Martyn reading all about NB Friendship, that was the home to a working couple, Joe and Rose Skinner, towed for many years by their mule, Dolly. Stories like that really bring the history of the canals home.
While we were in Ellesmere Port we had to visit the National Waterways Museum, or the Boat Museum as everyone still calls it. Very interesting it was too, much better in our opinion than its sister museum in Stoke Bruerne, which is squarely aimed at primary school age children. It’s really important that we educate the next generations in the history and joys of the waterways if we’re going to have any hope of preserving them, but a little more adult focus is also welcome.
That said, here’s Martyn acting like a kid. He tried pressing Button B, but it wasn’t giving him any money back
We were a bit sad to leave the museum, which our mooring (£12 a night) gave us free access to, and recommend a visit if you’re in the area. They have lots of events too, the day we left it was swarming with volunteers, which was great for us as we had help up the locks, but we missed out on the VE Day celebration party.
Somehow the garment, hanger and peg all ended up in the Shropshire Union. Memo to self; peg the washing on the line more securely in future. And thank goodness for a boat hook and a bit of luck fishing it out. I most definitely did not intend to sacrifice Martyn’s Durango and Silverton Railroad t-shirt to the canal gods!
We didn’t get far that day, just stopped in a nice countryside mooring close to Chester Zoo., I was grateful to Ollie for preventing us from visiting, 2 tickets would have cost an eyewatering £73.
This is the consistory court in Chester Cathedral. No, I had no idea that such a thing existed either. These ecclesiastical courts are still used today, but now mostly to deal with legal issues relating to church property, and not to sentence heretics to be burned at the stake.
We haven’t visited Chester, the black and white city, since 2022 when we went to a memorial to the late Queen in the Cathedral, and watched her funeral moored in Tower Wharf. Then we picked up Stu and Carrie and set off for the Llangollen Canal at breakneck speed. We always planned to return this year.
Chester Cathedral has some stunning modern stained glass windowsThere was a contemporary art exhibit in the Cathedral called Peace Doves, by sculptor Peter Walker, each paper dove had a message written by a schoolchild, and the whole effect with music and lighting was very dramatic
You might have guessed we visited the Cathedral. We didn’t however go up the tower. That must be a first. We just walked around the walls and the boat got a bit of a clean. Martyn bought a rechargeable handheld pressure washer, which does a great job. It was too hot to do much of anything else.
I always think of this as Chester’s Bridge of Sighs
Chester really is one of my favourite cities. It’s so pretty, full of history, and the shops aren’t bad either. There’s supposed to be the ghost of a Roman centurion patrolling the walls, but he’s never troubled us and I’m always sad to leave.
This has to be the prettiest shopping street in the countryMy lock keeper in action at Hoole Lane Lock. The impressive tower belongs to Boughton Waterworks and dates from the 1850s
That scary moment when the gates start to slide open and you know there’s no turning back now
Stuart Wood came to meet us on Friday morning at 7.45am, having already put in his order for a bacon butty which I duly provided (he prefers smoked). It doesn’t do to upset the pilot and Stuart is quite the one. I did some research on him. When he retired after 41 years service he was the Head Mersey river pilot, so we couldn’t have been in better hands.
“Aim for the block of flats” said Stuart
Brunswick Dock Lock is massive when you’re in it. It has a lift bridge, which totally unnecessarily raised for us, and huge semi circular iron lock gates which open before the water has equalised, so the hydraulics must be incredibly powerful. Of course that makes life more turbulent than it has to be for a few seconds, just the thing for the nervous helmsman staring out onto the vast width of the River Mersey.
Looking back to Liverpool. You can just about make out both cathedrals and the Liver Building
Then we were underway, the engine at 1800 revs from the off. That blew the cobwebs out. The breeze was gentle and there was some movement, but mostly it just felt vast and alien. The Rivers Thames and Severn don’t come anywhere near the Mersey estuary for scale.
