Like a sandwich of corn beef wedged between two croissants

The best way to think of the last three days is a corn beef sandwich where the two slices of bread are beautifully fluffy croissants.

Day 84 was a breeze and pretty breezy at that. We had a strong easterly wind pushing us along and no rain for the first time in a fortnight. The morning's highlights included crossing from Austria into Slovakia and opening a jar of Nutella at lunchtime. Big news. It was lovely.

By 3pm we were in Bratislava. For the first time, we were foregoing our wild instincts and staying in a hotel. To be fair it was a well-placed and very cheap botel made necessary by an absence of city-camping. Having left anything unvaluable in our cabin, we went for an afternoon in Bratislava.

After a couple of hours walking, a cheapish meal and one of the coolest cafes serving spicy lemonades and chocolate-blueberry cheesecake; I feel adequately informed to summarise Bratislava: it's small for a capital city, it's a great contrast from its noisy neighbor Vienna, it feels very much a part of the Eastern Bloc and the amount of intriguing bars coupled with the cheap prices made us want to experience every nook and cranny. So that's the first slice of bread.

Now for the meaty bit. Day 85 started for me with a long run and a subsequent cracking morning view from Bratislava castle. Day 85 proper began with us making the most of the complementary breakfast included in our botel package. Then, having unlocked the canoe from her perch on some railings, we paddled off into another rainless morning.

Recently we've been following the advice available from the Tour International Danube 2013 report when going around locks and damns. With some fairly ambivalent advice for what will hopefully be the last set of locks for a good 1300km, we went to the right. After scrambling up and down a bank, following a tight channel and climbing through some nettles we decided going right was a bad idea. So we went back through the nettles, upstream up the channel and over the bank.

After consoling ourselves with bananas, we re-entered the water and decided to go for the left and the canal. This meant paddling a good 500m in front of the large dam and with a heavy crosswind across a barrier in the water.

Unfortunately, scarred by the earlier hour lost, we chose not to follow the sport sign for the old danube and instead slowly tacked to the far left hand side. Eventually we made it and began our journey up the canal.

Initially it was scarily wide and we stuck to the side. Then it narrowed and became scarily choppy with a very powerful crosswind. Any nerves that we did have were reinforced by a 10ft sign painted on the black tarmac bank saying no sport boats. And those nerves stayed as we spent the afternoon between motion sickness in the front and mental fatigue from fighting the wind while steering in the back.

Finally we made it to a hydro-powered dam at the end of the section of canal. Reassuringly, our map had told us that the damn opens twice a day to create a huge surge of electricity- when you're about to paddle across the front of the dam this doesn't do much for your confidence.

To start with we opted for the lefthand side for our portage. However, once we'd unloaded the boat, the long walk that the left would require led us to a change of plan. So after some Austrian style malt loaf and a re-loading of the canoe, off we canoed to try the left hand side.

Half way across the front of the hydro-electric dam, Jimmy hears shouting. There's a man waving madly and pointing towards the bank where we've just left. His tone isn't angry but instead frightened. Despite the maltloaf, we were still pretty nervy and our Slovakian friend did not help matters. So we again changed tack and made back for the left again. We unloaded again. And then we started the long drag around the lock.

By the time we reached the otherside, it was half 6 and the sun was going down. I was asleep on my feet and struggling to lift the canoe and we still had a way to go. As we looked on for the best way to get from the height of the lock to the water below, the guardian angel of security guards arrived. He showed us the best way down to the water, helped carry the canoe half the way and leaves me with a positive view of all his Slovakian countrymen.

By the time we reached the water, the sun had disappeared. It was 7 o'clock and we had about 15 minutes before it would be pitch black. We canoed for a good 10 of those minutes. We stopped as soon as we were out of the power station zone. We unloaded with speed brought on by the new fear of being on the water in dangerous darkness. Jimmy set up the tent and I cooked couscous with spicy tuna and mushrooms in the dark. Shattered, we went to sleep, hoping we wouldn't be too conspicuous in the morning. And there's the meat to this sandwich.

We awoke, surrounded by Slovakian soldiers holding machine guns.

Only joking. We awoke to a morning that was not only rain-free but positively sunny. For the first time in a month, we were canoeing t-shirtless again.

And with the sun out, we've had a day as pleasant and reassuring as a warm buttery croissant for breakfast. After a short easier section on the canal, we rejoined the Danube river and so the Slovakia-Hungary border. We snacked and lunched sitting on pebbled beaches and we even squeezed in a nice cafe in the Slovakian half of Komarno. After yesterday's stress it's been a calm day where we've nonetheless made 74kms past autumnal willow trees and sandy coves.

And that's your sandwich: two soft and pleasant days with some dangerous meat in the middle. Now whose Hungary?

Into Vienna.

As we passed the first cruise ship of the day on Monday morning we went through the normal sea goers ritual. A little wave to those on the front deck, a wave to those out on their balconies, some looking in rooms for naked people, some more waving for those on the rear deck and then riding out the swell that churns off the back of the boat. A lone cruise ship is good fun to pass.

After an hour of paddling we passed Durnstein Monastery famed for its courtyard and stunning blue tower. Given the masses of cruise liners in the area, we took a photo from distance and then paddled past as boat after boat passed us, churning up the water. We bobbed in massive swell, splashing around, before yet another cruiser pulled out from its mooring not far in front of us. With a strong current and little room to maneuver we swung around and held a branch for a few minutes while the ship created a little space. Before long we rode back out through the waves, crashing over their peaks and, eventually, beyond in to calmer waters. Loads of cruise ships at once are not so great to pass.

The entire day, in fact, saw very busy water but we had a break, mid-morning, in Krems, where we planned to buy milk. The first thing we walked past was the worlds most disorganized kayak store which we entered and bought some proper water socks, a new pair of waterproof trousers and a watertight phone case to replace one stolen back in July. We still found some milk.

After eating lunch under an information sign, with a roof that provided bad protection from the rain, we paddled to our one portage of the day around a lock. This should have seen the opportunity to avoid the big ships but, instead, it took us down a trucking road where we moved into the trees to let a lorry pass.

But the waves and the boats didn't stop us doing another long day and we camped that night well within range of Vienna. By lunchtime yesterday we were paddling through the edge of the city down the edge of the long, thin, 'Danube island'. Though the morning was uneventful and we got to Vienna quickly, the campsite we expected to be on the island wasn't there. We looked at signs and chatted to cyclists and discovered it was inland on the other side.

An hour later, and after a little confusion, we had carried across the island, paddled the next section of water and sat eating lunch on a well placed picnic bench. Then we walked half a kilometer inland to the camping, before another long walk to a supermarket and back.

Satisfied that we had the important things done, we ate dinner amongst our drying clothes and got the underground train into Vienna's centre. Walking out into a bustling Saturday night atmosphere we managed to take in three cathedrals and a concert in the space of an hour before finding a decent bar. With Austria's most expensive half-pints in hand we mulled over another successful week. We had no real expectations of what the Danube would be like at the beginning, but still we had made Vienna far quicker than expected and dealt fine with another week of rain. We met more good people and saw more great places and now had a day to spend enjoying Vienna.

We finished our drinks and headed back to the campsite. Almost our latest ever night on tour. Not in bed until 11pm. Lads.

And so we paddle on

Drip, plop and drop. Whether its on the outside of the tent, the hood of my coat or the surface of the water... Rain has provided the rhythm of the last 3 days. In fact, those periods when it's not raining actually feel quite strange. So we paddle on.

The first day of this week stands out even among the other 79 we've now paddled. Within an hour wed reached the Austrian border - not a bad way to start the day.

Within a couple of hours we were showing the world how to canoe the continent inexpertly. Arriving at the lock, we couldn't see the buggies that usually ease our carry around the lock. With the poise of an expert, I said I'd take a look. I didn't look very hard so we walked our bags around the lock... To be greeted by the buggies.

This could have been the end to our ineptitude, but the buggies were padlocked. Having spent a good 10 minutes looking for the magical key, we gave up and got ready to tow the canoe on our own crappy wheels. Just as the long trudge was about to begin, I spotted a sign.

