In French, the Somme is pronounced “sum.” This chapter will be the sum of all the places we stopped at on the Somme. It will be a long one. And yes, Long is one of the places we visited.
After leaving Péronne and before turning onto the Somme, we still had to travel three kilometres on the Canal du Nord, a wide, busy, commercial waterway. The Somme is the opposite – narrow and twisty. Jeannie’s at the bow on the sharp turns – just in case there are any cruisers coming the other way. Larger boats like ours all have AIS – warning us of other traffic. Most cruisers do not. That makes them invisible and dangerous on blind turns.
Now on the Somme, we are facing increasingly tighter turns, weeds, and lift bridges. The green and red lights tell us the bridge is being made ready for us. Given its size, that’s easy for us to see. We hang back until only the green light is showing.
We end our first day on the Somme tied up in front of the lift bridge in Cappy – 17 kilometres and four hours from Péronne.
Once again, we have a lovely view.
A lovely view but nowhere to eat. There is what looks like a fine restaurant in Cappy. But when we walked over from Aleau, at a bit before 7pm, we were told they were full. Once again, in France, no reservation means no dinner. We made a mental note to call a few days in advance on our way back. It looks like a lovely spot.
Of course, we have plenty to eat on Aleau. We had dinner onboard, watched some Netflix, and got ready for the next day. It turned out to be as lovely as the previous one.
Corbie is 24 kilometres and six-and-a-half hours of cruising from Cappy. We found a mooring. It was small but large enough for Aleau. The sun was still shining brightly as we had dinner on the aft-deck beneath our Bimini. We are looking forward to our next stop – Amiens. We have heard so much about it.
The next day – after 20 kilometres, four locks, and four hours – we tied up in the heart of downtown Amiens.
It was a mooring we had been warned about. Our friends on La Belle Hélène had the flag on their stern stolen when they were here. Others have returned from dinner to find drinking parties on the deck of their barge. The culprit – a pub directly across from where are moored.
One of the Somme lock keepers even phoned and advised us to move. We did.
The other mooring spot in Amiens is just above Lock 17 so it will be on our way when we cast off to see more of the Somme. Our new mooring is a half-hour walk into the heart of the city – but worth it. Not only do we need the exercise but the mooring has a borne with electricity and water. Everything we need. It turned out to be a lovely spot.
We won’t have far to go when it’s time to go into the lock.
An interesting aside… The VNF manages most of the waterways in France. We pay them almost €800 a year to use those waterways. We think it’s a bargain. But there are about a dozen other waterways in France that are not run by the VNF. We pay the City of Paris €70 a year to be able to cruise through the gorgeous tunnel on the Canal St. Martin. We knew that navigation on the Somme is managed not by the VNF but by the local government in the Somme department. We didn’t know what the fee would be. We were surprised to find out there isn’t one.
The waterway is beautifully maintained. We phone the office the night before and tell them what time we’ll be at the first lock. They have a lock-keeper waiting for us. At each lock. At each bridge that has to be raised or turned. In addition, there is a complex (ie. expensive) set of dams and weirs before each lock. They’ve been built to divert a lot of the water flowing downstream to make it easier for us to get in and out of the locks. All that for free. The only money they get from us is for water or electricity at the bornes they’ve set up at mooring spots. One euro for more than 1,000 litres of water. We carry 3,000 litres and use less than 200-litres/day. We don’t have to give them money for water very often. Even then, it’s only one euro each time. Electricity costs €1/hour. But with our solar panels, we can charge our batteries without really needing to plug in. Our washing machine and dryer won’t work unless we’re plugged in. If we’re moored in shade (or the sun isn’t shining), we need to plug in. If we need to wash clothes, we need to plug in. If the sun is shining and we don’t need the washer or dryer, we don’t need to plug in. I have no idea how the government of the Somme department pays for all that they are giving us. I really wouldn’t mind paying for a vignette.