Ollie got to wear his lifejacket as well as us. I don’t think he was impressed
After a while we turned right into the Eastham Channel, flying along while Stuart kept up a commentary on what we were seeing, The Royal Mersey Yacht Club, the vast landholdings of Unilever, coal stores, warehouses, pubs, and slipways. We passed a sand barge with a seal sunning himself at the stern, but I was too preoccupied trying to keep Beau Romer going in the right direction to grab a photo.
Eastham Lock, built for the big boys, not for the likes of us
All too soon Eastham Locks came into view. I saw a big ship in the lock and thought that was where we were headed, but no, we pulled into its neighbour, equally enormous. They made us tie on fore and aft and we needed the 15m lines required by the seaworthiness certificate. This is boating on a much grander scale than we are used to on the canals. Stuart unsuccessfully attempted to teach me how to tie a bowline while we waited for the lock, but my fingers just won’t do it. It brought back all those memories of doing my firefighter’s badge in the St John Ambulance many decades ago!
We are definitely playing with the big boys now
The Manchester Ship Canal is wide and benign. It was cut in the 1840s so the wealthy Manchester merchants didn’t have to pay the extortionate fees demanded by the Port of Liverpool. Stuart told us it took 6 years to construct, with the navvies setting up communites on the route. At one place they had to dig through solid sandstone and the spoil exists today as Mount Manisty, apparently a haven for birdlife.
Ellesmere Port has its own lighthouse, still lit at night. It’s now the local headquarters of the Fire Service Union
We arrived at Ellesmere Port lower basin at 10.30 am, quite a speedy run apparently, and over too soon. And there we sat, tied to the lock entrance until 3.30 pm. There is a swing bridge across the lock into the upper basin owned by the council, and no-one was available to open it until then. As I was working for a local authority until recently I don’t suppose I’d better say anything disparaging about that!
At this point, we weren’t going anywhere, and we had to get onto the roof to get off the boat!
Would I do it again? Yes, in a heartbeat. You have to be quite determined, there’s a lot to co-ordinate to make the unconventional run from Salthouse Docks to Ellesmere Port across the River Mersey, and it’s not cheap. Stuart was a marvel and we wouldn’t have entertained doing it without him and his knowledge. It’s an exhilarating voyage we never thought we would get to experience, especially not in a narrowboat. It’s about as far as shuffling down a muddy ditch in a tin bath as you can you can get.
Moored at the National Waterways Museum, prosaically right outside the Holiday Inn, and still feeling small
The English canal network is facing a challenging situation this year, effectively splitting the country into two, north and south. This predicament began on New Year’s Day when the Bridgewater Canal breached spectacularly at Little Bollington, ironically right at one of our favourite moorings, conveniently located near the National Trust property at Dunham Massey. You might recall our usual route south takes us down the Bridgwater Canal to Preston Brook and beyond.
We bumped into Marie-Therese and Peter at Litherland. Last time we saw them they were patching me up way back in 2021 when I fell over my own feet and ended up with a torn retina. Poor Marie-Therese donated the ice that was intended for her G&T to my injuries.
With the Bridgewater Canal out of commission we were left with the alternative route through Manchester leading to the Peak Forest and Macclesfield Canals. We were apprehensive about this option, as it’s a tough and arduous day’s boating on the Rochdale 9 and beyond. We had two primary concerns about it; Ollie is a puppy and is only just getting used to the boat, and we were worried it might break Martyn, who is after all still recovering from his accident last October.
Dinner onboard is served
We considered using a professional boat mover to get us through Manchester, but then Bailey came riding over the horizon to save the day. She offered to fly over from Washington DC and serve as crew, with the bonus of enjoying a scenic cruise along the Peak Forest Canal afterwards. Everything seemed perfect – until the Macclesfield breached too, and it’s going to take three months to repair. There was only one thing for it. With the River Trent on the wrong side of the country, we were going to have to cross the mighty River Mersey and traverse the Manchester Ship Canal to escape the North.
Young and keen lockies, even when they just got off a plane and were faced with the formidable Rufford locks!
Bailey and boyfriend Chase who came along for the ride, and his first experience of narrowboats, have had a pleasant cruise from Rufford to Liverpool, with lots of pub stops on the way, not exactly the hard labour we promised them! It’s never a trial to cruise into Liverpool and linger for a few days in Salthouse Dock. This city has so much to offer and so much to explore.