The sign was huge, red and said ACHTUNG in capital letters - I did well to spot it. Slowly I guess-translated the words.

"Der... Boat craft... 350m away..." Well that would have been useful 20 minutes ago.

"Der... Key... Ist... Here." And there was the key hanging on the sign. I still think its quite impressive that I'd silenced Jimmy's pointing and got all the way through the second sentence without clocking the key. Did I mention we've now been around about 300 locks? Experts, like I said.

Anyway, we did the lock with the buggy and paddled on. For about half an hour. Last week Jimmy had received a text from family friend Tim Franklyn saying that there were €50 waiting for us behind a bar in Austria. After 2 beautifully seasoned mushroom soups, 1 plate of carp, catfish and haddock, 1 house special beef stuffed with pork, 2 large sidesalads, two huge pancakes stuffed with ice cream, 2 pints of coke, a filter coffee and a cappuccino; I'd like to say thankyou to Tim and Gasthof Luger's head waiter who was happy to accept our challenge for an amazing €50 3 course lunch.

From there, with bloated stomachs we paddled through the most spectacular Alpine scenery we've seen so far. Gasthof Luger and then the deep greens, steep cliffs and emphatic meandering of the Schlogen loop meant that Austria scored perfect 10s for day 78. After finding somewhere to wildcamp, a beautiful, delicious and now 70k day was complete.

Day 79 probably wasn't as good, but it wasn't exactly bad. On the previous day we'd see the rain coming: you'd look behind you and see it storming down the valley to swarm over the nice blue sky. On day 79, it was just grey and wet.

I ran in the rain and then swam in a rainy danube. Then, having procrastinated over breakfast in the tent, we paddled on. Our route around the first lock took us through an area of dead water set up for international rowing regattas. Having canoed all the way up lane 6, we paddled on.

At about half 11 we reached Linz, a city that the map had reliably informed me was formerly industrial and now quite cultured. I can attest to that. We dried off a bit in a palacial cathedral. We dried off a bit more in an award winning bakery. And we finished drying off in a warm corner of a shiny shopping centre where we also made our sandwiches.

Having passed through another a lock and been re-dampened by the rain and accompanying choppy waves, we paddled on. After sombre moments in the canoe as we passed by the town of Mathausen with its famous concentration camp and discussed religion, we eventually reached a pleasant campsight to do some drying.

The campsight at Au on the Danube was apparently voted one of the top 100 in Europe for 2013. It is clean, has good facilities and free WiFi. The campsight owner also gave us a 100% discount upon hearing about this adventure. It is therefore currently my no.1 in Europe- and we've been to a few.

And so day 80 began in high spirits. And it didn't even start raining for a good hour or so. We did however have a few reminders of the rain. Much of the low-lying forest has been flooded and at times the water has been frighteningly choppy as it comes spilling out of the hydro-electric damns. Fortunately, this high water also means that the canoe is flying at the moment.

And so on day 80 we casually paddled on to another 70 plus kilometers which puts Vienna not too far away. Beside some cracking views, it was quite a quiet day, although Jimmy did manage to pull.

... A fish. Stopping for lunch after another inexpert detour around a lock, we got chatting to a friendly old man about our journey, his travels around Africa and fishing on the Danube. As we went to pack the canoe, he asked Jimmy for a hand pulling in a fish. And it was a whopper. Fair play to him, he was a great bloke.

Once we'd loaded a canoe that was moving about a metre up and down as the waves thundered in, we paddled on. After more choppy waves and another lock, the sun seened to set that little bit earlier and it seemed to be a little bit colder as we actually had to pay for camping tonight.

Ah well, another long wet day boshed, and we paddle on.

A rainy end to Germany.

Our last blog post was the one about all the rain. On the sixth day of our long week we awoke, again, to heavy rain. We packed away our things and got on the river which widened and slowed to a displeasing pace. Nevertheless we were on the Danube and, to be honest, the positive feeling that brings should keep us happy for a fair while. The morning continued and the rain got heavier, slowly soaking us through. Fortunately, lunch saw a convenient break in the weather where we ate under a large tree and I changed clothes, hanging my wet ones from the branches.

Despite the weather we continued to find positives. We got to use two boat slides, which save any carrying around the locks or large hydro-power stations. We waved at tourists through cruise liner windows and tried to surprise people looking out from their private rooms. And we passed the Walhalla, a famous landmark and replica of the Greek Parthenon that stood on a hillside next to the Danube shrouded in the thick rain clouds. I studied the Walhalla briefly at university and insisted on telling Nathan about it since we first arrived on the Danube. We both looked at it, tried to take a picture through the rain, agreed it looked decent, then paddled off, my classics module well utilized.

The afternoon saw us portage a lock onto quicker water which took us to a canoe club where we spent the night. The bad weather and busy garden also meant the canoe club put us in a bunkroom, so, for the second time this week, we managed to sleep in beds and dry out the tent.

The next morning the steps where we had landed the canoe were totally submerged as the week of rain had began to raise the water level. Despite the thick clouds, rain never came and instead the high water whipped us along down the Danube. There wasn't a single lock all day and before we knew it we were in Deggendorf where we planned a short break. We moored Dora in, what turned out to be, the police station and walked into the town where we bought camping gas and coffee, a true traveler's mix.

Back on the water we continued to wait for the rain to come and the water to slow, but both remained well in our favor for the rest of the day as we floated with a mass of branches and debris that the flood water was carrying along. Since we knew we would be going to Passau there was no pressure on us to cover further distance, yet by the time we came to camp we had covered 71kms making it, by far, out longest day.

Satisfied, we found a perfectly placed rowing club who were happy for us to camp in their garden and, in the evening drizzle, we cooked and ate underneath the building which was raised on stilts. We even found the time to congratulate ourselves by crossing the river to a small town and eating an ice-cream, just to remind ourselves of the summer. We had gone miles that day and the route to Passau would be short.

And so it was that the next day I wandered, bleary eyed, into a swish rowing club and had a warm shower with a brilliant view across the river, again shrouded in grey gloom. We paddled off for a 30km day and made it to Passau by 12o'clock. The water slowed as we approaches the city but, having passed the lock, it was quick through the centre to the river Ilz. Here we turned at the confluence and paddled 500 meters upstream to a quaint, tents only, campsite where we now reside. We cleaned the barrels, made our shopping list and did odd jobs before walking into the city.

Since it was Election Day we found our way to the town hall that night and went inside with a few people dressed in suits. Unsure whether we were actually meant to be there, we milled around with a few reporters and photographers, watched figures going up on the boards as the poll results came in, looked extremely pensively at bar charts and walked around behind the film crew when the reporter was live on TV. It was a good evening that rounded off our nine day week and marked, quite nicely, the end of Germany. Tomorrow we go into Austria.

Wooah Happy days...

Ok, so it's still raining but the last two days have been far from grey.

The morning after I finished typing what Jimmy described as 'a very terse blog' was absolutely freezing. And with that we transformed from holiday makers to explorers. Ten minutes after breakfast this week's itinerary had been extended to Passau on the German-Austrian border. No faffing, little deliberating and a confident decision made.

This longer week had always been on the optimistic cards and it was good to have it out in the open. However, after three days only stopping for drinks' breaks we were now in need of supplies as well as a coffee. Approaching our first possible town we made another snap decision: we would gamble with a later town for coffee and food supplies unless we saw something smack bang on the river. And for once we did see something. A large supermarket that banked onto the towpath. A supermarket visit may not make most people extactic, but its pretty big news when it doesn't involve a half an hour trek in the rain.

And so we boshed on through the drizzle and rain. I'll try not to mention the rain again but you can take it as the backdrop for everything I narrate at the moment.

After sheltering under a motorway bridge for lunch - yeah life is that good at the moment - we stopped in our second town for a coffee. Once again, we'd struck gold... Or at least tin foil. A little town set up for tourists, a friendly little cafe and a postbox for an awol postcard. Perfect. After Jimmy had danced with death in front of 200 people and I had chatted about he weather with a nice old lady, we plowed on.

