Another work trip - what a year!




This time a team of Philips people went out - meet Geert, Frank and Roelof (Roelof is the one glued to a camera).



It was quite a good flight - not many people, more comfortable seats than last time, lovely Indian food and a limited amount of screaming kids. The in-flight screens kept saying we were flying from brew to blur, which seemed a pretty accurate summary. They spelt it BRU to BLU, but I knew what they meant.



We landed after midnight, so didn't see much on the way to the hotel. The highway looked much like a British one, even down to the signs, though they did have Hindi as well as English. Speed bumps on a 3-lane highway were an exotic touch, though.



The taxi took us to the hotel which the rest of the team had stayed at last month. Unfortunately it turned out that we'd booked at a different hotel. There were some interesting discussions, but in the end we spent the night at the booked hotel, which was only a short walk away.

We had a more relaxed start this time, because the locks in and out of the river only operate 3 hours either side of high tide. We were at Klein Willebroek lock for the first opening. The water level was only a few inches below the path, much more like an English lock than the high sided Dutch sluis. The friendly and helpful lock master put our lines on the bollards, and we dropped 2 meters to river level.



It was a quick trip up river to the Dijle turn-off. That short section of the Dijle river was a little more worrying, as we still didn't have charts, and the river was quite narrow at that state of the tide. But we were soon at the Zennegat sluis, the start of the Leuven-Dijle canal.

We entered a dripping ravine with the top far above us and no bollards in the wall. A head appeared and lowered a hook for the mooring ropes. We've had lots of experience with the Dutch locks, which sedately raise or lower one by a few centimeters. Here the water came in like a dam bursting, a complete shock. I didn't have nearly enough grip on the front rope, and Rusty's nose slammed out into the centre. Fortunately I'd put a loop round the bollard (more as an afterthought, not in any expectation of needing it) so I was able to work us back to the wall. We came up 4 meters.


There were several more locks after that, but it got easier, as we were more prepared. We end-for-ended all the lines, and made ready a running eye by pulling a bight of rope through the eye splice. The lock keeper would stick down a boathook, we put the eye on it, they drop it round a bollard on shore, we take up the slack.

We also learnt to stop as far back from the gates as possible, so the pressure behind the water had a chance to dissipate before it reached us.



We only saw one other boat on the whole trip.



Then at the last lock there was no lock keeper. We managed to reach the bollards inset just below the top of the wall, and dropped our running eyes over them. It wasn't until the lock was filling that we realised the bollards would end up at water level, with the loops locked round them! Lucky for us we were able to tug them off with a boat hook.



We got to Leuven by 5 o'clock, and moored opposite the Stella Artois factory.

Having blown out two (or was it three?) theories about our engine noise, we have been given another. Both Lancing Marine and my father have independently sent us information about a condition where the hydraulic valve can get stuck, and make a loud howling noise.

The good thing about this is that it is easily fixed, and it does no damage. So as long as one can stand the noise, one can keep on motoring.

The bad news is that we are unlikely to be running the engine long enough or hard enough on the trip to Leuven, so we won't get a chance to check it till next year.

Tired but elated. It's amazingly rejuvenating doing manic trips like that, as long as one survives them. And only one day away from Leuven. It's a pity we can't go on today, but the locks and bridges on the Leuven canal are closed on Sunday in winter.



The marina turned out to be at the back of the hotel we'd noticed last night, Fevaca Inn. The staff there were very helpful and friendly, and they had a good looking menu at the restaurant.

Things went downhill when we met the marina manager. In the end I had to stay with Rusty to make sure she was safe, while Nick went back to Leuven, ready for work on Monday. On the whole I'd recommend the Klein Willebroek Yacht Club on the other side of the canal, if you can get hold of them. I know the telephone number is right because we could hear it ringing, but nobody ever answered.

Up bright and early again on Saturday morning, we left the harbour wall in Tholen at dawn and had just got to the outer harbour when the engine stopped. Arghhh!

It wouldn't restart, so we dropped the anchor (thank goodness Maarten made a notch in the mast support for the anchor chain to run through). Deep breath, and time to evaluate. None of the warning lights or alarms were on, so we'd obviously lost the electrics. But the anchor windlass worked, so the battery itself is ok. Traced the 24v cable to a fractured connector on the main feed to the starter motor. The cable was a little too short, so the connector had been forced on at an angle. Our engine whaps around rather too much in idle, so there was a lot of stress on it. One of those things we'd done in the rush of fitting out and forgotten about. Fortunately we had some spare connectors. No crimp tool for wire that big, but the end of a sash cramp and a big hammer did the job.

OK, off we go again. Just down from Tholen is the only lock on that canal, a big commercial job that we shared with 4 barges. The gates rise up to let the boats in, so we went through a brief shower of drips as we entered, and a heavy rain storm as we came out, as it had only just been raised.



