Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Supermoon Makes Waves

Littlehampton - Monday 28th September 2015


See my Water and Art blog for the series of sketches I did in the area around the East Pier.

A combo of astronomical events meant that the suite of spring tides at the end of September could  be particularly high: 

Spring tide – full moon with the Sun, Earth and Moon in line
Supermoon – i.e. full moon at its closest point to Earth in its elliptical orbit (perigee)
Full moon a few days after the autumnal equinox.

The Sunday night was clear, the full moon indeed very bright. This so-called supermoon, a bit bigger and brighter than an average full moon, was the first full moon after the autumnal equinox , and a Blood Moon, with a total lunar eclipse coinciding with the supermoon (perigee). Full moon  02:52 GMT 28/09/15.


The timings of supermoons, lunar eclipses and predicted tide heights follow a roughly nineteen year (18.6y) cycle governed by the elliptical orbit of the Moon around the Earth and its position in the plane of the ecliptic, the Earth's orbit around the Sun. This goes some way to explaining the run of high spring tides during the past two years which have made for some good Severn Bores and high tidal ranges around the UK coast. However, the weather makes a big difference. This two year period has included some storms and tidal surges leading to widespread coastal flooding. Most notably: December 5th 2013 (North Sea), early January and February 2014 (both mainly affecting western coasts facing towards the Atlantic. All these episodes involved deep low pressure systems with less air pressing down on the sea making for a higher tide and strong winds. This time, the EA had a few precautionary flood alerts out for low lying and exposed areas of coast around England and Wales, along with the tidal  Severn, Wye and Thames. The potential for tidal trouble, however, was very much moderated by high pressure over the UK and Scandinavia, a steady 1035 millibars on Sunday and Monday where we were in south Hampshire. Higher atmospheric pressure pressing down on the sea would reduce the tide height from that predicted, 20cm for 1035 millibars (Port of Southampton tide tables). Anticyclones, too make for light winds or still conditions. 

Given the calm weather / high pressure, I'd expected a calm day like the one I'd had along our local coast the day before. I came then,  with a 40cm x 30cm folder-cum-board of loose watercolour papers prepared over the weekend with loose collage, along with  watercolour, some acrylic ink, pens / pencils. Also a new A5 lightweight paperback sketchbook for quick drawings.   When I was here last month (17th August) I mentioned bringing right materials for the conditions, especially when I go my more regular painting / sketching spots with a view to tackling a particularly subject, invariably, too assuming particular weather. 


As it was an equinoctial spring tide,  I expected it to be rough at the Arun mouth when I arrived at Littlehampton East Beach around 11:00am, about an hour before high tide (12:04h BST), with the flood tide and currents running at full pelt. However, I hadn't expected the large breaking waves and swells, all amplified in the narrow harbour entrance making it look even rougher than usual. A red Fire and rescue motorboat, thankfully as far as I knew, not needed. No yachts attempting to sail in or out of the harbour. I've often seen yachtsmen rising to the challenge of the fast flowing choppy water between the piers on the rising tide. 


I’d say the waves in narrow harbour entrance were well over 1m crest-trough. Some were nearer 2m and splashing over pier wall, splashing gawpers on the East Pier, of which there were quite a few. 

 Apart from having to watch my folder of papers in case it blew away, I wished I’d brought the proper camera. Though the camera on my new phone is relatively good as mobile cameras go, it was designed for much gentler conditions than those before now. The case got in the way, I couldn’t see the screen in polarising sunglasses and I was nervous about it getting splashed and dropping it over the side of the pier.  With the sun shining in a virtually clear sky and south facing coast during the middle of the day, the light was dazzling. Hence the wonky horizons in the photos here, and video shoot panning down to my feet and a stray finger. (Link to YouTube).

For drawing I made do with quick pencil scribbles my lightweight sketchbook. I coloured them later in the beach shelter behind the coastguard tower as I ate my sandwiches. I sheltered there as much from the dazzling sun as the northeasterly.

Another drawing on the East Pier around 2pm, the tide by then ebbing. Now things had calmed down and the splash hazard had abated, it was easier. I was no longer straight into sun.  The harbour entrance between the piers was still full of waves, with the strong ebbing large waves, standing waves.   An interesting interplay of wave forms and subtle patterns on water as it caught light, the strong currents now running against them. 




After a coffee in town, I returned to the East Beach around 4pm. The tide was now well out, well clear of shingle and breakwaters, revealing a broad, flat beach of mainly sand and the low wall along the river downstream of the East Pier. People were walking out onto beach. The wind now light, it felt reasonably warm.