The third big decision of the day was another stroke of mundane genius. Pay for camping at a campsite, or get a few more kilometers completed and wild camp? Since it was still wet, we opted for the former. The campsite proprietor then kindly offered us a dorm room for the same price as camping. Again, a bedroom with a radiator may not set the world on fire, but last night it was exactly what the doctor ordered.

After a great nights sleep I awoke to more drizzle. Running in a vest and shorts in the rain it took me a while to appreciate a stunning alpine castle with a cliff top view. And then I did appreciate it. Our start to the day was similar. We procrastinated in our homely dorm room before silently loading the canoe. The we opened our eyes, realized we were in an alpine Valley and ten kilometers from the Danube and suddenly the valley was filled with Bill Withers' 'Lean on me'.

Did I forget to mention that? Yep, today is the day we hit the Danube. Our final river that will take us all the way to the Black Sea. Pretty big news. We met Ms. Danube at about 11am and she didn't disappoint. In fact, the Danube is probably equivalent to a waterside supermarket and bedroom with a radiator rolled into one. We had fast water and a weir complete with a canoe run that left us giggling for about half an hour. We may have about 2000km left to go but the Danube gives us a helping hand for 1600km of it. If my vocabulary extended beyond the words 'banging' and 'buzzing' I'd tell you how that feels.

And the rest of the day hasn't been too bad either. I made a surprise phone call to say happy birthday dad, speaking to my parents for the first time since week 2. We found a canoe club with cheap and friendly camping. We then went into Regensburg and made a few more giant leaps for mankind: camping gas restocked, I finally bought a raincoat, Jimmy bought a sleeping bag case and I found some chili beans for dinner. By the way, Regensburg cathedral has some unbelievable stained glass windows. Seriously. We then stumbled across a funky little cafe with some very strong mochas and an almost cockney owner. Regensburg, thank you and good night.

So that's a second midweek blog for you because we know that the world cannot wait until this extra long week is over. A supermarket, a bed, some coffee, and a new coat may not be the stuff of legend but they have certainly brightened us up.

Oh, and we're on the Danube.

DANGER Highly Exciting Three Days

On a rest day we take turns in writing a sporty and weekly summary for www.tibs.com. I'm telling you this for a couple of reasons: first, much of last week's TIBS article was spent predicting an end to the hot sun we've enjoyed (almost as if I'd already seen the weather forecast); second, I don't have much to say about the last three days. And that's basically it. It's rained a lot and we've canoed a lot.

The first day of the week was all about getting used to a new waterway: the Main-Donau kanal. Although we took a bit of a detour on the first lock which took us back to testy upstream work, from there it was plain sailing all the way to the campsite. The campsite was in fact a ditch behind the towpath that is excellent for cyclists and dog walkers but less good for continent-crossing-canoeists. It also rained quite a bit on day one - but nothing too heavy. So, end of the first day and we were used to fairly easy water, having not much to stop for, having to camp inconspicuously and being damp.

These lessons were to serve us well on day 70 as we got through 43.5 more km of grey and wetter than usual canal with a useful tailwind. We passed through the city of Nuremburg but the kanal actually only goes through the business park so it was once again a stopless day.

Day 70 was nonetheless a pretty good day. After our tricky detour the day before, we stuck to the locks and were rewarded with carts to walk the canoe around the lock. Looking like a massive shopping trolley with only 2 central wheels, these contraptions have made the 500m walk around the lock a lot easier than it would normally be. The other good thing - and this applies to canals in general - is that canoeists are obviously pretty rare on the Main-Donau. As such, we've been regularly cheered on and chatted to by two or three very friendly Germans. (When I've given you a paragraph on shopping trolleys and chatting you know it's been a quiet few days.)

And that brings us to today, day 71. Once again wet and once again a good distance made. I also boshed out a rapid intervals session this morning.

The high point of the day, in fact the literal high point from here on in, was our last ever upstream lock. From now to the Black Sea and however far we make it, we will never again have to push Dora up a hill. Last week saw the end of upstream paddling and today saw the end of anything upwards at all. We duly celebrated with sugary cashew nuts. Living the dream. Then it rained some more, we did some more Herculean kilometers and actually found quite a nice camping spot.

You may think I just like having a winge, but honestly the Main-Donau canal is not a famous cruising destination at the best of times and not at all on a wet week in September. At 2pm today, Jimmy said, "If all goes smoothly with the locks and camping then this will be the most boring day ever." All went smoothly with locks and camping.

Finishing the river Main

With Nathan's paddle taped up and aiming for a two day trip to Bamberg we set off on Thursday morning for a long slog. We had lost some planned distance the day before due to a dodgy detour so had ground to make up. The morning was broken up nicely with a stop in Schweinfurt, a busy modern city where we topped up our food supplies and visited an incredible cafe. Portion sizes have increased in Germany and we're both big fans.

After this it was constant paddling and lunch on a river bank before paddling some more. The day remained fairly uneventful and by the end of it there was nothing major to report over the 39kms we covered. 39kms was, however, the longest upstream day we had done on the Main and we set up camp under some trees that night feeling pretty satisfied.

One thing noted from that day was the new heights of our conversation in the boat. Beyond the name game, we continued our book club in which we discussed the shared books we've read so far on the expedition and translate them into more colloquial terms. The name game also led us into a political discussion on government spending and foreign aid, which then went into a little philosophy and ethical debate on human rights and the difference between local and foreign citizens. Such high brow topics were evened out by swearing at fat men in speed boats and laughing at a woman who was crap at fishing.

The next morning we woke in what Nathan discovered on his run was a nature reserve. We had 33kms to cover before Bamberg which had become a shining finish line in our minds. We paddled hard into a slight head wind and covered three locks and 24kms by lunch time, again it was fairly uneventful. We ate in the baking sun on the grassy bank of a jet skiing club and half an hour later passed a large sign that marked the end of the river Main for us.

We had joined it at kilometer 0, where it merged with the Rhine, and it felt a great achievement passing the final sign that read 384kms of upstream distance. We took photos, patted ourselves on the backs, and then continued. The only problem, of course, being the Main-Donau Kanal sign on the otherside which, once again, read 0!

It wasn't long before we were in the outskirts of the city and, confused by the islands, we asked two kayakers where their club was. After a conversation on the water we followed their directions to Bamberger FC, a pretty swish canoe club where our tent and belongings now rest. Having showered, cleaned the food barrels and washed all our clothes, the kayakers returned and found us with a map. They showed us where we should be heading: the food shop for the morning, the beer garten for the evening and the old parts of the city for admiring the next day.

So that is precisely what we have done. We enjoyed beers last night and I sit and write in a nice brewery now! Our lunch was that one on the German menu that had the letters XL on the end of it and we've done the weeks shopping and to-do list already.

So the week has been another success, partly owing to continuing fortunes on the river and more days of blue skies and perfect weather. The river Main is now finished and, though we still have a long bit of canal, there is no more upstream river paddling for the entire expedition. Satisfied for now we'll be getting out the maps to plan the next week and this time we have the Danube in sight: our final river and a mere 2300kms and 7 countries long!

Main-taining a reputation

When it was hard-going on the Loire and once it got easy-going thereafter, we constantly tempered however good or bad we felt by warning ourselves that the Main would be worse. We foresaw a river with the speed of the Loire but without her scenery or weather. We mentally prepared for a fast current and constant industrial traffic. The last three days have shown just how wrong we were.

It was pretty subdued on the first morning of the week. Jimmy was pensive after saying goodbye to Cathy and I was tired after a panorama topping hill session. Luckily our weekend antics had pepped up our fellow campers. Having seen us arrive shattered in the canoe on Saturday, get very drunk with two Irish girls on Saturday night, be cooked for on the Sunday and then start paddling upstream on the Monday morning; it's fair to say that we'd earned the cheers of the five or six German's.

