Marking time

We mentioned in a previous blog post that L’Isle-sur-le-Doubs was a really good place for us to stay and we always planned to spend a few days here on the way back down the canal. There are always small (and large) jobs to do on the boat and we need to fill in time so we don’t get back to Besançon too soon. We have arranged to leave the boat there from August 25 to Sept 4 while we go off on a cruise around the Mediterranean (I realise we haven’t mentioned this in our blog yet and will have to give more details before too long). While Besançon has a good, safe port to leave the boat, it can be noisy, especially at weekends, so we don’t want to arrive before Sunday.

It is just as well we planned things that way, for fate would have contrived to have us here at L’Isle sur le Doubs anyway. We arrived on Friday afternoon, did the washing and some grocery shopping on Saturday, and then the (predicted) rain started. It was very heavy, constant rain throughout the night and the following morning. It abated a little on Sunday afternoon before settling in again in the evening and continuing right through Monday and intermittently through the night. The temperature plummeted to around a daytime maximum of 17 or 18 degrees but that didn’t take into account the wind-and-rain chill factor. You may remember that the last time we were here, it was 32 degrees at 9pm and we had to swim in the river to cool down. No such thoughts have entered our heads this time, believe me, especially when we look at the river…


Although, as its name suggests, the L’Isle sur le Doubs (The Island on the Doubs) is situated on the Doubs river, the port is on the canal, just before we meet the navigable part of the river. Everyone has told us that the Doubs (pronounced the same way as “doux”, the French word for mild, gentle or sweet) can be a capricious river – quick to rise in the rain and quick to settle back down again when it stops. We have now seen for ourselves the truth of the first half of this statement. The gentle, clear river of a few weeks ago is now seriously swollen, fast-moving and mud-brown. Not only is swimming out of the question at the moment but the VNF has closed the river/canal to navigation and we have no idea when it will be opened again. We’re now stuck here, whether we like it or not.


We’ve passed the time doing some of the jobs we planned – laid some vinyl in the kitchen, done some repairs to the laminated area around the fridge, cleaned out and organised the hatches at the back of the boat. Cooking and eating Sunday lunch took up a fair bit of time: red pepper soup, Montbeliard sausage with fried potato and salad, nectarine clafoutis washed down with a bottle of rosé… and then a little siesta. Managing the leaks around the windows also takes time – and we have finally given in and decided we need a professional to do that job. We’ve talked to Blanquart’s in St-Jean-de-Losne but are investigating a Besançon outfit as well.

Yesterday, despite the rain and cold, we ventured out to the supermarket and the once-a-month street market, then treated ourselves to a coffee and a stay in a warm café beside the market place. Some of the patrons were mildly amused to watch us towel off (we’re in shorts with long waterproof jackets to minimize wet clothes), take off sandals and replace them with thick socks for warmth before settling down to our coffee and a game of cards. We spent a very pleasant hour or so there before heading back to the boat for lunch, jobs, reading, cards and cryptic crosswords.

This morning (Tuesday) the rain has stopped and the temperature risen a little. We’ve been down to look at the river without getting soaked and it seems to have dropped a little. We’ve given ourselves a couple of reference points and will return later in the day to see if the drop in water level is obvious. Whatever is the case, we don’t expect to be away from here before Thursday and more probably Friday.



As is the case in many of the places we stop, the passing of time is marked by the chiming of one or more clocks on public buildings. Here the town hall clock marks each quarter of an hour and is joined by the church clock ringing out the hours. The normal ring of the town hall clock consists of two chimes in rising tones for each quarter of an hour with a small pause between each pair. However, every now and again, with no discernible pattern as far as we can tell, there is a third rogue chime on the end of a pair. It never seems to occur when we stop and really listen to the chimes, only as a kind of awareness of something slightly out of place. We’ve become quite captivated by this rogue chime, which sends us the message that slight eccentricities or flaws can sometimes be more charming than perfection.

PS It's just after 5pm as I'm posting this. The Doubs has neither risen nor fallen during the day and the town hall clock rang a perfect set of four pairs of chimes to mark the hour as I passed it on my way to the camping ground.