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A sunny Saturday morning greeted us as we set off for our triumphant entry into the French capital. There were a handful of working péniches about on the river but as we approached the outskirts we found ourselves practically alone. The long, sweeping meanders of the Seine took us past many fine riverside properties and a remarkable collection of converted péniches forming a motley array of homes, from rustic cottage style to modernistic steel and glass designs, many with delightful potted plant gardens. The previous day we’d shared our pontoon with a French artist in his own DIY floating studio, showing that all shades of life can secure a place on the river if they really want to.

After several hours of steady motoring we swept past the Bois de Boulogne and the pinnacle of the Eifel Tower hove into sight! From being the only boat on the river, the water suddenly became alive with large bateaux mouches (sight-seeing tourist boats) swerving and veering haphazardly from one side of the river to the other. Passing under vast, impressive bridges best viewed from water-level, the original Statue of Liberté glinted in the sallow sunlight, whilst tthe Eifel loomed above us and the river banks surged thick with people. This was a great way to see the city!

A nervous moment as we waited for the one-way system around the Isle de la Cité to turn in our favour, and then we were passing through the historic quarters, dominated on the southern bank by the huge Musée d’Orsay. Then, there, looming behind us was Notre Dame, looking grey and mossy as the light faded and rain threatened. Within minutes we were entering the locked entrance to the Paris Arsenal marina, located where the Canal St Martin meets the Seine. A perfect location on the edge of the vieille cité, just a stone’s throw from the Place de la Bastille, the Paris Arsenal has a good reputation as a friendly place to spend a few days.

The two days spent at L’Isle Adam were warm and sunny, and we made friends with a French couple in the boat next to us whose Slovakian credit card switched on our electric supply when all our UK cards were rejected – oh! how the days of Empire are long gone! We had an unusual river bank visitor which looked more beaver than otter, but which we never accurately identified.  It was part of a small group that seemed to live happily off tourist scraps.

Leaving L’Isle we made our way further downstream to Port de Cergy, a proper little marina for a change. A hot day spent searching for a supply of French gas to replace our expensive camping gaz allowed us to see the more industrial and unattractive parts of the local area. A more pleasant day (yet another French holiday) was spent exploring the extensive and very well designed waterpark adjoining the port. The whole area (once gravel workings) has been beautifully and skillfully regenerated.

Our departure from Pointoise-Cergy gave us a brief opportunity to call into Mery-Auvers to see the graves of Vincent Van Goch and his brother Theo. The town was popular with 19^th century artists and Vincent painted feverishly here before shooting himself whilst receiving treatment for his mental problems – a strategy with real marketing potential.  The weather was cold and wet, so we pressed on and entered the Seine at Conflans -Ste-Honorine which was packed with colourful péniches. We quickly became aware of motoring against the current after days of downstream travelling on the Oise. By late afternoon, after a long day, we pulled into a mooring at Rueil-Malmaison where we enjoyed a Lebanese meal in preparation for our impending journey into the heart of Paris.

The short journey from Noyon to Pont L’Evèque took us into the Canal Lateral à l’Oise, allowing a play on words for our more mature readers. We were back in a river again, this time travelling down-stream, so we had our first encounter with locks that emptied rather than filling. Once we’d got the hang of these we found them easier and less turbulent. By lunch we were moored at the attractive town of Longueil-Annel, just above the Janville lock, marking the start of the river proper. This town makes the most of its attractive canal setting and is said to be a popular place for péniche skippers to retire.

The next few hours were spent meandering down the Oise, together with a group of péniches. We had to wait for them all to enter each lock before we were allowed to go in. We started to feel part of the team! Our hopes that we might stay overnight at Boran-sur-Oise were dashed when we found the bankside moorings too shallow. So wearily we pressed on for Beaumont-sur-Oise, reaching the town in the evening sun. As we settled to a small pontoon, two of our accompanying péniches slowly manoeuvred using the river current to gently moor together close by. The charm of the scene did not hold for long, however, as our walk around Beaumont revealed an impoverished community with a high number of African immigrants. Sad to say, we took care to lock Gwennol’s doors when we went to bed.