Amiens is a joy to walk through. The houses facing us are all similar but distinctive.
Even the building housing the water and sanitation department is an architectural work of art.
There was so much to take in as we walked.
It is impossible not to be reminded how much France suffered during two world wars. A few signs of the destruction still remain in Amiens.
Amiens is most famous for its cathedral. Built in the 1200s, it is the largest in France by volume – more than twice that of Notre Dame in Paris. I marvel at the engineering and construction involved in creating such a structure 800 years ago.
Another church, not far from the cathedral, caught my eye.
It was what is right at the top that had me curious. The only church I’ve seen that looks like it has an observation dome.
I guess it’s the belfry.
One other building in Amiens is famous. Tour Perret is a 29-story high residential building. It was built between 1949 and 1952 and is France’s first skyscraper. It still towers above everything around it.
When we arrived in Amiens, we had much smaller buildings in mind – ones that served dinner.
It turned out to be easy. Just metres from where we moored, we found a street that has nothing but restaurants.
Since we arrived in Amiens by barge, we chose to eat at Le Quai.
It was a good choice. An even better one was dessert. On a frightfully hot day, what better choice than strawberries in a sauce with ice cream – even if partially melted by the time it reached our table?
After leaving the restaurant, we could see why the Amiens cathedral is the sixth tallest in France. But isn’t putting a giant spire on top cheating?
We left Amiens knowing we’d be back. We still have many restaurants to try.
it was a long cruise to Long – 30 kilometres and six hours away from Amiens.
The Somme, at least the navigable part, is about 120 kilometres long and ends as it enters the English Channel. Needless to say, we won’t be crossing it. At Saint Valery, we’ll make a U-turn and retrace our route – visiting every town and mooring spot for a second time.
As we approach Long, a sign warns us of an upcoming weir. Be prepared for a strong current pushing Aleau to one side.
Long is lovely. At the bow, the Mairie towers over everything nearby.
At the stern, the restaurant where we’ll have dinner.
From it, as the sun sets, we can look down on Aleau – ready to enter the next morning’s lock
But now, it’s time to look at the carte.
Long is the stereotypical French town. One we have seen so many times. The type we enjoy each and every time.
The church sits on top of the hill and overlooks everything else. That we have seen before. This time, something we hadn’t seen. Along the side of the church, a wall with two openings.
I went inside. I shouldn’t have.
It smelled as if someone had just used it.
More pleasant was the chateau.
And its lovely gardens.
As I walked back to Aleau, I witnessed a wedding. It was taking up the Main Street in Long. One of the many reasons we love rural France.
The showers of blessing didn’t arrive on the wedding day. But it was way more than a shower that came down the next day. We postponed leaving Long until the deluge stopped – or at least let up.
In the photo above, immediately in front of Aleau, is the lock. To the right is the weir. It diverts much of the water flowing down the Somme. The current is strong. Taking that flow away from the lock makes getting into it much easier. As you can see, these structures are expensive to build and maintain. Just so boats like ours can travel on the river. They are at every lock along the Somme.
In (relatively) calm waters – a day later than planned – we enter the lock. It is still raining.
By the time we get to Abbeville, the sun is shining. At least on the other side.
It’s fully out by the time we reach the turning bridge. This one is manual. Two workers turn a handle that turns the bridge.
The end of the journey. 31 kilometres from Long, we arrive in Saint Valery-sur-Somme – although not smoothly.
We arrived at the lift bridge and waited for it to lift – just as had happened at all the other lift bridges along the Somme. We waited. And waited. Finally, we phoned and were told, “We don’t raise that one for you. You have to go under the opening on the left.” Why didn’t they tell us when we saw them at all the other bridges that morning?
We were not thrilled going through that opening. There was a strong current from behind. The passage is angled. With Aleau almost 5-metres wide, I worried about getting her lined up at the same angle. But we made it. Then, adding insult to injury, we found there was no room on the large pontoon we were hoping to use. With the maritime lock closed until high-tide, we couldn’t go to the marina. We had no choice. We had to go back under the lift-bridge and its narrow, angled opening.
