It's all downhill from here.....

“Our last uphill lock of the year!” herself observes....... with feeling. The wide locks on the K&A can be hard work, especially at the eastern end where the condition of some leaves a lot to be desired. Working through alone means the boat has to be held to the side to stop it being tossed around by the turbulence of the incoming water. As the steerer that's her job while himself draws paddles and applies his buttocks to gate balance beams. All this heavy manual work takes a lot out of a girl of tender years .So much so that the head nods and the eyes close as we tune into “Countdown” on Channel 4.

Downhill working for the steerer is easier as the boat will sit quietly, untethered as water drains out through the bottom gate paddles. As many of the locks on the K&A have to be left empty with a bottom paddle up (no by-wash to take excess water from above is the reason we presume) there's more for himself to do and passage can be slower. Our trip from Newbury to this summit lock No:55 above Crofton was not without incident, but yet again we are starting our story in middle.

We left Newbury on a reasonably sunny day and head for Kintbury, a place we had never yet rung at. A pleasant mooring above the lock and at the appointed hour we head for the tower where we receive a warm welcome.From Kintbury a short cruise to Hungerford for the weekend and more ringing on the excellent eight at S Laurence. This time renewing acquaintances and staying over for practice night on Wednesday. Himself is again invited to stand a quarter peal of Grandsire Triples for the evening service on the following Sunday (a wrong call before the last course loses the attempt but there was some lovely ringing). Thursday and we plan to take the short hop to Great Bedwyn where we will stay for the weekend, himself taking a one stop train ride back to Hungerford to ring in the quarter. But things don't go quite to plan.

About half way to Bedwyn, we are working through Froxfield Bottom Lock when himself, about to open the top gates notices they are padlocked together. Two of the Boys in Blue appear clutching a notice to put on the gates, “Sorry, there's a stoppage The pound above the flight has been accidentally drained.” They unlock the gates and let us through, but here we have to sit till the pound (almost a mile long) is re-watered. With a water shortage in the feeder lake this takes two days. As we were expecting to fill with water and use the sanitary station at Bedwyn that day things were getting desperate as we finally could move on!

The trouble it appears was a repeating theme around the waterways. Keen holiday boaters underestimating time by going further than they should and in the haste to get back to base failing to properly close lock paddles. The result, water continues to flow through the lock from the pound above and at the end of the night the pound only has half the water it should have. Easily done.

When finally we arrive its Sunday lunch at the Cross Keys and renew acquaintance with landlady Sue (ringer and boater) to go with them to Collingbourn Kingston for Monday's practice. Sadly not enough ringers left in Bedwyn for their own practice so they go elsewhere. Also while we are here we make use of the excellent train service from Bedwyn to Paddington to go and visit my Chelsea Pensioner Dad at The Royal Hospital.

On to Honey Street and a call at Gibson's Boat Services, Avon Rose's first mooring, to fill with diesel. George is pleased to see her again and comments on how good she is looking. It seems he is finally going to retire but banks are still not lending to small businesses so his prospective buyers are finding it impossible to get loans despite what the government says. Honey Street essential too for a visit to the sawmill and the purchase of load of beech logs to fuel our fire for the winter. All stowed on the roof and himself demands a visit to the Barge Inn for refreshment and a basket of cheesy chips. Aaah the pleasures of the boating life. The downs with their white horse above Honey Street are a magnet for walkers, all of which provides year round custom for the Barge. We determine that next time we come through we really must take a walk up.

The weather is wet and damp. Leaves round the prop call for bursts of reverse more often now. Mud on the towpath at Bradford on Avon and we wish small dog could walk on stilts. His undercarriage is too close to the ground and is a magnet for mud. The fire it lit everyday and now in our second winter we have learned to control it better. The problem in a boat is not too cold but too hot. It's very easy to stoke the fire up too much and end up having to open all the doors and windows to cool down. The chimney liner is working a treat; no brown tar runs over the roof and down the cabin side. From Avoncliffe Halt we take the short train ride into Bath for a bit of shopping. Its niceto be back wandering familiar streets. We have to say, a year on, this feels like home.

“Now this is boating!” himself declares as we leave another of the Kennet and Avon's broad locks. After a brief sojourn at Abingdon Avon Rose continued down the Thames. An overnight mooring at Goring was approached with navigation lights blazing as dusk was falling. Evenings are getting chillier, leaves are turning and falling. It is decidedly autumnal; “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” to lovers of Keats. While at Abingdon a new chimney was fitted along with a liner. When a fire is kept in all the time tars from coal and wood condense inside the chimney and run down inside. Because the chimney fits over a collar on the roof this then tends to run onto roof and down the side of the boat making a mess of the paintwork. The solution is to fit a liner which fits inside the collar on the roof so that any tar runs down inside the collar and down the stove pipe. That's the theory anyway. So himself did the business with the liner, sealing the joint between the liner and the top of the chimney with heat resistant sealant to stop tar leaking down between liner and chimney. If it doesn't work its back to plan B, a wheeze imparted to us by another boater. Use old socks filled with absorbent “cat litter” to soak up what trickles onto the roof. The fire has been lit and so far so good!

“I like the Thames!” herself declares; a statement greeted with low mutterings from himself. Sitting comfortably in the cratch, reading or doing Soduko or knitting; gazing out over green water meadows, woodland and sumptuous home counties dwellings with gardens and lawns sweeping down to a river bank lined with skiffs, launches and “plastic” boats. A leisurely wave to passing walkers and weekend boaters. She's in her element. Standing for hours at the tiller cruising down a wide waterway every so often steering into a large lock chamber to hold a mooring rope belayed round a bollard while a cheery lock keeper pressed the buttons to do the business is not himself's idea of boating. Hence the broad grin on his face as the Kennet is reached and he steps onto the towpath, dog at his heels, windlass tucked in his belt to raise paddles, control water and apply his weight to balance beams. “It's all in the buttocks you know!”. The closeness of the surrounding countryside, the constant shifting of course to navigate bends and bridge holes, the sight of a jewelled kingfisher skimming over the water beside the boat, the interludes of physical activity in negotiating locks and swing bridges. “This is boating!”

Between Reading and Newbury the Kennet and Avon Canal is, strictly speaking, the Kennet Navigation. The fast flowing River Kennet having been made navigable in the 1720's by the construction of weirs and locks and the insertion of stretches of artificial canal where the river channel was not suitable for the passage of the wide-beam boats that would ply their trade down to the Thames and London. The waterway was noted for its large turf-sided locks, cheaper to build than a brick or stone lined lock. The bottom of the chamber lined with wooden shuttering and the upper part a sloping turf bank. With a good flow of water down river, even in summer, the greater volume of water they used was not the problem it would have been on an artificial canal. Two of these turf sided locks still exist at Garston Lock and Monkey Marsh Lock. In other places they have had chambers reconstructed with steel piling or brick lined chambers have been created. The result is that locks on this section only have gate paddles on the uphill gates to admit water rather than ground paddles..With ground paddles sluice gates are built into the lock wall above the gates admitting water through and underground culvert into the lock chamber and water enters the lock below the water surface pushing up under the boat. With a gate paddle a jet of water comes through the gate and pours down into the lock chamber until the lock is almost half full and the opening is covered by the ring water. They create much more turbulence and, without care, water can cascade into the front well deck swamp a boat.

At Reading we moor in the loop in the navigation next to the Abbey ruins and Reading gaol (famous as the place Oscar Wilde was incarcerated). “We like Reading,” it had been decided. A two day stay and a chance to replenish our stores. The sun shines. field maple, sycamore and horse chestnut are showing their autumn colours and the need for a quick burst of reverse to clear the prop of a bolus of fallen leaves are sure signs of the turn of the year. Yet this is some of the best weather we have had for some time. Overnight stops at Theale and Woolhampton and here we are in Newbury; another place “we like”. We are in “home” waters

A Year On

Well that's it. We've completed our first year as "Grey Nomads", as a friendly antipodean informed me the other day as we sat on opposing balance beams waiting for the lock to empty. A new tenant in the house signed up for 12 months and preliminary plans made for another season's cruising must mean, year two here we come. Herself, forever with an eye out for a bargain, is feeling very smug, having picked up three carpet offcuts in Stone for a bargain price and has re-carpeted the whole boat ready for the new season.

