Down the Rhine to Strasbourg Part 2 – from Breisach to Strasbourg - Valerie Helps* and photographer Geoffrey Bull continue their voyage in a small boat down the mighty Rhine to Strasbourg. / We shared the Rhine with these giants – barge off the port bow.

We’d noticed that security was an important issue in Alsace.
It began at Mulhouse on the River Doubs where, on arrival, we found an unlocked gate at the end of the pontoon though the marina was surrounded by a high wire fence. We went in search of a laundromat which we eventually found – then returned to the boat through the still unlocked gate, worn out with heat, we had lunch and a well-earned rest.
Later, when Geoff tried the gate he found it was locked! We phoned the number on the signboard but it took them hours to bring us a key and told us there was a key in a box on the pontoon – but as we don’t read German the instructions were of no use to us. Kembs-Niffer was also surrounded by a huge wire fence and we were given a key to that gate – but I wasn’t happy about being locked in (or out for that matter.)
Fisherman on the tranquil Canal Rhone du Rhin Branche Nord.Once again at the Breisach mooring we were given a key to open the gate in the surrounding fence (probably charged with a thousand volts for all I knew – I dared not touch it!). We had run out of fresh fruit and vegetables and found a small shop at the island campsite but there was little on offer and the young woman running the shop was equally brusque. The heat perhaps? It was 32 degrees.
As the evening cooled we staggered out to the little eatery attached to the shop and ordered coq au vin (chicken in wine) and frites (chips), braised liver being the only other choice and it was far too hot for such rich fare.
Strasbourg is a beautiful city.We were served by a delightful podgy little girl who appeared to be no older than thirteen, nevertheless she looked after us most efficiently. The coq au vin arrived totally submerged by the most enormous helping of frites of the shoestring variety and nothing else. I am ashamed to say the frites were so good that we polished them off having vowed we could not eat even half the amount piled on our plates – a tasty meal if a little heavy on the carbohydrates. We washed this down with a sprightly Alsace white and listened to the chatter of the clients most of whom were French, I enjoyed being among them though not part of them.
Ice creams were a specialty of the place and I chose a huge pêche melba and Geoff a coffee ice cream. Next night (30 degrees) we did nothing but sit in front of the fan till the searing heat cooled down; later – revived by the husky tones of Nat King Cole on CD – I made a salad with wilting lettuce and we brought a pizza from the restaurant back to the boat. As night fell we sat on our blue canvas chairs on our aft deck where it was several degrees cooler.
“I feel guilty coming to Breisach and not actually seeing the town,” Geoff said.
I agreed, but it was across the bridge on the eastern side of the river from the marina, and it had been far too hot to walk (or cycle) so I suggested we cruised over to the German side where we knew there was a marina and visit the town from there.
This we did – only to find the small Breisach Yacht Harbour full, so we rafted up against another boat for the night. There was no-one to whom we could give the mooring fee so we put it in an envelope and left it in a box marked for this purpose. An honesty system that implied a deal of trust from the boating fraternity.
Anyone for lunch on the good ship de Villehardouin.We spent the day in Germany, walked for miles in 36 degree heat to find the supermarket which (as always) was on the outer reaches of the town. There we discovered they would not accept any of our cards in payment so we had to limit our shopping to the ready cash in our pockets.
I was astonished to see that most of the produce was mouldy and some of it actually rotting; whiskered, bendy carrots; nectarines disintegrating with age; shrivelled dried up oranges and lemons and not a lettuce leaf or a tomato to be seen.
The Backerie, however, displayed a good selection of delicious breads, though a surprisingly poor choice of tarts and cakes. My dreams of something rich, naughty and very German for afternoon tea faded rapidly as we couldn’t find anything remotely desirable.
Ottermarsheim Ecluse – the locks are colossal.In the evening we left the baking boat and explored the characterless upper town. We never did find the older part if indeed there was one. The main square was reasonably attractive with plants and leafy trees, but somehow lacked the charm and delicacy of French towns and the architecture was nothing to write home about with its stolid, lumpy buildings and churches. We’ve been spoiled I realise that.
