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.