From there, the Main continued to surpass out expectations. We flew along against the slow upstream current with a helpful tailwind. The friendly campers cycled ahead to take more photos and gave us a final Mexican wave as we zipped past fifteen kilometers up stream. After lunching in a quiet park, the afternoon saw us leave the canoe at a welcoming club before squeezing in a tour of Würzburg and its two cathedrals and basillica. When a friendly tourist asked us what the paddles, rucksacks and whispy moustaches were for and then subsequently what the hardest section of the journey had been; we were unanimous: it was the Loire and certainly not the friendly river Main. A good day was perfected by a warm shower and a lovely meal provided by Würzburg local Marisa and her two cats - our fourth warmshowers host of the trip.

I write these blog posts from what Jimmy notes down while I cook at the end of each day. Day 64 is summed up perfectly: 'well-planned and well-executed'. Against a consistent current and with locks that cater for canoeists, it's easy to plan out the week. When you're surrounded by vineyards, it's approaching 30C and there's a pretty town complete with a calming church and adjacent cafe, it's easy to execute the day. So day 64 was a good 37km paddled, with a nice break in Kitzingen and a pleasant camping spot just out of town. With time to read our books by the river in the evening, it made canoeing the continent almost holidayish.

You can generally tell the mood in the canoe from the volume within it. With more sunny vineyards to paddle past, day 65 started with Jimmy blasting out all of Dizzee Rascal's 'Holiday' before combined efforts for some John Newman and Fat Boy Slim.

At mid morning we began to canoe on the 11km diversion that was marked for sport boats. The diversion rammed home what the Main could have been like and how lucky we are - well first there were more vineyards to cover the lucky side of the deal. Then the water quickened. There were groynes to navigate around. Twice we had to backtrack and tow after becoming deadlocked against a rapid flow. One final tree to lift the canoe around, and after three hours we had finally overcome the diversion and were back to normal Main waters.

After another cafe stop, we made good ground to ensure the time spent on the diversion won't dramatically alter the rest of the week. For the last couple of hours Dora was treated to some Simon & Garfunkel and a bit of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah, as we once again felt at ease with the river Main and her vineyards.

And that would have been a perfect three days ...but I managed to jam my paddle when stopping the boat and the paddle (with whom you may know I have built quite a relationship) responded with a crack. Nothing's broken and hopefully it is just superficial, but if the Main stays like this I'd probably call it a fair deal.

Another successful week.

We sit almost bang on the half-way point of the River Main, a river bendier than a bag of string; our days have thus been spent heading in a variety of directions, and not often towards Istanbul. The plus to this snaking waterway is that tankers are forced to crawl at a slow pace creating fewer bad waves and keeping Dora safely afloat. The calmer water also attracts plenty of fisherman so we find ourselves picking out fishing lines at the last minute or getting tangled in the ones we didn't see.

This week the temperatures have dropped to something more akin to British standards, making the morning bath in the river a very serious wake-up and bringing back the early morning mist. The first few hours of each day are spent paddling like this with mist shrouding the landscape and hillside villages in an incredible morning cloak.

We have also seen the big return of the name game for the first half hour on the water. Essentially 20 questions, we've seen some top level gamesmanship with the eclectic mix including: Steven Hendry, Rosa Parks, Cherie Blair, Sean Kingston, Oliver Cromwell and Ricky Martin.

Name game played, mist cleared, we start settling into a steady rhythm. And it really has been as systematic as this. Our camping is done with quick efficiency, we enjoy our first hour, and then we speed through the day to our target destination with only short breaks to refuel. At the end of the day we've also gotten into the habit of finding closed or somehow unsuitable camping that forces us on a few extra kilometers. In this sense the days have been monotonous but it has been highly suitable to cover the upstream distance and still have time to enjoy a village or read a book in the evening.

At the end of the week, and despite the last blog post, we ultimately find we have little to moan about. The weather has improved and so has the scenery. The tediousness of being moved on from our expected camp spot every night has been a pain, but we got the extra distance and the places where we've wild camped have been pretty spectacular. A bolt on our rear seat sheered, but we found a tool box at the campsite that night and mended it within an hour. The upstream paddling has been hard work, but that's inevitable and we've done the distance we planned each day.

And so we finish our week exactly where we planned having had a string of very successful days. Not only that but we find ourselves in good company! On Thursday evening we were joined by my girlfriend, Catherine and her friend, Siobhan, who have cycled alongside the river and camped with us the last few nights. We had a great evening in Lohr, the picturesque home of the Grimm brothers and their fairytales, and now rest in Karlstradt, where we conveniently found it is the weekend of the Wein Festival. Lots of wine drank and German songs sang with the brass band, we left the main square last night in the highest of spirits before Nathan and Siobhan also enjoyed the festivities of someone's 50th birthday party with a free bar and the opportunity for Nathan to briefly play DJ.

All that is left, of course, is to enjoy our rest day, smooth over the hangovers and plan the next week. Hopefully it will be just as successful.

Apologies for the swearing

In canoeing the continent parlance the adjective 'bitch' is placed before a noun to convey difficulty. So you might have a 'bitch lock', a 'bitch bit of water' or, even,  a 'bitch day'. I would sum up the last three days as a bitch three days.

Monday morning smirked at us with grey clouds and drizzle. However, staying with Jimmy's 'Canada friend' Ingo and his flat-mate Martin in the ultimate bachelor pad in Frankfurt, we were thus able to breakfast high and dry. Having re-stocked in the supermarket and then re-packed in the apartment it was time for us, the two bags and the three barrels to embark on a real expedition.

Using public transport is no joke ladies and gentlemen. Two tubes, one tram, some head-scratching and a 30 minute trial by walking later we arrived back at Dora's rowing club with bodies feeling like they'd canoed our current 1370km all that morning.

However, since Jimmy had managed to replace his iPhone the previous evening, we were still ahead of schedule. So we ploughed on. We slogged it out upstream at our steady pace. We lunched in a deserted campsite. Late afternoon we stopped in the town of Hannau at what looked to be a pretty riverside museum. With the museum closed because summer has allegedly ended, we had a pretty riverside coffee instead.

Our experience finding a camping ground fitted in with the pattern of the day. We unloaded at a marina before being rejected and redirected to an adjacent and empty camp site. Luckily, the campsite owners were walking their dogs around the empty site and happy to charge us seventeen euro before driving away and locking up.

It was great having the evening in an empty campsite: plenty of space for me to read and Jimmy to phone his girlfriend. It was less great being in an empty campsite when I tried going for a run in the morning and couldn't find a way around the locked gate.

So, slightly earlier than planned, day 57's canoeing began. Beneath grey skies, we were quickly into our consistent rhythm. Late afternoon, we even managed to find a closed castle and a substitute cafe. The evening got full marks for consistency as well, as a rowing club told us that there was no room in their spacious garden for our tent. Nonetheless, we happily wild-camped right on the river bank and had time to read and look back on another long but uneventful day.

For the sake of this blog post, it would have been perfect if today was also grey and the scenery dull. Unfortunately  today was bright and we had to suffer sandstone cliffs and forest merging into manicured vineyards. I think I might have just lost the sympathy vote right there.

Anyway, today was still a slog. We managed to be in the water by 8:05 which is officially a record. Somehow we then managed to canoe 38.5km upstream and get around 4 industrial locks. We took breaks with military precision and only stopped for lunch. Despite all of this, I am chilling here on the river surrounded by alpine forest and content to be canoeing the continent.

So nothing really bad has happened, it's just been a bit of a bitch - for want of a better word.

We're your Main men

Initially as we left the locked section of the Rhine for its quick downstream waters, it was stressful and unnerving. We were dodging boats and being battered by high waves. But we quickly grew used to it and the towering industrial river banks one would expect to find ugly were an incredible sight from our low view point on the river. Huge cranes and massive factories where the river was hundreds of meters across, provided a new type of scenery and tankers moving past made us feel like tiny explorers on Europe's busiest commercial river.

