Ghent seems to have recovered well enough! Saturday 20th August - Oudenarde to Gent

Apart from the odd spot of shipping avoidance, and one or two or perhaps five or six nights of catching up with old friends, we’ve spent the better part of the last month drifting about in the forests or through farmland or wandering in the nearly deserted streets of tiny villages.

When we were last in Ghent we described the place as “hungover” after the great summer festivities, and although most of it wasn’t exactly deserted, the crowds such as they were, even in the tourist centre, were were relatively thin and particularly quiet.  We felt we had at least a little personal space around us as we explored the centre of town then. 

It was an absolute shock to arrive in the early afternoon today to find an entirely different city.  It seems that in our absence the place has been over-run by a seething mass of humanity.  The streets and waterways alike were filled with all manner of craft bearing people intent on having a good time and not at all quietly.  

We did venture out, to have a quiet look around and to buy a seal for our coffee pot, because that seemed like the most important thing on our list of things to fix.   After jostling with the shopping crowd which was bigger than the tourist one, by the time we’d found the shop that sold the parts we’d forgotten what size we needed.  If it hadn’t been specifically for the making of coffee we might very well have abandoned that project there and then. 

Desperate perhaps, we doubled back, retrieved the pot and waded into the masses once more for a trial fitting in the store, bought said seal, and retreated as quickly as we could.  Tomorrow, as soon as we wake we will quietly slip away on what will be the first leg of our homeward journey, and we'll sip our coffee as we go, wondering which version of Ghent we’ll remember when we look back at our travels in years to come.   We know which one we prefer!

DON’T PANIC Friday 19th August - Kirkhove to Oudenarde

“Don't Panic” is a phrase on the cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. 

This was apparently partly because the device "looked insanely complicated" to operate, and partly to keep intergalactic travellers from panicking. It is said that despite its many glaring (and occasionally fatal) inaccuracies, the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy itself has outsold the Encyclopaedia Galactica because it is slightly cheaper, and because it has the words 'DON'T PANIC' in large, friendly letters on the cover."

It’s a pity that the Flemish Waterways people hadn’t taken a leaf out of that particular Guide, for today the intergalactic message-ways were awash with panic.   Dave and Ria called to calmly let us know there has been a notice issued to the effect that from next Monday, there will be restrictions on pleasure boats; lock movements will only be carried out in company with a commercial ship as a water saving measure, and in the absence of commercial ships, the wait might be interminable.   Not long after that rumours of disaster were swirling through the very air we were breathing.

The couple in the boat just ahead of us, who share our “home” port were not the only ones to have received a similar albeit slightly distorted message and were racing about loading their bicycles aboard and ready to depart post-haste, having first come to us to tell us that the second but last lock of our journey (at least three days from here) was closing on Monday and they were going to make a dash for it.    

I phoned the lock to confirm our recollection that since there was no water level difference at the moment it was permanently open and unlikely to change in the next week or so.

With that news, they decided like us, they’d take their chances on the Waterways Authority not changing its mind in the next week, unloaded their bikes, and went to lunch.

And so did we.

Nice. Thursday 18th August - Kirkhove to Oudenarde

When we last saw Koos just a month ago or even less, he may not have been leaking oil, but otherwise he was in a such a state of health that he bore a passing resemblance to our dear Mr Perkins all those years ago.  He was smoking, had a blockage in his supply lines and was generally not firing on all cylinders.  

Having been in for a bit of a mechanical upgrade in the intervening period we were delighted to discover  that not only was he not a “former” friend, but that his recovery had been sufficiently complete for he and Val to board the good ship Hennie H and set off on their belated summer of faring.   We were even more delighted to discover that if we could be in Kirkhove last night, we would be able to resume our somewhat curtailed earlier reunion, and we were, and we did!

This morning, as we watched them disappear into the mist, it was without the slightest concern for their well being, except of course for the distinct possibility that they might run out of water.  Then we turned and headed in the opposite direction to yet another delightful Flemish city, Oudenarde, just a few hours away.

Of course we could have posted a photo of a thousand year old building, or a pretty flower box, and yes some of the buildings in Oudenarde are quite special, and the flower boxes spectacular, but we don’t have any thousand year old mates (although we might have some pretty ones come to think of it), but every one of them is a bit special, so perhaps this slightly anonymous photo will remind us how thankful we are to have you all.

Oh My! Haven't you grown up! Wednesday 17th August - Tournai to Kirkhove

 

The first time we visited Tournai more than a decade ago we had the impression it was a city very much in decline.  Apart from the entire scaffold around the Cathedral Notre Dame and an extensive exhibition promising that one day it will once again look great in photographs, there wasn’t much to remember about our visit.

Then, as indeed it was five years ago, mooring for boats was still strictly for masochists who enjoy living while being constantly smashed against the wall by the stream of ships passing.   A few years ago we cycled in from Antoing and we were sufficiently unimpressed with the general unloved-ness of the place (and the pizzas) that we might not have bothered to visit this time had it not been for the wonderful facilities now provided for pleasure boats.  We thought we'd give it one more chance.

Perhaps it was the bright sunny day, or perhaps there really is a feeling of revival surging through the town, the Cathedral and 1000 year old carillion are now fully restored, work on the bridge of similar vintage is progressing well, and what we remember from our last visit as an empty square bathed in litter is now buzzing with activity despite the temporary road diversion through it.  Whatever the reason, in our eyes at least there’s a new positivity in the air.

