The Tidal Scheldt / Schelde

I left you last week at Grimbergen where we spent our last night on the Brussels to Antwerp Sea Canal. It seemed to us a good place to stop as well as we knew the next day we would need to be at the tidal or sea lock at Wintam before 3:30 in the afternoon. We'd calculated that low tide on the Schelde would be 4:30, and that we could start going upstream at slack tide, which we hoped would be around an hour before then. It seems funny to think of a sea lock so far inland, but the Schelde is a fast running, very winding and fairly narrow river so the water rushing in from the estuary gets squeezed tight the further inland it travels creating fast currents and huge differences between high and low water. I believe at the mouth of the Durme, which is where the Schelde narrows substantially, the rise/fall is around seven metres, which is quite something. As a result, there are sea locks at both Wintam and Dendermonde, which is around forty kilometres upstream of Antwerp.

Anyway, to get back to our travels, we left Grimbergen (or what we thought was Grimbergen) shortly after 10:00 the next morning. We wanted to take it easy and make sure we were through the lock in good time. As we fared towards the end of the canal, signs of industry were increasing again. After the lock at Zemst, there are only lifting bridges to worry about all the way to the end, so we started seeing much larger vessels and the kind of sea ships we pass on our own Gent–Terneuzen Canal.

Lifting bridge on the canal

A railway bridge opening for us

Wintam was a bit of a surprise when we finally arrived. The lock is at the end of a wide section of canal bordered not by industry but peaceful farmland. It was incredibly quiet and in the heat of the early afternoon, it seemed as if everything was asleep. As we approached the lock, Koos called the control tower on the VHF to ask if we could enter. A rather terse voice told him that if had eyes to see, he'd notice that the lock gates were closed. Well, we saw why a few seconds later when we were a bit closer. The doors had a huge white circle on them that we hadn't seen because of the angle of approach. Anyway, Mr Lockie told us we'd have to wait about twenty minutes, so we pulled over to the sidings. Unfortunately, there was nothing handy to tie up to; the only bollards were on top of the wall and set quite far back, which made it very difficult to throw a rope over them. In the end, and after several attempts from both of us, Koos succeeded, only to have to untie again almost immediately when the lock doors started opening. We'd taken up all the waiting time in our efforts to moor up. What a way to kill time!

Wintam sea lock is huge. Really. I've never seen anything like it. It is 250 metres long and 25 wide and we were the only ones in it. No wonder it took so long to prepare it! All that water just for us.

Wintam lock- and we were about half way along it
Spot the white circle on the doors

Leaving the lock. I still cannot get over how huge it is

As you can see from the photo above, we didn't drop all that far, but I suppose it was about two metres. When the lock is so big everything else is relative. Once we were out on the river, though, we realised the tide was not slack in the slightest and we would need to wait a while. The current was still running fast downstream, so any progress we might make towards our intended night stop at Dendermonde would be slow, tedious and very fuel inefficient, so we pottered along until we found a commercial pontoon where we could wait for the tide to turn.

Shipyard on the Schelde. Note the mudbanks and the end of the
slip rails. No going on or off the slipway at low water!

Just before 4 o'clock,  a dredger called Koos over the VHF and told him he would need to moor up where we were in about twenty minutes. Fair enough, we thought. We shouldn't really have been there anyway, so it was nice of him to warn us. Just after 4, we untied and started on our way upstream. The current was still flowing against us, but it had slowed noticeably and by the time we reached Temse, it had stopped. This was around 5 o'clock, so we'd miscalculated a bit, but it didn't matter. With the slack tide, we made better progress and it wasn't long before we had the current with us.

The Schelde is wide and untamed at Wintam

Approaching Temse

Temse at low tide

The turning to the Durme, the point where the difference between
high and low tide is at its greatest

As we wound our way along the river, I realised how impressive it is. The Schelde has an untamed rather mysterious beauty emphasised by its mudflats and many tiny inlets. You could imagine taking a small boat into them when the water is high and then staying there to sit on the mud when the tide runs out. The course is also meandering, so there are necessary buoys to ensure the commercial barges keep to the deeper channels. In places it is so shallow, the waders simply stand up and walk on the bottom. As for the bird life, it is quite different from the canalised rivers. There are few ducks and I didn't see any coots at all, but there were all manner of divers and waders, as well as flocks of seagulls. We might have been forty kilometres from the estuary, but we were still very much in touch with the sea.