6.30am, early morning start from MellingThe view from the top of the Anglican Cathedral, looking out over the river.
We visited both of Liverpool’s Cathedrals, ate in the Philharmonic Dining Rooms (and yes, us girls did go and look at the opulent and decorative gents toilets!) We explored the Cavern Quarter and the Pierhead. I was challenged to go and find the signature on the floor in the Port of Liverpool Building, and succeeded. Apparently the floor layers were a little disgruntled at their lack of recognition at the time.
This is one of the propellers from the Lusitania, sunk 7 May 1915, hence the memorial flowers. I went to a lecture about it on the anniversary in the Museum of Liverpool. For the football fans, Everton’s new stadium Princes Dock Lock, with the Liver Building in the backgroundWhat is this Superlambanana thing?You don’t have to be lonely any more …Yes, I am on the floor, but I found it.
So, we are going to poke our bows through Brunswick Dock Lock and onto the river, with a pilot on board. Someone needs to know what they are doing. We’re going to sea in a flat-bottomed boat. Will this be the last post I ever write? That remains to be seen …
Albert Dock by night, hoping it’s this still tomorrow!
We try not to upset people on the canals, and I’ve got matters of boating etiquette on my mind.
Great Haywood Junction. For once, we aren’t turning right
Earlier we were cruising down the Trent and Mersey past the Shugborough Estate. It was a beautiful morning, bright, sunny and drowsy. If it weren’t for the biting wind it would have been perfect. We were in no hurry, which was a good thing, as there were lots of boats moored up against the banks which made for slow progress. The topic of slowing down for moored boats is a bit of a hot potato in boating circles. I think the official line is to go no faster than 2mph causing as little disturbance to the water as possible. We were taught to crawl past on tick over and that habit is fairly ingrained, even though we privately consider Beau Romer to have the slowest tick over speed ever. This morning a boater leaned out of his hatch and thanked us for going slowly, commenting we were the first today. He also told me he was writing a song about it. I hope I’m not going to get prosecuted under copyright law, but it went something like this:
“Rushing to the queue at the lock, rushing to the queue at the lock
Got a two-week holiday and a three-week itinerary
Rushing to the queue at the lock!”
Just a sleepy day in Staffordshire – High Bridge No 60 – complete with it’s nasty bend
My smugness didn’t last long. As Martyn pulled over at Colwich Lock to let me off with my (brand new and untested) windlass, we spotted a lady opening the paddles to empty it. I was sure she hadn’t seen us approaching to descend, so I beeped the horn. She looked up and stopped what she was doing, moving to the head gates instead. When I got there she told me the lock had been only half full when she started letting the water out. I felt a bit guilty, but vindicated by the time we got through as by then there was a nice little queue of boats waiting to ascend and descend, and no water got wasted. Should I have alerted her, or let her be? Thoughts on a postcard please? We don’t plan to offend.
I can find a good G&T anywhere – even at Wedgwood
Since I last wrote while we were in Stoke on Trent we’ve passed through Barlaston and Stone, and have been on land for a week. We stopped at Wedgwood to visit the factory and thoroughly enjoyed it. Stone was a necessary stopping point because a) I had to work; b) we needed groceries and there’s a Marks & Spencer Food Hall conveniently right next to the canal; and c) secondly it lashed down with rain for a day. On days like that only hire boats move because usually they have somewhere they need to be.
The Armitage Shanks factory in, not surprising, Armitage. They’ve been manufacturing toilets and other sanitary ware here since 1817
Last weekend was the annual Crick Boat Show and even though every year we protest we aren’t going, almost every year we do. It isn’t the lure of the shiny new boats and the stalls with lots of tempting things to buy, it’s the people. We catch up with old friends and make new ones, and the whole thing is over far too quickly. Following Crick we went home for a few days. We’re leaving our car there this summer. Last year the mice got under the bonnet and had a good nibble on some of the insulation; we’re anxious to avoid a repeat.