But once more we are getting ahead of ourselves. When last you heard we were about to face the ordeal of the Wigan flight. Wigan flight? Piece of cake, don't understand what all the fuss is about. Horrendous they may have been once, but to be honest we have had to work harder on the K&A. Paired with another boat and with our nephew to expand our crew we made a good passage as the first boats down that day. The BW lock-keeper was there to see us on our way and send some water down to fill a shallow pound (local lads swimming the previous evening messing with the paddles).

At Wigan our nephew took the train back home, taking Micah with him! Big dog was going on his holidays; herself having decided that to leave our son to cope with the boat and both dogs while we swanned off to Cornwall for our holiday would be too much. Yes we know we're permanently on holiday; but a change is as good as a rest.

On to the Bridgewater Canal and once we are are through to Manchester we are back onto water we cruised when we first bought into Scimitar, our shared ownership boat. That was 12 years ago.

An interesting stop at Worsley, the place where the Duke of Bridgewater built his canal to serve his mines, the start of the canal mania of the 18th century. Picture box scenes hard to reconcile with what at that time must have been a harsh industrial landscape. The works beside the canal now a public park. Only the base of the works chimney left, converted into a monument to the age. Through Preston Brook tunnel and a queue for Dutton Stop lock as we once more join the Trent and Mersey Canal.

Last time we passed this way the Anderton Boat Lift that transports boats from the T&M to the river Weaver below was a rusting hulk awaiting restoration; the visitor centre a converted transport container in the car park. Now this marvel of Victorian engineering is fully restored and operational with a modern visitor centre and museum. Cruising on to the Weaver held no attraction for us and so we travelled down on the trip boat rather than take Avon Rose down just to come straight back up again. Interesting how much housing has sprung up around the canal in the environs of Middlewich since last we were here. Also we had forgotten how pleasant this upper end of the T&M is.

Up "Heartbreak Hill" to the Harecastle tunnel and we have now completed the navigation of the entire length of the Trent and Mersey this year,albeit in two episodes. And are we glad we were not here a week before as we hear tales of 3 hour queues for locks. It seems the stoppage half way up the Shroppie because of a massive leak on an embankment has forced more traffic onto the T&M.

So we arrive at Stone, south of Stoke on Trent and the aforementioned acquisition of carpet, fitted during a pause for a week. We leave the T&M at Fradley Junction for the Coventry Canal and a steady and uneventful cruise to the Oxford canal and a rendezvous at Napton on the Hill with our son where we drive off,courtesy of Enterprise hire cars' for a week in Cornwall. Sun, sand, castles pasties and delightful company; a change is as good as a rest. Also the excuse for the long period since our last post to this blog.

We are now back on the Thames at Abingdon where Ed killing time. We have arranged winter moorings in Bath once more; December through to the end of February. British Waterways' winter maintenance programme has been published and we will have a leisurely cruise through to our temporary winter home, ensuring that we don't get stranded by the scheduled stoppages. But for now, there's boating to do.

I cannot believe that it’s a month since we last posted, but in our defence we had the call of land based distractions. Our tenant moved out of the house and we had to return home to sort things out. These forays into the land of the housebound have their good points and not so good. Good to catch up with friends. Not so good when herself has her worst fears about the state of her garden confirmed. Aah well, all things have a price. Also in the interval we have passed the thousand mile mark since leaving Hartford Marina last September.

When last we reported we had just acquired an expensive piece of wood, the Calder and Hebble handspike. So armed we headed off downstream on the said navigation. It’s here that our 57 foot long boat lived up to its “go anywhere” label. If we had shared locks going downstream with a boat of similar length we would not have been able to open the inward pointing mitre gates; on our own it required a diagonal shuffle. The C & H has a strange mixture of paddle gear. No two locks the same in dimensions it seemed as well as gear. Almost looked as though they bought up a mixed lot and fitted whatever came to hand. Canalised sections are protected by flood locks on the upstream end all of which were open at both ends as river levels were normal. And the expensive piece of wood? There was really only one lock where it was absolutely essential as most locks had paddle gear of some sort at each end that was operated with a standard windlass! Herself will remember the C & H as the place where what started as a terrible sore throat and was possibly the swine flu, laid her low and we holed up while she took to her bed. And no, this was not followed by an epidemic of man flu! Rusty old boaters are made of stronger stuff.

Near Castleford a sharp left onto the Aire and Calder navigation. When we came this way some 20 years ago this was still a commercial waterway with 90ton craft carrying gravel, coal and oil. Its huge locks (120 feet by 18 feet) manned by lock keepers who controlled these mechanised giants from their tower lookout using traffic light to communicate with the boater and communicating with each other on progress of traffic; so the gates opened as if by magic as you approached. Along with the commercial traffic the lock keepers have disappeared and boaters operate for themselves from control panels at each end. For himself, perched on the hatches, this wide waterway is merely a corridor to somewhere else with its high banks thickly clothed with willow obscuring any view of what lays beyond. Having said that, the mooring above Lemroyd lock, with its new marina and neatly mown grass, was delightful on a warm sunny evening, with pleasant walks through the adjacent wooded countryside. It’s a popular spot with the locals.

You want to send herself into raptures of delight? Take her to a mooring with electric hook-up. She can dry her hair and Hoover to her hearts content without himself fretting about the state of charge of his batteries. She’s in seventh heaven! And where is this boating Nirvana to be found? Why the newly re-opened Clarence Dock in Leeds. As we approached Leeds it was as we remembered it, with crumbling Victorian mill buildings, but once you approach Leeds Lock at the head of the navigation the scene has been transformed, with mills and warehouses delightfully converted to apartments and the once derelict waterfront restored to a living community. The Royal Armouries Museum right beside the dock provided a pleasant interlude from boating and with a Tesco Express just round the corner to cater for your household needs, this is a superb stopping place to explore the centre of the city. Fortunately for the communal purse, herself was still not the full mustard so even retail therapy was beyond the limit of her stamina.

Now we have reached the ultimate objective in our cruising season, the Leeds and Liverpool Canal, with its broad 62 foot long locks for the short boats that used to ply their trade here. Staircase locks are a feature as well, where the top gate of one chamber is the bottom gate of the next. Unlike Foxton staircases on the Grand Union, where the chambers are emptied or filled from side ponds, the water here is got from the chamber above or emptied into the one below so the whole staircase needs to be set differently depending on whether you are travelling up or down hill. Most have lock keepers to help those confused by this but also to ensure that the precious water supply is not wasted. Above Leeds they are also there for the safety of boaters. “Don’t stop at Kirkstall!” is the word. Vandalism is a curse; handcuff keys to unlock paddle gear the norm. Sunny afternoons and young men with cans of beer seek entertainment on the cut!
At Bingley we reach the limit of our previous cruise on this waterway the foot of the Bingley three rise followed by another of the wonders of the waterways, the majestic Bingley five rise.Five great chambers leading one into the next as you climb sixty feet up the hillside. Himself assists the lock-keeper rather than the other way round. It’s a delight to watch an expert at work. A man who knows just whereto position a single boat, just how much water from which paddle to keep it pinned motionless, not a drop wasted over spill weirs. And the view from the top: stunning.

Girls lunching on pie and peas, champion black puddings, it must be Skipton. The cruise here from Bingley with views over dales and fell tops and we consider revising our opinion about the Peak Forrest Canal being the most beautiful stretch on the waterway. When we finally leave Skipton we know that for us, the meandering length from Gargrave to East Marton cannot be surpassed for natural beauty. Skipton is where our nephew comes to join us to care for dogs and boat again as we make use the services of Enterprise car hire to return home to attend to the move of our tenant. From here we meander through those once great mill towns of Nelson, Colne and Burnley on the journey to that former cotton capital of Lancashire; the home of Rovers. (Just don’t mention the opening home match of the season; Rovers 0, Man City 2!). Industrial archaeology there is in abundance.

Now a certain bony dog is definitely starting to show his age. On a morning walk he will come to a dead stop and look round longingly at the boat, “I want to go back!” A manoeuvre repeated many times in the past, boat slows close to towpath where the canal narrows under a bridge, dog and handler skip nimbly onto the counter, this time ends in a dunking. The front legs make it but the back ones don’t and he slides backwards into the cut. As we cruise along he likes to stand at the back of the boat, nose to wind, indulging in olfactory delights known only to dogs. This day we hear a yelp, a faint plop, turn round, “Dog overboard!” Engine in reverse as a dog ,who appears to have just walked off the back of the boat, strikes out for the shore! With the aid of a lead lent by an astonished passer by, he is coaxed to a conveniently positioned ramp placed in the wall of the canal by the builders to aid the rescue of boat horses who had fallen in. As the edges are shallow we cannot get close enough to the bank to retrieve our shore-bound pair so have to lay out the gangplank to get them aboard. Life is never dull afloat. The intrepid hairy mutt, not to be outdone has also once more taken an impetuous leap for shore so as to be first off and ended up belly flopping and swimming back and forth until he could be hauled out by the scruff of his neck.

