Enjoying Ay

We had arrived in Ay on Sunday the 8^th of September and had settled in on the wall immediately below the lock. For the first time since Namur, Belgium we dug the bicycles out of the forepeak.

We needed fresh produce and meat or fish for dinner, so we crossed the canal bridge and continued along about 300 metres to the Leclair supermarket, which I recalled from a previous visit here a decade ago. The store was still there, but it was closed on Sundays. We turned around and headed the three kilometres into Magenta, across the Marne from Epernay, where we found the Leader Price open. It is located in a cheap neighbourhood and has very low quality produce and meats to suit its main clientele. Nonetheless, we did manage to put together a small basket to see us through until the better markets open on Monday.

After lunch we walked into Ay to explore. At the town entrance is the wine country mandatory decorated wine barrel. Ay is one of the best of the Grand Cru villages of the Champagne and its specialty are the two red grapes of the region: Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier.

Ay is home to over forty Champagne producers. Signposts throughout the town pointed directions to those nearby. It is a small town, so most of the signposts show half to three-quarters of the producers.

The town is long and narrow, ranging along a strip between the canal and the base of the slopes of Montagne de Reims. We walked the three blocks through to the beginnings of the vineyards. The grapes were in good tight clusters and most had taken on the deep blue-purple colour of maturity. 

Some bunches in less sunny exposures were still in the process of changing colour.

Still others had not yet begun ripening. It has been a rather patchy growing year, with frost, rain and hail disrupting the flowering, fruit set and the ripening. This is not unusual for the Champagne, a region that lies at the northern extreme of the viticultural zone. The vines are tough and resilient and over my four and a half decades of visiting the region, I have seen that the growers and producers are even tougher and more resilient.

I have always been enthralled by the corduroy slopes of Montaigne de Reims.

We passed a wonderful series of open gates giving glimpses into the domains and lives of les viticulteurs, the grape growers. To me the art and science of grape growing is the most important aspect of fine wine. Wine of quality cannot be made without quality grapes. The winemaker can do nothing to improve the quality that comes from the grower; the winemaker’s task is to prevent as much as possible the lessening of the quality as the grapes become wine. 

We walked along streets that seemed completely lined with Champagne producers, some large, some small, some famous, others near unknown outside their own small circles. It was Sunday and everything was closed. Edi and I seemed to be the only activity in town.

We headed back down into the centre of town, past the church as darkening clouds threatened more rain. 

As we scurried to beat the rain back to Zonder Zorg, we hurried through an older section with many half-timbered buildings from a few centuries back. We promised ourselves to take more time in the following few days to further explore Ay and its surroundings.

Back onboard, the rain passed and we relaxed. Within a week we had seen the temperatures plunge from a daytime high of 38º last week when we were in Sillery to 19º this week. Autumn was closing in on us and the tree above us sent a continuous rain of reminders onto our decks.

We had a visit scheduled with Champagne de Venoge in Épernay on Wednesday, and our thoughts had been to head down the canal four kilometres, pass through the lock at Dizy and then head a little over five kilometres up the branch of the Marne to Port de Plaisance d’Épernay. This would entail about two and a half hours of motoring. Moorage in Épernay was listed as €2 per metre per day, so €34 a day on top of the €14 for the ten litres of diesel consumed getting there and back to our free moorage in Ay. Edi suggested that for the €48 we stay in Ay, take taxis to and from Épernay and buy a bottle of Champagne with the change.

With the trees above us accelerating their defoliation, we decided to move Zonder Zorg back up through the lock to the quai above it. It has no overhanging trees. We watched as a Freycinet gauge peniche filled the lock. These barges are within a few centimetres of the same dimensions as those of the chamber, and we watched as the skipper put the twin rudders hard over so that the lock doors astern could swing past them and close.

