Grizzle's Trips: A ramble in the Marais Poitevin. Grizzle and Co.

The French word randonné implies gentle travel; it doesn’t easily translate in terms of water-born travel - but “ramble” will perhaps serve.

We booked our trip with V.B. Tourisme, http://www.bjr-tourisme.com/index.php and received a deliciously entitled “Book of Trip – Walking in Canadian canoe On the Marais Poitevin”. The information was weirdly translated – we intend to do something about this – but inclusive.

We had a great time and would recommend the organisation and the trip to anyone with kids of a controllable age.

June 16^th. Tuesday

Early start, away by 08.15 and a smooth run to Folkestone for the tunnel. And then back in France for the first time in quite a while.

A good run down to Le Mans to stay overnight with D and R (and Ducati, the dog-let) in their lovely house in the country-side. Such wonderful hosts, such a lovely start to our trip. Thank you!

June 17^th – Day one – Wednesday. Away early again – but an hour earlier because of the clocks anyway. French motorways are great; a steady 130kph for hour after hour. We arrived at the Embarcadère du Marais Bazoin about an hour early, to be met by a delightful proprietor, M. RENAUD

He sat with us and with all the right maps (which he had bought for us as requested) and plotted up our route for the week, direct onto the page. So, we loaded the boat, an Old Town 158, and headed off!

Much of the Marais Poitevin has been drained for almost 6 centuries. But saying “drained” gives the wrong impression. This is not – at least in the summer – a marsh with drainage ditches. The ditches are the result of previous marsh soil being dug out and placed on the surrounding surface in order to raise it. The resulting “furrows” are now filled with water and form a dense, sometimes haphazard, sometimes grid-like network of waterways from 10 to 30 feet wide.

Elsewhere the original rivers, their banks re-enforced and in places rather canalised, meander slowly through the countryside. Everywhere was green. In full summer apparently, the water surface itself is covered with duck-weed, further adding to the almost mystical light within the arches of trees.

The first day’s paddling was mostly in anciently reclaimed land as we made our way towards first La Rivière and on to Arçais.

Here’s some of the real Marais…

Here’s a corner of the hamlet of La Rivière…..

This is a random rose-bush further along to Arçais,

And here’s our first “barrage a portager” – “dam to walk round"

They are set out for the local flat boats, seen everywhere and previously used to transport everything from cattle to hay to people to potatoes!

So there are rails leading down in to the water, a winch – almost universally with a cut cable! – and rollers over the transition. They should work fine but the underwater platforms are slippery, the rails are very narrow and not very canoe-friendly and the landings and put-ins are decidedly tight and sometimes down-right dangerous if you’re loading and unloading heavy gear!

Soyez-prudent!

Best technique? Disembark bow paddler with bow painter; push-off; swing boat to make egress of stern paddler possible. Everything out of the boat; no compromise. Stack gear sensibly near put-in. Move the boat somehow. Rest up (drink, collapse).

Re-load boat with gear; paddle on.

Well, after a day of slightly bellowed conversation along the lines of “There should be a bridge here somewhere.”

“Pardon, say that again”.

“Oh, there it is. This map’s hopeless, nowhere near as good as a British map”.

“I’m sure they’ve moved that building”, and similar witty exchanges,

we arrived at the site for the night.

This is the landing area at the camp-site in Arçais…. About a 200 metre walk / carry to the camp-site pitch.

And this is the newly-acquired Vango Beta 350XL tent, and herself getting ready for a wild night out (not!).

Blissful showers, clean, dry gear and SPACE to move around – what more could you ask for

And there they were; "and Co's" brother and his partner. Just arrived on their bikes as we appeared from the water!

This is them an hour or so later, all pitched. The trailer is for Pepper, the dog!

We four had an interesting but slightly lack-lustre supper at a faintly pretentious but rather empty restaurant in the village. I had snails (only four of them!) and Sandre (Pike-perch).

Service was moderate. The snails were fine; the Sandre was lovely; delicate, not at all muddy in flavour and accompanied by very tasty but a bit-too-wet piperade.

The lamb was HUGE, a great chunk through the ribs of the beast. The "pink" was frankly bloody.

Home to bed and a great night’s sleep (thank you Exped Down 7 XL mattresses!).

June 18^th – Day two - Thursday

So we set off, under the village bridge and past the little port with its hopeful rentals and then round the very pretty house-backs of Arçais.

I had set the month wrongly on the Aldi waterproof camera :-(

Just around the bend we came across what seriously sounded like a gaggle of geese, but it was in fact a gaggle of pensioners being paddled in several of the local flat boats.

We took a wrong turn here, bamboozled by the noise and the endless stream of scholars on bikes on a school trip along the tow-path, all of them crying “Bonjour”, all of them expecting to be acknowledged!

