Scurvy amongst the crew

One thing we didn't really bargain for on this trip was either of us falling ill. Caro is fit and healthy in every respect and of course I do everything in moderation as everyone knows and have all the appropriate pills. But five months in and my nose becomes a tap, I had difficulty breathing and I'm coughing like a forty year old Yanmar diesel engine. I first started to feel unwell early in the morning before we left Valence and turned to Mrs K for soothing comfort. Now, she says I misheard her but I am sure she said what about Euthanasia? It was only when I questioned this rather harsh response that she asserted that she had said "what about Echinacea?"

Leaving Valence a little unwell but full of Echinacea we headed for the small port of Le Pouzin. I saw nice scenery but couldn't summon the energy to find out what it was.

We arrived in Le Pouzin via one lock  with no problems. Luckily the place was deserted and had a good dock to moor too. I was now done for and nurse Caroline stepped in. Sadly no uniform.  To bed doused up with various pain killers and cough mixtures, banished to the forepeak in the interests of protecting the rest of the crew from disease, all seemed well. I only began to worry again when Caro asked what the emergency numbers were in France.

Having seen nothing of Le Pouzin but strangely feeling a great deal better the next day, we made for Cruas. A small marina 11 km down the Rhone with only one lock on the way. We had to wait 40 minutes but curiously I spent much of the time watching some kind of bird of prey doing a bit of shopping.

On arrival at the small port of Cruas I was still feeling a little frail and although we much appreciate the French going to all this trouble to canalise and make the Rhone navigable unfortunately the town was now 2km from the port. So bone shakers it was. I wasn't sure I would survive.

Cruas. What a spot.

An entire medieval village virtually still intact, in fact in parts still being lived in. What an unexpected cure for a cold. I mean Flu.

The town council was slowly renovating it and making parts of it habitable as Gites. What a good way to preserve the architecture. Of course it was closed but you could crawl all over it as a school visit was doing. It was closed because it was out of season. We have worked out there are three seasons in France, too early in the season, the season when everyone is on holiday and out of season when everyone has gone home. The 11th Century Church was lovely but closed.

Yes, neatly framed between a cement works and a nuclear power station, Cruas is a gem. To celebrate our find, and my recovery, we had a beer at the local  ' La Taverne' where we struggled to understand the waiter until we learnt that this was because he was Glaswegian and was speaking English.

Have you noticed when you have the perfect backdrop and a beautiful model there is always some  bloody car in the way of every picture.

After a pleasant evening in Cruas surrounded by Canadians we left for Viviers which looked equally as interesting as Cruas.

 But the port was closed due to silting up. We watched a barge go in, mess about churning up the mud and leave before we poked our nose in and decided against it. So our next best was 30 km down river at a little village called St Etienne des Sorts.

In order to reach St Etienne we had to go through the deepest lock on the Rhone at Bollene which coincided with our 1000 nautical mile mark.

Deep dark and scary. Yes both of them.

As it happened on arrival at St Etiene there was another boat 'Baloo' parked up on the little jetty which could only accommodate two boats.

 Baloo was one of the Canadian boats that had been at Cruas. As we finished tying up the crew of Baloo turned up to point out that there were no supplies available.

A quick look at Caro's whizzy phone map showed a supermarket just across the river 2 km away but the nearest bridge was 20 km away. I suggested using the dinghy to drop Caro and a bike off across the river but she didn't reply, although it suddenly felt chilly.

So we sat there contemplating various tins when, would you believe it, a yellow pizza van appeared and parked right next to the dock. All Canadian and British needs met. How do they do it?

We have found that in certain conditions the shape of your bottom can lead to slapping. This evening a little boisterousness in the air had lead to some slapping and Mrs K was having none of it. She retired to the fore peak to avoid it while I stayed in the stern and put up with it. Well I was just pleased that after all this time there was not a single barnacle to be seen. Fresh water leaves your bottom very clean.