When the lock was clear we slipped our lines and I headed down canal about 200 metres to a point where the canal is about 20 metres wide, sufficient for me to wind Zonder Zorg around and in the process, twist the lock signalling wand. Meanwhile, Edi had walked up to the lock to receive the lines when I entered. In short order we had made it through the lock and were secured in a much less leafy place. We swept away the thick layer of leaves and washed the boat, then settled back into relaxing and enjoying Ay.

To Ay

On Saturday morning the 7^th of September I walked over to Case à Pain for some pain chocolat and croissants, which we then enjoyed in the cockpit with cups of espresso. As we relaxed over breakfast, the sky slowly filled with cloud and the forecast rain showers began. We had the umbrella up, so we continued.

At 1015 we slipped from the wall in Relais Nautique de Sillery and continued up the canal. We glided along through wheat fields with a backdrop of Champagne villages nestled among their vineyards on Montagne de Reims. 

It was drizzling lightly, but this did not deter the serious fishermen, nor joggers nor even a young woman on her horse, all of whom used the old tow path beside the canal.

Along our planned route for the day were three locks leading up to the bief de partage, the summit pound, in the middle of which is Souterrain de Mont-de-Billy, a 2302 metre long tunnel under a rib of Montagne de Reims. From the tunnel, the waterway leads down eight locks to the end of the canal. The lock houses on the way up were occupied and well-maintained.

The intermittent drizzle had turned to persistent light rain by the time we arrived at the entrance to the tunnel. Its signal light was red and we could see the interior lighting was on, indicating a boat was inside. We didn’t know whether the boat was coming or going. If it was going we had a long wait; if it was coming the wait was much less.

There are no bollards along the new concrete wall in the tunnel approach, so we eased over and dropped the spud pole. Within a few minutes faint details emerged in the shadowy darkness of the tunnel mouth. The details filled and soon became the bows of a commercial peniche completing its transit.

Immediately the barge had passed the sensors at the mouth of the tunnel, the traffic light switched from red to green. As its stern cleared the mouth, the tunnel’s interior lights went out. We waited for the suck and turbulence of the passing barge to ease, and then raising the spud pole, we headed toward the entrance.

As our bows crossed through the beam of the sensors, the interior lights came on. Faintly in the distance we could see the point of light at the far end of the tunnel, 2.3 kilometres away.

The entire interior of the tunnel is lined with stones laid in a graceful arch. From this, it appears to me that the method of construction would have been to dig a deep trench across the ridge, build the arched roof and refill the trench on top of it. The tunnel was completed in time for the opening of the canal in 1866.

Looking back we could see the entrance slowly getting smaller. The interior was dry, with none of the commonly found dripping from the tunnel roof.

We took advantage of the respite from the rain. Edi went below and quickly put together a tray of bread, cheeses and olives for us to enjoy  during the twenty-odd minute passage through the tunnel. It was not her usual fancy spread; the table top was wet from the rain and would have soaked a tablecloth and our dry time was not anticipated to be sufficiently long to allow her to do a fancy arrangement. Lunch was wonderful, made even more so by the setting.

Zonder Zorg handled superbly through the tunnel, balanced between the effects off each wall and easily seeking the centre. A little bit of guidance with the tiller from time to time was all that was required. After twenty minutes we were at the end and ready to head back out into the rain.

We started down the six-kilometre long series of eight down-bound locks and about halfway along we came to a malfunctioning one. As we approached, we had as usual turned the control rod dangling over the canal. It lit the orange flashing light at the gate and turned the signal from red to red and green. It did everything that was automated to happen except filling the lock and opening the gates for us. We secured to a bollard on the bank and I called Ch22 on the VHF. Mme. l’eclusier said: “J’arrive”. 

The next lock malfunctioned also. It had allowed us in, but after I had lifted the activation bar the doors would not close. Again I signalled the lock keeper and she quickly came to set things in motion again. She seemed to know exactly what to do, as if these were regular occurrences, which I suspect they were so late in the season. They are likely on the VNF list of winter maintenance. 

