Lyon – Vienne – Condrieu – Valence – Écluse Châteauneuf – Avignon
The Rhône and its Locks
To start with, some information about the mighty Rhône. One of the three big rivers (actually the French would call it a ‘fleuve‘, not a ‘rivière’ – fleuves end at the sea, rivières end at another rivière or join a fleuve) in France, the Rhône starts in the Alps in Switzerland and ends at the Mediterranean Sea at Marseille. Currently, it is only navigable to about 10 km upstream of Lyon (rarely, if ever, by pleasure boats) and for 310 km from Lyon to Marseille. The Rhone is both a major commercial waterway route and also generates a significant amount of hydroelectric power from dams placed at intervals where the 12 locks are also located. These locks are huge (195 m x 12 m) and include the deepest one in France (23 m).
The Rhône is not controlled by the VNF but by the CNR (Compagnie Nationale du Rhône). We will be heading downstream after the spring flood period. We expect the current to be brisker than usual, but a manageable 4 km/h or so. It’s a bit laborious to come back up the Rhône against the current, and those doing so tend to leave it until somewhat later in the season when the current is slower. Reputedly, the trip is easy, scenic, but has the drawback of limited mooring for boats larger than 15 m. But, we were told, it is always possible to moor up at the locks later in the afternoon.
(Lisette) As we approached the first of the Rhône locks, I alerted them via the radio. Entering the lock, and delighted to find floating bollards, all I had to do was get a rope on one and stand around holding my rope while the lock emptied. Heading downstream, all of the locks we would encounter would be down/emptying locks. As soon as we were ready, the éclusier came back on the radio and asked a series of questions. He wanted to know whether the boat was ours, whether we been in deep locks before and a few other sundries. Happy that we knew what we were doing, he signed off to close the gates and prepare the lock, after reminding us to give the subsequent locks about 20 minutes’ notice of our arrival so they could prepare for our entry. Passage through these locks always depends on the large commercial vessels that have priority over plaisanciers (pleasure boats). Of special note is that fuel (gas and petroleum) barges are quite common and have exclusive use of a lock – we and other vessels simply have to wait.
The passage through the Rhône locks was very similar in all cases:
Lisette would call the écluse on the VHF and if we had to wait our turn, we might tie up to one of the floating waiting pontoons. Some of these were set a way before the lock, others seemed to be situated almost at the opening to the lock approach. These were much trickier.
When the lock was ready to take us (sometimes on our own, sometimes with large commercials and sometimes with tiny little yachts) we would move forward to enter. These locks were mostly situated on the right bank of the river, with the hydroelectric plants often beside it, towards the left bank.
Entering, we liked to situate Catharina Elisabeth roughly halfway along, after which the upstream gate rises up from the bottom to seal the lock,
Lisette selects a suitable floating bollard at the bow, and I would use the engine and rudder at the stern to hold Catharina close to the lock wall.
As the lock empties, we drop down gently until eventually the downstream gate begins to rise,
then when the warning light changes from red to green, we can exit.
Most times we were the only boat in the lock, and only once did we share one with a commercial barge.
Vienne
We were excited to leave Lyon on a grey but calm morning and set off for our first planned, short cruise. We had arranged to catch up with David and Evelyn Rothery on L’Escapade with whom we had been communicating by email for some ten years and trying to meet up, but had never crossed paths. They were on their way from the Midi to the Netherlands and expected to be in Vienne the next day.
Joining the Rhône from the Saône was quite obvious; the width increased significantly, the current became faster, and the water seemed clearer.
Quite early on, we saw our first example of features typical of the Rhône banks, with vineyards running up steep sides and often ruined castles perched atop the ridges.
After a little over three hours, the skies had cleared, and we arrived in Vienne, turning to cruise upstream to moor on a well-kept floating pontoon just downstream of a major bridge. Not long after arriving, there was a huge flotilla of about 20 or more dingies sped past.
Usually, we take a dim view of fast-travelling small boats; the wake they generate can toss moored boats around uncomfortably. However, some research revealed that this was a regular charity cruise that takes place over several days, starting in Lyon and ending somewhere downstream. We didn’t do much touristing that day other than find the nearest boulangerie (Le Coin du Pain), which turned out to be exceptionally good. The location was scenic with a good view of the bridge and the cathedral, and an especially delightful house just beside us.
The next day, our first destination, after the tourist bureau, was the Cathedral of St. Maurice, begun in 1030 AD. The entrance is both impressive and ingenious. The steps have been cleverly painted to promote a local jazz festival.
Inside, Jeanne d’Arc was represented by an engraving sandwiched between rolls of honour for the fallen.