I finally made use of one of my pieces of prepared paper: on the East Pier for about an hour as the tide continued to recede. Because of train timings (I had to head home by 6pm / not so many after that) I had to leave the shore about half an hour before low water (18:00h BST). Even by then,  the water had receded almost out to beacon on the east side of the harbour entrance. A lone figure at far end of sandbank.



Wednesday, September 23, 2015

The Four Horsemen of the Thames

Viewing and Sketching the Four Horsemen of the Thames

22nd September

The four horsemen here being Jason Decaires Taylor’s Rising Tide – sculpture along the Thames shore just downstream of Vauxhall Bridge / near MI6, pertaining to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, climate change and humans’ carry-on-regardless use of fossil fuels. They're there until the end of this month as part of the Totally Thames festival. This is the latest in a series of underwater / sometimes underwater sculptures he’s created around the world, among them the world's first underwater sculpture park off Grenada in the West Indies. This one is high and dry for a few hours around low tide, though it's vital to know tide times and pick your time. Photos on the Totally Thames website show the horsemen amid varying degrees of submersion by the tide. I needed the tide to be out during the afternoon. Today low tide was around 14:15h BST. A neap tide (coefficient  minus 5%).



Life’s a Beach, someone had chalked on the rusty cover of a pipe coming out in the grey brick wall of the embankment just downstream of the "Duck Boats" slipway.

I got there at about low tide and stayed for nearly two hours sketching beneath the wall of the embankment. I worked in pens, in my lightweight A4 London sketchbook. The middle two riders were young boys; two aloof looking suited men either side of them. In place of the horses’ heads were petrol pumps (the middle two on concrete platforms); the other two nodding donkey oil pumps. All now well high and dry on the largely shingle shore of flint, brick. I picked up a few bits of broken pottery. Figures and animals have never been my strong point. Struggled with the proportions, but easier than usual in that they weren’t going anywhere. I left the shore at 4pm, as the tide was beginning to rise visibly, though still someway to go before it wetted the horses' hooves. By now it was getting chilly. I still had the National Original Print Exhibition to visit downriver at Bankside Gallery. 







Affluents and Effluents

Affluents here being French for tributaries. Near Vauxhall Bridge and MI6, too is the outflow of the River Effra.  Not so much a tributary as a drain - the River Effra Storm Relief Channel. This is one of the Lost Rivers of London, culveted,  and relegated to a drain. It's  all got to go somewhere, yet it’s always a shame when rivers are banished like this. As now, just the last fraction of the stream now seeing daylight, flowing across the Thames shore at low tide. 

Until this evening's sunset behind Chelsea and Albert Bridges glimpsed from the train, the Thames didn't look that inviting either, a sullen grey-brown colour. This turbidity is natural, due to the sediment load and tidal currents. Even knowing that, it didn't look clean. The potential for sewage-polluted storm effluent after the heavy rain is well documented. Bazelgette's Victorian sewerage system is now creeking under the strain of a growing modern city, with the urgent need for expensive upgrade (Costing the Earth - Tunnel Beneath the Thames - BBC Radio 4, 22/02/12)


These are some notes about London's Lost Rivers I made during the summer:

Amid a prolonged, infernally frustrating at times connectivity drought, I’ve been turning again to CDs, live radio and offline digital files, including those quietly recorded on the Bug, mostly 2005 to about 2009 or 2010. Among them, a couple of recordings I made of BBC Radio 3’s Words and Music. One being The South Country. Nothing in there saying who the poets were, Edward Thomas may well have been in there, the focus of many of my Bibliophile's recent readings, on Hampshire. Lots of mention of familiar places, following the line of the South Downs and Oh to be in Hampshire now…Felt quite emotional and a yearning to go back there, though preferably when we’ve had the hard light of midsummer. What with going to France and my post-hols reveries, the Downs have somewhat taken a back seat. Much more pleasant walking on them than pavement pounding along the A27 corridor. I could do with getting my fitness back and losing some flab, too.

Then there was the one on Rivers. They repeated at least a shortened version of this last Christmas Eve, but being Christmas Eve, amid everything going on , I didn’t give it my full attention. It was about all sizes of rivers up to the Mississippi (blues lamenting New Orleans flooding). What struck me most was a reading of UA Fanthorpe’s - Rising Damp , “Beneath our feet they lie low...”. The names of the lost rivers read as a role call of the dead:

Effra, Graveney, Falcon, Quaggy,
Wandle, Walbrook, Tyburn, Fleet

Then at the end, the mythical rivers of the underworld.

