Our lovely Swedish friends, Tommy and Katerina (Grunbaum) join us on board Body and Soul on the 26th March for a few days. 
Tommy - a skilled engineer and boat owner– is a genius with a voltmeter and, like a doctor with his stethoscope, he carries his voltmeter around with him wherever he goes. Our alternators, our inverter, our battery bank -even my electric toothbrush is under threat of his probes. It becomes a joke and a great source of mirth between us as we set off from Capestang on a four day trip down the Canal de Jonction which links the Canal du Midi with the Canal de la Robine, through Narbonne to the Port la Nouvelle and the Mediterranean. His tall and elegant wife Katerina, a well known Swedish linguist and journalist, with a great sense of fun, is hungry for material to complete the closing chapters of their book on cruising the waterways of Europe. She doesn’t know it yet, but some great material is about to be handed to her on a plate.
As it happens, Lucie and I have already ventured down as far as Narbonne but never any further, so there is new territory for us to explore. But there is another reason for choosing this route; Moored opposite Body and Soul is the beautiful Dutch barge, Vertrouwen, recently acquired by George and Sue (Hoare) with whom we have shared the joys of wintering in Capestang since November (07).
We have become great friends, as one does with fellow boaters. Neither George nor Sue have had any previous boating experience other than the 46 kilometers lock free canal in either direction from Capestang. Sue seems unduly nervous about handling their first lock. We all try to allay her fears but our efforts are in vain.
BothGeorge George and I are confident that all the nasty stories she has heard from other people, about their exaggerated experiences involving snapping ropes, crushed limbs and boats left hanging off unseen lock ledges, will be forgotten. We plan to give her an easy ride by attempting the descent of the six automated locks before crossing the river Aude and before the rather boring run into Narbonne. You would agree with us that it would be more sensible to gain confidence through gentle experience -it makes sense “n’est ce pas?”.
One has learned, it is much easier to descend locks than to ascend - going down a lock is easier than coming up one – if you see what I mean. It is less daunting. For a start there are no enormous gates towering above one as one enters an empty lock, nor any sense of impending calamity as the waters rush in. Then there’s that problem of tying up to a bollard high above ones head, often unseen. Whereas when one descends, one gets properly tied to the bollards and at a touch of a button, the gates close behind. The sluice opens silently in front and one gently subsides to the lower level. The lower gates automatically open and one just sails out into the sunshine again. Simple.
George is handling Vertrouwen as if it were a vintage motor car – there isn’t a scratch on her yet. We have been watching him each morning for the last five months – whilst having our breakfast on the opposite side - devotedly polishing her beautiful form and washing her decks like a man possessed. We tease him mercilessly about his obsessive behaviour but secretly envy his unblemished paint work. Our equally loved home, Body and Soul, after more than a thousand locks and three thousand kilometers of traveling has more scars on her than paint.
Lucie and I feel rather responsible, important and not a little paternal. My “admiral’s” hat is firmly on my head – I’m in charge and feeling slightly bossy – like a proud duck with only one duckling. I’m not quacking just yet but nearly. Lucie is demonstrating her hard won rope handling skills and somehow preparing lunch at the same time. I am being frightfully British and making silly jokes in the hope that nerves will be duly calmed. Sue is having none of it. Laughter is far from her lips as she struggles to lasso the bollards with wet and heavy ropes. Her knuckles are as white as her face is grim. George, who is trying his best not to shout at her, runs up and down the deck and, like a Jack-in-a-box, goes in and out of his wheelhouse. Vertrouwen’s bow thrusters dangerously "whurrr" as we jostle for position along side each other in the locks. 
All seems to be going reasonably well though. Our fenders are well placed. The locks on the Midi and the Robine are peculiarly oval in shape. This design gives the lock walls greater strength but it is not helpful to boaters of our size who cannot tie up close to the bollards. I shout “Mind the gap!” helpfully, I thought, – you know, like the automated voice at the Bank tube station in London - but quickly wish I hadn’t. We detect a flicker of growing confidence in Sue and I should not belittle her achievement. We have now completed five locks without problem -albeit slowly perhaps. Encouragement would be more appropriate.
Whilst all this frenetic activity is taking place, we become aware of some young German children on bikes, obviously from a hire boat behind us (we call them bumper boats!). They are the children of, we later discover, a very impatient father who, typically, I have to say, wishes to overtake us and be ahead. These children, no more than ten years of age, are sent ahead on their bikes in order to push the lock start button, as soon as possible. By the sixth lock they have become seriously good at their job. Too good.
The sixth lock, called Salléles–d’Aude for some reason, at 5.4 meters is twice the depth of the five previous locks. There are no bollards to tie up to - I’d quite forgotten – instead there are four vertical metal rods around which one is supposed to loop ones rope and slide down as the level of water drops. Quite sensible really. But it is another first for the hapless Sue who clearly expects another session with her lasso. This lock is taking longer than normal. The German children are now impatiently waiting to press their button. 
In due course we safely slide down as we should and the lower lock gates obligingly open to let us out. As pack leader I proudly steer Body and Soul out first, into the sunlight. Then, oh horror, it happened and I see it as I glance through my rear view mirror. Just as Sue, given the wheel of Vertrouwen for the first time, is easing her through the massive lock gates, the German children strike. Which button or buttons they press will remain a mystery but the effect is swift and devastating. Her bows are half way through the lock gates when they start to close. We watch helpless and not a hundred yards away. Vertrouwen seems trapped and in danger of being crushed or swallowed whole like a minnow in the jaws of a predatory pike. I dispatch Tommy ashore and, casting aside his voltmeter, he runs like a gazelle to the rescue. Meanwhile, Sue with great presence of mind, slams her controls into reverse-too late to avoid collision damage but quick enough to avoid disaster – too late to avoid the normal cycle of the automatic lock. Its gates, now closed, starts to refill.
As already mentioned, going up in a lock is much more dramatic than going down. Just imagine going up in a lock for the first time, having no ropes and facing the wrong way. This is not going to inspire confidence in anyone, let alone a nervous novice. 
Unable to do anything other than cling to each other for comfort one can only imagine what is going on in their minds as George and Sue in Vertrouwen begin to swivel like a dead leaf down a drain. But the gallant Tommy raises the alarm and from no-where on this supposedly automated system, springs a lock keeper (an eclusier) who is quick to grasp the seriousness of the situation. The rapidly rising waters are mercifully slowed but, Vertrouwen never-the-less rises to the top like a cork, only to suffer further the indignity of sharing this lock with the impatient German. His children are already riding over the horizon to do more harm at the next one. So George and Sue go down with the enemy and emerge blinking and with just a few scratches. Shaken and stirred you might say – but otherwise unharmed. Katerina’s pen is already to be heard scratching as she sits in the sun on a deck-chair in our bow. “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good” – that’s what they say.
But this melodrama is not yet over. The impatient German, in his plastic bumper boat -so far blissfully unaware that his impatience is the very cause of his delay – tries dangerously to overtake both our boats in an attempt to get into the next lock (the 7th.) before us and to shut the gates before we arrive. He fails on both counts. This lock is not automatic and is manned by the same éclusier as at the 6th (now our friend!) who appears to be fully aware of what is going on. He summarily holds the enraged German back. So we descend the lock without him and George hears him snigger “Zo, ze Britannia rules ze vaves, yah?”. At least he got something right. Auf wiedersehen.
