Lyons, and farewell to the Rhone

Beowulf
Tom Fenton and Faith Ressmeyer
Sat 27 Sep 2014 17:54
45 44.571N 4 48.932E
Lyons is a metropolis, with all the trappings - splendid and playful architecture,

JPEG image


a major port, and a yacht basin surrounded by cafe society (they should pay us to be here).

JPEG image



No doubt its charm will become apparent. So far we are just glad to be here. It took us ten days to get up the Rhone, three of which we were not moving because of flood water in the river and a northerly gale.

Waking this morning at first light on the pontoon above the lock at Sablons, we were drenched in dew and condensation inside the cabin. There was a thick river mist which did not fully clear for two hours during which we had our running lights on, and kept a close eye on the AIS screen that shows signals from large ships (a sort of poor person's radar). The first thing we saw in the darkness this morning were the lights of two enormous barges waiting to enter the lock. The seemed much larger in the mist. We, however, had cleared the lock last night, and were able to set off on our last leg as soon as it was light enough to see the bank through the fog.

In time it became a very hot day, with clear sky and hot sun, and we made good progress. At one luck we had to wait a good hour because a barge carrying gas had to go through alone. At the next the lock was open and we went straight in, and emerged at Lyons.

JPEG image



On the way, we passed the vineyards of the Cote de Rotie, some of the loveliest scenery we have seen so far.

JPEG image



But the trees are turning, and as we go north the birds and the vegetation are changing. Three days ago we started to see the Common Sandpiper. The day before yesterday we saw our first Great Crested Grebe, another last night. The reed beds further south are beds of the giant Phragmites australis, but they have now given way to our familiar Phragmites phragmites, the same reed we get in East Anglia. Today we saw starlings gathering on the power cables. It feels as if we are back in Northern Europe, and yet there are still cypress trees between the vineyards.