After the last blog we awoke on a beach on the inside of a larger meander. I washed in the river while Nathan ran and then he did the same as the rain began to fall. The shower passed quickly and we paddled downstream to Mainz, a significant point on our route. Here we locked Dora to a jetty and wandered into the Gutenberg museum close by. After wondering for a while what 'Gutenberg' was we found he was the inventor of letter-press printing and born in Mainz. So we looked at some very old books, acknowledged the importance of his invention, and bought two massive pastries which we ate with our sandwiches back at the canoe.

For us Mainz was an important point because it marked the end of the Rhine and the end of downstream paddling for a longtime. After eating we crossed the channel and headed east and upstream on the river Main. Immediately we hit difficult, fast moving water and were shown how our memories of the Loire have already been given a romantic gloss. Scenic, and rich in history, I seemed to have forgotten how hard that upstream paddling was!

To make matters worse, due to my poor judgment, we found ourselves lodged behind a tanker being loaded with shipping containers and had to move out across its propellers to get back on to the water. We held our nerve crossing its wash and got around its bows but the waves of tankers are less fun without the help of the river flow.

After a difficult 3km though, we hit our first lock on the Main and, using an easy portage route, we put the canoe into far nicer water on the otherside. From here, there are locks every 10km or so and these should slow the water to a much more manageable level.

With better progress made on the upstream water we camped that night in a nice canoe club where we drank beers with a friendly member and used their boathouse and freezing shower. With the river water remaining decent and helpful diagrams on our map making portaging the commercial locks less of a challenge than normal, by lunchtime the next day we sat outside Frankfurt city centre. But as we lunched, boats seemed to be stopping and we discovered a small sailing regatta was using the river and therefore stopping any traffic. Then we realised it was actually the international BMW sailing cup. Then we saw lot of people lining the banks and filling Frankfurt's bridges.

After chatting to a police boat I discovered there would be a half hour break for river traffic to resume. When this half hour window came it was like a starter firing his pistol. Every boat that was waiting, from notched up speed boats to cruisers and tankers, put their respective feet down and steamed along the water. After a second's hesitation we joined the melle: riding the crazy waves and getting soaked by the spray. For a kilometer we paddled on this hectic water, through what we later discovered is Frankfurt's annual summer festival. With thousands of people, bands on big stages and busy stalls all along the banks we had one of the coolest and most unexpected hours of the expedition. Music blaring, people staring and us jumping around on the waves like a canoe in a mosh pit. It was awesome.

On the otherside of the mental celebrations we looked back on the Frankfurt skyline which was quickly growing dark. We pulled up to a jetty as the rain started to lash and found a friendly rowing club. They gave us beers, despite the fact that no-one else had started drinking, and allowed us to lock up and leave our canoe there till Monday.

Which brings me to the here and now. We are in Frankfurt. I rang a friend I met three years ago in Canada who had offered us a couch to sleep on and we trekked through the city centre in the pouring rain to get to his place. Bags on backs, food barrels in hand and dodgy sandals on feet... we commanded some funny looks on the metro. Cleaned up in this swish apartment, we were kindly taken out for the most tradditional Frankfurt meal imaginable by Ingo and his flatmate Martin, before crashing back in the living room for an applewine-induced sleep. The rest-day shopping remains to be done and a visit to the apple store in an attempt to fix the broken i-phone (yup that is pretty bad for us...) will have to wait since by law in Germany everything is closed on Sundays.

Perhaps we'll have to rest for once.

Just as imagined

I reckon all of us are romantic at heart, the only thing is that things don't always turn out the way you imagined them.

We rested in Strasbourg at the beginning of the week and there wasn't much resting. However, all in all we gained a lot. We received three days company, ganter and home-cooked food. We received some home comforts and new seats for Dora. The seats didn't make a smooth transition into the canoe, but they seem pretty good to me. No-one saw as much of Strasbourg as intended but we all saw her breath-takingly illuminated cathedral and quaint inner city. Thank you Marcus, Cathy, Linda and Martha for joining the canoeing the continent team for your holiday.

So onto the first day of this week. Having people to look out for on the bank was a nice change. The time we lost pruning our moustaches for the camera was far outweighed by the extra effort put in for that same camera. Unfortunately the headwind that came and went all day made our progress harder. Nonetheless, we were soon at the penultimate lock we meet on the Rhine.

It was a bitch. We followed the canoe diversion sign only to be lead down a blocked waterway. Plan B entailed climbing up three steep banks, crossing a motorway with the canoe on our shoulders and finally descending a rocky cliff. It wasn't exactly how I'd imagined the canoe diversion, but we had got round the lock and accompanying weir all the same.

About 20km later the second weir was much easier. A quick descent onto a parallel river and we were good. From there it was a hectic 4km dodging around rocks and boats in the twilight. We got out of the canoe to be greeted by a campsite, dinner and our final night with the support team and their consistent supply of beer. So we celebrated day 50 with our greatest ever daily distance and someone other than Dora to talk to - just as imagined.

The last 4km of day 50 saw us enter new territory. There are no more locks on the Rhine for us, instead we are now confronted by navigable channel winding around rocky groynes. So with the wind in our faces and the waves everywhere else, we made quick but nervous progress on the morning of day 51. It was made slightly more nervous by the ominous presence of the river authorities. A police boat, then a port authority boat and finally a white van on the opposite bank all slowed down and took a closer look as we tried to concentrate on the river. However, we were making good progress on the quick water. At the time Jimmy said it would be perfect if there was no wind and I chipped in that having less groynes would be nice.

By 12 o'clock the wind had died. The river had widened and there were no groynes. By the end of the afternoon we'd been averaging 10km an hour and had got a friendly wave from a port authority boat. Capping the day off with a canoe club to store the canoe, a walk around Speyer's one thousand year old cathedral and a cool drink in a cafe meant that day 51 turned out exactly as imagined.

Unfortunately this meant that we had high expectations for day 52. Fortunately it didn't disappoint. Learning a total of four German words before breakfast paid off as we managed to fill up on drinking water from the canoe club. From there we flew downstream to Mannheim at out new rapid pace. Then Mannheim obliged our imaginations with a university cafe and another cathedral that demanded silence just by the way it looked. It was very busy on the water today and at times we were dodging tankers, cruise liners, ferries, container ships, kayakers and speed boats as well as all of their waves. But when you're a bit more confident there's actually something fun about bouncing through big waves and cruising past gigantic oil refineries.

As I sit here on a deserted Rhineland beach reminiscing about three consecutive days of pb distances, watching ducks and container ships compete for my attention while eating home-made banana cake... I'd like to point out that I didn't imagine being this tired or being bitten by mosquitos. Ah well, could be worse.

Beginning of the Rhine.

Here we are at the end of our shortest week after a few days on one of Europe's biggest rivers. And it is big. This new river is wide and well used, a busy river where the jet skiers and motor boats only stop to let giant tankers past. But we're getting used to the waves and are in little danger with a month and a half's canoeing experience under our belts.

This big river also has 'PK markers' which tell us exactly what distance along the river we are to the hundred meter. So yesterday morning Nathan could do his running session with total precision and we could start planning days knowing exactly what distances we'd hit.

What we hit were a few wiers with signs alongside that marked nice walkways with launching spots for the canoe. No more pondering where to go and no more clambering on all fours. You could say it's simple German efficiency. The walkways are quite long, so we still have a little canoe hauling to do, but the ease makes up for its distance.

Yesterday was also broken up with a wander through Rhinau, on the French side of the river, where we chatted to the tourist information woman in a confusing mix of French, German and English. We walked through town and topped up on necessities. And I filled up water in a building I remain unsure about. Outside I thought it was a boat club, inside I thought it was a house. I called out a few "bonjour?"s and then filled up water in the kitchen where bowls and food still sat on the table. I left the house again through the front hall with no one spotting me and none the wiser as to what the building was.

Having set up camp by a jet skiing spot, we awoke this morning to whispers outside the tent. This was the grand arrival of our 'support car' in the form of my mum, sister, girlfriend and friend. They bring new dry bags, as the old ones have been battered, torn and over worn from all their lifting on the canals, and two new seats, as Dora's wicker seats are starting to fail under the new muscular weight of us two canoeists. They also bring a little food stuff and some new books to read.