While we were heading for home Simon, from RunbytheSun, delivered the solar panels we ordered at the Crick show. A better than expected demand had meant that stock had run out so we had to wait until more units had been manufactured. Two 60 watt panels delivering a max of 8.6 amps to reduce our need to run the engine when at rest and to increase our green credentials. Himself spent a pleasant morning fixing brackets, making connections and staring at the charge controller to see how they performed. Well it must be Ohm’s brother Murphy at work here; the amount of cloud cover and rain is directly proportional to the amount of solar power you think you are going to generate. It’s the middle of August for heavens sake! But joy oh joy, when the sun does come out, they deliver their full potential. But himself was able to confirm the truth that solar alignment is crucial for full power. In the early morning sun moving from flat on the roof to angled to the sun doubled the output. Midday sun, angled (22 degrees) and turned southward they delivered the full specified 8.6 amps. In this uncertain weather 30 aH is the best we have produced so far – enough to power the fridge and water pump all day.

As we leave Blackburn a lunch at the Boat House in Riley Green and then the cruise down the seven Johnson’s Hillock locks with Excalibur to be greeted in the last chamber by one of those prize Lancashire cloud bursts. Over in a few minutes, but you are soaked through all the same. now we face the delights of the infamous Wigan Flight; 23 locks descending over 200 feet in less than two miles. Not only heavy mitred gates but also all paddle gear (six sets on each lock) locked with handcuff keys as an anti vandal measure. We will only do 21 as we take a left to head for Manchester and the Bridgewater Canal. We’ll let you know if they live up to their reputation for a miserable and gruelling passage!

Longest, Highest, Deepest.

Show me a man who greets passers by with a cheery “’ Mornin’ “ at 2pm and I’ll show you a man who hasn’t had his lunch. Late lunches on the move have been the order of the day. Shallow canals mean good moorings are hard to find so the day’s boating also tends to be a bit longer than usual.

“You dropped off again?”
“I was only having forty……well a hundred winks,” herself declares.
“I’ve opened 21 locks and walked 5 miles today!” himself responds.
“Well then,” she says,”no wonder I’m tired!”

From this gay badinage you may gather that our intrepid pair are on top form. Well not quite. Herself is still troubled with pains in the right side from her strained muscles/trapped nerve? Some days OK, others not; one consolation, ”It’s not stopping her sleeping!”

Rain showers there have been; some light, some heavy but none, thank goodness, quite like the stair-rods of that first day on the Macclesfield canal. After the Bosely flight of locks we continue lock free on the Mac with its elegant stone turnover bridges to Marple and take a right onto the Upper Peak Forest Canal to Bugsworth Basin. We recalled this as a quiet spot; not so now with the Whaley Bridge bypass close by. This remarkably restored set of basins, so rural and green, hard to imagine the smoke, dust and grime of the place in it’s working heyday, with it’s constantly burning limekilns and rattling tramway trucks bringing limestone down the inclined plane from the quarries. A hard life for the horse boater; a far cry from our leisurely boating life. A pleasant day spent connecting what we see on the ground with the sometimes ambiguous descriptions in the information literature.

In the terminal basin at Whaley Bridge a man with his radio controlled boat has to steam out of our way as we wind (boater speak for turn round ). A chat with him once we have moored as he is firing up a live steam powered launch. Himself parks her in a tea shop as he takes the fifteen minute walk up the main street to Coleman’s butcher .What a man will do to lay his hands on serious award winning black pudding and sausages!

For scenery you can’t beat the Upper Peak Forest Canal. It wanders high up on the limestone hillside giving views over the Goyt valley to the Derbyshire High Peaks. From Whaley Bridge you can see up to Kinder Scout and Edale Moor. “I want a view!” she says; and we find one, a convenient gate so we can see through the towpath hedge as we sit in the evening sun in the fore well deck. A rare spot with enough depth by the bank to avoid having to use the gangplank to bridge the gap between boat and shore.

Back to the Junction with the Mac at Marple and we start down the Lower Peak Forest with the 16 lock Marple flight, which along with the Bosely locks on the Mac are one of the most delightful flights of locks on the system. Now one of the joys of this way of life is the delightful people you meet, like young Oliver, his Dad and little sister Poppy. They had passed the locks many times by car but had decided that at last they must stop and have a closer look. Oliver helps with opening the gates as himself points out and explains the remnants of the horse boating days. What nicer way to spend a sunny morning than in pleasant conversation while boating.

At the junction with the Ashton canal we take another right and head for the Huddersfield Narrow Canal. Now this is not a place for the feint hearted. Seventy four locks in the space of twenty miles as you climb over the Pennines and at the summit, the awesome Standendge tunnel, all 3miles 418yards of it; 17 years in the building, the longest tunnel on the system, the highest at 645 feet above sea level and the deepest being a maximum of 638 feet beneath the highest point of the moor above. This is serious boating. The restoration of this unique waterway is a tribute to the enthusiasm and perseverance of the Huddersfield Canal Society. But for them it would have been lost for ever.

As you enter the canal at lock 1W, you get the distinct feeling that not many boats travel this way. No canal side gardens with boats moored at the bottom of them here. It’s not until we are moored at Stalybridge that we meet our first boat. Now Stalybridge has embraced the canal and made a feature of the restored section through the town centre. Only thing that’s lacking is boats, instead it has litter; shame.

Along the length of the canal the remains of the once proud mills of the woollen textile industry that was the heart and soul of these valleys. At Uppermill (once a center of weaving, now a tourist hotspot with the Saddleworth Moor towering above it) a visit to the Museum beside the canal helps us understand the past life of this district. Now we can spot the hand loom weavers houses with their rows of mullioned windows on the top floor to provide maximum light for the weaver.

Shallows make the journey to Diggle and the Tunnel, shall we say, interesting. Our passage through the tunnel was booked well in advance, only three boats in each direction are allowed on each of Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The tunnel is only partially lined, with many sections of natural rock very narrow and not entirely straight, in the middle an S bend where the tunnellers working from each end missed each other by 23 feet. We are met by our British Waterways chaperones, one for each boat to point out, as we progress though, where the hazards and tight spots are. The gauging stick comes out and Avon Rose’s vital statistics are checked to ensure she will fit in the profile of the tunnel. There are in fact four tunnels; two single and one double track railway tunnel as well as the canal tunnel, all joined by connecting side tunnels. One hour forty minutes of intense concentration from himself sees us through, pauses every so often for our man to report via intercom in a connecting tunnel our progress. Herself sitting in the cratch nursing a very nervous small dog probably saw more than himself who now knows all about tunnel vision; although he did get taken up into one of the disused railway tunnels for a look. In contrast to the canal tunnel, tall, cavernous, completely lined and dead straight, the small semicircle of light clearly visible at each end.

On emerging we have to wait until the next day to descend the first 21 locks to Slaithwaite. Chronic water shortages on this east side mean we have to be chaperoned down by the boys in blue, only one paddle being used to empty locks to ensure that water is not lost over bywashes in a sudden surge of an emptying lock. Sunday and we take a rest day and enjoy the friendship of the folk of the parish church of Saint James.

And so the descent of the final 21 locks and the remarks recorded at the beginning of this posting. Here we are in Huddersfield and on the Huddersfield Broad Canal. Soon we will be on the Calder and Hebble Navigation and require a Calder and Hebble handspike to operate lock paddles, an item not dissimilar to capstan bars used on old sailing ships. “Most expensive piece of wood you’ll buy!” said the nice lady in the chandlery at Aspley Basin.

From Four Feet Away...........?

“From four foot way it looks great”, the Sage declared. ”If you want a perfect looking boat, don’t go boating.” You see, not only was it the wrong red but herself was not keen on the yellow either; the yellow coach lines on the cabin sides that is. Ivory is much better. So it’s back to Cut Signs for vinyl lining tape and semicircular corners. Problem is lining tape is uniform in width while hand painted lines are not, so we have a hint of yellow appearing around the new ivory lines, hence the Sage’s remarks; and he’s right. Looks fine viewed from 4 foot away and himself had to agree ivory looks better than the yellow, no matter how traditional yellow with green and red might be. Himself of course had a very self satisfied smile on his face, having just removed the last of the masking tape from his newly decorated cratch board, traditional diamond patterns. We have to agree it looks quite good.