Shopping for a new sofa at Crick? It’s hard to make up your mind
Today was Harecastle Tunnel Day. Harecastle is 2,926 yards long. It’s one-way, quite wide, dead straight, pitch black, and gives me the heebie-jeebies. This isn’t anything to do with the skeleton in the alcove about 450 yards from the northern entrance, or that the Kidsgrove Boggart reputedly haunts it – it’s the fans.
The tunnel roof gets lower and lower as you go through, you end up driving in a crouch
There aren’t any ventilation shafts in the tunnel, so when all the boats taking part in a particular passage are safely in and underway they shut the doors behind you and start up the ventilation fans. The closer you are to the southern end, the louder the fans are, it’s like being in front of a jet engine, you can barely hear yourself think. Three things put the wind up me; (no pun intended) tractors, tanks and giant fans.
Tunnel’s end, the Southern entrance. Iron causes the water to look like Heinz Cream of Tomato Soup
We survived the trip, neither of us saw the Boggart and no one was blown away, Martyn gave the tunnel wall a tiny nudge, but honours are even because two years ago, I hit the tunnel as we exited. We are now moored up just a mile from the tunnel on the outskirts of Stoke-on-Trent at Westport Lake. I call it Goosepoo Lake because it’s home to hundreds of Canada Geese (or that’s how it seems to me) and we all know how prolific they are with what they leave behind. There’s a visitor centre and a very nice cafe. I’m working tomorrow and if the torrential rain stops perhaps I’ll send Martyn out to investigate.
We use Thomas Telford’s tunnel, James Brindley’s original one lies unsafe and abandoned
On the way here we stopped at Middlewich to have some work done to the boat. We had new leisure batteries fitted, which we had planned, and a new bow thruster battery, which we hadn’t. That one battery alone cost over £350 which is painful, especially as we don’t even use the bow thruster that much. It doesn’t mean I’m not glad we have it, but we don’t rely on it in most situations. That got me thinking; one of the questions non-boaters wonder about – and a topic all boaters talk about – is how much it costs to run a boat. So here are our figures for last year:
Gold CRT licence from 1 July – 31 December – £602 (Gold because we spent a lot of time on the River Thames) plus about £450 from the 2022/23 licence
Insurance – £495
Mooring fees £1809 (for our marina and other odd nights in marinas and on the River Thames)
Diesel – £982 (ouch!)
Coal, logs and kindling – £323
Electricity – £150
Gas – £170 (I cook a lot)
A couple of engine services and some repairs – about £1000
The approximate basic cost of our epic 930-mile 2023 journey – £6000
That swan decided we needed to be seen off!
But the value of all that fun, friendship, new experiences and travel – priceless.
2024 cruising has been an awfully long time coming.
Spotted this chap in Wigan!
I’ve been working all winter and have barely seen anything apart from the view out of the window. The plan was to finish working at the end of March and set off to have some fun., but plans don’t always work out. We left the marina on 3 May and I’m still slaving away on my laptop three days each week. We’ll see how long that lasts.
Lord of all he surveys passing through Parbold
We’ve been on a mission for the past week. The canals up here are very familiar to us and the weather has been kind so we’ve been moving when when we can and picking places where we know the internet is good and there’s something for Martyn to do when we can’t. Some of the familiar stops have just been a quick touchdown; like coffee from the Horsebox in Worsley and a swift couple of pints in the Brewery Tap in Lymm. We did meet fellow Bickerstaffe owners Sean and Diane on Alchemist in Stockton Heath and had a most convivial evening over a couple of bottles of wine. There is, sadly, no pictorial evidence.
There are so many cute goslings this year. Canada Geese are honking, pooping machines, but also extremely good parents.
We still get time to stop and have a little nose around. We tried to repin an unmoored boat in Manchester and found a car boot sale in Dunham Massey. It was probably the worst one I’ve ever seen, but it was all for charity so we paid our £1 and went for a nose. We even rescued a party of lady hireboaters who got themselves thoroughly stuck coming out of the Saltersford Tunnel. Sir Martyn the Chivalrous to the rescue!