At 1607 we finally made it down to the end of Canal de l’Aisne à la Marne, a T-junction with Canal Latéral à la Marne. We turned to starboard and headed downstream. The first lock along the canal, the one in Tours-sur-Marne malfunctioned, so I needed to call VNF again. It took nearly half an hour for a different lock keeper to arrive and lock us through, and by this time it was getting very tight for us to make it through l’Écluse de Mareiul before it closed for the day at 1700. Slowing us along the way was the first movable bridge we have seen since the Netherlands, but it responded quickly to our twist of the dangling wand and we needed to pause for only short while.

We arrived at the signalling wand for l’Écluse de Mareiul at 1650 and watched as our twist was acknowledged by a flashing orange light. However, the red light went out and stayed out; we got no red and green to show the lock was being prepared for us. We later learned that, even though the system is listed as operating until 1700, any new locking-through is switched off ten minutes before that; we likely missed it by seconds.

We secured to the bollards on the quai at the approaches to the lock and shut down for the day. We were in the countryside a kilometre short of the village of Mareiul-sur-Ay and four kilometres short of the town of Ay. When I checked the engine after our day’s run, I again saw diesel oil and coolant puddles in the bilge. I was not happy.

Sunday morning we arose to a world covered in heavy dew and the sun rising mists off the canal.

Beside us, next to the lock house the geese were warming themselves in the first rays of the sun, and above them on the slopes the grapes began another day of ripening. With only about two weeks until harvest, they need all the sun they can get.

Edi had the diced bacon smelling wonderfully and was just about to add the eggs to the pan when Mme.l’éclusier arrived to ask us if we wanted to lock through. I told her we were getting ready for breakfast and were thinking of going through in half an hour. She said the lock wasn’t working properly and it needed help, but that she would be away for over an hour. I told Edi to turn the bacon off and hold the eggs. Within two minutes we were entering the lock.

We passed through Mareiul-sur-Ay, and not tempted by the rather Dogpatch-looking moorings, we decided to continue on to Ay. From my visit here in 2004 in Lady Jane, I remembered a long quai in the centre of town, though I did recall very shallow water alongside. The new FluviaCarte showed the quai, but did not mention of the shallowness alongside. They left it to us to discover with our 0.95 metre draft. Fortunately, Zonder Zorg’s skeg is about 10 centimetres deeper than the tips of her propeller blades. 

I easily poled off with a boathook, and we continued along to Écluse de Ay, which we passed through without any need of assistance. This automatic lock was working, though with its very slow emptying, we suspect there is a problem with the upstream paddles. We secured alongside the wall on the bollards just below the lock and Edi reheated the bacon, put on the eggs and I pulled some espressos. We had arrived in Ay.

R & R in Champagne

On Saturday 31 August we had arrived in Sillery, one of the Grand Cru Champagne villages on Montaigne de Reims. We decided to pause for a while. Our winding route from Harlingen to Sillery has taken us through 128 locks and along 996.2 kilometres of canals, rivers and lakes to cover the 452 kilometre straight line distance.

Edi completed the carving of the second Zonder Zorg name board and began painting it. 

On Tuesday morning we caught the local bus into Reims. For €2.50 each we bought return tickets, which were good for an hour in each direction on all lines. Among the things we needed to do was visit the Sous Prefecture to begin the process of getting my long-term stay authorisation in Europe. When we arrived shortly after noon, the signs informed us the offices are open only on Mondays and Tuesdays from 1430 to 1730 and for longer on Fridays. We went off to the Orange office to buy a French sim card for my phone and to set-up an internet connection for our computers. We arrived back at the Sous Prefecture to find a huge crowd milling around the entrance, waiting for the opening. At the appointed hour the doors opened; inside the crush was subdivided and we ended-up ninth in the Immigration line.

After a little more than an hour we emerged with a form and instructions on what to bring with us to the Prefecture offices in Chalons-en-Champagne. We decided to visit Notre Dame for some solace.