Riverside moorings

One of many ferries across the river

I forget what time it was that we reached Dendermonde, but it was early evening as the light was turning gold. We'd passed several riverside marinas on the way. However, most of them were full, it having been such a beautiful day. We were therefore very glad to see two empty pontoons next to the bank just before the turning into the Dendermonde sea lock, the point at which we'd started our journey so many weeks ago. Koos turned so that we would be facing into the flow and we used four ropes to tie up. The current was running fast upstream by this time and we didn't want any nasty surprises.

Safe and sound at a mooring near Dendermonde

Commercials like this can create a big pull on the ropes

Another commercial speeding past and taking advantage of the upstream current

After making sure everything was really secure, we took a walk into town. Dendermonde was quite a surprise. I'm sure I've been there before, but it's much prettier and more typically Flemish than I remember. It has a lovely square and what used to be the river is now a closed canal that divides the city, complete with lifting bridges. Sadly, there is no way into it by boat as it is blocked off at both ends and must have been for years. Here is a website about the town's historic buildings. I was quite surprised by the number of judicial buildings, which would suggest it has some kind of legal importance, but so far, I haven't found anything particular to confirm that. I'm afraid I didn't manage any decent photos of Dendermonde because the light was bad and I didn't take my camera, but I did take one with my phone.

The approach to the main square in Dendermonde

By the time we got back to the Hennie Ha, it was almost completely dark. We sat on the back deck and watched the current flowing past us at a crazy speed. I don't think I've ever seen it racing as much anywhere. What a river!

Well I think that's enough for this week, don't you?  I'll leave the final two days for now (nothing like spinning out the story) and wish you all a marvellous week to come. Next time, I'll get us to Gent, I promise...Have a good one, allemaal!

The not quite final leg

Leaving Ronquières suddenly made me realise we really were on our way home, so my mood was already prepared for nostalgia as we approached Ittre and the stretch of this canal that we'd spent so much time walking and exploring when we had the Ténacité in Brussels. It is also worth noting that Ittre lock is the second deepest in Belgium (if you don't count the huge sea locks in Antwerp), only beaten by a few centimetres at Ternaaien in Limburg. It is 14 metres deep and to go down it in a boat is quite an experience. When entering at the top, it looks like any other lock on the system although the presence of floating bollards is a pretty good indicator that it is deeper than normal. But the true realisation of just how deep it is comes as a surprise when the unsuspecting boater drops further, and further, and still further. I hope these photos give some impression of how truly awe-inspiring it is.

Moving out into the wide basin below Ittre lock brought a wave of memories. We'd come here so often just to walk in this lovely valley, and at one time, we'd planned and even been given permission to bring the Ténacité here. Somewhere on the quay, there may still be the bollards we put in for mooring. We dug the holes and surrounded the bollards with concrete to create a basis strong enough to withstand the pull of the commercials entering and leaving the lock. It was a heap of work. As things happened, we never used them. I sold the Ténacité before we could move there, but the memory of those dreams lives on.

From Ittre, we continued through Clabecq, another spot where we'd spent happy times on the Ténacité, before crossing the language border into Flanders and going down the 7,7 metre Lembeek lock; not nearly as dramatic as Ittre, but still pretty deep. From here on the countryside reflects the cultural difference between Wallonia and Flanders in a special way. Where in Wallonia, verges are deliberately left undisturbed to allow wild flowers and grasses to flourish, in Flanders, they are neatly trimmed and orderly. Both have their own beauty, but the difference is more than a little clear. 