Sometimes, adversity is rewarded. The pontoon above the bridge was available. It turned out to be the perfect mooring spot for our visit to St. Valery. We will stay for four nights before going back the way we came.
That pontoon was perfect for a number of reasons.
One. We are too big for the marina.
Two. Because it’s in a tidal area, the lock into and out of the marina is only open for a short period at high tide. The locks only operate from 9am to 6pm, that means they’re open once a day on some days – or not at all on other days. On July 19, high tide was at 6:37am and 7:12pm. There would be no going in or out of the marina. We don’t want to be a slave to the tides.
Three. The water is brackish. Our anodes are for fresh water. The farther away from salt water we can be, the happier we’ll be.
Four. Aleau is the only boat on the pontoon. We have privacy – along with peace and quiet.
Five. It is a long walk into town. With the large number of restaurants in St. Valery, we’ll need all the exercises we can get.
Now, for St. Valery itself. It sits at the entrance to the English Channel. It is an ideal spot for sailing.
The long walk from Aleau is worth it. The heart of St. Valery seems to be all restaurants.
While some are on the charming street above, others face the water.
Eating outside in St. Valery is a treat.
I got the better seat. Jeannie had to look at me as I watched boats passing by.
Off in the distance in the photo above is Le Crotoy. We went there for lunch. It’s how we got there that is special.
At St. Valery, there is a steam train. Actually quite a few of them. With a number of different excursions.
Standing there brought back memories. I remember as a child spending summers with my grandparents in Sharbot Lake, Ontario. I would wake up early so I could walk to the station and watch the steam trains as they got ready. They’d fill up with water from a hose identical to this one.
I remember turntables so the locomotive could be turned around or put on a different track. This one in St. Valery is motorized.
At the other end, in Le Crotoy, the engine is turned by hand by two people. Probably stronger than me.
I remember sympathetic engineers who would hoist me up to look into the cab. In St. Valery, I could do it all over again.
We bought tickets that would get us to Le Crotoy in time for lunch. Yes, we checked Google Maps for a restaurant that looked interesting and phoned ahead for reservations. It was a good thing we did.
The cars are gorgeous. We chose second class. With a Roman numero.
Here’s the route we’ll be taking – from St. Valery to Le Crotoy. And back.
All Aboard! We’re about to leave.
Railways warn you to never do this. But how can you resist?
At one point we passed a train going in the opposite direction. Maybe that’s why you shouldn’t lean out the window.
Then, we arrived at the station in Le Crotoy.
I remember those baggage carts.
It’s France. We were given two hours for lunch. It’s a good thing we made reservations. We watched people being turned away. For whatever reason, we didn’t take photos of lunch. But we did of the town.
You can see why reservations are necessary. I don’t think they all came from the train.
Like St. Valery, Le Crotoy sits on the Baie de Somme – the entrance to the English Channel.
And like St. Valery, Le Crotoy has a marina filled with sailboats.
We’re about to head back. I was probably that age when I would run to the station to see the steam trains arriving.
It was a chance to enjoy the French countryside at 30 km/h.
It seemed awfully fast as we usually see it at 6 km/h.
The trip back was even better than the one to Le Crotoy. This time, we were up against the engine. I could watch the fireman feeding coal into the boiler – and the engineer looking at where we’re going.
It ended far too soon. I got one last photo of our locomotive.
But there was still much to see in St. Valery.
The Baie de Somme is tidal. Sometimes, a boat would look like this.
Later in the day, it would look like this. Which is one reason why we moored where we did.
Another sign we’re near deep water. Those channel markers are a lot bigger than the ones we’re used to.
Much of St. Valery is about the water – but there is also a lot of history to discover.
Such as this 900th anniversary plaque.
Or one saying Joan of Arc was a prisoner here in 1430.