The advantage of only moving at 3mph is that on a nice day you can walk alongside the boat and admire the canalside art
So today we are sat in the sunshine at Kings Lock in Middlewich, having dodged several historic boats yesterday on their way to a festival in Anderton. We are getting new batteries and having a couple of other boat-related jobs carried out ready for this year’s cruise. You know what the acronym BOAT is, right? Bring Out Another Thousand … If the canal gods are kind to us, and we have the time we have plans this year that include Stratford-upon-Avon, but we’ll see how it all pans out.
Fish and chips and a pint in Middlewich – rude not to
Ancient and modern – passing a horsedrawn boat at Copse Lock
The paucity of blog posts recently in no way reflects our disappointment with the Kennet and Avon Canal. Even though it’s a bit challenging to moor in many places, it has lovely fluffy banks harbouring reed buntings and interesting places to visit. We really rather like it. We’ve had the opportunity to go home for a couple of days, and had lots of visitors on the boat.
Sometimes you have to do more than a little gardening to moor your boat
It really feels like coming home. Bradford-on-Avon, Bath, Devizes, Trowbridge; these are all places very familiar to us from work and leisure. We used to drive to Bradford-on-Avon on weekends and bank holidays to gongoozle and dream long before we were lucky enough to have Beau Romer. We’ve hired boats from there twice and one year when a week on a narrowboat wasn’t possible due to time constraints, we managed to squeeze in a day hire with most of the family for my birthday.
April 2014, Martyn’s first canal boat holiday on the Kennet and Avon. He’s still wearing that sweatshirt – see the previous photo!
Enough reminiscing. Now we’ve been down the Caen Hill flight and back up it again we’ve completed all seven Wonders of the Waterways in this boat. We aren’t interested in the IWA Silver Propeller award, although we’ve now visited several of its required locations, the Seven Wonders was something I had my eye on from the start.
Descending Caen Hill
If you ever find yourselves in Devizes early on a Friday evening, take yourself to Wadworth’s Brewery Tap, where the beer is superb, the welcome friendly, and they even have a pizza van that turns up outside to keep you there for just one more pint.
There’s no better place to enjoy a good pint than in a brewery
One slight disappointment was we didn’t make it to Bristol, although we did get down onto the River Avon. I phoned the lock keeper at Hanham Lock to get all the information on mooring in Bristol Floating Harbour only to find out it was going to cost £51 to stay there for one night. The cost of a mooring in a marina is usually no more than £20 and we’re miserly so Bath was as far as we got.
The views from the roof of Bath Abbey’s bell tower are awesome
We spent a good few days in Bath. It felt like we were on holiday there. Martyn and I climbed to the roof of Bath Abbey, enjoying the views and the history in equal measure. Lianna, Dan and Rowan came to visit and helped us up the locks from the River.
Bath Deep Lock is 19’5″ deep, and the second deepest lock in the country. (Tuel Lane on the Rochdale Canal is the deepest at 19’8.5″. We did that in 2021)
We like the West End between Devizes and Bath so much that we went up and down it twice. We had Becky from America visiting and it seemed such a shame not to do some proper touristing, so there’s been a lot of eating, drinking and fun.
It was in the unlikely setting of Bath’s Guildhall Indoor Market I had possibly the best cocktail ever – a marmalade martini.
On the return trip we girls went to the Thermae Bath Spa and after a couple of hours floating around in the warm Bath water, I thoroughly recommend it.
The beautiful Warleigh Weir at Claverton, complete with wild swimmers
It wouldn’t be my blog if I didn’t find out something obscure to tell you. We were having a stroll around Bathampton one evening when I happened on a plaque on the side of a building. After Wiliam Harbutt invented Plasticine in 1897, until 1983 the factory that made it was sited there. What a shame Wallace and Gromit weren’t from Bath instead of Yorkshire!
William Harbutt looks rather friendly, don’t you think?
