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.