And no, we haven’t spent the last two weeks beautifying our floating home, there has been some serious boating as evidenced by the remark of another Sage, “Look at all that lovely blacking you’ve been rubbing off!” Now waterways in cities we been through, Bath, Reading and Oxford have been teaming with boats, so it’s something of a surprise as we head northward through Leicester, a broad waterway with ornate bridges and canal side well furnished with mooring bollards to find………none. Well not quite, there were four on a secure pontoon mooring protected by a locked gate at Castle Gardens in the city centre. The anti-vandal locks on paddle gear and crude graffiti on all balance beams and bridge sides should, we suppose have given a clue. The pontoon was only 50 meters long and as evening was approaching we asked “Wandering Star” if we could moor alongside them (everyone else seemed to have disappeared into the city for the evening). We are of course now on the River Soar which like the Nene is susceptible to flooding and strong stream warnings after not much rain. Saturday night and we wander into the city centre and find a very pleasant bistro where unlike elsewhere we do not feel like Methuselah and his wife.

It’ Sunday morning and a hire boat has moved on so we can back up into the space they vacated. We attend Mass at Saint Mary de Castro close by where the local archdeacon preaches a “challenging “ sermon on the eve of an interregnum. This is sadly one of those inner city Anglo-Catholic parishes which in its introspection seems to have lost its way and appears to be dying on its feet. The sad thing is it needn’t be thus.

The River Soar to the north of Leicester passes through some lovely country and its noticeable how the density of boats rapidly increases the further we get from the city. This is the posh side of town. Flood locks installed to control water flows all have gates at both ends open so we sail straight through and water level markers on the exit from other locks are all well in the green zone.

An overnight stop in Loughborough to replenish supplies and utilize a convenient launderette. Our Zanusi studio washing machine is fine for everyday things but when it comes to the bed linen its more convenient to take everything we have to a launderette and get it dried all in one go!

And then we reach the vast width of the mighty Trent, water we have cruised before on the occasion, some years ago, when we famously went to a baptism in Nottingham by boat. Derewent Mouth and we are back on the cut, our old friend the Trent and Mersey which we have travelled before from end to end. At this end Shardlow is a canal historian’s delight. Once a centre of canal activity it has retained many of canal side warehouses from the days of the corn trade. Once we reach Burton (another town that appears to largely ignore its canal) we are back to narrow gauge locks and easier work for the boatman. The weekend again and this time in the lovely village of Alrewas,a favourite stopping point when we had a share in Scimitar and were based up the cut at Fradley junction. No ringing, work being done on the tower but once more the delight of an inspiring natural preacher, no notes, Just stand and tell it out. By chance it’s Alrewas’s “Open Gardens” weekend.

Now if you have one specimen tree in your garden we have found the one it needs to be. As we continue our northward journey we pause at Great Haywood at the junction of the T & M and the Staffs & Worcs, mooring opposite Shugborough Hall now in the care of the National Trust. The weather is delightful so herself decides a visit to the gardens is a must, dogs on leads are allowed so off we set. (We have visited the house on previous visits). We turn the corner and there is this amazing sight. A large shrub some 12 to 15 feet high covered (and I mean covered) in what appear to be four white flowers about two inches across with four petals, those on the top showing an amazing reddish pink flush. Closer inspection shows the petals are in fact bracts and the actual flower is small and green at the centre of these. We walk on, see the gardener and as himself approaches him he (the gardener) declares “Cornus kousa var. chinensis, Chinese Dogwood.” We are obviously not the first to ask. This is Jo Hawkes, 18 years as gardener at Shugborough. Apparently the flowers appear in May. As the season progresses they take on this pink flush. The fruit then appears, which is red and strawberry like followed by spectacular red autumn leaves. In Rugby himself had wiled away the hours chatting to Leaping Frog (you tend to know people by the name of their boat) who had been extolling he joys of National Trust volunteer working parties. Jo encourages to think about mooring up as we pass on our travels and spending a couple of days gardening with him. It’s tempting.

The weather has been glorious. We progress onto Stone, another favourite stopping point and thence on through the Harecastle tunnel (a 40 minutes passage).Then a left and a right to get us on the the Macclesfield ,another favourite canal with elegant stone bridges and rolling pastoral scenes as we head towards the Peak Forest national park. Now the weather has changed and we have frequent rain showers. This is none of your woosey southern rain. This is the stuff rodents asphyxiate in (come on; think about it). Himself on the back in the hatches, umbrella up, back doors closed behind him still getting soaked by the spray. You don’t have to ask were she is!

It's the Wrong Pitch

Now all you cricket, rugby and football fans may rabbit on about the state of pitches but for the serious boater if we are talking pitches we are talking propellers. Pitch is the theoretical distance in inches that one complete revolution of the propeller will move the boat through the water. Sizes of propellers are designated by diameter and pitch. The combination of boat length/weight, engine and gearbox determines the ideal propeller. Now after we had the Perkins replaced with the new Isuzu engine things were different. Just put her into gear and she surges forward. It's like driving your car in top gear all the time. With the engine just at tick-over she's off like a rocket - well a 2mph rocket to be precise. Which was manageable but not ideal, coming in to moor and following other boats could at times be...... interesting? So himself gets smurfing on the internet and declares,"It's the wrong pitch!" Herself looks at him blankly; “What is he on about now?”

Well, those who have been paying attention will now see the connection with where we left our story. Boat coming out of the water for blacking, let’s get the propeller looked at. The received wisdom is that the ideal for our current set up is an 18 inch with a 14 inch pitch and it turns out what we have is a 19 inch by 19 inch. So off we trot, old prop in hand, to see the nice man at Midland Chandlers down the cut to see if we can do a trade. “Haven’t got an 18 by 14 in stock; can’t get one till the middle of next week.”
“Anything second hand?” A search out the back and a 19 by 13 is found. “We’ll take it.” A hundred pounds for our old prop and we have a deal. And on re-launch? Fantastic, just as it should be, drives us well through the water and glide nicely at tick over.
To get us out of the water, two trolleys running on rails in the slip way were let down into the canal and the boat floated onto them. A JCB then pulls us up the slipway, a set of stairs is placed alongside the bows and we live in a house in the clouds, an interesting experience. As the centre of the boat is now unsupported it’s like walking on a scaffold plank. The steel flexes a bit and sitting in my chair as herself walks past I perceptibly bounce up and down ever so slightly; very odd.

Pressure wash and two coats of Premium Protection, lovely. Nice sunny weather, the perfect time for us to tidy up the rest of the paintwork on the hull, the red and white flashes on the stern and the bow decoration. Also very convenient for installing the new bow and stern fenders that we bought from Fenderman in Bath and that have until now been stacked in the cockpit. Herself has always said, “That red is too red!” A somewhat darker tone was thus also applied to bow , cratch board, cabin front and the counter. We have to say she is a very smart looking boat.

With one thing and another there has been a lot of hanging about of late. It’s time to do some boating. We head back to Rugby to meet some old friends as they start a week’s holiday on a hire boat from Viking Marine. It was lovely to see them and catch up with all the family news. With old friends you just seem to pick up where you left off, almost as though you had never been apart. So back to Braunston for church on Sunday and then the two boats, Harald and Avon Rose, work up the Braunston flight as we head for the Leicester Arm of the Grand Union Canal and Foxton Locks, the busiest piece of waterway on the system.

A pleasant interlude but not without incident. Himself at the tiller guiding the boat gently towards the bank to moor above bridge 60. Herself walking confidently along the tow-path side gunwale towards the bow where she bends down and disappears from his view to pick up the bow rope he assumes. A pause....... was that the sound of a large fish leaping ? He leans over to peer over the side to espy herself doing a very elegant back-stoke towards the stern! She had no idea how she got there; perhaps the nice glass of white wine had something to do with it? A rapidly removed mobile phone battery, careful drying and a night in the airing cupboard and thankfully her phone is still OK but unfortunately another pair of glasses sacrificed to the water nymphs abiding in the silt of the cut! Thank goodness for a spare pair, she’s hopeless without them. All is forgotten with a good meal in the Boat Inn.