Caen Hill is made up of 29 locks, the Lower Seven, or Foxhangers Locks, the main hill of 16, and the 6 Devizes Locks at the top. There are wonderful volunteer lock keepers who help with the 16, but you’re on your own for the rest. On the way down with Penny and Andrew as a pair we did all 29 in one day. I’m not in a hurry to repeat that. On the way up we moored at the bottom of the hill, waited for the locks to open and went up as a single boat. Martyn and I share the driving, but poor Becky wound every single lock. Thank goodness for that brewery at the top.
There she is, waiting for the hard graft in the morning
We think the attraction between us and the K&A must be mutual. The canal wants to keep us here. We are currently moored at Pewsey, and for a few more days at least, we’re stuck. Both the old and new electric pumps failed at the Crofton Summit. They had to resort to firing up the boilers and running the steam pumps to rewater the canal. Those pumps date from 1812 and 1845, thank goodness they are still operational. Now we are just waiting for a repair to a lock at Hungerford (which was due to be fixed during the winter, but it wouldn’t wait) and hoping that another one that looks dodgy a bit further east holds out long enough for us to get through. It’s a long way back to Lancashire.
Egyptian Geese on the River Thames. I wasn’t familiar with them at all. It’s interesting how the local wildlife changes as we progress
Sorry, it’s been a while, so here’s a rundown of our exploits over the past few weeks – not what I thought I was going to write about at all. We liked Uxbridge, and it didn’t seem to be remotely in the grip of byelection fever while we were there. Martyn and I snuck off for lunch and then unexpectedly to a Muse concert at Milton Keynes, courtesy of my old schoolfriend Alison and her husband Peter. It was our third time seeing Muse, and they were every bit as excellent as I remember.
Nothing to do with boating at all, just enjoying a splendid evening at the National Bowl in Milton Keynes with 60,000 0ther people
After Uxbridge, the Grand Union got a bit grim. I didn’t think much of Hayes and Southall and there was a stretch where I’ve never seen so much rubbish, and we even spotted rats on the bank. It’s not all roses and castles. We spent a couple of pleasant days at the top of the Hanwell flight but descending the locks there was a bit of a trial. First there was no water, then there was too much. Until the CRT properly came to our rescue Penny and I were running up and down trying to let water out at the bottom to mitigate the threat of the overflowing higher pounds. Consequently it took about three times longer than it should have done.
Three Bridges at Hanwell. designed by I K Brunell of course. It’s road above canal above railway
Finally we reached the end of the Grand Union Canal at Brentford and our date with the mighty River Thames – the tidal section between Brentford and Teddington. I was apprehensive; would we be swept away, overturned, or mown down by an Uber boat or a large sea-going vessel? Thankfully none of that happened. We sped along on the tide at a giddy speed for any self-respecting narrowboat, and reaching Teddington was a bit of a anticlimax.
Cruising past Richmond-upon-Thames. Last time we were there we were on our honeymoon!
After Teddington we started to have the sort of problem that was going to become all too common over the next couple of weeks. “No mooring, no landing” the signs say, sometimes there’s a bit of variation “Keep off” or “Private mooring”. You start to feel a bit desperate sometimes for the feel of solid earth under your feet. It isn’t exactly welcoming. There are visitor moorings. You can only stay on most of them for 24 hours before payment is due, so there’s little temptation to linger either. You see boats moored squeezed in and moored up to tiny sections of the bank where the vegetation is just about pnetrable, but those spots with prevailing high banks are generally more suited to the river cruisers than to the likes of us. We might be king on the canals, but on the Thames we’re distinctly second class.
Kingston Railway Bridge, with Kingston Bridge in the background. My old head office is the sandy-coloured building on the right.
We did pay to stay in a few places. We lurked right outside the gates of Hampton Court Palace for the full five days we were allowed. I got to catch up with some old work colleages, and some of them came to see us on the boat. We even risked a short evening cruise, ever fearful that even at 8pm some opportunist would steal our mooring while we were out gallivanting.
