And so to continue....................

Ha!!!!!!.........didn't think I'd do it did you. Part two within a week? Don't get too excited son, you've only just started to put finger to keyboard, and if the gestation of the last episode is anything to go by it will be a tall order to finish within a week. But then it is raining so the likelihood of him rushing off to do boating is greatly diminished. The period of summer sun has come to a close for the moment; pleasing that things are cooling down a bit. You can tell it's been hot because she finally persuaded him to get his shorts out and don a pair of sandals. She does however have to put up with the nightly observation, “I've got stripey feet!” Old boaters do get obsessive at times. “Took me ages to get you to put them on, now I can't get you out of them.” Women are so difficult to please. But we digress. They return from their day in London and our intrepid pair resume their cruise.

From our mooring opposite the NIA we head west on the BCN New Mainline (new in this context means 1838, Telford's straighter canal constructed to ease congestion on Brindley's original 1772 contour canal and speed passage because of fear of railway competition). We really must join one of the BCN Society's annual cruises around the less frequented arms and loops of the Birmingham network, 100 miles of the 160 originally is still in existence, with various groups attempting further restorations. The possible boredom of the broad straight Main Line with its towpath on both sides is relieved by spotting the various loops, junctions, factory basins and transshipment docks. Not to mention the various points at which an island appears in the line and splits the canal into two passages each only just a boat's width, evidence of the location of toll offices and the vast amount of short haul traffic within the system in its day. The BCN was so integrated with the local industry that the railways only affected the long haul canal traffic and it was not until the 1950's that the enormous move to road haulage really hit the Birmingham canals. What is left has partly survived because of the use of the canal water by industry and the waterways' importance as storm drains. It was astonishing how clear the water is with clusters of ribbon weed growing in its depths, not the black oily sludge you tend to associate with industrial waterways.

The Main Line brings you eventually to the Wolverhampton flight of 21 locks. This is “bandit” country; anti-vandal locks on all the paddle gear. After a chat with one of the boys in blue we moor in the security of the BW depot basin. Our last trip this way had been more than ten years ago and the recollections of the Wolverhampton 21 were of pouring rain; rusty corrugated iron, brick rubble and decay. Not so now, new housing, trees and grassy open spaces all very pleasant looking. However, Herself's visit to a local convenience store adjacent to lock 16 and the scrutiny and door locking of the shopkeeper was a reminder that this is still bandit country.

Our descent ends at the bottom lock and we emerge from under the bridge at Aldersly Junction to turn right for a brief passage up the Staffs & Worcs to Autherly Junction and a left turn into the Shroppie, our next objective for this season. A giddy rise of six inches in the stop lock at the start. Herself still can't get her head round this obsession by the rival canal companies with guarding their water, despite the fact that BW is already putting restrictions on the northern canals because of the lack of rain this year and the concern over water levels in the reservoirs. Now the Shroppie (Shropshire Union Canal to give it its proper title) is a beast of a very different character. This was one of the last major canal routes constructed. Opened in 1835 and designed by Telford in the light of future railway competition, there is no contour following here. It runs as straight as possible to Nantwich forging through the countryside in deep cuttings and over embankments with some 15 lock free miles. Locks as they occur tend to come in close groups. As we pass through picturesque tree-lined cuttings it is difficult to imagine what the view would have been when the canal first opened and these great troughs and banks were bare.

Our first stop is at Brewood (Brood to the locals) and ringing for Sunday service at St Mary & St Chad, a lovely 8 which brings a determination to ensure we make the return on a Tuesday so we can join their practice. Then on to Gnosall where our son takes over the boat and we head off in our hire car for the North Wales tour we started the last posting with. Suffice it to say she did get a nice bathtub soak. “Can't think why you want to wallow in your own muck,” he mumbles. “Nice stimulating shower and wash it down the plughole.”

Now himself formed an attachment for Gnosall. From the south you approach through the short Cowley Tunnel to moor between Bridge 34 (The Boat Inn) and Bridge 35 (The Navigation). Now the Navigation had attached fliers advertising their meals on every mooring ring. “Must be rubbish,” himself declares. “They're desperate to get more business, Let's go to the Boat.” This is a decision he was not to regret. Two courses for £8.95, pies a speciality. A steak and kidney pie to die for; pastry like his mother used to make – melt in your mouth shortcrust. “OK, so you want to be at Brewood for the ringing practice but we could stop here for lunch!”. You cannot separate a good man from a real pie; it would be grounds for divorce for goodness sake.