Had we not been determined to ensure our paths crossed with Val and Koos once more, we might even have stayed another day. Actually, we would have stayed another day. We might even have visited a museum!

Tournai, all is forgiven.  We’ll see you again just to check progress on all those things still to come!

On the Motorway Tuesday 16th August - Antoing to Tournai

We have in the past, mentioned our fascination with the naming convention or lack thereof, of the monster ships we are playing with a the moment.   So often they seemed to be named after a favourite kitten or some not terribly obscure piece of Greek or US folk law or literature.  

If we had been looking for omens today, perhaps the fact that the first two ships we saw were  “Missile” and “Abyss” might have been a clue as to what awaited us beyond the bund walls of our quiet little harbour.  Since we don’t seem to connect those sorts of dots until after the fact, we edged out into the canal and turned right towards Tournai anyway.  

Things went extraordinarily well for a few minutes or perhaps ten, until we rounded the first bend to discover that every bargee that had taken the day off yesterday was bent on making up for lost time today.  Every turn in the river was effectively a road block, with ships trying to tip-toe past one another.  

All went smoothly enough with the skippers of each passing ship just as intent on avoiding us as we were on avoiding them.  Apart from a bit of drifting time while waiting for the one way system through the city centre, progress was slow but quite pleasant and we arrived relaxed and ready to watching the fun from the comfort of our inner city mooring, having travelled the nine kilometres in almost two and a half hours.

Given that each  of these ships has the load carrying capacity of around fifty semi trailers give or take, we shuddered to think just how long the “train” would have been if the loads they were carrying were on road transport, let alone what our states of anxiety might have been in had we taken the same time to travel the same nine kilometres by automobile in their company. 

Another Well-Deserved Day Off! Monday 15th August - Antoing

 

When yesterday we had been told today was a holiday, we naturally assumed it was the sort of day where things like shops and cafes would be open for the convenience of selfish tourists like ourselves, but we were mistaken. It was a proper holiday, that kind of day where people stay at home and have fun with their families, even if they have supermarkets to work in or chandlery barges to open for passing trade.  

Which goes a long way to explaining why, when we arrived in Antoing after a not very taxing four kilometres and passing one large lock (shared with another pleasure boat as a water saving measure) the place was even more deserted than usual, and why there was no one to let us in to the supermarket or the boat supplies barge.

Having decided that what we wanted wasn’t so important that we had to wait here till tomorrow, we were in the middle of making our decision of the day; whether to move on after a cup of coffee, or maybe lunch, or perhaps after a bit of a post-luncheon nap, when we were interrupted by the arrival of another boat.  It became clear as we made our introductions that the crew were speaking with a vaguely familiar accent albeit one that we hadn’t heard for some time.

As it turned out Tim and Elaine were from West Australia, and if we thought we needed some time to catch up on a few years worth of news during our various re-unions this year, swapping the notes of a life time with people we’ve just met consumes even more!  We did stop to take a breather for a time in the mid afternoon, but that was only to gather strength for a much longer discussion that went well into the evening. 

What a curious place Antoing is.  The harbour is not exactly beautiful although the town itself is certainly in the process of some sort of renewal if not gentrification, and the new waterfront apartments overlooking kilometres of crushing plant are curious, but every time we have stayed here we’ve had a memorably good time!  

Another Reunion! Sunday 14th August - Perronnes - Antoing

It seems of late that whenever we mention someone while reminiscing of our journeys in years gone by they simply bob up at the next port to say “Hi!”.

Therefore we shouldn’t have been surprised when Ros stuck her head in our window yesterday evening to say exactly that.  Not that we had been thinking of her particularly, rather her sister Tuppence, who was one of those unforgettable characters that crosses one’s path from time to time.  

Tuppence was gifted with that sort of eccentricity that seems to be reserved for a particular part of the English gene pool and travelled for years solo in a six metre sailing boat, de-rigged and encrusted with an ever growing collection of other people’s cast offs and lost fenders which “might come in handy one day”.  She had  In her latter years been barely able to move from her tiny cockpit, with failing eyesight and fading health generally she travelling alone indefatigably, having adventures of the sort that they make moving picture shows out of.     We copied some charts of hers once, wondrously annotated in beautifully clear script which read things like:- “the mayor was very rude”, or “look out for noisy children throwing sticks”.

Ros and her little dog Sparkle, would join her from time to time, which we always thought was an attempt to bring some semblance of conventional order to her life.   When last our paths crossed it was a decade ago, Tuppence was in hospital in the UK, more seriously ill than anyone had suspected, and Ros was taking the opportunity of her absence to substantially reduce the payload of the little boat  by making repeated trips with a very large trolley to a rubbish skip. 

Sadly, Tuppence never left the hospital, but Ros decided to clean up the boat and keep cruising in her memory.  Sparkle is no longer with her either but her new little companion is a dead ringer, and the boat barely recognisable in its new ship-shape state.  

How can it be that after a night spent remembering the most absurdly insignificant conversations of a decade and a half ago, that one could forgot to take a photograph?  Thanks to the miracle of the modern bicycle it wasn’t too difficult to catch her entourage to make a suitable aide-mémoire of yet another delightful reunion!