A Boating Dilemma

Last Wednesday , the weather was set fair, so we decided to use this opportunity to enjoy the boat once more before the winter. We crossed the étang that afternoon and spent the night at the port of Marseillan.

The étang is a large lagoon, 21 km long, and 8 km wide. It took us an hour and a half to cross from one end to the other, passing endless oyster tables as we progressed, witness to the vast oyster production that is carried out here. Baby oysters are suspended on ropes from thousands of specially constructed tables. Towards Christmas time harvesting will become frenetic, as fisherman ply the water in their flat bottomed boats, rushing to cope with the Christmas market. Oysters form an important part of Christmas festivities throughout France.

The next day we passed from the étang into the Canal du Midi , and were mooring in Bagnas lock waiting for the gates to close behind us. But what was the lock keeper shouting as the waters rushed through the lock gates ahead, and our boat began to rise? "He seems to assume that we are planning to return later today," B. yelled above the roar of the water. We shook our heads, and shouted back that we were heading for the round lock at Agde. From there we intended to head to Grau d'Agde at the mouth of the River Hérault , and return to our mooring via the sea over the next couple of days. After a lot more shouting the lock keeper seemed to understand, and as the gates opened in front of us he gave us a friendly wave. But what was that he had indicated as we were leaving? "Closing?" Brian looked surprised. "I think he said they were closing."

Unlike British canals, most canals are operated by a lock keeper. You can still see many lock keepers' houses by the side of the canals, although at Bagnas, a smaller lcabin has recently been constructed, and the lock keeper arrives from elsewhere every day .

"But I thought the canal wasn't closing until November 11th," I faltered. "It's still the end of October!" The lock keeper had vanished inside his little house for his lunch , so we couldn't question him further. After all, in France, lunch-time is sacrosanct. "That's fine if the weather holds," B. said. But what will we do if the wind gets up and we need to return the same way? Uncertainty lay ahead.

Entering the lock...

Going up...as...

...the lock fills.

In France everything and everyone stops for lunch, so we did too. We moored just beyond the lock gates, and as we tied up, a pecheur martin(kingfisher) flew obliquely across the canal: a flash of iridescent blue. Then it was on to the round canal at Agde, which was due to reopen at 2.00p.m. But were we foolish? It seemed as if there could be no going back.

The lock at Agde is renowned . It is round in order to accommodate a third exit. This leads to the broad River Hérault, and then on to the sea.

The entrance from the canal

These gates lead down to the River Hérault.

Heading for the sea.

We descended the River Hérault, passing the magnificent cathedral which is built from the local black volcanic basalt of the area. The river is very wide here, and hundreds of moored boats line the banks on either side. Lower down we moored alongside Chantier Allemand to buy some extra fenders to protect our boat from careless knocks. The sea beckoned beyond the stone piers ahead, so we decided to press on to the port of Cap d'Agde, a little further up the coast. We had booked a table for lunch the next day at our favourite restaurant there ('Le Bout du Quai '. ) This happened to be our 49th wedding anniversary. On arriving at the port,we booked in at the Capitainerie for the next two nights, planning to leave on Saturday , all being well. We began to anxiously check the weather forecast , praying that the weather wouldn't worsen. There would be no going back.

The next day we celebrated our 49th wedding anniversary at 'Le Bout du Quai. Guess what we ate. Why...oysters of course!

Hurrah! Saturday morning dawned fair, and although the sea forecast indicated a swell, the wind speed remained fairly low, so we felt confident enough to set off. Believe me , there is nothing so exhilarating as feeling the rush of wind as the boat cuts through the water, and watching the sunlight glimmer on the waves.

We retraced the route we took last spring, when we moved our boat from Cap d'Agde to our new mooring on the canal near Frontignan. As predicted, the sea was slightly agitated, but the swell felt quite uncomfortable as the boat rocked about. The wind got up a little as we neared Sète, and we saw moutons on the water . No...not sheep as the word suggests! 'Moutons' is the term that they use to describe breaking waves. But our boat , which is a sturdy one built for local fishermen, coped just fine. Next year, if all goes well, we now feel confident enough to venture a little further around the coast. But next time we would be careful to select days when a belle mer (calm sea) was confidently forecast. The alternative is really not so swell!