There were also several large tapestries created in the late 16th century depicting events in the life of St. Maurice.
Cyclists are a common sight along the canals, gentle slopes and generally well-maintained paths make for comfortable travel. Occasionally, one sees some strange bikes – how the person on this mounts and dismounts – we had no idea.
Mid-afternoon, we caught sight of L’Escapade with Evey at the helm and other friends, Deborah and Paul on Peary, also appearing from downstream.
In no time, both boats were moored astern of us,
and aperos were in full swing.
This continued well into the afternoon, and then, later, we caught up at various restaurants around town – as David, a legendary gourmand, sampled some of Vienne’s offerings.
Condrieu
At one point in our plans for the year, a stop at Condrieu was in place mainly because it is the centre of the region that produces highly aromatic, full-bodied Viognier wine. Later research showed us that if we wanted to purchase any significant amount of the wine, we would have to take out a mortgage on Catharina. However, we were still keen to check out the town as we would be back at some time or other. Before setting out, Lisette rang ahead and confirmed we could get a mooring. As it was only a short trip, we started a bit late and in sunny weather, headed downstream.
When we arrived, the capitaine explained that the pontoons were full and he directed us to a very unappealing mooring. It had concrete and stone edges, no bollards, a large concrete mass bang in the centre of the approach and uncertain depth.
But, in the way fortune often favours us, we looked over at the boats moored and saw Molly (against whom we had been moored all winter in Auxonne and had last passed us in Tournus), with our friends Andy and Deborah waving ‘come hither’.
We yelled over to the capitaine, asked if it was OK to breast against Molly, and he shrugged and said if it was OK with them, it was OK with him. So, relieved, off we tootled and were soon swapping stories. Molly had been stranded for many days because of a problem with their bowthruster. Parts were going to be hard to obtain, and they weren’t willing to cruise without it, so they were expecting a longish stay.
The rest of the day was spent trying to avoid the heat, chatting with Andy and Deb, and I took a short cycle into the town for some supplies.
Valence
Now to get moving. Today’s plan was to get a mooring in Tournon; however, when Lisette called and attempted to arrange a mooring, they refused, arguing that we were too big. We have friends who have moored there, with a boat several metres longer than ours, but it would be pointless trying to argue with the capitaine. While we enjoyed Marty helming us along the pleasant views of the river banks, we pondered the next option.
If you look carefully, just above the church spire, there are three crosses. From another angle, they are more obvious:
Three stone crosses have replaced three wooden crosses destroyed during the Wars of Religion. One legend has it that the remains of three Christian martyrs arrived in Andance on a stone ship, and at the same time, nearby, three fountains appeared. Subsequently, pilgrims have prostrated themselves in front of the crosses, asking for divine favours.
A bit further down, we passed a small rocky outcrop inconconveniently located near the left bank of the river. While it was marked with a beacon to warn off unsuspecting vessels, why hadn’t it been removed?
Turns out that in 1248, as St Louis (King Louis IX) embarked on the Seventh Crusade, chroniclers of French history recount that he stopped at a rocky outcrop as flat as a table at the foot of the Hermitage hills on the Rhône for déjeuner. Mostly flooded by the barrage constructed downstream, the visible remains of the King and Saint’s picnic spot has been preserved despite its threat to navigation.
Anyhow, the next mooring option given to us by the DBA Waterways Guide was a fuel pontoon at the harbour in Valence and, rather than giving the capitainerie the option of refusing us, we decided to just appear. The current was quite strong at the entrance to the harbour, so I made allowance for the drift, and we moored up on the empty pontoon marked as temporary because it is used when refuelling. Conveniently, the pump was Hors de service (out of service), so we didn’t feel we were inconveniencing anyone. It was 6 pm when we arrived after an eight-hour cruise and three locks, so we did little more than relax, eat, drink and plan the next day.
By morning, the wind had begun to strengthen, and the forecast was for very windy days for the foreseeable future. Just as we were about to leave, Mary-Jane from Olivia Rose arrived on the pontoon. She and Michael had arrived a few days earlier and had decided not to go further south this season. No chance to have any sort of chat at that moment, so we took a rain-check until next year. Exiting the port was going to be tricky. The outlet to the fast-running Rhone was directly astern of us. No prospect at all of reversing out. Turning around from our mooring was going to be a challenge because of boats just across from us, shallows off the bow and the increasing wind, which was blowing us onto the pontoon.
In the end, we had to pivot on a bow rope attached to the pontoon and drive the stern out and forward against the rope until we were nearly perpendicular to the pontoon, then cast off and hit the bow thruster hard to bring the bow around before we were blown back onto the mooring. That done, we powered forward to the exit, driving upstream against the crossing current until we reached clear water. A bit of a performance, but satisfying that it went as planned.