This was an apt quote on the Caught By the River site, caughtbytheriver.net (not UA Fanthorpe, ‘A river can sometimes be diverted but is a very hard thing to lose altogether.’
(J.G. Head: paper read to the Auctioneers’ Institute in 1907)

I haven’t found the date the poem was written yet, though UA Fanthorpe was 1929-2009.

After more searching I came across this radio clip from last October: BBC World Service radio clip, 24/10/14 - London's Lost Rivers. London's Lost Rivers: A Walker's Guide Paperback – 8 Sep 2011


The programme was primarily about the most famous lost river, the Fleet, probably the one least likely to be “daylighted”, given it’s been banished beneath a railway line around Kings Cross, busy roads beneath the Holborn Viaduct, not to mention it being a sewer since Victorian times. It featured Tim Bolton, author of the book London’s Lost Rivers

In the broadcast he said, “As the city grew, rivers tended to get in the way [of development]…a problem that had to be solved.”.

It didn’t help their cases either that prior to Bazelgette’s C19th sewerage system, the Fleet in particular, was an open sewer.

Mention of poems about London by Tom Chivers, too – Jacob’s Island (the Neckinger).



Notes on the Severn

Worcester 4th September 2015



It had been a while (more than eight years) since I'd last visited Worcester, high time, then to check up on the tally of floodmarks at the Watergate along the east side of the river near the Cathedral. They only mark the higher ones - otherwise they'd quickly run out of wall - of which there are now about twenty. As I've done elsewhere, I got my Cycling Man-cum-Bibliophile to stand under some of them for scale.

Since I’d last looked, there had at least two new additions – July 2007 and February 2014. Both were well above his head, 2007 was the higher of the two. February 2014 was not far below it, and just above November 2000. All three floods topped everything else noted for the twentieth century, but for 1947. March 20th 1947 was itself not far below the all-times highs recorded on the brass plaque, 1770 and 1672.

According to BBC News Hereford & Worcester ( River Severn at “record” level, 13/02/14), the flood February 2014 flood peaked at 5.67m at Barbourne, just north of the city centre.

The July 2007 flood was one of only two summer floods recorded here, the other being in June 1924.

My reading around since our French holiday about floods on both sides of the English Channel goes to show that high waters and extreme weather are nothing new, though some years have been more notorious than others. Invariably when mentions at date, my thought is a flood somewhere or other. 1910, one of them. There are two floodmarks here for the December. The Loire was high around this time as well (from November) and, the previous winter (from 21st January) was the Great Paris Flood. I have just been reading Jeffrey H. Jackson’s historical appraisal of that, Paris Under Water: How the City of Light Survived the Great Flood of 1910 (NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). It was protracted and came after another of those persistently wet winters, saturated ground compounding the problem. 1947 was a particularly cruel time, coming during the aftermath of WWII and straight after an especially cold winter. There were floods all around the UK and on many rivers it still is the record high for the last century. The autumn and winter of 1960 sounded very like that of 2000, the jetstream most likely stuck in a similar blocking pattern bringing in one low pressure system after another. Again flooding over large parts of the country.

University of Gloucester – Insight –Worcester – Your community and its flood history | 09/09/15
From the Watergate we continued along the towpath to Diglis Lock, where the Worcester & Birmingham Canal enters the Severn. The fifty-eight locks are numbered in ascending order starting with no.1 at Diglis.



During a series of visits to Worcester during the 2000s, I regularly walked and sketched in the area around Diglis Lock and Diglis Basin, attracted by the colourful narrowboats moored in the basin above the lock and the lock keeper’s cottage. I’d known the makeover was coming in February 2004, when a local bemoaned it to me, along with the mess that would be left behind once the winter floods had receded. By our last visit in spring 2007, it the big development near the lock –  luxury apartments, the usual same old stuff – was more or less complete, though at that point not all occupied. There’s since been similar so-called gentrification around the basin, with brick warehouses either being converted into Property or pulled down to make way for it. I’d rather that than paving over the countryside, but it all looked very samey. The basin itself now looked too prim, proper and over-controlled, complete with petty Private Moorings notices, hadn’t been there before and probably weren’t necessary.

We walked around to the far side of the basin and the adjoining one, then along the Canal. Near the Commandery it passed under the main road. Sidbury lock. Civil War swords and helmets on the wall of the road bridge. We carried on to the next bridge and turned left along George Street, near Asda and Staples. This brought us into the main shopping area / high street.

A mural along the canal above the Sidbury Lock - a refreshing antidote to the prim-proper vibe downstream.



