The Lock from Hell

We made an early morning start from our previous night's mooring to arrive for the start of lock service at 0900. All of the locks in this system are fitted with a transponder operated by a remote control. The remote was issued to us when we entered France.

The lock had been filled all night and we had to wait and stand back for the turbulence of water that it is expelling. Insidethe chamber the ladder that I had to climb had been submerged and primed for me with wetness and slime.

The water level in this lock was 3.4 metres deep plus three additional metres of flood wall above. I carefully climbed the ladder with rope in hand, the other end of which was tied to Zonder Zorg. The list of the world's ten most dangerous hikes crossed my mind.

I was amazed that this lock was unmanned. The empty control house sat in an awkward position, leaving no room for bollards. I had managed to secure one line and went searching for a boathook. I found a heavy pipe with a hook on it; it was too long and too heavy for me to handle.

Michael secured the second line to the stairs and gave me the signal to turn on the water.

I watched from above as the massive amount of water started to enter the space.

The turbulence was strong, but Michael managed to control its force.

Zonder Zorg's stern was dragged across and touched the other side of the lock.

It was a relief when the lock had filled, the doors had open and we were on our way.

We watched fisherman along the canals, some waving, some annoyed.

Remains of the old towpaths are still visible, but mostly in decay.

Some older trees, now hosting huge fungi, had also seen better times.

The scenery changed to a soft ripple effect.

We are staring to look for moorage for the night; we were tired.

In Search of WiFi

We have not been in France long enough to find a more permanent internet connection. Although some larger towns along the way offer WIFI in their tourist bureau or library, most are too small for the Golden Arches. 

We walk through small towns with rows of empty store fronts with a "A Louer", "For Rent" signs as their only display feature. Gone are the small stores; they can no longer keep up with the current change and consumer demand. The ones that remain are post office/tobacconist/bakery/lotto store all in one.

It seems that the baker and post master still make home deliveies.

We continue our journey down the canal towards the next town hoping for better internet connections.

We pass through some old tunnels, some are now lit, but a few still remain in darkness with only the light at the end of the tunnel visible. Some have tow paths, formerly used by horses for pulling the barges, but now popular cycling routes. 

We passed under ancient bridges that played a major role in their time, but are now insignificant even for the swans.

The weather forecast had been for rain and it was 100% accurate. The handling of the locks remained the same whether in sunshine or in rain. Most of these locks are on remote control, with a transponder issued to us as we entered the Ardennes canal system. Once inside the lock there is a ladder, mostly covert in green slime and on top of it is the starting mechanism for the cycling the lock.

Each of these little locks is so individual, some with fruit trees and flowers others with old water pumps. 

As the locks fills with water we absorb the serenity of this little space. We are on your own, with no lock keeper in sight and in an emergency there is a small intercom. We wander through this land that has been used by barges throughout the centuries. In the past the lock keepers worked the locks by hand and sold fresh bread, baking, milk, eggs and wine to passing bargees. Only the lock houses remain, but these are no longer occupied by lock keepers.

When the lock doors open, a new scene emerges and we glide along toward the next corner and another lock.

We come to the end of a very wet day with still no WiFi.

Good-bye Belgium

Before I joined Michael on Yacht Sequitur, I was crewing on other boats. Through crewing I met Isabelle, a French-Canadian girl who lives in Montreal. While we were crewing on a catamaran in the Caribean for three months, she received a new crew position on a Dutch boat in Trinidad. Since I spoke Dutch she asked me to join her on the journey from Trinidad to Curacao. 

I had returned to my home on Vancouver Island and Isabelle had returned to hers in Montreal, when we were making arrangements to join the Dutch boat. In her emails she wrote, that for me to meet her in Montreal would be an asshole. In my email reply to her I suggested the correct word was "hassle" not "asshole". 

Since then Michael and I have used the word "hasshole" for dealing with an extremed difficult situation or a difficult person.

Currently, on the canals, we have been handling about nine locks a day. It is time consuming work and can take the entire day. The locks vary in sizes and conditions with the older ones having poorly spaced cleats and bollards and it can become a challenge to secure the barge. Safety seems to be an issue and there are alarms that are sounded when the doors close, when the sluices are opened and when we have reached our water level. The lock master ensures that you are safely secured before turning on the turbulence of water. 