Écluse Châteauneuf
It was an early start for the planned 8.5-hour, 76 km cruise to Écluse Bollène, where we planned to moor because the other options along the way did not look like they would be likely to take us, and after that mooring, it would be a short hop to Avignon the next day. Things very much did not go to plan.
It was hot, and the wind was very strong, coming directly from astern, blowing south. Winds in the south of France are often strong, and those named winds like the Mistral and Tramontane can be strong enough to make cruising (for the likes of us) very uncomfortable or even dangerous. Maneuvering and especially mooring can be very difficult. But, we were just being blown along in concert with the current, and mooring at the end past an écluse didn’t seem likely to be too much of a problem. So we enjoyed the vistas and proceeded through the next lock, Écluse Beauchastel, arriving at about 10:30 am. It was closed, and so we moored up at the waiting pontoon, which was well upstream, quite a distance from the entrance to the lock. Now, we have a device onboard, AIS (Automatic Identification System), that broadcasts our exact position (using an in-built GPS chip) to everyone close to us. The device also captures the transmissions of the AIS devices of any ships nearby. We use this to see who is around and especially who is at or approaching a lock. So when the lights on the lock went red/green, indicating it was preparing for us (filling up after letting the last boat leave), I checked the AIS, and it seemed clear, so we cast off from our waiting pontoon and drifted towards the lock. The gates remained open after a commercial had exited, heading upstream, so we drifted slowly down (a boat should never enter a lock until the lights are fully green), but just as we came close, two boom gates dropped down – and we were suddenly refused entry. Surprised, Lisette tried to contact the éclusière whom she had earlier advised of our approach, but there was no response. Sometimes they talk to you, sometimes they don’t. We do not particularly mind either way, because they know we are coming. To be honest, we don’t mind too much when they do not talk to us, as any conversation in response to Lisette’s radio contact, might result in a burst of rapid-fire French, assuming she can keep up.
Now we were in trouble. We couldn’t enter, and we were rapidly closing in on the lock. The waiting pontoon was way behind us and there was nothing equivalent nearby on which to tie up. First, I tried to turn Catharina. She’s hard to turn at the best of times, but with the following wind, it was impossible – we just kept drifting towards the unwelcoming écluse. Driving forward to try and get up headway to turn ended up with us just about getting beached on the edge of the river, no way to get her bow around. In desperation, I put her hard into reverse. Mercifully, she began to creep backwards. Then another problem came along. Checking the AIS, we could see the reason we had been refused entry. A commercial was approaching from astern (it had either been out of range of our AIS or the terrain had blocked its signal just as I was checking). They always have priority. So now, we were just barely under control, heading slowly backwards, right in the path the commercial would need to take. We needed to get moored quickly. The only options were the huge ‘dolphins’ that the commercials use to tie up to. These are completely unsuitable for small vessels like Catharina, as, at best, you can only get a single line onto the bollard at each one. In this wind, we would swing about like crazy. The only option seemed to be to head for one of the dolphins that had a bollard and, adjacent, a ladder and steel landing that we could perhaps get a second line onto to stabilise us.
We managed to get far enough upriver of our intended mooring and, fighting the wind and current, tried to come in to moor. In a feat born of skill and experience, Lisette managed to get the bow rope onto the bollard between the two dolphins. Then the wind got us. It blew Catharina’s stern around sharply, and as she tightened on the bow rope, the stern railings were driven under the steel landing platform. There was an awful grinding and crashing sound as the midships bollard was twisted, and the starboard railing collapsed as fifty tons of moving boat drove under the immovable platform. The midship bollard jammed under the platform, and we were now listing to starboard. Enough to worry about. Thankfully, pedal to the metal in reverse pulled Catharina back enough for the bollard to get free, and Lisette managed to get a stern line on and stabilise before the commercial calmly cruised past into the lock.
We quickly assessed the damage. Messy, but just a job for a welder – no physical injuries, everyone still aboard, and not taking on water. Chuck Yeager (the first man to break the sound barrier) once said, “If you can walk away from a landing, it’s a good landing. If you use the airplane the next day, it’s an outstanding landing.” On that basis, we agreed, it was an outstanding landing. Reassured that we were basically OK (just likely to be a bit poorer sometime in the future), we cast off and followed the commercial into the lock, descended and left without further incident. Lisette used the radio again trying to get confirmation that they were happy for us to enter the lock behind the commercial. Over and over she tried, until the grumpy éclusière finally yelled ‘Oui, oui, oui!’.