In due course, we made our way through there back to the Severn and wandered towards the racecourse. 

Bridgnorth 6th September 2015

My sketch of the bridge and Ridley's Seeds
On a fine sunny Sunday morning, we headed north to Bridgnorth. Glimpses of Brown Clee Hill along the road into Bridgnorth from the south. I noted the satnav error signs at the turning down to the Hampton Loade ferry were still there. Particularly after finding ourselves inadvertently boarding the Purbeck ferry - thanks to blindly following the satnav about a month ago - I was keeping an eye on the map. Hampton Loade is now the only remaining ferry crossing on the Severn, walk-on ferry only. There are no road bridges between the Bridgnorth bypass bridge and Bewdley.

Arriving in Bridgnorth, we parked in the large car park at the top. A French / Italian market in the high street. We made our way from there, turning left at The Shakespeare, with its old style road signs, to the Mary Magdalene Parish Church: the one above the cliff, overlooking the river, built out of lighter sandstone (not the local red sandstone), tall clear glass windows and green copper domed clock tower. From there, we followed the path to the Cartway, the steep street going down to the bridge.

As I’d expected at this time of the year, the Severn was fairly low, though there were still some strong currents in the deeper stretches we saw along our walk. At the bridge, I watched the vortices – a gentler version of what we’d seen on the Loire at Gennes back in May. The opposing currents ensuing as the water flows around the obstruction of the bridge pillar were particularly clear here with the peaty brown, water displaying some froth like peaty brown ale.


Staying on the west side of the river, we began following the Severn Way south, heading under the higher bypass bridge a bit further on. We got as far as Lower Forge / Haye’s house before turning back. We’d rather wished we’d taken the Severn Valley Railway to Arley or Hampton Loade and walked from there. Compared to the stretch of river between Arley and Bewdley, the stretch we saw today was disappointing. I’d hoped to get a bit further, but we both felt the heat walking into the sun. Easier on the way back when it wasn’t in our eyes. There were short stretches through wooded areas (path narrow, sometimes steep and a bit muddy so had to watch our footing) with glimpses of the river through the trees / undergrowth. For much of the way, though, it was open fields with trees and hedges growing along the steep banks hiding the view. Creeping development spoiled it most of all. I didn’t mind the large factory like agricultural building further up the hill so much. More the proliferation of mobile home / chalet parks along the river, one of them crawling all the way up the hillside. Closer to Bridgnorth, bland cloney anywhere appartments spoiled the view back to the hill where the High Town was built. Near Daniel’s Mill, we had to divert up a road around a new private development. It didn’t go on long, but it’s the sort of thing I fear creeping in insidiously in the future, depriving us of the precious little publicly accessible riverside we have now. As we hadn’t been this way for 10+ years, I can’t remember what it was like before: I’ve a feeling the new house may have been a pub, subsequently renovated or torn down and replaced with the residence here now. Further along, near Hayes House, Lower Forge, the riverside path looked narrow and a bit overgrown. Not clear which way to go around the houses here. A path marked behind them on the OS map. We’d hoped we could rejoin the Severn Way further on from the B’road at the top, but when we got to it, a steady stream of traffic, no footway. As we didn’t fancy walking along it, even for a short distance, we turned round at this point. Deliberate or otherwise, the signposting of PRW around here wasn’t as through as it is closer to home. 


Walking back was more pleasurable. It helped that we weren’t walking into the sun and it didn’t feel so hot. I don’t know whether there really was more of the river in view this way or whether it just felt like it.

Stopped first in one of the anglers’ recesses to quickly sketch the red sandstone outcrop across the river. This was Permian, the Bridgnorth Sandstone on which the High Town is built, formed in a dessert, hence cross bedding formed by wind blown sand dunes. Ducks beneath it. Glimpses of a kingfisher.

Further along an open, shallow stretch of water around an islet. Lots of Canada geese, some of them drifting with the current in the deeper water around the islet.

Back in Bridgnorth, we had iced lattes very refreshing. We then split up for an hour to look a bit more around the town, and me cross the bridge to the green area to sketch the view looking back across the river to Ridley’s Seeds. Tricky against the light, the sun looking lower down with the hill behind the town. The river near here divides into two channels around an islet. The channel on the nearside was shallow, often dries up in summer. Children paddling in the shallow water in front of the green sloping down to the river. Heard people commenting on the improvement in weather, come September, compared to August.




