Germany was not yet a nation in 1870 when war broke out between France and the North German Federation. It resulted in the loss of Alsace and Lorraine. The French built the Canal de l’Est afterwards to replace the transport it had lost. The canal begins just a short distance from Nancy. In 2003 the northern and southern branches were officially renamed Canal de la Meuse and Canal des Vosges. We spent the last days of this season on the Canal de la Meuse.
“I reviewed every whodunit I have ever watched, every story of psychotic serial killers.”
As you round the corner to enter the Canal de la Meuse there is a small town called Richardménil. We pulled into Its a lovely mooring. There are picnic tables and electricity. The narrowing Moselle runs alongside the canal. There is no bike path on this side of the canal so we were alone, aside from the nearby house hidden by the trees, with a large German Shepherd who greeted some of the occasional passers by heading for the footbridge leading to the paved path on the opposite side. Only one other boat came by while we were here and for the following four days.
The adjacent small town is up a steep hill. I biked there to get a baguette- a ‘tradition’ actually. This is a baguette made as they were made before modern methods turned the baguette into a less desirable product so I always ask for a ‘tradition.’
With very warm temperatures on the way we headed up the canal, climbing towards the source of the Moselle. This means we are entering emptied locks. These locks in particular are very difficult to use. The bollards are three meters or so above our heads. There are no holds for the bow other than the activating mechanism’s flimsy pipes, whereas in many locks there are holds built into the walls. To secure the stern I had to climb on the roof, using the hook to place the line over the bollard. We held on tight as the water gushed in turbulently. You rise quickly, hoping not to lose control.
We spent the next three days in the shade as temperatures climbed to 32c/90f outside the little town of Bayon. We grilled on our tiny charcoal barby and prepped some surfaces for later painting. People biked along the narrow, paved bike path, the small bridge crossing the lock just a few meters away. Up the road is a a roadside burger stand. We stopped there one day as the chef was just arriving. The friendly owner gave us a menu, and invited us back. We returned the next day. The burgers are good but not great despite the 5 stars awarded on Google maps, while costing us $40 for two with fries and a bottle of beer. This isn’t exactly cheap. A hundred meters closer to the canal a fete was forming. On Saturday night there was live music, a typical over the hill rock band, referring to their age. They weren’t half bad, especially considering how deep in the countryside we are.
A few people came walking alone late at night, well after midnight, wearing a headlamp, the light on their forehead bobbing in the pitch black mist. As they passed in silence with just a small door separating us, I reviewed the whodunits I have watched, stories of psychotic serial killers. But these were just people walking in the dark.
The heat wave passed after several days. The important town of Epinal lay some thirty locks ahead. The French water authorities had issued a notice stating that the canal south of Epinal was closed effective several days previously. We called the harbor in Epinal to see if it was closed, which they answered in the affirmative. We could have stopped short of Epinal and taken the bus into town. Since we would then have to turn around to got to our winter harbor, repeating the same 30 locks, we decided to forgo the journey. We headed back north for the winter, ending our boating season by gathering with some of the friendly and interesting people we’d met along the way. This year it’s Australians , with one Brit couple, one Belgium and one French.