The day dawned bright but cold. Despite the sharp northerly wind, it seemed as if the weather had changed for the better at last. After lunch we made the short journey to L’Isle-Adam, a popular leisure resort which made a stark contrast with Beaumont. We joined a smart powerboat on the small pontoon with a crew of French folk who live in Portsmouth! Being a Sunday afternoon, there were crowds milling around in the sunshine. This looked like a good place to spend a couple of days.

Leaving Peronne on Wednesday morning, we began a long day on the Canal du Nord. Rather featureless, but nonetheless an engineering achievement, the most notable moment was our passage through the 1km long tunnel called La Panneterie. Late afternoon we arrived in Noyon and made the lengthy walk into the historic town centre. The scene of many battles down the ages, Noyon still has character, and its cathedral, peppered with bullet and shrapnel marks, still evokes a powerfully medieval atmosphere.

We spent the night on a riverside factory wharf, together with several working péniches. It was the complete antithesis of a tourist setting, and the timeless sense of river-borne commerce was made all the more vivid when the péniches began loading tonnes of wheat the following morning.

Monday May 7^th dawned misty and still, but with a hint of sunshine and blue skies. This was D-Day for Gwennol on the Canal de la Somme. Would we get through its charming upper reaches which we were told could be too shallow? Having transferred some heavy items to Fabuleuse, we set off behind Luc in trepidation. By the time we’d arrived at the locks in Frise, the sun was breaking through and the air was warming up. The lady lock-keeper gave us encouragement – yes there was enough water… we would get through.

Over the next hour we weaved up the canal, in its most beautiful setting – ironically right through the countryside torn apart by the WW1 front lines. We recorded over 2m through the lifting bridge at Feuilleres (one of the shallow spots we were warned about). It looked possible we might not have to retrace our steps to St Valary, Dieppe and then to Le Havre and the Seine – a retreat that would add a fortnight  to our journey. Then the last tense moment as we entered the lock at Sormont, and we were home-and-dry (or is it wet?).

By 1100 we were entering a completely different waterway – the Canal du Nord – leaving behind the meandering Somme with its riverside villages, numerous ponds and lakes, abundant wildlife, and the many friendly canal staff who had helped us through the locks. In the event we encountered little problem, there being plenty of water. Taking the Somme had proved an excellent decision. Now we were in a different world – in one of Europe’s major working canals where pleasure craft give way to the many impressive commercial peniches that ply this waterway.

It was time, too, to say goodbye to Luc and Fabuleuse. We rafted together by the Lock at Clery and watched two peniches negotiate the huge modern lock – one out, and one in – in a matter of minutes. No idle chatter here – time is money. Then it was the turn of tiny Fabuleuse, swallowed up by the size of the lock. Luc got his first experience of managing alone, and soon worked out a system.  A hug and a wave and he was away on his journey north, disappearing around the corner on the way to his home in Belgium. It was sad to see him go and I’m sure we’ll keep in touch. Turning around to the south, Gwennol made the short journey to Peronne where we decided to stay for a couple of days.

With the arrival of Gwennol’s crew we were ready to start the many hundreds of kilometers of weaving through the canals to Marseilles. Our first day up river from Abbeville to the village of Long (much of the Somme is a canalised river) made us realise that we would have to become accustomed to miniscule water depths that would give us chickens if we were at sea! But you only need a few centimeters under your keels to keep afloat and make progress. We started receiving the first of several warnings that there might not be enough depth at the upper end of the canal to allow us to get through to the commercial Canal du Nord, which we needed to take to go south to Paris.

That first evening in Long was particularly pleasant after a spell of wet weather, and we were moored alongside ‘Cordiale’ – a canal boat with which were to have more dealings with the following day. It turned out the crew were Welsh – Jeremy from Merthyr and Catherine from Llyn – but they have lived on the Isle of Wight for many years. Not long after we set off Neil’s navigations went wrong and Gwennol went firmly aground. Only with the skilful help of Cordiale did we manage to get free from the mud. Thereafter we encountered thick weed – “salad” as Luc called it – which both of us struggled through. By the time we made our next overnight stop at Picquigny (try pronoucing that), we were gloomy about our prospects.