On our second last lock just outside of Dinant Belgium we met our Belgian "hasshole", in fact a pair of them.

We entered the lock on low water side and as Michael steered the barge into the lock, the doors started closing on us as while we were still beside them. We needed to hurry. Once inside the lock we saw missing cleats and no ladders to reach the top bollards, which were too high to reach from the barge. To make matters worse they had installed safety railing very close to the bollards, making it impossible to toss the lines around them. Michael was trying to do this by standing on the cabin roof, but didn't make it. In the meantime, without any warning, the water was turned on full blast causing turbulence. We were still not secured as I was trying to get the line over the bollard with a boathook but keep on missing it. I finally hooked on the bollard itself with the boathook and hoped to keep steady this way. The boat hook slipped off and I went flying backwards. 

Leaning on the safety rail and looking down on us, were the two lock keepers watching our dilemma with cold drinks in hand. Neither one acknowledging us nor making a move to help us. After I made my spill, one of them actually moved, only to get another cold drink. We finally made it to the top of the lock and were totally confused by their lack of professionalism and concern. I can only think that it was Walloon, French Belgium, where they dislike the Flemish and the Dutch and they made their point.

We bypassed Dinard to our last lock in Belgium  which was uneventful, passersby grabbed our lines effortlessly and placed it around the bollards. 

Then we entered France. The lock master met us with a long pole with a hook on its end, to take our lines, place them safely around the bollards and helped us secure. He was courteous and helpful, we had finally arrived in France.

The Worlds Most Dangerous Hikes.

  !. Huayna Piccu, Peru

  2. The Maze, Uthah USA

  3. Mount Hua Shan, China

  4. Kokoda Track, Papau New Guinea

  5. Grouse Grind, Vancouver

  6. Drakensberg Traverse, South Africa

  7. Cascade Saddle, New Zealand

  8. Aonach Eagach Ridge, Scotland

  9. Kalalau, Hawaii

10. El Caminito del Rey, Spain

I came across a list of the 'World's Most Dangerous Hikes' and my eye caught number 5, Grouse Grind, Vancouver. The Grouse Grind is located in North Vancouver where I lived for most of my adult life. North Vancouver is a hikers' and climbers' paradise and covers a terrain from bear-filled dense woods to steep cliffs. The Grouse Grind is not particular beautiful, but is a short steep climb. The trail gains up 2,800 feet in just 1.8 miles including 2830 stairs, making it one of the steepest trails anywhere. 

Mountaineering and fitness freaks use it for training. Since 1999, three people have died on this trail and a large percentage of the annual North Vancouver Fire and Rescue Service missions take place on the Grind. Tired hikers take a tumble and loose their way at night. The trip is so grisly it often takes twelve rescuers to to get a hiker of the mountain.

I have climbed the Grind only once. It was with some fitness freak friends when I was 50 years old and made up there in one and a quarter hours. Not particularly fast, as some would actually run past me on the trail. It was steep, as the terrain had been carved to accommodate the previous and obsolete cable car route. Once the top of the Grind is reached, there is the most magnificent panoramic view of the city of Vancouver below. 

After absorbing the view I took the safe cable car down the mountain, reminding myself never to do this again.

Return to Belgium

We left this morning after a warm family get-together and a celebration of the lives of Ruth and Gerald, Michaels' parents.

The family met at Cape Enrage near the head of the Bay of Fundy, located between the provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. The Bay of Fundy is known for its high tidal range and the Canadian Hydrographic Service had measured ranges as high as 17 metres. The highest recorded was in October 1869 during a tropical cyclone named the Saxby Gale measuring 21.6 metres. 

During a 12.4-hour tidal period, 115 billion tonnes of water flow in and out of the bay.

Cape Enrage was well named with the strong tides and winds and was the favourite picnic spot for the Walsh family. The winds became stronger and did not want us to linger to long; we returned to the little house at Shediac Cape. The food was wonderful and we caught up on the lives of family members and swapped stories with lots of laughs. We scattered the ashes at favourite spots as we said our good-byes.

