From Sedan we headed for Mouzon. We were still without Wilco, but with every passing day my confidence was building. We arrived in Mouzon only to find the Port was full. With six people on board I was concerned about our water situation, and decided to side tie to our friends on Zambezi, fill our tank, and then leave. As we began to maneuver into the tiny port everyone along the quay came out to watch what they hoped would be a demolition derby. I glanced over my shoulder only to see this hysterical woman in the boat behind me frantically waving her arms a mile a minute. I was too busy to worry about her even though she almost had a heart attack when she saw Rabelo towering over her boat. I eased Rabelo up next to Zambezi, which is about half our length, without the slightest of bumps. Everyone went back to their boats disappointed.
“Tied up in Mouzon 300 yards from the marina.”
“The church in the village of Mozon.”
We began to fill our tanks, and it wasn’t long before the guy in front of Zambezi started to complain. He was Dutch. His English was so broken I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I nodded and smiled for a while and then went down below to read. About a half hour later I heard this big ruckus and went back up on deck. One of the guests on Zambezi was arguing in Dutch with a woman standing on the dock. I asked what the problem was, and was told it was the water we were taking. I told her I would be happy to pay for it. The woman on Zambezi said the woman on the dock had nothing to do with the marina and was off the boat in front of them. I had already met the husband, and apparently the wife wasn’t any better. So once again I smiled and left to finish my book.
“Our next stop after Mouzon an island in the Meuse River.”
“Lisa and I go for a walk the next morning.”
“We find a rainbow on our walk.”
About an hour later I heard some more noise up above. The book I was reading wasn’t very good so I went back up to see what the problem was. Our friend Georgi on Zambezi was talking in French to a man wearing a uniform, but he didn’t look particularly official. At first I thought he was the proprietor of the marina and came to collect for the water we had taken. When he briefly turned I saw the word “Gendarme” on his back. Now this was getting interesting. Eventually after a lot of hand waving and pointing Georgi explained that the people in front of us had called the police. The nice cop had been having lunch with his family when he got the call. He said that he had an entire town to watch over, and that his lunch had been interrupted for nothing. He told Georgi he wished he could arrest the people for being grumpy and disagreeable. The rest of the Dutch boat owners were so embarrassed by their compatriots they all came by to apologize for the couple’s behavior.
“We even went to a beer museum.”
“Threatening weather.”
“A view from our kitchen window.”
-Tom Miller
Author of “The Wave” – a Chuck Palmer Adventure novel
SEP
About the Author:
Tom Miller graduated from the University of Southern California with a Bachelor of Science in Geology. He is a consummate adventurer with over 1,000 dives as a recreational scuba diver, and an avid sailor who has traveled 65,000 miles throughout the Pacific including the Hawaiian Islands. Miller has also cruised the canals of Europe on his canal barge and given numerous lectures on cruising the canals of Europe, as well as sailing in the South Pacific. Piloting is also an interest of Miller's, and He has completed over 1,000 hours flying everything from small Cessnas to Lear jets.