Around the old town, various historical signs and frontages of shops, pubs, particularly in the Cartway area. Among them High Town, with pointing hand; This cave was occupied as a dwelling until the year 1856. I also spotted a couple of plaques taking the piss: a small brass shield shaped sign near the front doorway to a terrace cottage – On this spot in 1832 nothing happened. A larger squarish plaque with white letters on turquoise – On this site 5th September 1792 nothing happened






La Loire Vivante Part 2

Fleuves en Confluence –Soyez Prudent - Candes-St-Martin and Montsoreau 5th May 

The Loire was in a rough mood as we followed the road along the top of the floodbank on the north side and crossed the bridge near Montsoreau. The water brown and turbid, current still strong, swirling under the bridge. It was also choppy and agitated, with waves, by the strong westerly wind funneling along the valley from the Atlantic. Just downstream of the bridge, power lines crossed the river, emanating from the Centrale Nucléaire upstream. Two large red and white striped double pylons, on either side. Spheres at intervals along the power lines to “remind birds” flying above the river.

Across the bridge, we passed troglodyte dwellings in the cliff on our right, then turned right at the T-junction and parked in a car park close to a metre wide stream, still running quite fast after the rain. This was the Arceau which rises near Fontevraud and the Abbaye Royale which we were to visit the following day. After crossing the road, we took a lane up the hill signposted Moulin de Tranchée, our walk to the Panorama roughly following the GR3 route eastwards along the tuffeau ridge. Further up the hill, the path opened out, with large tuffeau pebbles beneath our feet. Ahead of us uphill was the Moulin de Tranchée windmill, set on the edge of a vineyard. It looked slightly foreboding against the changing cloudscape behind. Turning left near the windmill, we took the path through the vineyard, vines at this time of year freshly in leaf. Views back to the windmill and westwards along the still very choppy looking Loire and the road bridge. Near here too, our first views upriver to the Centrale Nucléaire de Chinon nuclear power station came into view. Twin masses of cloud from the cooling towers rose to mingle with the still fairly low level cloud base.

After the vineyard, a more fiddly mix of paths and lanes, though everywhere fairly quiet. We took it a fairly slow pace, enjoying garden flowers (irises), buildings etc. The final stretch, along a narrow lane near a farm, took us up to the Panorama overlooking the Loire-Vienne confluence.

The Confluence 

The Panorama / viewpoint was in an open green area on the hillside above the confluence. Near the centre was, a semi-circular turret housing a board pointing out the landmarks, mainly looking east, in French and English. The land around the confluence on the nearside very wooded, everywhere a verdant green. There were several handy benches for my energetic sketching, and lunch. I did three very rough, fast-paced drawings, having to watch that my sketchbook didn’t blow away in the wind which was particularly strong here. A long line of cloud ran above the Loire. The (la) Vienne was at the foot of the hill, coming in from the south, spanned by a road bridge, crossed by cyclists in bright red / orange tops. There were several handy benches for my energetic sketching, and lunch. ,   slope down towards the wooded steep slope. Carl saw some orchids.  Did three very rough, fast-paced drawings, having to watch that my sketchbook didn’t blow away in the wind which was particularly strong here. A long line of cloud ran above the Loire. 

At the turrent a bit of information about both rivers, both brown and turbid looking and fairly high with the sandbank at the apex of the join completely covered, though the Vienne was the calmer of the two. 

The power station among the landmarks, being harder to hide here than at Saumur, even though they’ve reduced the height of the cooling towers to 30m “in respect of the surrounding countryside”. Apparently, it was the first nuclear power station to be built in France, in 1957.  It’s been operating since 1963. It uses water from the Loire to cool the pressurised water reactors . The French have always been particularly big on nuclear power, still generating 70% of their electricity. There are four nuclear power stations along the Loire, though I think this one has the largest capacity.  The Vienne – chocolate brown is the Loire’s biggest tributary. It is slightly longer than the Severn, 354 km (220 miles). 

https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vienne_(rivi%C3%A8re_fran%C3%A7aise)

Along the Loire through Candes-St-Martin and Montsoreau

From the panorama, we took a path / track down the hill which brought us out on the north side of the hill near the church at Candes-St-Martin. Seemingly yet another landmark in the Loire valley undergoing extensive repair and maintenance. Much of the slate roof was covered in scaffolding, as was the tuffeau wall beneath it. There were vertical cracks between the stonework along one of the walls near a side entrance. We had a quick look round inside which was fairly plain and simply furnished. Comparing and contrasting the condition of the stonework inside and out showed all the more reason for the restoration work. Inside, protected from the weather, the dressed stone blocks, even more so the stone carved figures, bosses etc were in near-perfect condition. Outside, exposed to the elements - especially rainwater which is naturally mildly acidic and reacts chemically with limestone (calcium carbonate). Some of the figures near the north doorway outside were missing heads, though hard to tell whether this was weathering again or deliberate sabotage / desecration.