Another day of blue skies! And a change in scenery. From here most waterways were less overgrown – but not all of them.

The countryside widened – at least the view did – and we got in to a gentle rhythm, albeit with a lot of stern pry strokes……

Despite the wider waterways, once we turned off in to the Scenic Route, we managed to get thoroughly confused by a very narrow cut that seemed to have features inconsistent with the map; or at least seemed to be far longer than the map would have suggested.

But eventually we agreed that we could only have gone under one bridge and the compass couldn’t be lying and hey presto, two about turns - using winding skills learned a long time ago on a narrow boat holiday - and a major deviation later, we popped out in to the larger stream towards Le Vanneau Irleau.

A very spick and span little port where we moored up and munched the second sandwiches that the le Mans friends had given us. Yum!

Back on the water, we came across a further barrage. Pretty, but with poor access for canoe loading and hard work!

At least the nettles had been cleared here!

We returned to the landscape of a less natural, a more reclaimed area, overgrown and tortuous again. Fascinating….

But, at last, to a little, sloping quay and a bar with super cold beer and a camp-site.

Phew! That was quite a hard work day.

Another tidy, albeit empty, site. Tent up, shower, change of dry clothes.

"and Co's" bro and partner arrived - and Supper at the Bar and crêperie at the quay at the entry to the camp site.

Delicious…

June 19^th Day three - Friday

I’m really not sure why; we woke early enough, but it was noon before we made it back to the crêperie, all luggage transferred and the boat launched. We bought sandwiches – ham or saucisse - in a baguette for later.

And then, what a delight; we paddled a gentle circle around the backs of the houses with their gardens again coming down to the water. A veritable Venise Verte.

This was lovely, and a place where you could hanker after living in one of the many houses and converted farms backing on to the cut.

Later, we moved in to wider, gentler countryside and water.

Much of the land is carefully managed, with bank-side trees pollarded and their roots binding the banks together. In many of the fields there are lines of poplars grown obviously as a crop; but in some places, the bankside trees have been allowed to grow to full height.

Inevitably, with the water-table so close and the soil so loose, the tree roots are shallow and a number of trees have been brought down by the wind. This is the root plate of one of them!

But, at full height, they are very beautiful!

Lovely, sweeping water-meadows today.

This is when I noted that the date on the camera is wrong! Oh well…..

Another barrage; another unload and reload.
Hot today!

The river changed again, clearing and flowing a little faster with trout visible in the depths. And then we eventually joined a big river, the Sèvre Niortaise, where we were searching for a beach opposite the campsite.

No beach. Hmmm very close inspection of the map (always a good thing) showed a small, blue extension – about a mm long – which turned out to be a short inlet and a beach – of course!

The camp-site owner at reception came to open the gate directly opposite the beach, albeit across a busy road, which made the portage a lot shorter!

Wi-Fi, a power connector to recharge some electronics: Great!

Very amusingly, when I asked him if he had a beer (he had plenty of sodas and iced tea) he replied that sadly, he had no alcohol. And then we laughed out loud together when I asked about the wine on the shelf! Wine isn’t alcohol, it’s food ;-)

The cyclists duly arrived – they were now based in a B & B in the region, doing prodigious day-rides and driving to meet up in the evenings.

We went to a lovely restaurant a K or so along the river,

Fish and ducks in the river, eels and frogs on the plate. Sandre for "and Co." this time. When in Rome………

Dinner bones!

A lovely evening and what a beautiful moon!

June 20^th – Day four - Saturday

A better start today!

Back, briefly, to the point where we had joined the Sèvre Niortaise, then further along it against a very gentle current towards Coulon.

And this is why the current was so very gentle!. This is the lock of le Marais Pin; and quite unlike anything we’d met before.

As we arrived – this picture is after all the fuss, looking upstream from where we’d come! – the upper entrance was open.

The “Book of Trip” explained that the upper barrier was a reinforced sheet that seemingly would rise automatically once we activated the vents on the lower gates……

So we moored up in the lock – leaving lots of slack; it’s quite a drop – and I went to the vents at the downstream end, sited in the gates themselves with ratchet handles.

I started to lift one vent and "and Co." waved to confirm that the mechanism had indeed started to raise the barrier.

So I wound madly at both of the handles to open the shutters fully. Brown turbulent water satisfyingly flooded out of the lock on its way to join the main current.

Something caught my eye – or my ear. "and Co." was hanging on for dear life to the mooring ropes and bellowing something about “turn it off!” A veritable cascade of water was pouring in to the lock basin in a great swirling tide. The upper barrier was indeed lifting, but had not fully lifted yet!

I rushed to re-close the vents. And the barrier continued to rise until all was calm again and the level in the lock would allow us out. Phew!

