For 50 French francs we saw a beautifully prepared display, not just of local memorabilia but a multi media presentation of all the circumstances of the war. We stayed until we could take no more. Back to the river. Wary of the big locks we put the boat on the canal just south of Peronne. Having persuaded a baffled French angler to take a photograph of all four of us, three of us set off south down the canal, while the driver with the trailer followed us along the banks.
Photographs show a broad canal, boringly straight, and the cox sitting under an umbrella.
This was altogether more pleasant and quiet, but when we reached the next lock, it was closed again being Sunday. We hoisted the boat out looking apprehensively at a very black, very wet looking cloud coming straight for us. We all voted him the most decent sort of Frenchman. We put the boat back on the water at Ham, a town of no beauty at all, and finished the day's row at the junction with the Canal de St Quentin. We had to find somewhere to stay, and although the centre of St Quentin should have been the nicest place, its narrow streets were a bit difficult with a 30 foot trailer, and we were compelled to go to a ghastly hotel in an industrial estate, seemingly made entirely of plastic, which included the food they served.