What we hadn't remembered, though, is that it was quinze Août, the 15th of August, and regardless of whether you are in Wallonia or Flanders, everything (and I mean everything) is closed for this very Catholic public holiday celebrating the ascension of the Blessed Virgin. I know it, but always forget as it's not a Dutch holiday; nor is it an English or South African one, so it just doesn't sink in. We stopped in Halle to do some shopping, only to find the supermarket firmly shut, so we continued on to the next village of Lot, where we found a perfect spot to spend the night. It was below the lock and next to some handy picnic tables. Luckily for us, Lot boasted a night shop run by an Asian gentleman who was surely not aware of the holy Mary's ascension to the heavens and for a price, was happy to sell us a few necessaries.

During our walk through the village, we saw a white ringed dove with a nasty wound on its back. It looked as if it had been attacked, perhaps by a hawk or other bird of prey. The poor thing was standing in a doorway and seemed to be seeking a safe shelter. Worried about its fate, we asked the shopkeeper for a box so we could pick it up on our way back. He kindly gave us one, but when we retraced our steps, the bird had gone. I could only hope someone else rescued it and took it home with them.; it was such a pretty creature and it looked so vulnerable.

We enjoyed our evening in Lot very much. Although we knew the place from earlier visits, we'd never stayed there overnight, so in that sense it was new for us. In the morning, we spent some time cleaning the Hennie H before setting off again; our old lady needed a bit of a smoosh up before presenting her to Brussels.

As we neared the city, the memories crowded in. It was all so familiar and I could almost see my younger self walking along the towpath with Sindy, encouraging her into the water at her favourite spots. And then we were there, motoring through the gutter, under the bridge and into the basin where the row of barges lay that still included the Ténacité. Many of the boats seemed neglected and unloved, but times change and people have less energy for maintenance as they get older. It was particularly sad for me to see how much in need of some TLC my old girl looked.

The row of barges that was once our home

In many ways, getting through Brussels was a relief. Once past Molenbeek, it was all new watery territory for me, and I enjoyed the increase of commercial quays and docks. It was good to be out of the city area. The canal remains wide; it is lined with trees in many parts and interspersed with both commercial and residential areas to keep it interesting. Eventually, we stopped for the night on an old quay on what seemed to be the outskirts of Grimbergen, just beyond the bridge in the photo below.

Typical canal lifting bridge

Being such a warm evening, we decided to look for a café to have a beer. Grimbergen is a well known Belgian brew so we were convinced there'd be a hostelry on every corner, but we were much mistaken, not only about the cafés, but about it being Grimbergen too. There was a church and some houses around it although the road was dug up making it largely inaccessible; not that we'd have found anything there. In fact, the real town was some distance away and all we found was the local ladies' football club where they had a bar and welcomed us in with good cheer. 

Commercial quays outside Brussles

We sat outside, chatting to one of the mums and watching a team of teenage girls at practice. Different, but probably more convivial than propping up the counter in a pub. Mum told us that at one time there'd been several cafés round the church, but that was about forty years ago. Dutch by birth, nationality and accent, Mum told us to our surprise she'd grown up in the Grimbergen area. She sounded totally Dutch – until she spoke to another local, that is. Then she was all Belgian. We had a lot of fun being part of the local scene, albeit it very briefly and it is encounters such as these that make travelling so full of rich memories, isn't it?

Another typical Brussels canal bridge

Well, it seems I still haven't reached the end of the journey and I'd better stop here before this blog goes on forever more. I'm so sorry I take so long to get to the point; it's just that there's always so much to tell and I have to cram it all in. Next time, I'll get you all back to Gent with me, but for now, have a great week allemaal.

Revisiting familiar waters

Our return journey back down the Sambre last week was made with much regret. We'd have loved to go on, but knew we had to return to the Netherlands. Still, our route, which happened to be the quickest way home, was one we hadn't yet done on the Hennie H even though it was through country and waterways we were both very familiar with.

While still on the Sambre, we spent some time exploring a bras mort of the river (dead arm), which was a victim of its canalisation (they tend to chop off the curves when they can). It is now a nature reserve and made a restful walk during our brief stop. We needed lots of rests, of course...this is such a stressful lifestyle.