Our son has a lovely week, turning left at Hurleston Junction and taking Avon Rose the up the Langollen Canal to moorings at Llangollen Wharf. After a final night in a B&B backing onto the canal at Llangollen our intrepid pair rejoin Avon Rose, hire car returned and farewells said as they prepare for the journey back down the canal to Hurleston Junction. The last time they came this way was in about 1969 on their second canal holiday. The end of the navigable canal has changed much since then with the provision of a canal basin and wharf-side mooring all with electric hook-up and a charge of £6 a night. Well the batteries enjoyed it, having a good gorge on all those electrons. The channel has been confined in a concrete corset in places only wide enough for single boat passage. There is quite a flow of water downstream as well, the canal being fed from the River Dee at Horseshoe falls in order to keep the reservoirs at Hurleston full – this is the water supply for Crewe and the reason the navigation survived.

Before they leave they manage to grab their first Welsh tower and herself finds the laundrette does a service wash for only £10 for two machines full! The simple pleasures are the best. Turn in the basin and it's only a short trip to the sharp right at Trevor and the best canal ride on the system, a wonder of the waterway. Telford's engineering masterpiece, the Pontcysyllte aqueduct. A 1,000 foot long iron trough supported on 18 stone piers, at its deepest 127 foot above the Dee valley below. There is nothing quite like standing at the tiller of your boat and, looking over the side at the beautiful scenery and seeing nothing between you and the foaming River Dee 125 foot below. You could step off the counter into thin air, no barrier – knee wobblingly awesome! Looking over the chest high railings on the towpath side is not the same. About four miles further on and you emerge from the 459 yard Chirk Tunnel and you are 70 feet up over the River Ceiriog in another iron trough on ten masonry arches looking a the the arches of the magnificent railway viaduct running beside and towering over you.

A phone call to book our passage through Frankton locks as we take a brief right hand diversion onto the partly restored Montgomery canal, an unnavigable abandoned waterway last time we came this way. Another rural delight, a haven of peace and quiet. Eggs from the Farm Shop so large that you couldn't close the egg box and when cracked for cooking everyone turned out to be a double yoker! “Haven't see such a thing since I were a lad,” Not another “My Granddad ...” story. surely (For the uninitiated, on trips round bygones and rural museums himself was renowned for declaring to his offspring at least once, “My Granddad had one of those.......”.)

At Hurleston a left turn back onto the Shroppie and we head on to Chester, another place that's having an IWA boat rally when we arrive. Himself grumbling as we reach the Bunbury staircase locks for here we return to broad gauge canal – heavy gates and gear again. Chester is a place we love and one we visited several times by canal when we first went into a boat share. On their practice night we join the Cathedral Ringers in their beautiful architect designed detached tower. Beautiful as architecture but as a bell tower? - rubbish. They regale us with everything wrong with it the worst of which from the point of view of its purpose is that the sound of the bells in confined to a cone of space about 100 yards in diameter around the tower. Cock your ear on the other side of the cathedral and. surrounding streets and.......... “what bells?” Here too herself is shocked by the red of tooth and claw as she witnesses a lone swan seize and eat a baby duckling. Aggressive chap your swan. We have heard of other tales of their murderous intent towards their own species.

We then make a trip we had not done before and carry on to the end of the Shroppie at Ellesmere Port and the canal basins and wharf buildings that now house the National Waterways Museum. Historic narrow boats, canal history, a fascinating place for a day's visit. And adjacent to the basins the mighty Manchester Ship Canal and views across the Mersey with the Anglican Cathedral and Mersey Funnel (or Paddy's Wigwam if you prefer) clearly visible on the distant Liverpool skyline.

And so we retrace our steps down the Shroppie and yes, you guessed it, lunch at Gnosall (steak, port and Stilton pie this time) followed by an evening of ringing at Brewood; and so onward till we make the six inch ascent to the junction with the Staff & Worcs and take a right towards Stourport. From the Junction with the Birmingham Canals at Aldersley we are on new water again, a canal we have not previously navigated. Tree-lined, rural, at times cut through or in sight of red sandstone outcrops and with it's distinctive rounded end lock balance beams as we descend towards the River Severn. For him a must do stop at the National Trust's Wightwick Manor to see the William Morris interior design and the Pre-Raphaelite paintings he loves. A pause at Kinver and Sunday service ringing before church. You know you are in the land of your fathers when your entry in the visitors book draws the comment, “With a name like that you must have connections round here.” Also at Kinver we talk to the folk at Wilson Boatcovers and arrange for repairs to our cratch cover on return.

So we continue to Stourport and the bustling canal basins, emerging though the narrow staircase locks onto the River Severn and turn left for Worcester a short three hour river cruise. This is our family's home country. As we pass Holt Fleet the village of Ombersley lies just 2 miles to the east. The place where our predecessors can be traced back to 1373. As we pass Grimley I can see the Malvern Hills behind the spire of Hallow church, the village where my Dad and his brothers were born and raised. The Cathedral looks magnificent as we pass to ascend Diglis locks and moor beyond the basin at the start of the Worcester and Birmingham Canal. And here we sit. Part 2 posted within a week? Piece of cake.
...............he does go on, he'd be no good on twitter....