The Atlantic coast is not heavily populated with only small aircrafts servicing the area. Our flight from Moncton to Montreal was fully booked and we had to take a taxi the 150 kilometres to the next small airport, Saint John were we caught our connecting flight.

After two taxi rides, five Air Canada take-off and landings and four train connections we were on our last bus ride. The bus stop was located near the Zonder Zorg and we had our luggage stowed in the rack by the front entrance. As there was no one waiting for the bus, I asked the bus driver if he could open the front door for us. He refused and we had to drag our bags to the back door.

It was Tuesday; we were back in Belgium.

Ecce Homo

In August 2012 there was an article published about a failed attempt at painting restoration performed by an elderly 81 year-old woman named Cecelia Jiménez. Amateur painter Jiménez wished to restore damage on a little-know fresco, named Ecce Homo, Behold the Man. 

The original painting was created by a minor painter, Elias Garcia Martinez and It had remained in peaceful obscurity in the church since it was painted in 1930. The fresco had been a donation to the Santuario de Misericordia Church, in the hills outside of the Spanish town of Borja. Elias Garcia Martinez's granddaughter had made a donation to the church for the restoration of the fresco.

According to the church, Jiménez restored the painting without permission. However she claimed the priest allowed her to do so. After assessing the damage caused by the restoration, the church was seeking profession help with the restoration of the restoration. Church members had noticed it and reported it as suspected vandalism and later Cecelia confessed that she had a hand in it.

After the article was published Cecelia was reported to have suffered from a crippling anxiety attacks, reluctant to eat or leave home. She soon felt well enough to contact a lawyer.

Cecilias' version of Ecce Homo became a tourist attraction with unauthorized images appearing  on T-shirts and mugs; she wanted a cut of the profits. The local council and Cecelia are in the process of signing a deal to share the profits from the merchandise with 49% for Cecelia. 

The Santuario de Misericordia Church with its inactive convent has once again come to life. A walk through the quiet hallways of the old convent gives one a sense of a prison and of solitary confinement. The now crowded church with the disfigured fresco has drawn 40,000 visitors and raised more than €50,000 or $66,285 for the local charity in town.

Cecilias' painting now joins the ranks of the Mona Lisa, as it has been placed behind bulletproof glass, the only fresco in the church to received that honour.

Visiting the Walsh's

Outside of Shediac at Shediac Cape is where the Walshes have lived for the last fifty years. The fifty acres of land first belonged to the grandfather but Peter, Michael's brother bought it from him. Michael's parents also lived on the land, in their own little house, planing flowers, vegetables and fruit.

Today it is evident that a generation has moved on and I took a tour of the acreage.

First there are trees, lots of them; matter of fact it is a forest.

As we near the woods, logging equipment comes into view. It has all been assembled from scrap old parts by Peter.

Not far away is an outdoor sawmill, which was meticulously designed, made and operated by Peter.

A newly build drying trailer for the newly sawn boards is another Walsh product.

The new shed to house all the equipment is near completion.

The tractors.

This is a small glimpse into what is outside, there are several more workshops, welding shops and a boat building shed.

I am impressed, but the little family home, which after decades is still patiently waiting for a dishwasher to be bought and installed.

Shediac, New Brunswick

We have arrived in Atlantic Canada after leaving Brussels twice. Our flight to Montreal left on time but after half an hour in flight we needed to return to Brussels because of an onboard medical emergency. We landed with a full load with the fire department standing-by to cool down the overheated wheels and brakes. The passenger was evacuated and the family of five deplaned. The next two and a half hours were spent offloading their checked bags, cooling of wheels and refuelling. We had missed our connection to Moncton and waited five hours for the next flight. Our car needed rebooking and our B&B needed to be advised of our late arrival after midnight. Twenty-five hours later after leaving the barge, we fell into bed in our B&B; it had been a very long day.

The following day we caught up with family and spent some time shopping to fill the list we brought with us. For interest, we checked-out prices in the supermarkets, especially the fish. We found a great selection of fresh fish with excellent prices, particularly for the lobster. 

Outside the supermarket the lobsters were really big.

I found Michel talking to an old wooden fisherman sharing stories of the sea, hurricanes and Cape Horn. I think he even sold him a copy of his book.

We are enjoying the down time and the novelty of having a car to get us around.