Next day we say goodbye to our friends as they start on the return journey to Rugby. We have to wait for an hour for our turn to head down the two sets of five staircase locks, the place heaving with school parties learning about the waterways. So on to the Market Harborough branch and a night at Market Harborough Wharf where we replenish supplies, make use of the Post Office and replenish our supply of reading material. At the Foxton Junction we turn northward towards Leicester, this is new water for us. Very rural, the canal seems to shun all signs of habitation. It’s back to broad locks again and we are told vandalism means paddle gear in the approaches to Leicester will be padlocked. Serious boating now as we aim for the Leeds and Liverpool.

Two Old Codgers

It is becoming increasingly obvious to us both, that bits break more easily and take longer to mend than they used to in young people of our age. Maybe it’s all this global warming; greater exposure to sunshine, like plastic is making us more brittle. Himself seems to have recovered from the back problem. It’s just that he has more permanently numb bits in his legs than he had before. The problem now is that the left thigh muscle has wasted a bit and needs building up. Poor old chap can’t get about as quickly as he used.

With the extra manual labour herself appears to have pulled an intercostal muscle so is very pleased that she is no longer required for blue jobs. Her mild allergy to wheat also seems to be manifesting itself in other ways. Such things ought not to happen to people of such tender years. I blame the government; they seem to be messing everything else up.

So here we are at Braunston, on the eve of the great bottom blacking adventure. Yes you are correct; it has taken us two weeks to travel all of 35 miles. Hilmorton locks successfully negotiated with no ill effects, although we did note that the boatman walked to the top gate to cross to close the bottom mitre gate rather than leap across from the closed one as he used. Perhaps he is learning the caution of age!

But we get ahead of ourselves; chronology never was our strong point. To the north of Rugby lies the lovely village of Brinklow. The Foss Way runs down through the village, although at this point it is today only a minor road and through the centre of the village merely a footpath across an open field where, along side it, rises an earthen mound, once the site of a castle, built to protect the Foss. The canal (the Northern Oxford) passes through a somewhat unstable cutting to the East of the village and thence turns eastward through All Oaks wood where Cathiron Lane from Brinklow runs alongside the canal for about a mile. A delightfully peaceful rural mooring just before the bend, where a picnic spot is conveniently served by a small car park beside the canal. Now the quick witted among you will have realised that canny boaters are not slow in taking advantage of such fortuitous circumstances and we rate ourselves amongst those. Once more we utilise the services of Enterprise Car Rentals, those lovely people who, as part f the service, will come and collect you and bring you back (by taxi this time) when you take out and return your hire car. And with special weekend offers, £55 for a four day hire over the Late May holiday weekend seemed very reasonable to us, especially as for that we got a 2009 Nissan Micra with all the bells and whistles (automatic lights and wipers, reversing sensors, climate control).

“Now,” you say “what are they up to now? What they want a car for this time?” Well the waterways savy will know that the late spring bank holiday is the time of the Crick boat show. Crick is only a few miles from Rugby on the Leicester arm of the Grand Union canal, which runs parallel to the Oxford. Crick is the major narrow boat show of the year, a great place to see the latest boats from all the major builders and suppliers of everything from stoves, to rope, to brass cleaner. The original plan had been to moor at Hilmorton and take the 15 minute bus ride to Crick, but at that stage himself was still only walking with the aid of his trusty laminated walking stick and expecting to walk from the village to the show site and then walk round the show all day was, shall we say, a little foolhardy. So, car hire, problem sorted.

One of the main reasons for going was to look at solar panels. Herself is very fond of using electricity but not so fond of the means of making it. On days when we are not going anywhere, we still need to run the engine for a couple of hours each day to recharge the domestic batteries; keeping the fridge freezer going being the major source of concern. “Can’t you turn that engine off yet?” comes the irritable cry from the armchair in the cratch (the noise has disturbed her mid afternoon snoozelet). So we are looking for a system that, in the summer months, will mean we don’t have to run the engine. And success, the lovely Simon from “Run by the Sun Ltd” has an ideal twin panel 120 watt system to suit our needs, which with the show discount we get a better deal than we have seen elsewhere. Himself will have to find something else to spend hours of surfing to research.....”What you looking at now?!?!!!!”, her dulcet tones drift shrilly across the quiet evening air.

There has also been some creativity in this interlude. Himself has been indulging in a bit of primitive art and done a bit of decoration on the Buckby can, which can now sit proudly on the roof, full of water, ready to water the flower and herb tubs on the roof. With some trepidation, an afternoon with wet and dry paper, we have erased the previous owners name from the starboard cabin side and, using a stencil prepared for us by “Cut-Signs” we have emblazoned our own name. We decided to use stencils rather than just getting vinyl lettering so we could match the colours of the original. We have to say that our colour mixing skills are not bad and the result is very passable. Now for the other side............

Inactivity...........................???

“You still doing all the work?”
“Yes,” she says, raising eyes to heaven.
“You need to trade him in for a newer model.” Such is the advice of chattering classes on the towpath.
“I’m in me prime,” he wails “It’s only a temporary dysfunction. I’m not ready for the knacker’s yard yet!”
“I’m fed up with you being useless.”
“Shut up; or I’ll poke you with me stick!”

Such outbursts would never, of course, ever be heard in tranquil environs of the Avon Rose. Herself stoically soldiers on. Blue Jobs, Pink jobs, she takes them all in her stride; calling on the nursing skills of the past (himself rather enjoyed the bed bath). She’s the heroine of the cut.

[A note to the uninitiated: In certain households jobs are defined as blue, pink or purple on the lines of gender. On the cut dealing with sanitary arrangements, fetching and carrying (donkey work) things mechanical, tricky navigational manoeuvres and suchlike are definitely blue!]

As you can gather from the above, the problem with his back has been a bit more severe than he has had for many a year. Sitting is OK, the problem has been in standing, walking and laying flat. But slowly, slowly he continues to improve and has at last had a full night’s sleep. He’s at that dangerous point again, when you start to think you are nearly OK and one careless move can lead to a serious setback.

So in the four weeks since we arrived at the head of the Ashby, there may not have been much boating but it has not been without activity (herself says, ”What do you mean? It’s been all go for goodness sake.”) He was able to sit and drive, so a hire car and a visit to family was still possible. Enterprise Car Hire is brilliant for boaters as they will come and pick you up and take you to their depot to get your car. The deck furniture (boat hook, poles, gang plank and cradle) were all looking sad and weathered so another sitting down job and he has refurbished them in the house colours. We indulge in Sunday Lunch at the Globe, the lovely landlady (“How’s his back”) reserves us a table in the lounge so himself doesn’t have to negotiate the stairs down into the dining room. We’ve had a flying visit from intrepid biker friends, as they pass by on their way to a rally in Wales.

All being well, we should be on the move again sometime after the weekend for a very leisurely cruise back to Braunston for our scheduled bottom blacking!

A Tale of Aerials and Osteothingies

There is, we are discovering, a natural rhythm to this boating life. Periods of intense boating activity are interspersed with periods of staying put and mixing with them "English" (You need to be a lover of Harrison Ford's film "Witness" to get the derivation of this boating term . The discerning reader will,of course, also have noted that that the phrase "staying put" is not in any way connected with a phrase denoting "inactivity". Well at least, not while you have a Granny on board!

While speaking of the more mature woman, it is interesting to note how you can bring immense pleasure to her life by the mere purchase of a shiny six foot aluminium pole and a brass deck socket. "What is the old fool on about now!" you cry. Well if a boatman is to get a bit of piece and quiet in the day, herself needs to be provided with her daily dose of "Countdown" each afternoon at four (together of course with tea and cake). (As an aside, herself has declared that the girl Rachael is every bit as good as the Voordman with the numbers -the wardrobe is visibly smaller. If you are not a watcher of Countdown this will mean nothing to you and all we can say is............... "Get a Life!") To continue..... if this can be provided the Boatman is guaranteed some peace and quiet; provided that is the snores are coming in on his deaf side - the mature woman has perfected the art of "dropping off" in the afternoon. "And where is all this leading," you ask. Well you see it all comes down to TV reception and with all this moving about to frequent retuning.

Now if you want to ensure good reception a chap would say, "Buy the biggest aerial you can get. Look at this. Marvelous; 56 element job suitable for weak signal areas. Sorted". But the female mind does not work this way. She can't be doing with all that iron mongery on top of the boat. Makes it look untidy. Gets convinced by the man in the chandlery that this neat little Avtex job with built in signal booster powered from the aerial socket on the TV (5 volts) is the answer to a girl's dreams. In practice though, stuck to the boat roof with the very neat little suction mast it come with it's, we have to say, rubbish. His giant array of coat-hangers does the business. Which is where the shiny, six foot, aluminium pole and brass deck socket come in. She is convinced that the neat little job needs to be up higher and so the Braunston Chandlery provides the pole and we have to say,in our present resting place, at the top of the Ashby Canal, at Snarestone,........ she is right. There it sits, some 10 to 12 feet above the surface of the canal and we have good reception, digital channels and all.Countdown viewing assured. We wait with bated breath to see how it performs elsewhere. But,.............. he has also got a universal clamp so the array of coat-hangers can be rousted out and fitted to the pole in case of need. Nothing is going to get in the way of his afternoon peace and quiet.