The current structure was begun in 1211 and it replaces a series churches on the site dating back to the late Roman era. In 496 Clovis, the first King of France was baptised in one of the former churches on the site. This led to twenty-five French kings, from Louis the Pious in 816 to Charles X in 1825 being crowned at Notre Dame de Reims. The Cathedral was severely damaged during World War One and the restoration is ongoing. The more important pieces among the statuary in the entrance portals have been restored.

The church is one of the finest examples of Gothic architecture, and its design uses flying buttresses to allow the huge windowed walls to soar to great heights.

Most of the stained glass windows from the thirteenth century were destroyed by German artillery shelling; however some remain.

The Rose Window is the most prominent of these, and it is a superb example of the art.

High up in the nave and the choir some windows from the 1240s have survived.

Modern windows have gradually replaced temporary fillers. This trio by Marc Chagall was completed in 1974.

The light strikes the interior in a seemingly endless variety of designs. The feeling inside is of a monument, rather than of a place of worship. 

Outside, facing the Cathedral rides a bronze Jeanne d'Arc, the teenager who turned the tide for the French in the Hundred Year's War. She was condemned as a heretic and burned at the stake at the age of nineteen. The Church said "Oops" twenty-five years later and admitted a mistake. She was later canonised and is one of the Patron Saints of France.

A few blocks away is Eglise St Jacques, which was begun about 1190, two decades before Notre Dame. Its interior is wonderfully serene, and unlike Notre Dame, there is an overwhelming feeling of being in a spiritual place. 

We were captivated by the peacefulness of the place.

The church is tucked away in a side street directly abutting neighbouring buildings and almost completely hidden from view. Only from an interior courtyard is there a view of the exterior.

It was late afternoon by the time we had returned to Zonder Zorg in Sillery. Edi added more layers of paint to the name board.

On Wednesday morning I walked a few blocks to Case à Pain, broadly reputed as the best bakery in the region.

We enjoyed a splendid breakfast of Brie de Meaux and Forme d’Ambert with fresh croissants and cups of espresso.

We relaxed and explored, but mostly relaxed. We continued to celebrate our arrival in Champagne with more Champagne. For dinner I prepared pan-seared coquilles St Jacques, basmati rice and green beans amandine and we enjoyed these with a bottle of Champagne Canard Duchesne. 

As we were savouring our way through the bottle I thought of my friend and former business partner, Philip Holzberg, who in the 1980s and early 90s had done a splendid job of representing and promoting Canard Duchesne in Canada. He had gone on to own a vineyard in the Burgundy and a wine chateau in Bordeaux before his tragic death a couple of years ago. Cheers, Philip!

Just along from our moorage is one of the nineteen nécroploes nationales, French national military cemeteries, which occupy a total of thirty-five hectares in the area east of Montagne de Reims. They are the final resting places for 116,628 members of the military. 

The placard gives a breakdown: WWI - 114,120 French, 188 Allies; WWII - 2028 French, 292 Allies. This was one of the major battlegrounds of the Great War.

We were waiting for a technician to arrive from the French distributor of our Perkins engine. Since our first outing from Harlingen in early June, we have had a problem with leaking of diesel oil and coolant from the engine as well as some oil from the transmission. We have had Dutch technicians come to us from Harlingen when we were in Winsum, Workum, Lemmer, Ens, Elburg and Haarlem. Then we had them come from the distributor in Utrecht while we were in Gouda and Gorenchem. Now in Sillery we were waiting for the first French technician.

Late on Friday morning Julien arrived after a two hour drive from Beauvais, and from the series of photos I had emailed, he quickly found a faulty connection on one of the fuel injector lines. He had brought spares and he had soon fixed the fuel leak for the ninth time. From stains, he tracked down the coolant leak to a faulty connection in the return line to the coolant reservoir. He had no spares to for this, but was able to cobble together a temporary remedy with a piece of hose and some clamps. After engine run-ups and testing, he cleaned a couple of litres of fluids from the bilges.

He left mid-afternoon, telling us he would have the proper parts ordered and would return to install them the next week, wherever we happened to be along the canals. We need to keep heading south; we still have a long way to go to our winter moorage in Carcassonne.