It's shiny....................!!!

Well the ice did melt at last. Once it gets to four inches thick it is surprising how long it takes to thaw. Some bright spark had heaved two great blocks of concrete onto the ice, presumably in an attempt to break it and those blocks sat there for a week or more after the thaw started before they finally disappeared to the canal bed. Since then we have had alternating periods of cold,sunshine and wet; some snow that did not settle and just one morning last week when we had a thin skin of ice on the canal. During the big freeze our neighbours (the ducks) were very enterprising. There is a section of shallow canal surrounded by weed which they use as a public bath-house-cum-bar for ducks. It never froze because they took turns in swimming around to keep the water moving and ice free. They are very entertaining except when they start a bar brawl in the middle of the night!

Friday 29th January on chilly but sunny morning we gathered at Brookwood Cemetery near Woking to lay my Dad finally to rest. A pleasant spot we will return to later in the year with the family when his headstone has been erected. The tortuous drive through the lanes of the vast cemetery confirmed why the journey had not been possible in the heavy snowfall. It was a weekend on which we had already planned a trip home to attend the Ringers' annual dinner so an extra day's car hire and all was well.

All this ice and snow has meant an inevitable delay in the winter works on the canal. Caen Hill locks to Devizes will not now open until 27th March instead of the 13th. So we will stay in Bath for another fortnight before we start the 2010 cruising season. Preparations for departure are gradually being made; cruising plans formulated. A new tele aerial, as winter gales and constant putting up and down in the crusiing season have had their toll. The new one equally large, rather than a neat good looking job a girl would prefer to grace her boat; although she has come to the view that good reception for her daily dose of "Countdown" is worth the sacrifice of some elegance. Avon Rose is booked in at Bath Narrowboats for a pre-season service and battery check. We're also having the stern gland repacked (the seal that stops water seeping round the edges of the prop shaft where it comes through the hull if you're wondering).

Mooring lines and the centre rope are beginning to fray and to get past their best. Fine for mooring in the winter on still water, but when we start cruising and we start to put real loads on them we don't want the risk of a line parting at a critical moment. So himself decides to do his home work and source some new rope and whipping twine on-line. Fore and aft mooring lines he decides to go for 16mm three strand artificial hemp, similar to the current ones. Our centre line, the one we use when lock working to control the boat, is a braided rope which means it is a smooth line that will run freely round a bollard and won't snag when you use it to slow the forward motion of the boat. So himself finds a nice white, double braid, 16mm,polypropylene mooring line, UV resistant with excellent abrasion resistance. Perfect for the job. But yes dear reader, you have spotted his fatal error; herself had not been consulted. "I can't have that! It's shiny!" Hang the technical guff, breaking strains and all that abrasion stuff. A girl needs to be seen with a rope that looks good. "It'll have to go back!" So what does himself do? Right again dear reader. What he has always done over the years. A polite "Yes dear," and then ignore her.

The bulbs are coming up in Sydney Gardens. In less than three weeks it will be the vernal equinox, the official start of spring,and in four we're into "Summer (Daylight Saving) Time". Our winter hibernation is coming to an end, but the wet and mud persists. Soon it will be time for goodbyes and this year some thought for the question that is starting to raise it's head. "Do we want to spend another winter on the cut?"

Ice, snow and departing friends...

It's been a long time since our last post, not because not much has happened but more because we have been occupied with other things. Through the rain and wet we did make it at last to our winter mooring and on 19th November our cruising year ended, as we moored at the spot we had vacated in January 2009; now having cruised 1,388 miles since our wanderings commenced back in September 2008. We had to move though; it's the trees you see. When a chap has solar panels on his roof and there are clear skies and bright sunshine a chap needs as much as he can get on his panels for some lovely "free" electricity. Trees, not being transparent are therefore something of a damper,so we moved a hundred yards nearer to Sydney tunnel to make the most of the sunshine and himself was nicely surprised by the amount of power we get on a clear winter's day. Chatty Dave down the cut reckons solar is the way to go and is looking to sell his wind turbine (needs a pretty stiff constant breeze to produce appreciable amounts of power he says).

Still lots of boats moored at this end of then cut as you would expect and interesting to see which boats we recognise from last winter. We quickly drop back into the routine of the more static boating life with the once weekly trip to fill the water tank and dispose of the unmentionable. We've also made use of the services of the lads at the boatyard to do one of the modifications we needed to make life easier. We had the leaking radiator in the bathroom removed and then the cassette toilet turned through 90 degrees, and a new hatchway made so that the cassette can be removed in the corridor. Where did it come out before? The bottom of the wardrobe in the bedroom; a real pain and not easy to get at. And now a bathroom with no radiator? No, it had two. One running off the central heating circuit and the other off the hot water heating circuit (calorifier, for the technically minded). Well with an owner fitted-out boat you must expect some eccentricities.

Good to renew our friendship with the Abbey ringers again and settle into regular ringing on Monday evenings and service ringing; although the climb up the tower had not got any easier. And....... they've turned our pub (The Rhummer) into an Italian wine bar/bistro thing!!!!!! So now Monday's after practice it's off to the Coer de Lyon; pints of Bellringer available here as well and still as good as we remember it. A Sunday routine of 9.15 Parish Communion at the Abbey followed by ringing for the 11 o'clock and then the ringers retire to Cafe Nero for coffee and cake; very civilised.

It's then that the wheels started to fall off things a bit. My Dad died on 18th December and the following week we had to have big dog, Micah put to sleep as things had got too much for the old boy and he had become doubly incontinent; not easy to cope with on a boat.
Thirteen is a good age for a lurcher and he'd had a good ten years with us, had enjoyed his boating but was finding it increasingly difficult to get about, wobbly legs, cataracts and hearing not as good as it used to be. We're now a one dog boat.

At 87 my Dad (a Chelsea Pensioner) had had a good innings too. He had recently had surgery to remove malignant tumours from his bladder. Pathology and further scans revealed it to be a rare aggressive malignancy that had spread to bone and resulted in a rapid decline with mercifully a relatively comfortable end.

Christmas was then a little subdued, but enjoyed non-the-less. Then it froze and we had snow and here we've been stuck unable to move for a fortnight. Ice about 3-4 inches thick in the end. We're down to the last inch of water in the water tank. Thank goodness the thaw has arrived.

Nothing stays the same. No matter how much we would like to resist it change is an inevitable part of life. Yet in difficulties there is often blessing, if only we would look for it. Not least the love and support we receive from those around us. I wonder what surprises 2010 has for us. One thing I know for certain, God is good.

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.