After the days paddling, which was the remaining 16km to Kehl (next to Strasbourg) we set up camp for our rest day tomorrow. The paddle was fairly short and uneventful but for the groups of swans unfussed by our presence and the two weirs we had to pass. Now we're enjoying new company and a rest day tomorrow.

The week started stressed and ominous but really we find ourselves in decent canoeing terrain and, with Strasbourg so close, the chance for a shorter week than usual. A day here tomorrow to see the big city, then back on the river Rhine.

Hallo Germany

If canoeing the continent was easy, everyone would do it. Honestly, the end of last week left us melancholy about heading east and out of France. In France after 6 weeks we felt comfortable. By the end of day 45 (the first of this week) we were ecstatic and had left France behind.

Day 45 was a roller-coaster. It began with the steady build up. We manoeuvred around the remaining two locks in Mulhouse with only the weakest opposition from the young lock keeper at the second. We then paddled the 16km with the rowers to the final lock and our desired entry into the Rhine.

It was at this point the day turned towards a major low. As we paddled towards our final lock on the Rhone Rhine Canal we spotted the chance to join a Dutch couple, their dog and their boat for an easy ride in the lock. All looking good so far. We paddled in and were happily inside the lock stroking the dog. Happy days we think. Then the shit hits the fan. The very nice VNF man asks us where we're going. We tell him in stages. A long way. Germany first. Then the Danube. Then across Europe. How? He asks. We tell him we want to get to the old Rhine. We know the canal is for shipping and that is fine. We're going to the old river Rhine.

Unfortunately his young man is pretty good at his job and it is his job to ask questions of everyone leaving France. In order to get to the old Rhine we would have to cross the shipping canal and this is prohibited. So I tell him that's cool, we'll walk until we can cross safely.

Its at this point our stomachs lose their usual location. He tells us that canoeing on the Grand Canal we will surely die. The VNF man was kind enough to repeat this explanation to the other boats we were now holding up. As we left the lock to go seek some authorisation in the VNF office we were given sympathetic goodbyes for the Dutch couple, now aware of our impending deaths.

So there we stood in the VNF office staring death in the face. The VNF man made several phone calls which I tried to understand while Jimmy prepared for diplomacy that Kofi Annan would be proud of. Eventually the man returned with a pragmatic response.

He tells us that he was young once, I tell him that so was I but his English doesn't stretch to sarcasm. He tells us that he has spoken to his boss on the phone but there is nothing he can do to stop us. He tells us that he takes no responsibility for us, he photocopies our IDs, and we shake hands and leave. We leave with smiles and good lucks but our mood is pretty low as we carry our gear around the lock.

So we then paddled straight across the shipping lane and sat on the other side for a belated lunch. We'd seen no other boats yet and believe it or not we were still alive. As we attempt to make sandwiches a bemused EDF engineer stops his car by us on this island between old and new Rhine. He is timid in the face of our hungry sandwich making, but it's pretty clear that we're not meant to be there.

Lunch eaten, I make my worst mistake of the trip so far and our day does another loop the loop. Spotting a possible route to the old Rhine, I tell Jimmy I'll be 5 minutes while I have a look.

I walk for 400m or so through forest and scrub following an irregular path. Not finding the supposedly parallel river, I turn back. Two minutes later, I'm lost. After a couple of minutes trying to run back through bushes, I start being sensible. I shout for Jimmy. And keep shouting.

It's not long before I hear a reply. Jimmy's not a fucking idiot like me and says he realised the danger as soon as I left. He was also shouting my name and its not long before I'm back with the canoe.

A little bit shaken, the ride continues. We look at our maps and decide to cross the next bridge when we come to it. Literally. Luckily, I soon spot a more obvious track to the other side. This time Jimmy checks it and it does indeed reach the other side.

As we prepare for the walk to the other side Jimmy breaks the second strap on the canoe wheels. Having broken the other strap myself last week and now reclaimed some composure, we again fix the wheels and walk with the equipment for 5 minutes to reach the old Rhine.

There is Germany on the other side. And, we're still alive. But Jimmy thinks that the boats in the distance might be white-water rafts...

Turns out its 20 kids messing around on a plastic dinghy and Jimmy needs to calm down. We paddled straight across to the other side. Celebratory photos taken, and both still alive, we start again on a new river. A couple of hours later, we're camped (on the German side of course), we've made good ground on a fast flowing downstream current and the world's a better place. The roller coaster's over.

Only thing is, it's left us with that sickening feeling. So for day 46 we decide to make for the first rowing club on our map and get some more information about the Rhine and our imminent death.

The nice German woman at the rowing club blushingly admits to only speaking school English, but her English is actually perfect. She looks over the map and says she has rowed on the Rhine for years. The other rowers we saw seemed similarly unperturbed by the canoe. The jet skiers who got in our way all day didn't seen worried about dying either. And neither did the three or four tankers who cruised past a safe distance from the canoe on those parts of the Rhine where the old river and new canal link up.

So we survived a couple of days on the Rhine. The water isn't flowing fast anymore and it's pretty hot. But the way for canoes around the wehrs are clearly signposted and the river is safe. More importantly, we should be in Strasbourg in a couple of days and Jimmy's finally fallen asleep as I finish this mammoth blog in our tent with the empty beer bottles outside.

Au Revoir France, we're camping in Germany again tonight.

Long week on the Rhone Au Rhin Canal

Another week with lots of
canal paddling and fantastic distances covered. The locks, of course,
played a huge role and I could write and essay on them, but since its a
rather repetitive topic I'll try not to talk about them too much. Though it is sort of where I start!

After the last blog, in which we lost time in Besançon waiting for a charger
that didn't arrive, we awoke on a misty hillside overlooking the Doubs.
This thick early morning mist and a carpet of slugs has become each days' standard start now that we're away from the constant heat we experienced in July. We set about another day on the Doubs, an incredibly scenic river with awkward locks. Where before the challenge of locks was getting from the
low water level up the banks to the higher water level, here the locks
worked more as a divide between the canal and river. This meant we
struggled up the banks from the canal, but instead of a high water level on the other side the locks are designed to account for varying river levels throughout the year, from low summer, to rainy, high floods winter. Alas, we scrambled up high banks before each lock only to find The far side presented exactly the same slope, if not worse.

Yet Phillippe was to cheer us up. Filling up water at a mooring point we found a text on our phone which read "Hi, it's Phillippe. I have your package, I am coming to find you." No matter how far we had paddled the day before, the smooth cycleways that follow the river and canal allowed Phillippe and his speedy road bike to catch us by lunchtime where he gifted us our solar charger and lightened our moods. After he had already kindly given us a meal and bed in Besancon we now had him to thank (along with the people of Mobile Solar Chargers) for the return of some electricity.

Before long, the pleasant river Doubs was left behind for constant canal and and after yet another long day with early start, late finish, and the minimum of breaks, we were back on track and had made up our lost time from Besancon covering considerable miles. In the town of Isle Sur Doubs we bumped into a boat we recognised from days earlier and, having chatting with the friendly Swiss man, moored our canoe alongside him while we headed to the campsite. Since he left early the next morning we were obliged to also have a 6:30 wake up and we met him to unlock our boat and enjoy some of his freshly made coffee. We sat onboard the deck and had a swiss breakfast of croissants, ham and cheese, patting his dog and saying thank you as we took more croissants, more ham and more cheese.

The day was another successful one despite us both sporting bad nettle rashes by the end of it and myself upsetting a wasps nest and losing said fight against nature. For another night we camped on these banks where it has been easy to find good camping spaces which are discrete and ideal. And then it was the last two days of the week. Nathan almost got lost in thick, dark forest on an early morning run, then we packed up and began to paddle. Here the canal began descending again in a rapid fashion. In 40km we faced 47 locks and it takes no mathematician to work out that that is a bad ratio. It was two days of pain, lifting, walking and telling ourselves the section would be over soon. We had a run in with the VNF which is (genuinely) very accurately summed up by Nathan in the Alternative Blog, but otherwise we began to pass through the locks and suddenly we were almost at the end.