Marty and I started on running repairs. Cleaning up the shards of metal and hammering the bent railing enough to allow safe passage beside it, confirming that while unsightly, it wasn’t serious enough to interfere with cruising. However, the crew (both helm and deck) were pretty shattered. We now realised that wind was a serious issue. Time to reconsider our plan. We decided that we would take the next suitable mooring. The next lock was quite close and, thinking that it would be too early to ask for an overnight mooring, we would instead plan to stop at Écluse Chateauneuf, about 40 km and (nominally) three hours away. However, to allow us to stay overnight, we immediately dropped the DAF to just idle, to slow us as much as possible. So began a leisurely 7.5-hour cruise.
The next écluse wasn’t straightforward either. This time, the waiting pontoon was almost next to the entrance, and close to the shore; we were too close to be able to cast off and turn for the lock with the wind behind us. Instead, again we had to reverse off the pontoon until we had enough room to make a shallow turn towards the lock – not difficult, but inconvenient.
We settled in for a lazy cruise, passing nuclear power stations,
ruined castles perched on rocky outcrops,
and cruised through several kite-surfers who didn’t mind the fierce wind. They, and we, enjoyed them using Catharina as a sort of target to sail up to and past at close range.
When we reached Écluse Chateauneuf, having timed it so we would arrive late in the day when it is more likely a plaisançier such as ourselves would be allowed to take up the waiting pontoon overnight, Lisette contacted the éclusier, who was happy for us to stay the night. We elected to pass through the lock and moor below at a well-built floating pontoon, which we were delighted to find was reasonably protected from the wind.
Relieved, we set about relaxing and refreshing.
The forecast for the next day was for even stronger winds. Where we were moored was completely sheltered, and given the experience of the day before, we were loathe to move. In the morning, Lisette called up the éclusier to explain our situation and, generously and without comment, they said we could stay for the day. As it turned out, no pleasure boats came upstream needing to use the pontoon, although we would have let them raft against us while waiting for the lock if anyone showed up.
It was a Saturday and instead of relaxing, the locals treated us to the sound of continuous gunfire. Thankfully, it didn’t get closer – but it didn’t stop either. For the entire day. Unsurprisingly, it did halt briefly at midday – French shooters must respect déjeuner. I climbed up the access steps and found the source, a shooting club, right next door. A short chat with one of the shooters confirmed the obvious, and at about 2 pm, the shooting began again and continued well into the mid-afternoon.
Being up by the infrastructure of the écluse provided an opportunity to watch as one of the huge ‘Viking’ cruise ships came upstream into the lock.
They enter very carefully and pretty much fill the lock. All of the top deck structures are laid down, and no one is there other than a couple of crew – helming and checking clearances.
Avignon
The next morning, the wind had abated, and the forecast was for the wind to strengthen over the day. With nothing to hold us back, and in order to beat the wind, we started cruising just after 7 am. The scenery was quite spectacular with a number of impressive or ruined chateaus dotted along the way, interspersed with vineyards and more nuclear power stations.
The second of the three locks we passed through today was Écluse Bollène, the deepest in France. At 23 metres (the height of a seven-story building), and its 190 x 11 m dimensions, it emptied us, one other small yacht and about 50 million litres of water – enough to fill 20 Olympic swimming pools. The fall also means it is next to the most powerful of the Rhône hydroelectric plants, able to produce 350 megawatts and produces over 2.1 terawatt-hours of power annually – enough to power the city of Lyon for an entire year.
We passed through one more large lock and then began the final approach to Avignon was lovely as we were treated to periodic glimpses of the Palais du Papes (Palace of the Popes), and then we made a 270º turn to port at about 3.30 pm, passing under the bridge linking the old city to Villeneuve lès-Avignon and started heading up the short side stretch, which carries the outflow of the hydroelectric dam further upstream, with the old city of Avignon on the starboard side.
You cannot book a spot at Avignon, so you take your chances. Passing the famous Pont d’Avignon (officially Pont Saint Bénézet), we spotted a stone wall, and with some gesticulating from a couple of people on shore, we were directed to a place snug against the wall, and our ropes were taken to pass through rings on the quay.
It had been quite hot and windy for several days, and we were pleased to settle into a spot where we might wait out the wind, if not the heat, while we explored this wonderful city. We wandered off to find the capitaine, and duly paid for a few days, which we later extended to a week. Bummed to learn from other boat owners that the capitaine was not that fussed about managing the moorings and we could probably have stayed for free. But we did want to put on water, even if we did not need shore power. It was a bit noisy as a main road was just above us, but the old city walls were just across the road, so we were as close as you could get to the city.
While we had visited Avignon briefly twelve years ago, we were looking forward to a longer, more relaxed stay this time. Longer, it was, more relaxed – not entirely …
