The Saône River
We had a lovely visit in Lyon walking through some of the older neighborhoods, sampling local beer and wine and enjoying great food.
It was a cloudy morning when we slipped the lines. We were now on the Saône River, its headwaters in northeastern France is 480km (298 miles) from Lyon. Even right here at the confluence with the Rhône you get the sense that this river is different.
Over the centuries, the Saône fulfilled numerous functions – sometimes as a border, sometimes as a transport route. This navigable river enabled trade and industry to develop and flourish along its banks from ancient times until the 19th Century. The Saône valley is particularly delightful. The river is comparatively narrow with a gentle current and surprisingly clear water. The shore is dotted with ancient villages and lined by tall poplars with an understory of wide meadows presently filled with spring wildflowers.
We traveled languidly for just a couple of hours to the town of Trevoux and tied up to a pontoon. The dock is run by the adjacent campground where we paid 12€ ($13) for the night. We took a walk, sat in the sun and read, had sundowners on the back deck, lazily watched the day turn to night, and cooked dinner.
There was a deep silence and stillness the next morning. The water was calm and as we were on a broad stretch of the river, I took the opportunity to practice docking. Tom managed the lines and fenders while I sidled us off the pontoon careful not to motor ahead into shallower water. It builds confidence - something I’m lacking, to maneuver the boat in different situations (beyond basic driving) and I am motivated to become more accomplished at it.
The river was mild mannered and moved gently along. I opened the door, let the sun warm my face and watched the birds, the cows and what we call ‘pompom’ trees drift by. We passed a few commercial gravel loaders, but most of the river was farmland and flat open country. Just a couple of pleasant hours on the river and we found ourselves in the town of Montmerle. I again practiced docking, balancing the mild current with forward momentum to approach the pontoon from midship. We ate lunch and went for an explore, starting with a long walk along the river and then up into the sleepy little town. The people were super friendly and welcoming.
We were just preparing to depart the next morning when we were surprised by the sound of accordion music. Along the towpath appeared an entire primary school of children all dressed in costumes marching along. We never learned what the celebration was about but we waved and cheered and enjoyed their dancing and costumes.
More boat maneuvering practice and we were off, peacefully headed upstream passing through just one lock that day. The Saône River impressed the ancients for its serene character. The philosopher Seneca described it as a “hesitant river not knowing which way it wants to flow.” Caesar recounted that it was difficult to tell the direction of the current. Both accounts are still true today - in addition to its slow meandering I particularly love its unspoiled beauty, it’s wetlands and forests, and the abundant wildlife.
We were approaching the town of Mâcon, one of the oldest cities in France, where we would stay a few days. I had chosen to navigate the derivation canal which bypasses the congestion of the main river through the city center, knowing that the entrance to our marina was just beyond where it rejoined the main channel. We were nearing the junction when I passed the helm to Tom and went below for shoes and a jacket in preparation for mooring. A minute later I heard an awful scraping noise and felt a hard jerk. “What was that?” I shouted. “We’re aground,” stated Tom, in his nonchalant way. I raced up the steps to the loud throaty rumble of the engines. Tom had wasted no time, there was no head scratching - he throttled both engines to their maximum, shifting between forward and reverse. I went aft where thick brown mud was surfacing behind the boat and the plinking of gravel was spinning off the props. Tom cranked the wheel to port and pushed the engines hard, then switched to starboard and did the same. I took a bearing on shore. Nothing seemed to make an iota of difference, we weren’t budging. I knew for certain we were going to need to summon help getting out of this one. Next Tom tried spinning the wheel hard to starboard with one engine forward and one in reverse, full throttle. Then he switched - spun the wheel hard to port and swapped the direction of each engine. Over and over and over again. Time seemed to stand still. It was after several attempts at this that I noticed we had moved a few centimeters. “Do that again”, I yelled. Back and forth it went until we finally began to crawl forward. Sluggishly we crept out of the shallows and into moving water. Holy crap. That was intense!
The waterways are marked by solid red and green poles, with occasional red and white striped and green and white striped markers indicating a change, ie a bridge ahead or a potential hazard like a groyne or a submerged weir. There are also markers which are alternating green and red stripes. These are dividing marks indicating a split in the traffic or a change in the direction of travel.
When approaching a junction your line of sight to the markers can transpose them, interspersing the markers for one channel with those of the other. This is what I believe had happened - there were multiple markers for each channel and to compound matters there were also two red/green dividing piles. Tom had simply misinterpreted which one was which, turned the wrong way and in an instant we were hard aground.
Pictured are just three of the channel markers - we had approached from the left. (photo taken from shore)
We motored on toward the marina super slowly - just a week ago we had watched a video of a sailboat going aground last summer at this exact marina entrance. We may have dragged our keel briefly in the mud (Tom and I are in disagreement on that one) but we arrived at our slip without any further problems.
Mâcon was a pleasant surprise. The marina staff were super friendly and gave us the lay of the land. We were ready to fill our water tank and do some laundry. We spent three relaxing days there; re-provisioned and did chores - of course, and also visited the chandlery for more fenders (you’ve never enough), took a bike ride and went to the Saturday market.
Before leaving Mâcon we splurged on an elegant meal at a fine restaurant. The atmosphere inside was warm and inviting. We were seated at a table by the window overlooking the Saòne. We ordered a three course meal (which was actually 5 courses) and lingered for several hours. I’m so incredibly grateful for these opportunities.
Note: Photo captions will not appear if viewing on a cell phone.