Some things just don’t seem natural. Such as driving a boat into a tunnel. A long, dim tunnel.
But the ‘traffic’ light had turned green and it was our turn to cast off from the holding bay and head into the tunnel’s low, narrow opening, our eyes blinking rapidly as we ghosted into the abrupt darkness.
We had been warned. In fact, we had already come through a comparatively short 475m tunnel as a warm up. But this was the real thing. The 2.3km Arzviller Tunnel, hacked through the Vosges Mountains more than a century ago to cater for commercial barge traffic on the Canal de la Marne au Rhin, provides an east-west link through the Alsace-Lorraine area of eastern France to Luxembourg and Germany.
The canal still carries commercial barges as well as barges that have been converted to floating, mobile hotels for the rich and indolent. We were travelling on an 11m rented flybridge cruiser which, with cabins fore and aft, each with ensuite bathrooms, was comfortable for four people. The comprehensive galley included a cook top, oven, large refrigerator and ample storage. A diesel heater came on at the turn of a switch. Two of us had travelled on the French canals previously but the other couple were novices to the canals and boating in general. A week later they were converted.
The conversation petered out as the gloom of the tunnel closed in. It was, according to the cruising notes book, ‘lit’. Let’s just say that a string of what seemed like 40W bulbs every 50m or so didn’t turn darkness into daylight. Our boat, Clipper 3, had a spotlight that we trained ahead and down a little so that it showed where the still water finished and the vertical rock wall began.
The little diesel engine burbled away. With the boat’s pulpit catching in the light the only point of reference, it was difficult to judge the boat’s direction and even more difficult to resist the temptation to make frequent wheel corrections. After what seemed like an age but was in reality less than 30 minutes, we emerged into bright spring sunshine and breathtaking mountain and forest views.
High spirits and conversation returned with the scenery but we were only minutes away from the next adventure, the remarkable St Louis-Arzviller inclined plane, a sort of mobile boat pond that transports up to three pleasure craft or one commercial barge up or down a vertical height of 45m. It’s a remarkable feat of engineering, taking boats from one level of the canal to another, a job that previously involved a ‘staircase’ of 17 locks and that took most of the day to negotiate.
The inclined plane, which people are charged to watch operate but which is free to boat users, took four years to build and was completed in 1968. Floating down the slope in our own private pool, watching as the twin counterweights, weighing 850 tonnes, creeping up towards us, was eerie.
At the bottom the lock gates opened and we were on our way, winding along a spectacular valley, dropping easily down through a series of automatically-operated locks to our night’s destination of Lutzelbourg. It was a simple matter to tie up to a couple of bollards along a stretch of canal designated for parking and crack a bottle of Cremant – a superb sparkling white wine of the Alsace.
Our journey had started earlier that day with a supermarket shopping expedition in Sarrebourg before taking a short taxi ride to the village of Hesse, one of the Crown Blue Line’s many bases in France. The nearest major cities are Nancy and Strasbourg, but Sarrebourg, about 5km away, is easily reached from Paris by train and is about a three-hour trip.
There are many boat hire companies on the canals in France but the British-owned Crown Blue Line has a user-friendly, English language website and is well-versed in long-distance arrangements. Our Australian point of contact was through Sunsail at the Hamilton Island-based First Choice Marine, which acts as a competent go-between. The company has a toll-free number: 1800 803 988. We’d used Crown Blue Line previously and were happy to do so again.
The boat costed about $200 a day for each couple. We bit the bullet and chose one of the Crown class boats, which are the latest generation of the company’s hire boats.
We handled the booking via phone and email. Advance payment was $2839 for a week’s charter. Then we added two ‘standard’ pushbikes at $55 each and, in retrospect, it would have been worth paying a few dollars more for the geared and more comfortable mountain bikes. We paid $40 for the detailed Waterway Guide we received in advance. It was handy for planning purposes, but one was also supplied on the boat. We paid a $126 damage waiver and a one-way cruise fee of $170. The alternative to a one-way trip is to do an ‘out and back’ – returning the boat to the base from which it is picked up, but in our experience it is far better to pay the extra and to cover more ground. Fuel is extra and calculated on engine hours.