People appear to either love or hate the Ashby Canal. This is rural, meandering, lock free boating. In places narrow, often shallow, no place for boy racers. No great industrial architecture of bygone ages either. Small settlements along its course. A coal canal, with, in its day some 28 pits of the South Derbyshire coalfield. Views over open fields with neatly trimmed, sloping sided hedges. This is hunting country. The Bosworth battlefield site and centre where the 32 year old Richard III met his end in Kings Field next to the canal. Well actually, probably not. The pleasant walks up Ambion Hill it seems do not look out over the battlefield site. Recent research and field archaeology appears to show that it was about a mile away. Still a good walk though and an interesting afternoon's visit. And for the steam enthusiast the restored Battlefield line Shenton station.

Since our last visit in October the number 7 bus now goes every hour and a half instead of every hour from Snarestone to Ashby. Which is where the Osteothingie comes in. You may recall from the last post stories of dodgy backs and grimacing. Well to cut a long story short, he who smugly declares that he has learned to manage his back problems will one day eat humble pie. And he has, by the bucket. Icing regimes, gel packs, sacro-iliac joints, nerve roots, inflamtion, analgesia and non-steroidal anti-inflammatory compounds all come in there somewhere. Lets just say he can now stand up straight (just) and may well be sleeping in a bed again tonight,emphasis on sleep.

On a more cheerful note we have re-aquainted ourselves with the delights of the Globe Inn by the moorings here, great Sunday Lunch (not served on tea plates), nice beer. As an interesting postscript, we left here in October to travel to Bath for the winter. It took us three weeks. From leaving Bath the return has taken us three months!

What's all that stuff about old dogs and new tricks?

Spring is definitely here. Canal side is ablaze with yellow celandine. First the willow and then the hawthorn buds burst. The world is turning green. Flowering cherry in gardens and trees along the cut are all blooming. We've had some glorious sunny days and now the fire is only lit in the late evening or early morning when herself decides "I'm cold!".

Our big dog, Micah, a lurcher of a beautiful golden hue, now well peppered with the white of age is a dog of somewhat aristocratic demeanour. A dog not known for rapid response. "Do I have to? Oh well if I must I suppose I will." A dog of somewhat Eeyorish temperament. "Don't worry about me. I'll be all right in this cold damp corner." But not for long. Himself gets up to make the morning tea. Where is big dog? You can't miss him. Curled in his bed which he has dragged right in front of the fire! couldn't get it any closer. If it had been any closer he would have been in the fire! Like herself, he doesn't like to be cold.

After the Kennet, the Thames was a pussy cat. Beautiful countryside, beautiful houses but definitely the habitat for GRP river cruisers. After a night at a lock landing stage at Days Lock for lack of suitable narrowboat mooring we continue north to Abingdon, one place on the Thames with plenty of moorings for narrowboats. The Thai Orchid was excellent as we spend a couple of days and manage to ring at St Helen's before we continue up to Oxford, dodging scullers and eights all the way. Up past Oxford and into Dukes cut to be back in paradise, .... a narrow gauge canal.

The weather is not as good with windy dull mornings and threats of rain. Afternoons are glorious though and on one such we arrive in the centre of Banbury on a Friday afternoon. Banbury a town that embraces it's canal with the great Castle Quay moorings right next to the shopping centre;...... dangerous! Friday evening and a return visit to Fabio's, best Italian restaurant in the district. Palm Sunday Service in the baroque church is good, although dodgy back prevents a trip up the tower. Monday night at Claydon and friends drive over to join us for an evening meal. Napton locks and we descend from the summit to Napton junction and so along the Grand Union to Braunston to spend Maundy Thursday and Good Friday with the good folk at All Saints there.

Now he's got a new toy. Waterway, a GPS system for inland waterways. "What you want a Satnav for canals for? there's only one way you can go!" Women just don't understand do they. Now Mike Kelly the man behind the program lives in Braunston and so himself drops in for a chat. Need a doctor, dentist, pub, laundrette? All this stuff is available as POI's (points of interest) on the map. As Mike's wife explains, the program had its conception the time they were out in the middle of nowhere and she has a husband in agony, needing medical attention and she has no idea where they are. The program has all the text from the Nicholson's canal guides incorporated. The advantage over printed guides being that as users email in corrections and new info it is updated very quickly. Updates appear every couple of weeks for download from the website. After pointing him to the Dove download, 4,000 towers with rings of bells (including practice nights) have now been added. It also has lots of caravan/camp sites next to waterways so we can point friends to places they can come and see us for a weekend in the camping season. Route planning with distances and expected cruising times, together with measuring tools complete the suite. Have a look at http://eureauweb.com/eewnew/

From Braunston we've moved on to Rugby and the mooring next to Mr Tesco. Easter Sunday and a half hour walk into the centre of town and the church of S Andrew; unique in that it has two rings of bells. The old church was rebuilt in the 1850's but the medieval tower with its 9cwt ring of five bells was retained. Then in the 1890's a much more impressive tower and spire where added on the NE corner of the church and a 24cwt ring of eight bells was installed. On the first Monday and second Sunday of the month they ring the five and on the others the eight. So here we are, Easter Sunday, second Sunday of April and join in ringing the five (ring from 9.45 to start of service at 10.30). "Nice to ring on a number of bells I feel comfortable with," she says. She's suffering from eight and ten bell overload although she can stand up to Grandsire and Stedman triples with some confidence. The local Met Office forecast has let us down for the first time. The promised sunshine hasn't materialised. Tomorrow we continue north towards Ashby.

And so dear reader, our story is up to date. From now we trust we will manage to keep posting in a more timely fashion.

Not for those of a nervous disposition!

Well we all have those phobias that convince us that the sky is about to fall in. For Big Dog it's fireworks and as for Litle Hairy Dog? He's just found out....... smoke alarms. Well you see we had, as all good holders of a BSC (Boat Safety Certificate), a smoke alarm. But it was ten years old and well, push the little test button and....... silence. So we had to get a new one sometime. On a train visit to Newbury himself eventually gets one. Fixes it. Presses the little test button and......... silence. A duff one. So when we eventually arrive in Newbury by boat we get it exchanged fitted and fine and like all good smoke alarms, you are concocting some culinary delight and ....... beeeep!!!!! Well for a small hairy dog this is the trump of doom. The sky is about to fall in. Panic, shake and quiver, pant. Next day same thing. Oh b.....er, "Take the battery out," she says. Trouble is that now, the smell and sound of anything frying and........ shake, quiver, pant the thing hasn't gone off but it could do and then the sky WILL fall in. It's a hard life for a dog.

But we get ahead of ourselves. On the appointed day we move off to Hungerford and as planned joined a very good ringing practice. Went to the club for a cheap pint with the lads and lasses, as you do and himself (she declined) gets invited to ring in a quarter peal of Grandsire Triples on the Sunday evening for Evensong. Well we had planned to move to Kintbury for the weekend with the locks opening. "We'll come and fetch you," they say. "It's not far". It's then you get paranoid about the fates not wanting you to leave a place because the news from BW is, "Navigation closed at Burghfield lock. Boat sunk in mid-channel!" So we stay at Hungerford for the weekend.

The sun is shining it's warm so we grasp the opportunity to renovate the paintwork on the hull sides; she look lovely. Ringers recommend the Downgate pub for a good honest Sunday Lunch and our sons come to visit (it's Mothering Sunday). The quarter peal? Didn't get it; but himself acquitted himself well enough and has been promised another attempt when we return this way.

So Monday we set off for Newbury and spend a nice day there. Now this is where the waterway becomes a navigation where the canal joins the River Kennet for long stretches and this is where the fun begins (for those not of a nervous disposition). The sight of rushing water emerging from the channel on the left and the big rubber balloons round the sides of the narrow Newbury bridge give some intimation that this passage will not be at the usual leisurely 4 miles per hour. After watching to see how others tackled the task we go for it and after regaining quieter waters, do what all good boaters do after such an adrenalin rush; visit the laundrette.