Linking up with Luc the following day, we used the car to reconnaitre the upper reaches of the canal, near Peronne – also calling in to see the notable WW1 museum there. So with renewed optimism we recommenced our journey the following day, calling briefly at Amiens to see the huge cathedral. By evening we were at the attractive little town of Corbie where we joined up again with Fabuleuse – and eventually also Cordiale. This gave all the crews an excuse for an enjoyable night out together, during which (as always) the Welsh connections were explored with the usual surprising outcomes. However we drew a blank with those of a Belgian nature!

So from Corbie to Cappy – getting ever closer to the WW1 front lines. It was strange to think such a quiet and sleepy hamlet once shook to the boom of the big guns from both sides. Our weekend in Cappy coincided with the French presidential election, but there was little sign of the campaign in this part of the country. It was wet, windy and cold, and definitely not May weather – when would the sun shine again?

After a very happy and successful sojourn in Dieppe (scene of a tragic WW2 trial landing in August 1942 – a disaster to equal the Omaha Beach Normandy landings – look on the web for more details), both Fabuleuse and Gwennol took to the high seas again to face the challenge of the Somme estuary. Conditions were good, and at 1400 – exactly two hours before high tide – we commenced our nerve-wracking journey along the tortuous buoyed channel. All went well until practically the last minute when Gwennol ran aground, but we quickly refloated and made it safely into the entrance of extensive French canal system.

Upon arrival the weather went pear-shaped and our two-day stay in Valery sur Somme was marred by endless rain and grey skies. It still looked a place well worth a visit, however, with its narrow-guage railway running right along the quayside. On Sunday the 29th, we both moved off again and passed through the first large lock into the canal proper. For the next three hours we chugged along against the wind and driving rain. Poor Luc suffered the most because he had to stay out in the cockpit, whereas I had the fortune to be able to shelter in Gwennol’s wheelhouse. But, by the time we arrived in Abbeville the sun had come out. At last I was exactly where I’d hoped to be, just a day before the arrival of my motley crew…

I received a very friendly welcome from the Dieppe Capitiniere and they proved very helpful throughout my fortnight’s stay. Fortunately one of the staff, Frank, had excellent English (although this meant I didn’t practice much of my kindergarten French), and he arranged for Gwennol’s mast to be taken off at the beginning of my second week. The first few days were spent working on ensuring all our electronic communications systems worked well in France – something I achieved with the help of Natalie in the local SFR (mobile phone) shop. Amazingly, I also managed to download a couple of TV programmes, something I haven’t been able to repeat since!

It took me several days (in small stages) to decouple the endless ropes, wires and hawsers which connect the mast to the boat. Heaven knows how I’ll put it altogether again, but I’ve taken a number of pics to guide me. I could only uncouple the 17 or so delicate wires associated with the radar at the moment the mast was lifted off by crane, so this proved a nervous combination of heavy-lifting and electrical brain-surgery! But all went well, and I spent the following day carefully wrapping up the mast to await its transportation to Marseilles by a chap called, Wolfgang, with whom I’ve only become acquainted via email, although he has a good reputation as a master mast-transporter!

With this task done, I started looking for suitable weather to allow a passage east along the coast to St Valery sur Somme (where William the Coconut set sail from France in 1066). As I was waiting I met a cheerful and chatty Belgium who was also making ‘a journey of a lifetime’, taking his boat, ‘Fabuleuse’ from La Rochelle (where he has lived for the last 15 years) to his old hometown in Belgium. Since he was also planning to enter the Canal de la Somme, we decided to stick together to double our chances of surviving the treacherous sands of the Somme esturay. At last, after almost two weeks of wind and heavy rain, Friday the 27th of April seemed to promise just the right weather…

After a long winter of planning it was a relief at last to be ready to set sail for France! Betsan, Jac and I went down to Chichester to make the final preparations. The weather for the coming week looked poor – high winds and waves – but I suddenly realised there was a chance for me to make Dieppe on Monday the 16th of April direct from Chichester, instead of sailing up to Newhaven to make the crossing. It would be a long passage (92nm), but the conditions would be good with a steady F4 on the port beam. Consequently I left the marina soon after Betsan and Jac started for home, and I picked up a mooring at the entrance to Chichester Harbour after some difficulty in the dwindling light.