Despite the trepidation of our companions about the nature of arrangements made half a world away, the hand-over went smoothly, as indeed it had done on previous occasions with Crown Blue Line. While the receptionist spoke English, the bloke handing over the boat didn’t. We boxed on with our pigeon-French on the intricacies of marine toilets (the boat had a holding tank, sufficient for more than a week’s travel) and the switchgear for use with either boat power or shorepower.
Clipper 3 had dual steering positions, one on the flybridge (which also had a table, benches, chairs and even a beach umbrella) and the other inside. The engine speed is limited because the speed limit on the canal is about 4kts. Anyone going stir-crazy on board can ride a bike and comfortably beat the boat down the canal to the next lock. The locks on this canal are automatic. Some work by radar sensors and others need one of the crew to yank a rope connected to a switch suspended by a wire between poles on each bank, 100m or so from the lock.
As if by magic, the lock fills with water, the gates open, and the warning lights go from red to green. There’s not a lot of clearance between the gates on each side of the lock, so taking the boat in is a bit like threading a needle and novice drivers soon learn that boats steer from the back. It pays to line the lock entrance up from some distance back and to ease in with a minimum of wheel movement. One of the reasons we chose the direction of travel we did was that we were ‘locking down’ for most of the way; that is, our canal was going from a high level to a lower level.
This meant that when we came into a lock it was already full, so it was simple to loop fore and aft lines over convenient bollards. A push on a rod in the side of the lock sets it in operation once the boat is secure. The gates close behind the boat, sluices are opened and the boat gradually drops down a couple of metres to the next level. The free end of the mooring lines are let go, pulled aboard, and you’re on your way.
Our trip of 106km included 43 locks, so you do get used to them. Some are less than a kilometre apart. There is a sealed tow-path alongside the canal for its full distance, much to the joy of the bike riders.
One of our daily delights was finding somewhere to eat at night. It generally involved nothing more arduous than hopping on a bike and heading off into the nearest village, or simply going for a stroll. There are moorings at most villages and the morning chores included rounding up croissants for breakfast and baguettes for lunch.
Because the canals don’t necessarily parallel main roads, the villages are frequently off the beaten track and the cafés and restaurants tend to be small and specialise in the food and wine of the region. Indeed, further along the canal we had to rely on listings in the Waterway Guide to find places to eat.
The food is heavily influenced by the region’s proximity to Germany – it’s only a few kilometres from the Rhine, which forms the border – but still incorporates the French penchant for variety and delicacy. Sauerkraut and charcuterie are on most menus. Look for superb duck or pork dishes. And because we were there in springtime, fresh, white asparagus was a speciality.
Picturesque towns, villages, mountains, and forests were typical of the run through the Vosges, and gradually the country flattened as we approached Strasbourg, a beautiful city with a medieval centre. Strasbourg carries substantial commercial waterways traffic as it adjoins the busy River Rhine. The river is off-limits to hire boats because of its fierce current.
There’s a boat club at Strasbourg that offers moorings with power and water for the price of a donation. We gave then 10 euros – about $16 – for a night, which seemed about right. It was an easy walk to the centre of town and the boat was secure.
As we headed south from there, the country changed. The canal became arrow-straight, and we were now travelling up-stream. When we drove into empty locks, the forward hand could still loop a line over the bollard by standing on the forward cabin coach top while the sternline handler did the job from the back corner of the flybridge.
The turbulence is greater when locking up than it is when locking down, but we had the canal to ourselves so didn’t need to worry about fending off other craft in the locks.
The last leg of the canal was alongside wetlands, bird sanctuaries and forests, and the locks were few and far between. Outside Strasbourg we passed a cement works. After that, we didn’t see another boat. It was May and we were in advance of the main tourist season and there was something special about having the waterway to ourselves. We travelled dreamily on and even one of the lock gates went to ‘sleep’, requiring a chat – in halting French – on the lockhouse phone to report the matter.
An hour later a lock-keeper arrived in his little white van, pulled out a manual winch handle, and had us on our way with a cheery wave.
At Hesse, a sleepy little village with only a handful of boats at the Crown Blue Line base, we mopped down Clipper 3 and handed the boat back to the lone attendant.
Our next stop was the railway station and suddenly we were back into the bustle of land-based travel.
Canal travel might not be quick – we averaged only 15km a day – but it’s a brilliant, and different, way for a boatie to see France.