A morning walk by the Marne

This last post for July comes to you from the Crumbly Cottage Mk II where we arrived last Sunday on a blessedly cooler day. Since then, temperatures have soared again and yesterday it reached 38º, although I must say it's not humid the way it is in the Netherlands, which makes these high temperatures much more bearable. In fact, I rather enjoy them. 

Zoe, on the other hand, does not, an issue I've mentioned before. She suffers from heat stress quite quickly, so we take ourselves out early in the morning when it's still cool and fresh. First call each day is down to the river, or what's left of it. If you remember, back in March, I showed photos of the Marne at the highest and most turbulent I've ever seen it. Well now, it's the other extreme. If you look at the photo below, you can see Zoe is paddling in extremely shallow water. I could quite easily walk across to the other side and not even have wet ankles. 

The rocks that make up the bed of the river are protruding and the footings of the bridge pier are completely dry. If you then look at the photo below this one, you'll see how high it was in March. The difference is quite dramatic, isn't it? I couldn't even get close to the beginning of the bridge, let alone its second pier then (the first one is invisible in both photos, but I can walk round it on dry ground now.)

For the farmers, this shortage of water is bad news. According to one report I read, Haute-Marne has had 55% less rain this year than usual. Considering the deluges of the first quarter of the year, it goes without saying that the lack of rain since then has brought the department into serious drought conditions. Everywhere I look I see pastures that should be green are dried up and yellow. Cattle in the fields are being fed with hay that should be being kept for the winter. 

For us, it is sad once again that the canal is closed, just as it was last summer. What water there is must be kept for agriculture, not for pleasure boaters. That said, the canal here is also a commercial route, which means transport of goods is affected too.

Note how close Zoe is standing to that bridge pier

This was the same spot in March. See the bridge pier in view?
That is the one in the photo above where Zoe is standing close to it.

I stood on the river bed to take this photo, and no, my feet didn't get wet.
Normally, I'd have to stand on the bridge to achieve this angle.

Another section of the river as it is now.

Not exactly the same spot but very close in March

On the upside, we have had some lovely walks along the canal, and it's always a pleasure to see a train crossing the waterway. I like to make a wish when I see one. I think it was my grandmother who taught me to do that when I was a child, but to this day, I've never registered whether those wishes (usually quite modest ones, I admit) have ever come true.

One of the other sights I enjoy in the morning is seeing cows together with their young, something we rarely see in the Netherlands. The small herd in the picture below is a particularly beautiful one. Their creamy-coloured skin is gorgeous and the youngsters look so 'new'.

Yet another charming sight is one I spotted this morning. An elderly man and his wife were driving through the village with a trailer, on which was a large plastic tank of water with watering cans hanging to its sides. I saw them stop next to a large planter with colourful blooms, so I asked him if the water was intended for those plants. 

"Oui," he replied. "There is no tap for the commune to use in the village, so we water all the plants in the street like this."

It made me smile because he and his wife must have been in their eighties at least, and yet they were still engaged in working for their community.

Cows kept together with their young–always a lovely sight

And then there are the swallows. Oh my,  I could spend hours watching them swoop, circle and dive in the street near the CC. They are common around these parts, but I've never seen as many as I have since we've been here this year. They fill the sky in the evenings with their glorious aerobatic displays of flying skill, ducking below, above and around the telephone lines that criss-cross the road. Such magic on wings. I love them. Sadly, I have no photo of them as it would be impossible to capture. If I can manage to film them, though, I'll post a clip next time.

So that's it for this month allemaal. We are blessed that we're nowhere near any of the terrible fires afflicting France, but vigilance is always necessary. Keep cool, or warm, wherever you are, and I'll be back next month for more news from the wine lands of the Champagne region.
 

The Leopold Canal – a forgotten treasure

Before I get on to the title of this post, I am pleased to say we've had a change in the weather at last! The two photos below are of the moody skies I saw during my walk with Zoe yesterday morning. Sadly, what looked like rain clouds proved feeble in the extreme and we had a smattering of drips at the most, not even enough to wet the leaves of my hydrangeas, but at least it's cooler, a blessing I never thought I would be relishing.

Spot the flying geese!

By the afternoon, the clouds had blown themselves into oblivion and the sun made a reappearance but thankfully lacking the intensity we've been becoming accustomed to. Without the energy sapping heat to contend with, and with a smidgin of ambition restored, Koos and I (with Zoe, of course) took a short drive over the Flemish border to a place called Boekhoute where we arrived at the beginning of the Leopold canal.

This tiny chapel marks the place where the canal begins.
The sign says "need seeks comfort"

Zoe looking ready to head off along the towpath

This canal is little known as it is not navigable, not these days anyway. It was constructed in the 1840s as a means of draining the Flemish polder lands. Prior to Belgium's independence in 1830, the polders in Flanders drained into the Western Scheldt, but the Dutch were not pleased with losing 30% of their territory to this new country and they closed of the drainage channels, leaving large areas of land swampy and even malarial. The solution Belgium's new government decided on was to construct a canal along the border with the Netherlands, with its mouth at Zeebrugge on the North Sea. It was to be named Leopold after the country's first king, disregarding its real champion, Jozef Andries, who was a member of Belgian's National Congress but was also a parish priest from Middelburg in Zeeland. It was he who initiated and pressed ahead with the plans for the canal.