By the seventh day of paddling with the last few locks remaining the signs of fatigue were definitely showing. Getting the canoe out at a lock it pushed against me as I slid into the canal for a short but painful 'nettle bath' (1 part nettles, 2 parts canal water), our pace became a little sluggish, Nathan began to unpack the entire canoe at lunchtime despite not being at a lock and I finished the day by getting out of the canoe where we would camp and trying to pull the entire thing out of the water unaware it was still fully loaded. But we were conscious of these danger signs as well as our ailing sense of balance and took care and concentrated as we finished the canal with just 4km to go to Mulhouse.

For this final stretch we took the small river Largue marked on our new (German!) map as 'generally navigable'. This summed it up. There were rippling rocky sections where we dragged the canoe, fast bubbling waters which we flew over and narrow jungly sections where the trees leaned into the water. It was a totally different way to end the week and a new river to add to our list. It took us to the foot of our campsite where we washed clothes and set up the tent.

And here we are, in Mulhouse. The tent and the campsite were, in fact, left alone last night as we were hosted in town by a friendly couple. We had a fantastic dinner, a comfy bed and excellent company. We chatted with Alexei about his work and the run down house he and his girlfriend have bought and are fixing, we drank old wine they had found there and we retold the tale of the grumpy VNF man. After a solid night we find the stuff still safe in the campsite and a rest day we welcome with open arms.

A satisfying week to look back on, with hard days and a route that headed directly east for once. We finished the long week with a couple of exhausted and grumpy days as the distances got the better of us. But canoeing the continent continues on target and as successful as ever.

Red sky at night

Red sky at night, shepard's delight.

Red sky in the morning, shepard's take warning.

Calm sky at night, all is alright.

Purple sky at night, the slugs are coming for you.

Cloudy sky at night, heavy due is in sight.

Clear sky at night, it's gonna be freezing.

Dark sky at night, it's definitely night.

Starry sky at night, quick pee, then back to bed.

Blurry sky at night, mosquito's going to bite.

Light sky at night, you're too close to town.

Grey sky at night, you're gonna get wet.

Green sky at night, you feeling alright?

Days 37, 38, 39 but not 40

I'm actually writing on day 40, but as will soon be clear it's been a busy few days.

The first day of the week was the expected inevitable come down after our unexpectedly easy ride on the Loire. It rained. A lot.

The previous night had become a classic rest day. We ate, we chilled, we ate some more and then the fun started. We had gone looking for a free concert. Then we found that the concert had moved. and then we somehow ended up getting a lift from two accommodating locals having accidentally followed them to their car. We then listened to a flamboyant frenchman and his accordionist, percussionist and guitarist before sloping off to bed at around midnight.

So its day 37 and I went for a pretty sleepy early morning run, taking in one last look at Dôle... And then the rain started.

But 5 weeks in and Jimmy's pessimistic foresight is now contagious. Last week was good so we knew this week would be a fucker. So we ignored the drips during breakfast. We swapped paddling positions regularly during the morning showers. We accepted that the rain would undoubtedly stop while we sheltered for lunch. And finally it rained all afternoon.

Although I'm sitting here moaning, the efficiency is beginning to shine through as we get closer to Germany. The day was actually mapped and planned perfectly and we ended with cooking water and equal distances in the front according to distances scrawled on my hand. By half 6 we had chosen an idyllic camping spot and it had stopped raining. Happy days.

The second day of the week set the scene for our paddling on the Doubs. Awkward locks they may be... But the forest filled valleys, mountain top forts and early morning mists just about make it bearable. The Doubs and Rhone Au Rhin Canal in turn link and provide sections of canal interspersed by lake-like valleys. With heavy clouds above, we felt very lucky to get to lunch without any rain and bear witness to the spectacular scenery. The morning got even better when we sat just outside our target destination of Besançon for lunch.

I remember saying "even if it rains now we've had a good day". It then rained. After the rain, between the two of us we managed to get lost and go to a supermarket without any money... We then resorted to what was meant to be the highlight of the week - Philippe. Having pre-arranged a nights stay with Philippe through warmshowers.org, this young Frenchman did not disappoint. Meeting us in the now pouring rain, he gave Dora a garage and your favourite canoeists a massive three course meal, two plug sockets, and two very comfy mattresses.

And so day 39 began. After a comfy nights sleep for the second time in five weeks, I went for a pretty life affirming hills session in the clouds up to a fort on the side of the Besançon loop. The plan was then to wait for Philippe's post which we had appropriated for the purpose of getting a new solar charger. 12 o'clock rolled around and the French postal service had lived up to its chilled out stereotype by delivering nothing. And so day 39's canoeing began. At 12 o'clock.

Since I had managed to break the canoe wheels,
the canoeing didn't actually start for another half hour while we carried the canoe the 388m through the Besancon tunnel. So we eventually began feeling pretty ambivalent: we'd had a great sleep, a great meal, but we were missing the all important solar charger and were now 4 hours behind where we planned to be.

Nonetheless, like the troopers we are, we carried and dragged around locks big and small but always awkward... And paddled a bit in between times. With high locks used to prevent flooding from the Doubs, we often had trouble both exiting and also entering the canal. Bearing all this in mind, it wasn't much of a surprise to see a homeowner by the final lock of the day filming us, taking pictures of us and then laughing to his guests and pointing at us. That was at 8pm. It was also Friday night at 8pm. An hour later we had made camp, eaten and planned an even longer day for no.40. We do Friday nights in style clearly.

You'll have to wait a bit longer for day 40 and our subsequent escapades. As a teaser I'll let you know that day 40 lived up to its biblical epicness and I was in a mood for most of it.

Finishing the Saône and aiming for Germany.

We last blogged from a campsite in Chalon-Sur-Saône, after having finished the Canal Du Centre and paddling out onto the wavey river Saône that blustery day. It was a great feeling to be done with the many locks for a while but the waves we met on the river reminded us that being back on the upstream was not going to be easy.

The next morning we awoke to the patter of rain which quickly cleared as blue sky poked through. With the previous day in mind we were pleased to find still and cool conditions as we pushed off from the bank and aimed for a good days paddling. There are few times in life where everything falls into place so perfectly, but after an hours paddling we stopped for a drink and found a km sign on the river bank. We had already done 7km. On a river so still that lilly pads grew along the edges we were flying along and were moving far quicker than we imagined. Still used for commercial navigation, the Saône had weirs and locks which slowed the current nicely for us, but were spread far enough apart that we weren't lifting the boat every ten minutes.

Next thing we knew we were nearing where we'd expected to camp after a difficult upstream day. Instead it was lunch time and we congratulated ourselves with a tart and chocolate meringue, eaten in the sun, before paddling off to make more distance. With weather conditions still ideal for canoeing we were both in good spirits when we hit the only lock of the day. We stopped to look at the map and decide how best to tackle the corrugated iron cliffs. But it was that day, that smooth, perfect day, and looking up from the map a boat appeared, a friendly German man leaning over the edge to offer us a lift. We bobbed into the lock and held the side of his boat as the doors creaked shut and the water level rose.

That night we set up the tent in a campsite we had expected to sleep at the night after. Two days progress in a day and a clear evening, life was good. We went and found 'Restaurant La Marine' and had a glass of wine on the front deck.

In the morning we woke knowing that after the day before something awful was bound to happen. You can't have a day that good without karma coming back to get you, that's just not the way life works. The sky was dark and the clouds were moody and we could see the rain was coming. By 7:30 the tent was packed away to keep it dry and the rain fell hard as we hid in the washroom and munched our cereal. But by the time we were leaving the washroom the rain was clearing, the sun was trying to get out and the tent was still packed away, dry as a bone. We quickly made our way to a lock, hiked the canoe up the steep banks and popped it into the water, with me paddling like crazy to get out the other end before the gates closed.