A dead arm of the Sambre

Tourist information about the arm

A peaceful rest stop

Our first night of the return journey was at Boussières (of the free 'source' water), where we'd been on the way up. As we were tying up, two friendly faces appeared and we realised with surprise it was Dominique and Rachelle, a lovely couple we'd also first met in Thuin. They'd arrived on a very pretty small Dutch barge and we'd had great fun chatting to them, so it was with genuine warmth and pleasure that we invited them on board for a glass of wine. Their home port was Hautmont, just a few kilometres downstream and they were out for a bike ride along the towpath when they saw us mooring up. Meeting fellow boaters as we do, wherever they come from, is such a pleasure and these two will be remembered with great fondness as well. They spent about an hour with us before taking off on their bicycles again. We all parted with smiles and ours lingered for a long time after they left.

Boussières sur Sambre, one of our favourite moorings this trip

The following morning, we set off again but made a quick stop in Hautmont to go to the shops. I needed to stock up on my favourite plonk, the absurdly cheap Aude red wine that only seems to be available at the Carrefour there. At €1.50 a bottle, you can tell how good and exclusive my taste is...

As we'd already spent a night in Erquellines (the last/first town in Belgium depending on your direction) on the way, we decided to make our next stop Jeumont, (the last/first town in France) and only place to stay after we'd returned our télécommande at the final lock. We'd been warned that we shouldn't leave the boat unattended there, but when we reached the halte nautique, we found it a clean peaceful mooring with free electricity and water. It was also next to a kind of pod tree (my name) which provided wonderful shade from the now revived heat.

Contrary to expectations, Jeumont became memorable for two events that had nothing to do with the mooring. The first was the worrying sight and sounds of parents and police looking for a six year old girl that evening. She'd gone missing and the anxious calls and search lights in the water had us concerned for her safety too. However, since everything went quiet around 11p.m., we hoped it meant they'd found her and the search was over. The other was our meeting the following morning with a young couple who invited us into their home so we could take a photo of the ruined chateau from their bedroom window. Not only this, but they also took us on a walking tour of Jeumont's special attractions: a rescue animal sanctuary and a magnificent lake formed from the Wattisart quarry flooded by the Germans in WW1. Stephanie and Bruno's open warmth and generous hospitality were among the most remarkable highlights of the journey. We were amazed, jaw-droppingly so, that they would welcome two total strangers into their home and then disrupt their own plans by giving us a guided tour of their town.

Jeumont

Chateau ruins at Jeumont from our hosts' bedroom

Animal rescue at its best

The flooded quarry of Wattisart

After Jeumont, we meandered our way back along the now familiar Belgian section of the Sambre, enjoying its beauty again and noting how the waterside villages in Belgium are so much more visible than they they are in France. How charming they are too with their mismatched houses and narrow winding lanes criss-crossing the hillsides. We have decided we need to visit Solre-sur-Sambre by car as it's the only one we haven't been to yet. Our last night on this non-commercial upper river was at Lobbes. At first sight, it isn't as attractive as some of the other villages, other than the magnificent collegiate church at the top, but when I took a walk up the hill that evening, I found the village around the church. It was too lovely; a haven of peace, quiet streets and pretty cottage homes. The church itself has a long history, which you can read about here, and is apparently, the oldest of its kind in Belgium. It seems this whole area can boast a number of firsts, oldests, bests etc, but that could also have something to do with local pride... maybe?

Cobbled streets up to the church

The collegiate church of Saint Ursmer

Evening in Lobbes

Steps to cope with the steepest ascent (or descent) from the
upper village

Our final night on the river was back at Marchienne au Pont, where we'd started. Again, although a run down area, we enjoyed the mooring in the evening sunshine after a day of heavy rain and spent a very peaceful night there along with two other pleasure craft: one a small, immaculate Belgian cruiser, whose 'skipperess' came to help us with our ropes when we arrived (always nice) and the other, a large and very luxurious modern Dutch barge that would have challenged the Hilton Hotel for swish fittings.

The following morning, I passed the cruiser on my way to the shop and noticed the couple on board were playing Scrabble. I wish I'd thought to get a couple of board games like that too, but when I think we both took guitars to play and barely touched them, I wonder if we would have played board games either...something to consider next year, perhaps. At the shop, I practised my French again and was rewarded with an encouraging compliment by the woman serving me. One of the best aspects of being in France and Wallonia is how supportive the locals are when you try and speak French. I know my grammar and vocabulary are lousy, but they really help me to keep struggling on and seem to understand my mangling of their beautiful language.