Garrick’s Temple to Shakespeare. I’ve driven past it many times, but have never seen it from this angle
Windsor was a bit of a disappointment. We arrived on Monday, on the day that POTUS came to visit the King. Can’t say I noticed, although we think we saw the Presidential helicopter leaving. Martyn and I ventured up into the town, which seemed to have a bit of a problem with the drains and an excess of homeless people. It was decidedly inconvenient that Windsor Castle was closed until Thursday and we decided not to stay and wait.
A beautiful evening at Runnymede, interrupted by planes constantly taking off from Heathrow Airport
Marlow was a delight with a lovely park where we enjoyed watching a bit of evening cricket and some very nice window shopping. We had a good mooring and went on a very mini pub crawl. Sadly Henley-on-Thames was only a brief stop for shopping. We jammed into a very tight mooring – twice because I had to move to let another boat out. Three years ago I never would even have attempted it. A historic boat festival was in full swing and once again mooring was at a premium. We should have stayed put because then we had quite a long slog to Reading before we were able to find anywhere to stop for the night. An overnight at Sonning, rubbing shoulders with the Clooneys, wasn’t going to be for us.
Amphicars having fun in the rain at Marlow
I hadn’t meant to describe our sojourn on the Thames so briefly. I like to think that we’ll be back to explore it at a bit more leisure in the future. It is so very different to the canals we are used to; so wide and grand. We kept the binoculars on the stern with us at all times, there’s so much to see they came in very useful, if only to read the “No Moooring” signs.
Windsor Castle of course. We had planned to moor on the playing fields of Eton College on the left, but it was too shallow. I must have winded the boat 5 times looking for a suitable mooring spot
So now we find ourselves on the Kennet and Avon at last. I like it a lot. So far it reminds me of the Leeds and Liverpool. They are both broad canals with a reputation for being difficult, they both flow through some beautiful countryside, they are both lined with pillboxes from WWII and they both terminate in a major port, Bristol and Liverpool respectively.
Gliding between the shops and cafes in Reading
We’ve seen some interesting things, the turf-sided locks for instance. We even survived the fearsome lock entrance at Woolhampton relatively unscathed.
Waiting for Monkey Marsh Lock to fill
For one night only we found one of the nicest moorings we’ve had in a while at Tyle Mill. I think it rates up there with my favourites at Gargrave on the L&L and Barnton Cut on the River Weaver. I’d like to spend a few peaceful days there in the future, enjoying the company of the resident cows. I wouldn’t mind next time though if we didn’t see the cover in which we wrap our pram hood while cruising disappearing down the River Kennet never to be seen again! That’s going to be expensive.
Martyn guarding the protecting the washing from the cows. For some reason he thought a red sweatshirt was a good idea …
The convoy of three has continued on its merry way. We haven’t had the best of luck so far this week. Martyn sacrificed a screwdriver to the canal gods, and I knocked my water bottle into the water halfway up the Marsworth Flight. It was a hot day and the bottle was full of blackcurrant and blueberry squash; what a waste. Martyn was not happy when the water hose exploded and flooded our well deck either. At least the water was cold.
Looking back to Marsworth Reservoir
I’m loving all the uniformly-painted black and white former lockkeepers’ cottages on this section of the Grand Union Canal. It makes you realise what a superhighway this canal was in its day. It joins London to Birmingham and, by and large, it takes the straightest, fastest route. There’s no meandering around hills and valleys, just lock brutally and inexorably following lock. Back in the day this canal certainly had the manpower to cope with it, and the cottages are a testament to this fact.
Another lovely cottage
We passed a film set on the banks of the canal. At first we thought the weird scaffolding was part of the work for HS2. The emerald green colour should have given it away, that and the munchkin village, complete with wicker witch. It was the set of Wicked, and it’s massive.
That’s a lot of building, but no sign of Jeff Goldblum or Ariana Grande
On reaching the top of the locks we stopped close to the Grand Junction Arms and had a delicious lunch. While we were there the heavens opened, and the ensuing thunderstorm was biblical in its ferocity. It was such a trial that we were stranded in the pub garden for an hour, mercifully under a huge canopy, watching the parasols being bent over by the force of the storm and avoiding the streams and rivulets at our feet. In our haste to get to the pub we hadn’t stopped to put up the pram hood up on the stern of the boat. It took the rest of the afternoon to get everything dried out.
