Sailing uphill is hard.

Without our gazelle like crew we embark on the Nivernais rise to Baye D'Etang, stopping off first at Chitry where we cycle to Corbigny and attend the biggest car boot sale in France. Then a stop  at Sardy the night before, to give us the strength to climb the 16 locks and three tunnels to Baye. The reward, we are told, is that you can swim at Baye and there is some civilisation. 

There was none at Sardy. Just some artists trying to make up for there being no patisserie or indeed any food outlet whatsoever.

But there was some nice pictures dotted around to soften the disappointment. I've taken a picture of a picture of a  bus stop inside a bus stop. Now that is art.

We noticed that the first of the flight of locks had a ladder on one side but no bollards on the same side.

As you see the ladder to climb out of the lock is on the left but the beautifully painted bollards are on the right making it a tad tricky for a shorthanded crew to get out and run round to tie on. To make it even more difficult a hire boat caught us up and we let it in first, as we had had a bad experience before being at the front, so we couldn't reach the ladder anyway. 

Luckily for us the lock keepers were helpful and the German family in the hire boat had an excellent ten year old son who was out like a shot and took our lines as well. He earnt himself a Twix for his efforts. 

However after the second lock we were told that there was a problem ahead and there would be a wait of an hour. This being a French hour it turned in to two and then incorporated lunch too, making a three our wait in a lock and prolonging the already long day. I felt that Mrs K was beginning to show some small signs of stress with the tell tale signs in looks that indicated that this was all my bloody fault. Although the lock cottagers were very pretty.

Note the overworked, single bollard.

The Tunnels capped it all. Hermy steers reasonably well but does like a bit of sea room to waggle about in. The Collancelle tunnels were about as wide as a London sewer and just as dark. Our decision not to splash out on a football ground floodlight lamp but plumb for a 13 candlepower Le Clerc childs camping torch might have been a mistake. Caro hung off the starboard beam  with our 12 Euro torch shouting helpful things like left, left, right no back! back! crunch - shit.

Here we are about to enter the first of three, the first is reasonably short but the last is over 700 metres.

We did make it to Baye relatively unscathed with Caro only making veiled threats to kill. Although very tired we were rewarded with this lovely scene to end our day.

However if you look closely between the last two fenders there a strategically placed ropes, some called  springs by sailors. They are designed to prevent the boat moving backwards or forwards. You will also notice their proximity to the recessed step.  As I got off the boat to go and pay for the night my trailing left foot managed to trap a rope between my heel and my sandal. 

There was some one legged hopping and yelping just to draw everyone's attention before my right leg realised the importance of a left leg and dumped me heavily on the ground with that unmistakable thud that can only come from an upended overweight, tired,54 year old. 

I lay there strangely contented listening to the stress drain out of my hysterically laughing wife while several concerned onlookers came to my assistance. A delightful end to a long day enjoying myself.