We went into the lock second. It's always a bit of a pain going in after a barge, as their wash creates a churning maelstrom in the narrow confines of a lock. Fortunately Rusty's a strong, heavy boat with a powerful engine. Thank God we didn't keep going last night - we'd probably have lost the engine in the lock, or, worse, while waiting to go in, being bounced about in the wash.

Then more calm canal, and the fun of trying to work out exactly where we crossed the border. But not much time to celebrate, as almost immediately we were in Antwerp docks.
Then we had industrial in spades. Cranes, gas tanks, factories, chemical smells, smarting eyes, the lot. Lots of side docks and commercial locks to the Schelde, so you get really twitchy, trying to keep a watch through 360. It's a huge complex - it took several hours to get through to Royer Sluis, the pleasure boat lock.



Antwerp assigns an FD number to every boat, for life, and uses it to track traffic and to invoice. Yachts have free passage, but they still need a number. We had been told to get our FD number from the Harbour Master, near Royer Sluis. Once there we had a long, confused discussion over the VHF, trying to pinpoint their location. In fact it's just opposite the lock, so we put a line on the 'No Mooring' sign out front, and I took up our papers while Nick stayed with Rusty.

While I was at the Harbour Masters I asked when we could use the Royer Sluis, as it hadn't been clear. It turns out that the big race was just ending, and the yachts were piling into the lock and blocking the lead-in, so that it was impossible to get out through them. Probably be 4 hours before we could get out!

It was 3 o'clock at this point. The Harbour Master advised us to go back to one of the commercial locks. It would probably be quicker, even though a long way round, as the tide was still flooding in the river. Our chart said the commercial locks were forbidden to pleasure boats, but the Harbour Master thought it would be all right.

All this took a while, and in the meantime Nick was fighting with the heavy swell in the docks. By the time I got back to Rusty our mooring rope was almost worn through, and one of the fenders had given up its life for the cause. There was no way we were going to hang around in those conditions for 4 hours, so we set off back to the commercial locks.

We called on the VHF, and Van Cauwelaert Sluis was willing to take us, despite my mumbled attempt at pronuncation. It only took half an hour to get there, so we hung around and watched the boats emerging from the inward cycle. It was like Mary Poppin's bag - a motor boat/long delay/a barge/long delay/a yacht/two barges/another barge . . . in the end we counted 7 barges and 2 pleasure boats. This is one BIG lock. We were in last, and cowered at the back, pinned to the wall by the wash from the barge ahead. The lock emptied a surprisingly long way down, given the river was nearing high water on a spring tide.

We emerged eventually at 5 o'clock, and suddenly it was a beautiful day -



- the sun came out, all the barges went the other way, and the tide swept us up the river.

I still haven't worked out the tides in the Schelde. Every piece of information we had, paper or verbal, gave us a different time for high tide, covering a 6 hour range. But this was definately not the last of the flood.

At 6 o'clock we went past the Royer Sluis from the outside - still blocked by yachts.



Then we rounded the bend and suddenly Antwerp was spread before us, glowing in the golden light just before sunset.

The very last boat of the race was just finishing, and lots of yachts were struggling down river against the tide, heading for the Royer Sluis or the marinas.

We had a hurried discussion and decided to keep going. Our Belgium charts are fine for the canals but lacking in details for river navigation. But it isn't far, the marinas were packed, and we were on a roll. With luck we'd get through the Wintam lock with just enough residual light in the sky for the short canal trip to that night's moorings.

The river above Antwerp looked lovely in the sunset. We passed several boatyards, ferries and reed beds, dodged a lot of drift wood and plunged straight into the confused waters where the Schelde meets the Rupel. We kept a nervous eye on the masts as the boat twisted and dipped, but they hung in there till we crossed into the calm waters by the Wintam Zeesluis.

Here we were faced by a mass of red lights. Contacted by VHF the lock said we could come through, but it would be half an hour, as they had another boat to lock out first. So we waited, and watched the precious light drain out of the sky.

Once in the lock, in solitary splendour, I had to climb out and go to the office to pay, as we 'didn't have a number'. There I waited for ages for an official, who slowly and carefully took all the boat and owners details, and charged me €50 for passage! This is actually quite a good deal, as it covers all the locks and bridges on the Brussels canal for 6 months, but a severe shock to the system none the less. And useless to us, as we're unlikely to be playing around on the canals before next spring.

Back on Rusty the lock had cycled ages ago, and Nick was beginning to wonder if I'd been kidnapped. I climbed down an endless ladder, and we set off into the blackness.



Barges loomed out of the dark, and often we'd only see them at the last moment. Fortunately they all turned out to be moored. Then the first bridge. We could get under it, but the amber light was flanked by double reds. What is one supposed to make of that? We called the bridge for information, and it opened, so we assumed we were permitted through.

After the initial suburbs we were now going through an industrial area, lined with barges and factories. A hotel suddenly appeared, an unlikely mirage in those surroundings, and if it'd had moorings we would have stopped. But actually we were nearly there. The last bridge opened as we rounded a corner, and at last we were at Klein Willebroek, after a 13 hour adrenalin trip.