We spent several hours drinking cool white wine sitting beneath a shady tree – people-watching and hoping that with the setting of the sun (why is it always almost midnight before it sets in European summers?) the air would cool down. There were two saucily dressed waitresses but the service was unbelievably slow and it took us a good twenty minutes to get our carafe of wine; by which time we were dying of thirst.
We saw several customers dipping bread into what looked like tza-tziki the Greek yoghurt and cucumber dip so Geoff asked the busty young waitress if we could have “one of those”. She smiled and said it was a cheese dip and eventually after another half hour, she brought us the dip and four meagre, stale slices of bread. When we finally summonsed up the strength to stagger back to the boat we asked for the bill and it took another twenty minutes. We felt like doing ‘a runner’!
Down the Rhine to Strasbourg mapWe left Breisach before eight the next morning and had the Rhine entirely to ourselves … for half an hour.
I felt Wagner would be appropriate music for journeying on the Rhine and we had the CD on at top decibels as we surged along with the current, with me conducting the orchestra from the helm and Geoff laughing himself silly at my antics.
Then – as if on queue as the great brass in the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ exploded upon our ears – the first commercial barge of the day came hurtling towards us, its bow wave and then its wake swirling us around as we plunged into the troughs and rode the crests of the swell, the spray coming over the bows as we rolled and wallowed. The timing was perfect and we both laughed long and loud.
I felt quite elated as the waves were truly impressive, however, when I handed over the helm and ventured onto our narrow deck I found it hard to stand up without hanging onto the railing on our sliding roof which was swaying to and fro alarmingly. Geoff admitted later that he had serious doubts as to its safety in the turbulence and, strangely, a secondary onslaught of waves followed a few minutes later just when we believed the main turbulence was over and once again our little craft was bounced around.
Next we played Brahms’ Second Symphony which also seemed appropriate since half of the river was German. In total 14 working barges passed us, all heading upstream (in the opposite direction to us) so we spent our time negotiating our way through the waves and enjoying every minute. It wasn’t in the least bit worrying and the barges didn’t come five abreast as I had imagined in my (fortunately) infrequent nightmares – there was plenty of room for us all.
There are two locks on this stretch and after locking down at the Rhinau écluse (K256) we turned into the Canal du Rhône au Rhin (Branche Nord) on the left bank, leaving the Grand Canal d’Alsace/Rhine behind.
The authors’ canal boat de Villehardouin.At mid-day we moored against the bank near Boofsheim in the shade of giant trees of chestnut and ash, it was blazing hot and we were in need of a well-earned siesta.
My adrenalin rush was fast dwindling away having left the mighty river and I was overtaken with an inordinate weariness but also well satisfied at having tackled the Rhine with such ease, particularly after all the dire warnings we’d had from various well-meaning boating acquaintances about flash floods; currents; giant barges crowding smaller craft onto the banks.
It had been a breeze but I also suspect that we had been lucky as we had heard of an English narrow boat splitting in two on this river and, after all, our boat de Villehardouin isn’t that big!
We got to Strasbourg three days later having cruised the 27km and 11 locks at a lazy pace. We spent our second night moored to the bank by an avenue of shady beech trees and the last stop at the Krafft Rive de France mooring.
We spent a week in Strasbourg moored at the shady Bassin de l’Hopital Marina run by the Strasbourg Motorboat Club. There was no charge, though donations were welcomed.

* Valerie Helps and her photographer husband Geoffrey Bull have spent many years exploring the French waterways on their canal boat de Villehardouin. Over the past four years they have been restoring an old farmhouse in the Loiret region and leasing out their boat when they are not cruising.

The Rhine

Cost of Living

Cheaper in France than in Australia. Eating out can be most reasonable if you shop around; weekly open-air markets along the canal shown on the charts are well stocked.

Paperwork (relating to 11.35m boat)

No special qualifications are required for those wishing to hire a boat on the French canals, however should the hirer wish to venture onto the major rivers the skipper must possess an International Certificate of Competence or some acceptable form of nautical qualification. Details can be obtained from the RYA (Royal Yachting Association).

Marina Fees

Vary on length of stay. More expensive at the Rhine marinas than anywhere else we have visited.

Security

We leave our boat unattended when moored in the countryside without fear of theft.