I was up at 0230 and off by 0300 motoring tentatively over Chichester Bar at low tide and in the pitch black (save for the port-hand lights winking at me). Once safely at sea, I set a course to clear Selsey Bill. At 0400 the sails were raised and I was motor-sailing at over 8knots. By 0700 I began to encouter the first of many ships passing east to west. Ship dodging continued until noon as I crossed in front of the Traffic Separation Scheme. I must have had to deal with 12-16 ships (I lost count) many more than expected. They always look as if they are coming at you head-on, until the last 15 minutes. Just when you think it’s safe to relax, the next one comes over the horizon!

I didn’t feel brilliant since it was my first day at sea, but the conditions were otherwise very good. After midday when I’d cleared the TSS things became more pleasant, and I made excellent progress, having first my sight of France by 1500. At 1800 I was off Dieppe harbour entrance, and half-an-hour later I was tied up in the marina. Dieppe proved an excellent choice of landfall in France for several reasons, but more in the next blog.

On Monday the 26th, with Torquil and his friends back at work in the City, we took our leave of Lymington, sailing quietly off our pontoon and out into the Solent. By lunchtime it became clear that the 2.5 knots we were making under sail were exactly counteracted by the 2.5 knots of tide running against us. We were pleasantly sailing along but going nowhere!

Motoring gingerly into Southampton Water, dodging the odd supertanker, we made for Hamble, the epicentre of the well-heeled sailing gentry. Having said that, we found the marina facilities to be the best we’d encountered so far – even complimentary champagne in the loos (I jest of course!).

Just one more passage to make now – Chichester was on the horizon. It began quietly. motoring with no wind and smooth seas. Our main concern was to avoid the myriad ferries plying into and out of Portsmouth. For the first time we were able to use our AIS tracking system to see various large vessels on our laptop chart-plotter, moving in real-time. This sytem picks up VHF signals which such vessels are required to broadcast every few minutes giving information on who they are and where they are going. It was particularly interesting to observe the various errors in the system, like ships going sideways across the chart, and appearing to collide because of the inflated size of the icons being used. I certainly wouldn’t like to navigate just by AIS alone!

As our journey progressed an old-fashioned three-masted square-rigger hove into view. Captained (we imagined) by Jack Sparrow, we tried to out-run her, but to no avail – they’ve obviously upgraded her with a diesel engine!

Crossing the dangerous Chichester Bar was no problem in such benign conditions. The sun was shining and there was a distinctively warm, Mediterranian feel to the day. We finally passed Jack Sparrow and headed further up the river to Chichester Marina, but there was one more drama to come.

We moored on the ‘holding pontoon’ outside the lock that leads into the marina so that we could visit the office to introduce ourselves. I’d already made arrangements to berth Gwennol here over the winter months. However when we returned to the boat we found ourselves hemmed in by a party of yachts the occupants of which had disappeared off to the resturant for lunch. As well as this, the tide had turned and water was rushing out of the open lock and swirling along the side of the pontoon.

Betsan and I did our level best to get Gwennol clear, but as soon as she turned her keels slightly against the flow she became jammed against one of the yachts, grinding against its teak rubbing strake. We fought valiently against the power of the stream, and with much grunting we finally got her clear, whereupon I repeated my Swansea Marina exit with another complete pirouette, only this time backwards!

Then I hammered through the turbulent lock and worked my way into our allocated berth – Betsan arriving panting from her run around the marina to catch us up! It was an adrenaline-inducing experience which left some minor scratches on Gwennol’s starbord side. However, we soon calmed down and took in the glorious beauty of our surroundings. We’d made a good decision to come to Chichester – such a lovely place.

So this first stage of our voyage is over, and looking back, so much has gone well. Sailing can be a ticky business because endless things can go wrong – and very quickly – when at sea. However, virtually all our safety, navigational and domestic ‘systems’ had worked well, we’d planned our passages successfully, and most important of all, the weather had not just been kind, but distinctly helpful. As many sailors will know – this is quite remarkable!

We’ve also been able to experience a fortnight of living aboard with Jac and, despite his abject fear of all forms of water, both he and we have survived! Indeed, life on board is actually very comfortable with heat, hotwater and a dependable system of electrical power on tap. I’m already looking forward to April next year when we set sail for France. In the meantime we’re going to explore Chichester Harbour via its numerous shoreside paths and its picturesque creeks, over the coming winter months.