We then walked along the narrow lane at the foot of the hill, parallel to the Loire. Just south of the church was a small area of quay alongside the river, with a couple of flat-bottomed boats moored, one of them had water in and didn’t look water worthy without bailing out or patching up the leaks. Though the waves were easing off with the drop in wind speed, the water still looked rough. A view back upriver towards the confluence. The Vienne was still making its mark well downstream of the confluence: a subtle change in the tone of the turbid brown water, looking northwards straight across the Loire, the on the nearside slightly darker. A tree trunk on the submerged sandbank at the  apex of the confluence, a cormorant perched on it. About six feet up the wall to our right was a floodmark dated1982. This had been another turbulent floody time with several floods along the Loire and the Seine between January 1982 and May 1983, but I took it to be the December - another tempête / crue  de Noël. There was another of those deep low pressure systems bringing lots of rain, like Tempête Dirk in 2013, though it had been a wet winter in northern Europe generally. Much of the flood input came from the Vienne. 


Les grandes crues de l'hiver 1982 et du printemps mai 1983

Leaving Candes and entering Montsoreau, the riverside opened out. Just past the houseboat were steps down the levée, doubling up as a height gauge. Measurements in metres relative to the base summer level of the Loire. The top of the steps was at about 6.5m. They still needed another metre of post at the top to accommodate the big ones. The three biggest historical floods were during the middle of the nineteenth century: 1846, 1856 and 1866. Nearly didn’t see it with the vegetation, but both the latter two were marked on the south side of the post (facing the road). Both were over 7m, 1856 was the very big one. 1866 not far below it.

Montsoreau Château

Reached by crossing the road along the river and going up the hill and round onto the grassy area round the back, where the moat would have been. Entry was 9.20 each, this would also get us 30% off our tickets for the Abbaye Royale at Fontevraud on Wednesday. Though I’d longed to get back to the Loire valley, when it came to the châteaux, I hadn't been that bothered. I don't tend to do stately homes back home and I tend to prefer ruined castles for their artistic atmosphere to intact, furnished ones. This one, though was a particularly good. Not just for the views along the Loire back to the confluence and downstream towards Saumur, or the troglodytes in the cliff to the south, but the Son et Lumière – interplay of sound and lighting effects - and related galleries inside. The focus was very much on the river, starting with the son-et-lumière display in the basement beneath the east wind, about the sailing barges which plied the Loire until the late nineteenth century. I thought it was beautifully done, the lighting effects evoking the changing colours of the water. 


It’s sad in a way that navigation along much the Loire came to a stop. Until the nineteenth century it was a major trade route in western Europe. Now it is officially navigable for about the last 35 miles down from Nantes where it is tidal, though there are still smaller boats, a few pleasure boats (such as the one we saw at Saumur on Sunday), some houseboats at Montsoreau and Saumur, fishing boats.  I gathered, too from the chateau displays / photographic exhibition in the south wing that they are trying to recreat some of the sailing barges out of historical interest.  We saw one at Gennes (see later) later in the week. 

The decline in commercial navigation came during the C19th, for much the same reasons as British waterways fell into disuse from that time: the coming of railways, followed by roads. The Loire’s temperamental regime made it harder. Before the arrival of steamboats, sailing against the current could take several days longer than going with it. Keeping a navigable channel open during dry spells required a lot of work. 


The present level of navigation with pleasure boats, a few small barges, etc is all good, but really it’s refreshing to see a river free of bigger modern boats and everything that goes with them. All the more if opening up navigation meant building large dams which would wreck the character of the river completely, noise, pollution, increased crowding, the visual intrusion. From catching the odd TV advert,  I get the distinct impression that every other big boat on the Rhine and Danube is an industrial size cruiser. Some of the sea-going cruise ships, including the Queen Mary 2 were built at St. Nazaire at the mouth of the Loire. They are now a key feature of Southampton, but globally, they can be a  visual intrusion in small ports or off small islands.




La Vienne at Chinon - 7th May


The Loire looked calmer today with the lighter winds, brighter weather. Water much more reflective. Water level now falling slowly and looking a better colour in the sunshine, though on the way back from Chinon, noticed swirling currents as we crossed the bridge near Montsoreau which made it look rougher than those we'd seen on the Vienne at Chinon. Take it that a slow rise in water level over days is melting snow, a rapid rise - seemingly within 24 hours at Saumur last weekend - is run-off along the main river and its larger tributaries after heavy, prolonged rainfall. See why they built the big (10m above base summer level) levées, like the one the road we took today ran along. Village on right bank near the cottage and facing Ile de Millocheau called St. Lambert des Levées.