Getting around this monster lock reflected as much our own confidence as the fortunes we were having. We bowl up to a 40ft high lock and wonder how we're going to get round it, we never shake our heads and we rarely complain, we just get out and find a way. We wedge the tips of sandals in a tiny crack on the concrete slope and balance ourselves as we unload the gear, we hoist the canoe above our heads as we clamber over a fence, we lift the boat up a cliff and see-saw it on the ridge with one person above and another below, however we do it, we get round locks. The only head shaking comes after, when we look back down on what we've done and realise... we're fucking awesome.

This lock I speak of just so happened to take us onto a diversionary channel which cut 10km off the river and yet again we found ourselves having lunch in a spot we thought would be the evening. St Jean De Losne was the town and we had a wander before making sandwiches on the port front and chatted to the boatmen. An Englishman, who was the first of many that day to warn us to stay away from the Rhine, and an Aussie, who took a photo and told us she'd look us up on the 'web'. Perhaps she's reading... G'day!

Then suddenly that was it. A perfect paddling river, we'd covered the Saône so quickly it was ending for us and we were back to a lock and the entrance to the Rhone Au Rhin Canal which heads to Germany. The river of dreams, short lived but very much remembered, we love the Saône.

So here I sit in Dôle, a day later and a few kilometres and locks along the canal. Of interest was the high-tech industrial zone we passed through with alarms that sounded for any boat that 'lingers', lots of CCTV cameras and a pipe line across the water that automatically cooled itself by wurring and firing high powered water jets everywhere. We zipped underneath during a 15 second break in the cooling regime as the jets shot out again behind us, pounding the water.

The week began on tough canal and we end back on a new one, but between them were a few days of fine fortunes on a river made for canoeing. It was quiet, beautiful and we paddled for hours without having to tow or get out. Maybe that bit of karma is still out there waiting, but today we got to Dole before midday and it is our rest day tomorrow. So we're going to go find another spot that has some wine and tomorrow we might just get some rest.

Lock-gate... Get it

As I see it, the last three days since our rest day have been dominated by locks. The main thing I'm currently taking from the 52 locks we traipsed around are the burns where my sandals have grappled with my feet and feeling shattered. These locks have also presented obstacles, introduced us to new people and marked our journey across France.

Our first day of the new week started with familiar toil. We had to drag the canoe and our bags back from campsite to canal. Only difference was, this time we were also carrying a week's food. Nonetheless we had a target of 17 locks in order to make the milestone of the top of the hill and the point where the locks would be going down rather than up. To be honest, even at the end of that day the locks were a blur. Right now, each one has murged into a blur of steep banks, steeper steps and stinging nettles. 2 months ago, I would have said that getting a canoe around any of these locks was impossible. At the time, one more lock always seemed impossible. And now, for me and anyone with experience of the canal... It still seems impossible.

Aside from the locks, day 30 was marked by us ducking and then squeezing under 3 mechanized bridges. As with a few things so far we'd been told that these tower-bridge-style bridges that sat on the water would be the end for Dora. Having got past the bridge in the most obvious way, we had lunch on the steps of the church in Montceau and felt pretty proud of ourselves.

Our journey hasn't always given us the same opportunity to congratulate ourselves. Having got around our final lock of the day, a campsite greeted us with open arms: the open gate of a carpark with some rough looking locals. Having unanimously decided we didn't want another attempt at reporting 'canoé crime', we came across a fishing lake with an unused tap and plug socket. Day 30 finally boshed.

The only downpoint of day 30 was that we knew that day 31 was even more of a bitch. Having exited the lake -lock style- we were warmed up for our 23 downstream locks. We had 4 within a mile for breakfast. 17 by lunch. And the full 23 by late afternoon. Suddenly the11k to paddle until the next lock seemed welcome relief. After about half that distance we came across a pretty mooring spot with shiny tourist boats which was too good to turn down. One of the stoves may have chosen that night to stop working but day 31 - that's a month if you've been counting - had been boshed.

Today was always meant to be an 'easier' day to separate all of those locks from our return to upstream paddling on the Saône. And it has been: 12 or so locks, less mileage than normal, a spontaneous swim across the canal and a campsite by mid-afternoon. Saying that, the decision to race a pleasure boat the last 5km was pretty good for my ego and pretty bad for my body.

Apart from all my moaning, canoeing on the canal let's you meet people. There was the woman who let us lift the canoe through her garden. There were the friends we met on the rest day who let us ride a lock with them. There was the couple on the boat next to us on the second night who wanted to buy us fresh bread for breakfast. Less happy were the lock engineers who told us to go away before being silenced as we walked the canoe around them. There was the dingy bar here I bought 'gâteaux' on day 2 as we looked for inspiration around the lock. There's also been the inevitable shocked reaction of the people who live in houses by the locks. And I haven't forgotten the women who stop their fishing to wave and take photos of us.

Finally, canoeing by a continuous parallel road and towpath has made us celebrities of the canal. Cars toot and cyclists shout encouragent and we feel like we're on our own tour de France.

So the canal du centre may not have the castles of the Loire or its reputation, but it has a lot more people. While we've passed through our share of abandoned factories, my morning run around a misty lake and today's walk around Chalon Sur Saône showed us that even canals can have a picturesque ending... Saône next, more canal next week.

A full week on the canals

The last few days have seen us paddling through one of the more southerly points on the route as we came off the canal lateral de Loire and onto the canal du centre, moving out of the Loire valley and away from the river on which we first started almost a month ago. The canal is different from the river but just as interesting with wide expanses of countryside in view, cow after cow on the edges of the canal, and cyclists and tractors passing on the quiet roads. The canal, once an important trade route, is also lined with old industrial areas, mills and grain stores which reach out over the water to load the old boats and reflect the history of the waterway. It's all interesting and new as we glide by in a steady rhythm.

Aside from the sights, the route is also broken up by the many locks we have to pass and with each one we grow in efficiency. Lugging our heavy bags and food barrels up the banks and carrying the canoe out and past the lock takes up a lot of the day and will only increase as we now approach the hillier sections. But it's a chance to get out of the boat, sometimes chat to the lock-keeper, steal apples from the tree without them noticing or, if we're lucky, ask a timely boat if we can ride up in the lock with them... If we're very lucky.

We've camped at the mooring spots where the canal boaters stop, using picnic benches, water supplies and toilet facilities. The people on the water are no longer just fisherman but actual boat users who have advice on what's ahead. We lunched on a picnic bench with an Australian couple who kindly gave us milk, after we said we'd ran out for a few days, showed us some helpful points on the map, and warned us of a coming storm. We've had boaters help us charge our phones on board, plenty more taking photos of us, and a runner who was the most jaw droppingly shocked at our journey yet.

And that warning about a storm wasn't a false one. Day 28, whatever day that was, saw us waking up to heavy rain bouncing off the roof of the tent. We waited for about an hour, pretending we might sit it out, then got the boat in the water and paddled all morning stopping only to race around locks. The rain didn't stop. By lunch we were soaked through and sheltered in a barn where we hung up our waterproofs, dried, changed and ate. Again we waited half an hour or so before canoeing to the evenings end point in Digoin. It's fair to say it was the first day of truly testing weather and it seemed to be a test we stood up to... or rather, sat down and paddled till we dropped.

And now we're here, another day paddled since the rain, in Palinges, a tiny village in the countryside. We're in a campsite by a lake good for swimming and got here through a garden good for breaking into. The only access to the village was through the front garden of houses along the banks and after politely knocking on the door we realised our chosen home was empty. Gate easily unlocked, we took a 17ft canoe and our gear over the wall, up the cobbled steps, through the potted plants, past the garage and onto the road. But, of course it never happened; and on the way back in the morning it won't happen again.

Here we're resting and taking advantage of being in the middle of nowhere. A village with only a post office for our postcards, a restaurant for our steak lunch (an area famous for its steak and didn't disappoint), a bakery for our bread and a bench to chill on and write. Couldn't ask for much more, except a friendly campsite owner who's driving into town for the weekly shop and has space for one more... Food shop done in a massive supermarche, we're stocked for the week ahead.

So a full week learning the ways of the canal and a day in the countryside with good food and nice people. It's not bad right now, not bad at all, perhaps a little muggy but I'll just go swim in this lake, that might do the trick.