The Kennet may be a small river and there may not have been any rain to speak of for weeks but it certainly knows how to flow. Sunken boat due to be raised Friday so on we go. Winds are strong making boat handling tricky so it's open both gates at the broad locks rather than the usual just open one and slide through. Sky looks black, sudden squall and some well placed trees to quickly belay mooring ropes prevent us being on the towpath with Avon Rose on the offside. Next day move off, share a lock, river section, quite wide, under the M4, round the corner, ALL ASTERN! Large tree blown down across the channel and a broad beam boat secured to the bank and it with its skipper wielding a saw to try and cut a way through. This is Friday the day we expect the sunken boat to be raised. Suddenly two white pick-ups drive into the field. Hurray the boys in blue to the rescue. "Sorry sir, we're just assessing the situation." It's the dreaded Safety Elf again. "Need a boat to do this. Can't have lads wielding chainsaws without a stable platform. Off they go and another 15 minutes with the saw from our friend on the broad beam and we have a way through.

Next stop lock 103 and a walk down the towpath to see the divers in the water raising the sunken boat sufficiently with well placed air bags to winch it to the side. Well by mid Friday afternoon it's out of the way and off we set for Reading.


Now you might think that is enough excitement. But no, and we haven't told you about the Woolhampton lock where you have to open the electrically operated road swing bridge a hundred yards downstream before you leave the lock and the mad reversing and leap to shore with the stern rope so your crew doesn't have to walk 2 miles to rejoin ship. The trip through Reading is something else. County lock; lowers the boat by 1 foot 2 inches. Nothing to worry about. No..... only it's on a blind right hand corner while the river goes straight on over a foaming weir. The trick is to alight under the road bridge on the bend and walk the boat round; but the current is so strong if you don't judge the landing right, shall we say you are glad your boat is made of steel. Then when you walk the boat out of the tail of the lock you are glad of the kind passer by who helps you heave it out of the eddy sucking the boat into the tail of the weir. And then the river narrows and one way traffic is the name of the game, controlled by traffic light! Push the button, we've got a green light, go.o.o.o.oo.!!!!!!! Sharp left into the Reading loop for a night's mooring. A loop off the main channel it might be but still a good flow so mooring was shall we say... interesting.

Saturday morning and out onto the Thames. It blowing a chill wind but at least we are going upstream which makes handling easier and we have big locks mannned by friendly lock-keepers, except that is for the ones that aren't. (It is out of season. River boaters don't come out in force till Easter it seems). At the unmanned ones herself amused herself pressing the buttons to make it all work. The Thames is wide, plenty of room, pretty scenery, grand houses and..... lack of good moorings for passing narrowboats.

The Bedwyn interlude

Well there we were at Great Bedwyn and where are we now? Great Bedwyn. It was the wrong kind of ice or snow or mud or whatever and so what the day before had been "We're just a couple of days behind," has turned into a two week extension of the stoppage at Kintbury. First passage through on Saturday 21 March. Thank heaven for the bakery. At least we can console ourselves with fresh bread every day...... and of course cake.

While herself was away He's been and explored Marlborough. "You'll like Marlborough dear, about every third shop is a coffee house or tea shop." And she did. Good bus service every hour and market Wednesday and Saturday.

Well If we are going to have to hang about for another couple of weeks we might as well do it in Bedwyn. Definitely a doggy village; even has it's own professional dog walker. Lots of footpaths and walks up the hillsides and through the forest. Savernake forest, (beech and oak with the occasional carpet of snowdrops); pronounced Sav-ver-nak we are told. The dogs enjoy a morning walk to Little Bedwyn along the tow-path each day and halfway there in the evenings. Tow-path walking good as both can be let off the lead, being fenced in on two sides.

Now you see some remarkable sights along the tow-path at times. Things to take your breath away. One in particular was presaged by big dog suddenly ducking (I've never seen a dog duck before) as this ghostly white apparition suddenly emerged from over the hedge. A barn owl, out on the hunt just as the sun was setting. As it swooped low over the wetlands, the low sun reflecting off its pale underside, flight that looked like a huge butterfly in slow motion. Amazingly beautiful as it circled round past us and we looked it full in the face. On the other side of the canal is an iron-age hill fort by which is an ancient chapel now used for storage, which we learned later is where it lives.

We had said, when we were in Devizes, that a trip to Avebury stone circle would be good; but because of the bad weather we never made it. Well yesterday we did. A lovely sunny day and bus to Marlborough and then the Swindon bus to Avebury and a delightful day. What's there to see is all down to marmalade! Alexander Keiller the archaeologist in the 1930's used his inherited fortune from his family's marmalade business to uncover buried stones and restore the monument to what can be seen today it seems. It's now in the care of the National Trust.

Today is miserable. It's trying to rain and the weather forecast is for possible snow. But are we bovered????? Well not as long as it just comes for a day. Tomorrow is market day and we need to go and see if the laundrette we have heard of in Marlborough is still open. The washing machine on the boat is fine when we are on the move. (Even he did a couple of loads while she was away). The problem this time of year is getting stuff dry. Oh the trials of the boating life; though you could hardly call backing up 100 yards once a week to refill the water tank boating.

15 mar
So there I was, peacefully drinking the mid-morning coffee and suddenly the boat starts to rock violently from side to side. No it wasn't the after effects of the red wine! Then again, sound of tremendous wash from a passing boat; some maniac not slowing down, clonk on side of boat. Didn't hear an engine, in fact didn't see a boat. Are we being bombed by enraged ducks demanding breakfast? There goes another. Peak out of the window and........mad canoeists! It's the Pewsey to Newbury time trial. One of the preliminary events on the K&A before the Annual Easter big one - Devizes to Westminster. A hundred and twenty six miles in about twenty hours we were informed by a squad of eager Royal Engineers out on a training day during the week.

We were about to start on one of our trips into Marlborough when we met them; market day, laundrette or some such. The laundrette is down a little alley behind an antique shop. You get it all to yourself on non-service wash days and Krumbs sandwich bar three doors down makes the whole thing bearable - takeaway soup and baguettes to die for. After a delicious nut and bean creation herself is now on an urgent quest for a supplier of chilli jam!

Anyway, getting back to the canoeists; rather than sitting and getting sea-sick himself and the dogs set off on the morning walk down the tow-path. There are not just one or two of these guys. There's an entry of something like 200! Setting off in pairs at minute intervals they keep coming for hours. By the time they reach us they've already been going for over and hour and a quarter. What a way to spend Sunday. And it's not just straight paddling. On the K&A about every mile it's pull your boat out f the water, pick it up and run round a lock, back in the water and off you go till the next one. Mind you, the enthusiasm varies a great deal. It ranges from the real hard cases (with their team of supporters arriving by car or bike at the next lock, stuffing energy giving bits of banana or chocolate into the paddlers' mouths as they race past with canoe on shoulder and topping up their water bottles) to the pair of lads lustily singing Jerusalem and Christmas Carols as they paddled on in apparently no particular hurry.

Spring is definitely in the air. Even big dog had a mad canter round in circles in pure delight this evening. Temperatures are rising. We let the fire die during the day. This evening was lovely and balmy, still air, fish rising. Needed a fly line and a rolling cast. A pair of young lads camping by Burnt Mill lock had a 12lb carp the night before. The local paper reported a Salmon caught in the K&A - the first reported in the waterway for 150 years! And another surprise, we saw a Little Egret down by the river (white, small heron-like bird). We will miss the place.

Devizes to Bedwyn

From Devizes we moved on to All Cannings to be frozen in again. Lovely community village. Have re-opened their village shop by running it as a community service, manned and run by volunteers. Been so successful that they are building an extension to give them more retail and storage space. Good ringing with an active band of 14 including teenagers and adult learners. They were glad to see us as we were able to help them do more with the learners. Nice pub too!

We then took Avon Rose home to her first mooring at Honey Street at Gibson's Boat Services, filled with diesel and chewed the fat with the man. The sawmill was also able to provide us with half a load of logs, now piled on the roof, so herself is a happy bunny; "I like a wood fire". The fact that she occasionally fills the boat with smoke by keeping the fire door open ("I like to see the flames!") and sets off the carbon monoxide alarm is neither here nor there. The Barge Inn is also our kind of pub; wood floors, log fires and welcomes dogs on leads (do a very nice line in cheesy chips - small dogs quickly scavenge any dropped by large dogs because they are a bit hot!). Also a centre for crop circle enthusiasts; last summer was a good year for them mine host informs us.

