooked jaw) she told me they didn’t accept cards or cash, only French cheques. I told her that cheques were being phased out in the UK, big shops wouldn’t accept them now as everything was going plastic. She said she would recommend that to their bosses. We asked what we would have to do if we hadn’t got a French chequebook. A trip to the Post Office to buy a mandate, in other words, give them the cash and they give you a cheque but charge you for the privilege! Our bill was 295.66€ and Bill’s was 292,97€ - we later realised we’d run the kärcher for both boats on the tap that we’d paid for. We’d sort it out later. I made out two cheques to pay for the docking and Mike asked Madame not to cash the cheques straight away as there was only 150€ left in the account - we’d have to put ours and Bill’s money into the CCP later. She was quite OK about it and said she’d wait ten or fifteen days, no problem. Mike learned that a “rubber” cheque in France is called a “wooden” one! We untied and set off down the basin. The chef operated the towpath footbridge again for us (another 50€ in the VNF coffers) and we turned right, heading uphill on the canal du Midi, as we had agreed to accompany Bill to help with the locks up to Le Ségala. Mike had checked our plumbing and found a slight leak below water level on the new loo pipes. We arrived at the first lock, Castanets lock 4, just before lunch. We tied next to two VNF dredging pans and tugs. Mike remade the joint on the loo pipes while I made sandwiches for lunch. At 1.20 p.m. a VNF van arrived and dropped off the tug steerers so we had to move. One went uphill through the lock (the full pan to the tip) and the empty went off downhill to the dredging site.
I went up to the lock with the camera and took a few photos while the tug and pan went uphill (he did use a rope!). The lock keeper worked the lock using a yellow handheld zapper. I went back down to the boat as he started emptying the lock and got back on board. There were useful bars in the straight sided lock walls of the extension at the tail end of the lock. Easy. The majority of the boat stuck out into the oval chamber but was held secure by the rope round the bar amidships. A curly pound lead to lock 5, Vic, and we went straight into the empty chamber. I tried throwing a bow rope up from the front of the roof. It wouldn’t fly right! Mike threw one from the centre of the roof which the young lad working the lock put on the bollard for him. I transferred the rope to the bow and Mike backed off into the tail end of the chamber. The young keeper helped Bill with his ropes, a centre one and one from the bows. We moored in a gap between the residential boats above the lock (after Mike and Bill persuaded an uninhabited small blue steel cruiser back a bit to let Rosy get alongside the bank and we moored on the outside). It was getting really, really hot. The thermometer said the roof (under the planks) was over 40°C and it was 35°C in the cabin. I put reflectors in the windows on the sunny side and we waited until it was a bit cooler to get the fizzer off before Mike went to retrieve the car from its city parking spot. When he returned he put all the stuff back in the car that had been sitting in bags on the front deck just in case someone did break into the car. Tool box, jack, reflective vests, extinguisher, first aid kit – it would cost a few bob to replace them. Then there were the irreplaceable odds and ends, the log book with fuel consumption figures and all the repair details, plus prescription sunglasses, glasses for driving at night, etc. Our SFR telephone mysteriously stopped working, no calls in or out!
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