We need the rain, but not that much that fast
The next day we were warned about a tree across the canal in the Tring Cutting. Of course, it had to be our boat that brought it down, right on top of the cratch cover. Penny and Andrew had already got through unscathed, Karen and Drew were behind us. I managed to stop the boat before the tree limb did any real damage, but it still took Martyn and Drew about an hour to saw it up and get us free. Amazingly there was hardly any damage. The canvas needs a good clean, and one rivet needs replacing, that’s all. And there’s nothing for the Canal and River Trust to do now. Us boaters are resourceful.
When Martyn retired he was gifted a reciprocating saw. It came into its own for a spot of lumberjacking
Since then we’ve taken root in Berkhamsted. It’s a lovely town, full of interesting shops, with a beautiful old church, a Waitrose and a M&S Food Hall. It’s the first place we’ve stayed I honestly don’t think I could afford to live in, certainly not buy a house, but we’re getting closer and closer to London.
Lock 53, Berkhamsted
It’s been hot and sunny every day and we are moored under a tree. Somehow I’ve managed to enjoy coffee and walnut cake every day for the past three; in a cafe, courtesy of Karen, and a delicious one that Penny cooked today. We’ve done some light boat maintenance. We went out to eat in the Thai Cottage last night and had the most excellent dinner; it’s a restaurant I heartily recommend. Tomorrow we’re moving on.
Every cloud has a silver lining. If the tree hadn’t fallen on our boat we wouldn’t have seen this family of Mandarin ducks
Celebrating the railway heritage of Wolverton, just north of Milton Keynes
We are somewhere between Leighton Buzzard and Tring, so I’m lost. I only know we’re closing in on London.
This widebeam was right across the canal when we found it. We couldn’t pass until we’d repinned it. Probably a speeding boat pulled it loose.
Martyn and I went back to Wareham for a few days, we had some business to take care of, dentist, doctor and haircut. We also got to see friends and celebrate a wedding, which was lovely. I hope Dave and Sue have a happy married life together. Congratulations Mr and Mrs Wheatley.
Seren Glas on the Iron Truck Aqueduct in Cosgrove, with no barrier on the starboard side, is the first of its kind.
We left the boat in Cosgrove. Penny and Andrew looked after it for us, for which we were grateful. Cosgrove promised so much and delivered so little. On the map it is a delightful place, with a caravan park and lakes. In reality the caravan park is strictly private, and they own all the nice bits. The horse tunnel, squat and oval, which runs under the canal, was fun though. Karen and Drew on Lark Rise caught up with us there and we’ve been travelling with them and Andrew and Penny ever since. That’s been extremely pleasant. We’ve explored pubs together and on Saturday night we had the first towpath barbecue of the year. We are all heading towards London and although our timetables are different I hope we’ll continue to cross paths on the way down.
The Ornamental Bridge at Cosgrove is definitely the most ornate we’ve seen on the Grand Union,
We cruised through Milton Keynes, which was pleasant and warrants further exploration at a more leisurely pace. It’s all parks, gardens and nice-looking houses from our perspective on the canal, not a concrete cow in sight. Leighton Buzzard seemed very noisy; we thought there was some sort of protest going on. It was only after we passed through I discovered it was the day of the Leighton Buzzard and Dunstable Truck Convoy. The mind boggles.
A hot day and a cold beer in The Globe Inn in Leighton Buzzard. That’s Karen and Drew in animated conversation.
Martyn and I went for a trek across a field to look at a railway bridge. It’s quite a notorious one. It used to be called Bridego Bridge, now it’s known as Train Robbers Bridge. It’s the site of the 1963 Great Train Robbery perpetrated by Ronnie Biggs, Buster Edwards et al. I had to go and look at it. Before I married Martyn my surname was Wisbey, and Tommy Wisbey, who was one of the train robbers, was related to my ex. Later that evening the Flying Scotsman crossed it but none of us got to take a photo. Opportunity missed there.
The infamous Train Robbers Bridge. I don’t think we’ll be catching that train.