I opened the gates, clambered down the ladder in to the boat in the lock and paddled out to collect herself from the steps downstream.

And so onwards! Moral – start the mechanism – and wait!

This is coming on to Coulon; too late for the boulangerie / patisserie on the waterfront and not wanting a lunch at one of the several very attractive restaurants slightly further down.

Very hot, not much shade.

This is some of Coulon further away from the water; a neat and tidy village, with a large, not very busy and decidedly “ordinary” cafe just past the church….

I bought amateurish but quite sufficient crepes; a draught beer whilst I was waiting, and cold cans to tackle the heat.

We sat by the boat and watched the fish in the once-again silty water.

And onwards!

There was a lot of restored and super-pretty property along this stretch, before we turned north along the very long Canal du Grand Coin; miles of it!

Le Mazeau seemed pretty; we pushed past and eventually came to a confusing cut under an overgrown bridge into very shallow and decided smelly water; our so-called mooring for the campsite for the night.

There was a scruffy, gravel sports ground, nobody at the reception – and no-one due until 18.15 – and the general advice from folks already installed was “pick a pitch”.

But the site was tidy, the grass cut, the shade welcome. We pitched and showered and changed and re-hydrated and C & L arrived with car-hot red wine – which cooled down after a bit - and cold meats and bread and the makings of supper.

However, we hadn’t had time to set up the beds; and so, after they had gone, my some-times inexhaustible wife got going on them – and rapidly exited the tent to announce hat there was a huge stone under the beds which would mean that we would have to move!

Or maybe it was a peg.

No, it was definitely a peg.

So we un-pegged the edge of the tent and I set down a ground sheet and crawled into the fearsome heat beneath.

It WAS a peg; one of those sheet-steel jobs with a rolled over top.

And it was well seated into the hard-packed, clayey ground. At full stretch, in the dark under the groundsheet I fought this blasted peg. Rocking wasn’t getting me anywhere; it was the dead lift or nothing. Time passed, sweat broke out (again!) a nest of ants discovered me (Aaaargh) and out it came.

One check inside the tent and it was me away to deal with the ants and herself off to complete the bed-making.

Sleep came easily, albeit late.

June 21st – Day five - Sunday

A long, wide paddle to Damvix, a veritable Blackpool of a place.

The very pleasant renter of watercraft showed us where best to moor the canoe; we pottered in to town to a general épicerie for lunch – and ate it on a bench beneath trees.

The park across the river was full of families dining on the grass;

Two lads floated past in personalised life-rings / fishing floats….

Summer in rural France. Delightful

But the water called us on; gentle kilometres of bank-side anglers, floats to dodge and greetings to exchange; the occasional cyclist; vast, gentle cattle vacantly considering us as we dip and pull, dip and pull our way towards supper.

Old hands now – a conventional and very shallow lock at Maille – and then confusion over mooring and unloading, easily solved by a charming lady in the Accueille (the site office), rather strangely sited adjacent to the dock and not at the site.

She easily offered to help us to unload there – where it was fairly easy – and then transported the luggage in her tiny car along to the site whilst Alison followed on foot to decide the emplacement for the night.

And again, the site was sparsely occupied; in fact many of the people there finished their lengthy lunches as we put the tent up, and packed off, heading back to the town and work for the week, leaving their caravans shuttered and quiet.

I managed to bring the canoe in to the bank alongside the site – dodging the bristle of unattended but active fishing rods.

Lovely showers. Change. I walked in to the village for a cold beer ( they were a bit taken aback that I wanted 500ml of 1662 – nobody drinks more than 150 ml at once apparently. Strangely, the late teens at the table outside were sharing roll-ups and the air was heavy outside and in with the scent of not-quite French tobacco. ;-) But my proposed beer intake was deemed remarkable….

Strange.

Eventually, a 300 ml Guinness glass of ice-cold Strasbourg’s best was presented. Just the job.

Back to camp – and the cyclists with supper for this evening!

So – our last night and all our food stores (dried fortunately) unused!

This was the only place that we met mosquitoes – and they met us. Not many, but enough to make us grab the repellent.

June 22^nd – Day six – Monday

Away early (for us) and full of confidence at the prospect of a short paddle today, we added an extra loop to our route and headed back on the Sèvre Niortaise to its junction with the Fosse du Loup. Just another couple of kilometres but pretty and fun; bow-pry strokes as we made our turn – we’ve learned a lot this trip!.

Last day; what the heck!

And so under the bridge at la Croix des Mary, easily through the lock at Bazoin and back.

Back to the cheerful, pleased welcome of M. Renaud; eager to hear of the details of changes in water conditions, back to lunch – some of yesterday’s I think –