On the way to Chinon along the north bank of the Loire and across to Montsoreau in the calmer weather this morning, the cloud base at cirrus level, the cloud generated by the cooling towers of the nuclear power station was much harder to miss. We saw them from the tuffeau hills on Sunday and Tuesday, upriver in the distance, but then the cloud base was much lower. This morning, there were three pillars rising vertically then, on meeting higher level winds, they took a ninety degree turn north, merging into what looked like a giant mouse like animal in a long pair of trousers, extending two legs down to the ground, then once across the bridge and us having seen its reflection in the river, it put down another leg. When we got to Chinon, it lost the legs and became more rounded and a bit less obvious as cumulus billowed up naturally and it became cloudier generally. Even so, looking across the Vienne to the chateau, it was there to the northeast, still looking different from the natural cumulus.

Leaving the road from Montsoreau towards the abbey, took a D road up the hill above Cande St. Martin and came down to a road south following the Vienne for a while. Glimpses of it through the trees. Verdant woodland. Everywhere looking lush.

Satnav tried to direct us onto a cycle path at one point, but otherwise a smoother run in on the south side of the Vienne, avoiding the busy town. Found parking near a campsite just upstream of the bridge named in honour of Eleanor of Aquitane.


Crossed over this bridge and walked up to the château. The Vienne was still looking very brown, a chocolatey brown. Near the bridge it had a strong, swirling currents, though generally, it had a more tranquil feel to it than the Loire. Its width was on a more English scale. It's about the same length as the Severn, though it has a bigger catchment size, boosted by La Creuse and its affluents. When the Vienne is lower here, it has sandbanks like the Loire. A small island, Île de Tour, where the bridge crossed.

Town busy, with a sense of things building up for the second French bank holiday in a week, this one commemorating VE Day. Quieter up hill near the château, reached via the tree-lined slope above the town. Found the entrance and had a look round, €8.20 each.


The château here is the Fortress Royale. It had close associations with the Plantagenets and Joan of Arc, who helped boot them out of France and replace them with King Charles VII and end the Hundred Years War. Building of the fortress began at the beginning of the C12th. Added to in stages after that by John Lackland and Philippe Augustus? Also associations with the legend of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, something bigged up for the kids in the form of a mock round table, dressed up statues to stand behind etc. Mention, too of the Monty Python and the Holy Grail which sent up the King Arthur thing. Particularly after being reminded of that, both found it hard to take things too seriously, keeping our voices down in case any fellow Brits within listening distance. All the more as we entered through the gateway in the clocktower just as Joan of Arc would have done, only she was on horseback. Above the path here, someone trimming the hedge. The sound of hedge trimmers against a weird combo of background sounds playing on loop. I suppose this was to suggest the sound of horses' hooves on cobble, followed by a fast paced gallop through the gate. It sounded to me like wellies squelching through boggy ground, or toilets flushing. Then, to the rousing instrumental heard time and again as we looked round, I mentally added calls of La Loire, la Loire, la Loire! Mental picture, too, of toilets flushing, remember Friday afternoon silliness in Heath End French lessons during the period a supply teacher sat in while the usual one was on maternity leave - the sea, the beach and toilets flushing. Shortly after this we climbed the steps up to the various floors of the clocktower, noting a bath / washroom / laundry prior to the modern luxuries of piped, warm water and washing machines. A washing line with pants on. Several rugs made from skin of wild boar, deer, with head, legs, hooves still attached.

Walking back through the town at the foot of the hill, spotted a newsstand headline outside shop with words "regime sec". Two or three words above it, which I can't remember, implied something happening to bring on some sort of regime sec, but don't know whether this meant a meteorological / synoptic switch back to drier weather, a seasonal drop in water level after being up more than a bit this week - they talk of the Loire's very varied / capricious flow regime. Or could simply be an annoying political metaphor.

Took the audio-visual sequences about Richard the Lionheart and Joan of Arc more seriously, though still found Smiths lyrics intruding, the ones involving the  grisly death of Joan of Arc, albeit with 1980s mod cons, "As the flames rose to her Roman nose and her walkman started to melt". A room later on with various depictions of Joan of Arc through the ages from around the world, including US ones ref WWI. Also a statue of Joan of Arc in the town. As we share a first name, Carl thought of photographing me standing by it, only to be disappointed when we found it surrounded by a car park and market stalls at the bottom of the hill when we walked round the town later on.