From Marchienne, we ploughed on and reached Ronquiéres on Tuesday evening. I had expressed a wish to spend the night at the top of the great inclined plane just as we'd done 15 years ago when we first brought our old barge, Ténacité (Volharding in Dutch), back from the shipyard on the lower Sambre. This time, the evening was glorious and I was overwhelmed by the peace, as well as the memories the canal was evoking. The evening light was glorious and a whole team of swallows swooped and played aerobatics for us over the water, a prelude to two days of treading old paths and re-living special recollections.

My old barge, Ténacité 

Approaching Ronquières

Moored on the aqueduct

We walked along to the towers where the caissons arrive and watched a boat coming up and then another descending. The whole process takes about 25 minutes and I was looking forward to doing the same descent the next day. The last time, it had been wet and cold (an event I describe in my memoir, Walloon Ways), so I was hoping to be able to see more this time.

It was fantastic. It really was. Despite being cloudy and cool, we were both able to spend the whole descent on the walk way and take photos and film it as we went, so  I hope I can publish that sometime soon. Being able to watch every metre, hear every squeal of the turning wheels and feel every clonk of the caisson's progress over the rails was in many ways more impressive even than the big lift at Strépy. What a way to descend the nearly 68 metres of this canal. And then there was still Ittre to come.

In the caisson at the top of the Inclined Plane

Almost at the bottom. Our big bath (caisson) has trundled all the way down
that hill!

Update: And here's a video put together by Koos:
Our boat Hennie-H in Ronquières from koos fernhout on Vimeo.

But....I think I'd better stop here and write about the rest of the journey next time, or this post will be far too long (again). I hope you've enjoyed the ride so far, and I promise the next post will the the last! Have a great week, allemaal!

Time out

I find life is so hectic these days I really need to take just a little special down time now and then; not the usual sitting on the sofa with a book down time, but getting away from everything routine and doing something indulgent just for the love of it. For me, it's 'boat watching', but of a different sort from our normal harbour comings and goings.

I took the photos below on Saturday when we were on the way from Rotterdam to the crumbly cottage, We went by way of Antwerp docks; not an unusual route for us by any means, but not one we follow as a rule. It was a beautiful bright day, which made it even more appealing, so first we stopped by the Schelde river at the start of the estuary and on the Belgian border. If you look at the first photo below, you'll see a typical Belgian border 'post'. You'll notice it has a number on it. These border markers are at intervals all along the grens as they call it and it's fun to come across them (and even stumble into them) when out walking. I believe someone has even taken a photo of every single post and published a book of them, but so far I haven't found it.

The post marking the Belgian border. Note the number!

After sitting on the bank and gazing a while, we moved on into the dockland area. At one of the huge locks into the inner harbours, we saw they were preparing for this massive container ship (below) to come in, so we decided we had to just sit and watch it. Now I don't know about you, but I find this one of the most absorbing and peaceful pastimes I can think of. To sit on the wall and just watch these giants proceed at a very gentle and smooth snail's pace is a positively meditative experience.

This one took a good ten minutes to reach the lock and then even longer to inch its way in and moor up. When it finally reached the spot where we were sitting, we noticed the tugboat behind it, guiding it in and keeping it straight. Behind these two, we saw other ships leaving other harbours along the river at what seemed like a much greater speed; they were going downstream with the tide, so comparatively, at quite a lick!

Slowly does it

Closer and closer

And finally past us into lock

....which was when we saw the tug boat guiding it from the rear

For the record

Nearly moored up

And there goes another biggy

...heading out to sea...spot the tiny yacht next to it...talk about scale!

Fare forth and fare well!

We must have spent an hour sitting there just soaking up the peace of seeing these behemoths navigating their way in and out of the huge Antwerp harbours. For me, it is soul food and nothing gives me more peace and tranquillity. I love it, and it was with almost a sigh of regret that we decided it was time to move on. What a way to waste time – although for me, it was very well wasted.

What does that for you? What is your way of taking time to 'stop and smell the roses'?