A pause at Pewsey for the weekend to attend church (missed the ringing, they stop 15 mins before service) and watched the rugby in the pub by the canal on Saturday. Himself and the landlord the only England supporters there! It was full of them Welsh and an ex pat Aussie! Outrageous!!! Nice village with lots of shops (small town really) but somewhat remote from the canal; good fifteen minute walk with hill.

So we've moved on to Great Bedwyn to pause here for a week as we have nearly 3 weeks before Kintbury locks are open. Lovely church, heavy six but they only practice on the first Monday of the month and service ringing by arrangement only. She's jumped ship! Lured away by the promise of a soak in a hot bath. These part time sailors! The excuse is she's going to help our daughter decorate their new kitchen. Good train service from Bedwyn into Reading and Paddington. A trip to Newbury for a day out is perfectly feasible. He'll have to kick his heels here on his own; making do with fresh crusty bread, pies and cakes from the village bakery. It's a hard life for an old boatman. Aaaaaaaaah.

On to Devizes

When you see the middle 16 stretching before you in a row like that they can seem a little intimidating ; but we did it (all 29) in just over 4 hours coming up. Worked well with Bob and Pam, on their way to the sawmill at Honey Street to pick up a 38 foot spruce pole to make a new mast for their sail boat at Bristol. And so here we are in Devizes where, as elsewhere, the snow came making everything look very pretty. The temperature dropped and the canal froze and everything got very slippery. Ducks are walking on water, swans are acting like icebreakers and both our dogs have managed to slip and fall in while getting ashore over the rear of a boat we were moored next to for a couple of nights.

Now if you are a large and rather bony dog with not much fat you don't appreciate drafts. So much so, that in the middle of the night as the saloon temperature falls a bit, you get up, have a wander around and let the human beings know that you are not happy! Your bed may be very soft and equipped with folded blankets on which to rest your head, but if there's a draft round your back it just won’t do! What joy then, to be in Devizes with its excellent pet shop on New Park Road. Herself finds a dog bed in the Sale that matches the boat décor, but more importantly has nice high sides that curl round your back and keep the drafts off you. Oh joy; dog heaven. Go out in that weather? You have to be kidding! Hairy dogs of course just don't care.

It was one of those "what shall we do today" moments. What do you do in Devizes when you've got a few days to kill? Visit the Wiltshire Heritage Museum of course, hoping to look particularly at the Neolithic exhibits. The problem with out of season visits is that is when the builders come in, so half the museum is not available (including the Neolithic....damn!). The consolation is that the entrance fee is waived. And as we wander round herself says, "Isn't that.......?". One look, battered trilby on the back of the head, flowing locks appearing from under the brim, strong Wiltshire accent; yes it’s Phil Harding from Channel Four's Time Team doing the day job. "I have to shake your hand," she says, "I've listened to you so many times on the telly". You never know who is going to turn up.

So now we are waiting for the weather to improve so we can move on. We've deposited our read books and completed jigsaw at the Oxfam shop and bought and started another Jiggy. A nice steak and kidney pudding would go down nicely in this wintry weather. This white stuff is all very pretty but it's time it went.

Well if you are going to test if you can survive a winter on the water then you might as well choose the worst winter weather for 13 years and see how you get on. And............... well OK. We haven't been cold. We've been frozen in several times, but keeping a sharp look out on local weather forecasts and ensuring you are near to all services when temperatures plummet is the way to go. February really is a dreary month but the evenings are lightening and the snow drops are out so spring is coming. The last couple of days have had some lovely warm sunshine to lift the spirits but with great patches of snow still about where sun has failed to penetrate it is very soggy underfoot.

Small dogs require stilts, their undersides are much too close to the ground. Their fluff and tail attracts muck and twigs like a magnet. What should be white and pink comes in from the morning constitutional dripping liquid mud. In the shower again followed by chasing up and down the boat and rubbing itself on the carpet. "I hate being clean!" The super pet shop in Devizes did have a waterproof small dog coat that zipped at the back so the undersides were covered and had little sleeves for the legs. Herself was tempted but knew he would hate it, so resisted. Snow was still on the frozen ground then so mud was not such a problem.

It's been a long time coming!!!

Well the last post was in January and now its April already and at last another post. The private blog has continued on a regular basis but I've failed to keep this one going due, in some extent, in trying to decide how to continue. Are folk really interested in yet another canal travel log? The answer is I don't know. Friends seem to enjoy what I write. And then when I sign in I see that "The Meanderings" has a follower, so someone is interested.

And so dear reader I came to the conclusion that rather than attempting to run two completely different blogs I will publish here an edited version of the other. You, no doubt will soon let me know if it is of interest.

So stand by, a rash of posts to come in quick succession, as we catch up with the Meanderings of Avon Rose.

Old World Charm with Chips

Bradford-on-Avon really is a photographer's delight with the low bright winter sun reflecting off the golden local stone of it's historic buildings. The Avon racing along after the recent heavy rain; you wouldn't want to fall in. As you come down from the canal towards town bridge and pass through the car park behind the tourist information office you see the footbridge over the river to the Parish Church of Holy Trinity and next to it the tiny Saxon church of St Lawrence. From here are numerous little allies and flights of steps to take you up the side of the valley to the tiny church of St Mary Tory and wonderful views over the town and surrounding countryside, not forgetting the terraces of charming weavers cottages from days long gone.

Chips again? Well the fish shop on the corner of station approach is a pleasure not to be missed we have to say. Fish cooked to order with batter so crisp and light it had herself in raptures.

Being a person of a certain age does have its advantages in the guise of a small rectangle of plastic known as the national bus pass. To people with no wheels this is a boon which was put to good use in the sleepy village of Semmington, our next stop along the waterway. "What is there is Semmington?" you ask. Well apart from the Somerset Arms probably nothing to attract most boaters; but for us the bus stop for the number 234 bus which we duly board for a ride through Melksham to the quaint village of Lacot. If you've seen the TV period drama Cranford or Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice or Harry Potter you've seen something of Lacot. It's a favourite film location, a village still as it was at the end of the 19th century and now in the care of the National Trust along with the Abbey and the Fox Talbot museum. Abbey and museum sadly closed on the day of our visit. Fox Talbot being the inventor of the photographic process. "I wonder what he would make of digital?" she remarked. She is still dreaming of the French Onion soup consumed at the Sign of the Angel on Church Street. Log fires, good food and wine, no better way to spend time waiting for the return bus.

So now we've wandered on to Foxhanger Wharf and the bottom of the 29 lock flight up the hill to Devizes. Early to bed ready for a heavy day tomorrow. With chill easterly winds and snow predicted on the East Coast it could be interesting.

Well Here Goes

Here I am. No longer a virgin blogger. Up until now we have kept a private blog for close friends and family. It's been fun and well received. Others we have met on our journey have been interested in what we are doing so perhaps it's time to make something available for a wider audience. If no-one reads it we'll soon know and give it up. To find out what we're about go to our website at www.avonrose.org.uk. We don't claim to be unique. We've met many retired couples doing what we are doing. Perhaps others cruising the waterways may find things we note as we go along useful in planning their own cruising. Who knows?

So, the story so far. We started our waterway life back in September of 2008. We cruised from the fens of East Anglia via the Oxford Canal to the Kennet and Avon Canal and Bath, were we had a winter mooring while navigation was restricted by winter works. We've become acquainted with the guys at Bath Narrowboats who fitted a new Isuzu 42 to Avon Rose. It has replaced the Perkins D3-152 that had been fitted to her but was sadly becoming incontinent, springing oil leaks one after the other. We started this life to get away from hassle so sadly she had to go. Now, somewhat later than first planned, we leave Bath to make our way back East along the Kennet and Avon. We missed the early January window of escape and so are quietly bumbling along towards Devizes and the Caen Hill locks which will be closed until 31 January.

Here we are at Bradford-on-Avon having spent last night moored at the east end of Avoncliffe aqueduct where we spent a delightful evening in the Cross Guns in order to satisfy herself's need for chips. Strange the things people crave for at times. The Bath Bakery on Frome Road has already scored a hit with some wonderful bread. Nearer the centre of town the Fish & Chip shop is calling and we've found at last somewhere that will refill our Ecover bottles. (If you don't know about Ecover then you had better start Googling). Oh the simple pleasures of the boating life.

Well dear reader, that brings you up to date. Keep watching to see how our journey unfolds, unless of course you are of a nervous disposition and unable to cope with the excitement!