As it faced the English Channel (and the English weren’t to be trusted), St. Valery was fortified.
They’d be coming from there.
Inside, an earlier St. Valery.
There are quaint streets and lovely houses in St. Valery.
Not a house. The offices of the local Gendarmerie. A fence kept me from getting any closer.
And something I didn’t expect to see.
We stumbled on a ceremony for firefighters – with the ones who will never have to go into a burning building again in white shirts and képi caps.
The younger ones who still have to brave the flames have shiny, chrome helmets.
On that ceremonial note, our visit to St. Valery was over.
After four days, it was time to leave our private pontoon and begin the return journey.
This time, we’d be heading upstream – fighting the current all the way to that nasty tunnel on the Canal du Nord. We’d be stopping at the same spots where we had spent the night while heading downstream to St. Valery.
Our first stop was Long. As we tied up, we could look across and see where we’d once again be having dinner.
Au Fil de L’Eau beckoned.
We smiled knowing we could ignore the blackboard that said all tables were already booked. We had made reservations two days in advance.
This was the only blackboard that interested us.
While we waited for dinner to be served – a glass of Champagne for each of us. One can build up quite a thirst while barging.
As with so many other times during the seven (Thanks to Schengen and Covid, sometimes brief) years we’ve been on the water, we were able eat within metres of where we had moored. I often have to pinch myself to confirm it’s not a dream.
As we continued our journey, we came by this barge. Are the owners trying to confuse me?
As we approach Amiens, the needle rising from the cathedral that lets it call itself the sixth tallest one in France. Next to it, France’s first skyscraper.
We were able to moor where we did eleven days earlier. This time, facing in the opposite direction.
As we continued upstream, a mistake on my part. I decided to go all the way from Amiens to Cappy in one day – skipping Corbie where we had spent the night on our way downstream. That meant 44 kilometres and 7 locks. It took 8 hours and 40 minutes stopping only while in a lock. There’s no rest while in a lock so more than eight-and-a-half hours non-stop. I don’t think Jeannie was impressed with my decision to keep barging on.
Standing at the bow, she could see the brutal day was almost over. In front of us, Cappy.
The red and green lights at the lift-bridge were on. They knew we were here and were getting it ready for us. (Getting ready includes lowering the barriers to stop pedestrians and vehicles from crossing.)
A sigh of relief as we saw there was more than enough room for us in Cappy.
As you will read in the next chapter, one of the worst battles in history was fought along the Somme. Along it are cemeteries for the thousands of soldiers who died during the Battle of the Somme. There are separate ones for each country – all the ones that came to France’s defence. They are all still meticulously looked after. This truck passed by as we tied up.
Cappy played a significant role in the First World War. It was occupied by Germany and for awhile Baron von Richthoven – better known as the Red Baron – was based here. On April 21, 1918, he was in a dog-fight with two RAF Camels flown by Canadians. Flying close to the ground to avoid them, he was shot by ground fire from Australian troops. He had been the top ace of the war with 80 kills. I’m calling his death a joint venture by Canada and Australia.
Cappy (and the surrounding area) has a population of 360.
I’m constantly amazed at how the smallest of towns in France can have some of the finest restaurants.
We couldn’t get in on our first visit to Cappy. For the return trip, we made sure to make reservations well in advance. And treated ourselves to Champagne to celebrate our success.
It brought a smile to our faces as we looked at the Carte.
Choosing was easy. We began by sharing a terrine and then having the most delicious chicken we’ve had in ages.
It’s a small world. As we left Cappy, we passed Ebenhaezer – a barge we had considered buying when we were starting our new life in France.
It was our last day on the Somme. We savoured the scenery as we made our way to Péronne on the Canal du Nord.
We admired all the work the Somme department has done – from the locks and moorings – with no charge for either – to the bicycle and foot path that extends the whole length.
We were delighted with the close to a month it took us to cruise to Saint Valery-sur-Somme and back. We would recommend it to anyone.