However, all did not go exactly to plan. The original intention was to connect the North Zea with the great Gent-Terneuzen ship canal at Zelzate, but when in a rare moment of accord, the Dutch and Belgian authorities signed an agreement to allow drainage into the Western Scheldt once more, the last stretch between Boekhoute and Zelzate was abandoned and the Isabella canal was dug in 1920. It crossed the Dutch border into Zeeuws Vlaanderen with its drainage water exiting into the estuary at Braakman, a wide water course that was largely dammed in 1952, although the drainage system remains. 

What we have left is a rather beautiful and very peaceful tree-lined waterway that appears to start randomly in the middle of the Flemish countryside and which runs approximately 45 kilometres almost parallel with the Dutch border until its end between Zeebrugge and Knokke-Heist at the coast. 

That said, the towpath is popular with walkers and I wouldn't mind having a go at hiking its entire length one of these days. I'll probably have to take a little cart for Zoe, though. She's made it quite clear she doesn't do more than around seven kilometres a day and even that's stretching it.

There is a footpath the other side too

The Isabella canal, that side branch leading to the Westerschelde.
Ahead, you can see a pumping station

Wikipedia also tells us that "during WWI, the German occupiers assigned a military role to the canal. Specifically, it played a part in the Hollandstelling, (a German defence line) which, however, never served any military purpose. The last time the canal fulfilled a military function was at the end of WWII.  During the month of October 1944, several Canadian and British divisions fought heavy battles around the canal against the German occupiers in Operation Switchback, who were determined to hold the Scheldt estuary." Sorry for quoting directly from the internet, but their explanation was much better than any paraphrasing I could come up with, and the links are tempting rabbit holes :)

This wasn't the first time we've been to the canal, but we'd never been to its beginning before, so it was quite inspiring to start at the source, so to speak. When the weather's cooler, I might well plan a few long walks and see if I can fulfil that ambition. After all, 45 km is not all that far... is it?

Enjoy the rest of your week, allemaal. Next time I write, I might well be in France!

A few magical maintenance moments

One of the upsides of these heatwaves we are having this summer is that it forces me out of bed much earlier in the morning. Working on the boat is only possible in the fresher hours between 6:00 and 11:00, so shipmate Jodie and I have dragged ourselves up and out so we could do just that. The only alternative would be to wait until the hot weather is over, but then, of course, it will probably rain. Murphy and his law rule here, unfortunately.

So why do I say it's an upside? Well, the tranquillity of the harbour before most people are up has been magical. There's been very little wind and with the still calm of a day not yet begun, it's been quite lovely.

I think the photo below of Jo rowing our little boat around to Vereeniging's offshore side is a true image of this captivating morning peace. 

Shipmate enjoying the stillness of the morning
on the water

Panel painting from our little boat
rightly names 'Little Pal'

The only downside yesterday was that we didn't want to disturb anyone, especially the campers parked on the ground next to the harbour, so we deliberately avoided using power tools and focused on things we could do by hand. Yesterday's job, for instance, was painting all the panels on Vereeniging's port side as we haven't replaced those yet.

There was much hilarity and laughter because we kept forgetting things we needed and I had to clamber back on board to fetch certain tools, only to find I'd forgotten something else – you know, you have the screwdriver but not the bit; or your pocket is full of screws but they're all the wrong size. Of course, the more you try to avoid making a noise, the more noise you make, which just makes the giggles worse.

Two shipmates enjoying a minute's maintenance
on Vereeniging

Other mornings, it's been Hennie Ha's turn, and there I have to keep the noise down even more. So many people stay on their boats in this harbour it's like a floating dormitory. And let's not forget the houses nearby (see the photo below). But there, I have no one to giggle with, so I just enjoy the wonderful peace of the surroundings while I potter about, still forgetting things, still clambering in and out, but loving the quietude of being on the water as the wash from passing barges and ships rocks the boat in a gentle rhythm.

The vibrant colours here in HH's harbour are so cheerful

Taking time to give some TLC to Hennie H
aka The Shoe, also early in the morning

The better side to work on, being in the shade

And a nice grassy bank to sit on too!

Back at the crumbly cottage, we've been looking for ways to combat the heat. Being a hundred years old, the little house is not well insulated and, being brick, it tends to trap the warmth in its walls. However, what we can do is stop the sun shining straight in to the interior. 

There are many products on the market for blackout and deflective window coverings, but like the current run on mobile aircos, there has also been a run on these. My interim solution was to cut a roll of foil-covered bubble-wrap insulation to the size of the window panes and stick them on. It certainly helps to keep the worst out even though it means we're living a rather gloomy existence indoors at the moment. The exterior of the cottage looks... err... quite dazzling these days – sorry! :)

My temporary solution to the heat:
bubble-wrap insulation foil, which helps significantly!

All being well, we are planning to go to France to the CCMk2* before the end of the month, but exactly when will depend on the temperatures dropping a little. There's not point in going if we have to stay inside most of the day, so we wait...

Enjoy your weekend, allemaal, and I hope the coming week will be kind to you wherever you are!

*For anyone new to my blog the CCMk2 is the second crumbly cottage. It is also old, in need of repair and lacking in mod cons.