Around the wall of the fortress, several towers to look round. The watchtower had stone carvings of dogs looking down from the roof area, though this was not the Dog's Tower, named after C15 kennel for hunting hounds, but was actually used as a kitchen. a table packed with replica food, sausages, ham etc. hanging above it. From the towers along the main wall along the west side, views down to the town and along the Vienne. Two more distant bridges - a railway bridge reflected in the water to the south. To the north, the road bridge we went over by mistake trying to find a way into town, but sat-nav mistook cycle path (no turn onto) for road.
Lunch on deckchairs on the green area in the centre of the fortress.

Leaving the fortress, we had a look round town. Square filled with people wining and dining on big lunches. Road we took south took us to a residential area, which was a bit tedious. Made our way back into the centre then crossed back over the river to sketch the view of the fortress reflected in the water. Saw a family of ducklings for the first time this holiday, the Loire clearly too much for them until it drops back down.

Before leaving, crossed back over the Vienne and strolled along it towards the railway bridge beneath an avenue of trees. People playing petanque. Funfair being set up. An strange performance from someone up a tree in black robes, speaker attached to laptop playing soundtrack. Some guys with tattoos, fairground guys I guess though seemed easier going / less rough than the ones we get in England. "Ici la Vienne", one of them said to his toddler as they watched the river, or even better "Vive la Vienne".


No Parking in the Whirlpool - Reserved for Fire Crews 




On the way to Gennes, place names indicative of straddling a big floodbank: St. Lambert-des-Levées, then St. Clement-des-Levées. I suppose this was because the road was narrower than near Saumur, but we were particularly aware here of driving along the top of a big, relatively broad floodbank and the height of it above river level. Saw more of the river on the way back, the lanes of the carriageway dividing through the villages.

When we got to Gennes, we crossed over the Loire on a suspension bridge, the Île de Gennes here dividing the channel in two. "Strooth, la Loire!", I called out as we crossed the bridge and I saw the current. Just across the bridge on the left bank, turned right into a picnic area by the river and parked. Sat on one of the seats, had an early packed lunch and sketched. There were several boats moored on the nearside, including a flat-bottomed sailing barge in the style of some of those described at Montsoreau.  to our right, the bridge and a cobbled slipway sloping down to the water. Lower down a signpost partially submerged; all the signs above water, the lower just about. The top one a round no parking symbol, reserved for pompiers (firemen), though the water still had a good metre or so to fall before they could even think about it.

I thought the day before that the Loire was calming down and we'd seen it at its roughest on Tuesday. Here, though, the current was particularly fast and it was so turbulent on the downstream side of the bridge that it was generating a whirlpool, or at least a very powerful vortex 3 or 4m wide. I don't know whether this stretch of river was a particular pinch point. Bridges usually are and I'd guess the eddy we saw was where it was flowing over the partially submerged base of the nearside bridge pillar. Even allowing for the Ile de Gennes, it looked a bit narrower than at Saumur. Don't know what might account for that. Still a while to go (south of Angers) before it hits the harder rock of the Amorican terrain. Different land use, partial silting up of the channel here? The arm facing Gennes was slightly narrower than the one between the island and the right bank, but even there, the current was strong - compare with the Vienne yesterday at Chinon where it was swirling around in the middle of the channel, where it's deepest and the current usually stronger, but nearer the banks calm.

I don't know whether the effect of snow melt has peaked. The water level has definitely been falling slowly but surely. Coming here along the road, I noticed earthy banks reappearing on the far side. I think it may even have dropped 2 or 3 centimetres while we were here at Gennes.


Beneath the bridge pillar, a depth gauge going up to 5m, presumably measured from summer minimum. Facing the car park, an info board about flooding, noting particularly December 1982. 

Meanwhile, the village of Gennes, built on a hill above the river, was quiet on what was lunchtime on the French VE Day anniversary bank holiday. Outside the church, we saw the memorial to the Saumur Cavalry soldiers who tried to stop the Germans crossing the Loire in June 1940, though the river view from here was largely blocked by the recent anti-social planting of evergreens in the adjoining garden. The amphitheatre took time to find and, when we did it was, unfortunately closed.


I'll end with links to some interesting videos I came across youtube I came across after the holiday, produced by Ce n'est pas sorcier. I like their zaney approach, the grue des crues sticking in my mind particularly:


C'est pas sorcier - Loire n°1 des sources à Orléans


C'est pas sorcier - La Loire : d'Orléans à l'estuaire