As I mentioned last time, the first recommended safe mooring when you leave Birmingham on the Grand Union Canal is at Catherine de Barnes, or Catney as the locals seem to call it. We like it there, other than it’s directly on the flight path from Birmingham Airport, but the planes stop at night and there are some lovely walks nearby. We stayed there for a full day, just doing domestic chores and recovering from the BCN.
Knowle Locks, obviously
The next challenge was the Knowle Locks. I like them, but they have their own quirks. First off they have enormous side pounds so you walk miles and secondly, it was really, really windy, gusting to 35 mph apparently. Our first stroke of luck was when another boat came along so we could share, the second was that the flight was absolutely swarming with volunteer lock keepers, always welcome.
Martyn doing a great job faced with some very challenging conditions
We moored up very close to the bottom, not wanting to get blown around any more, and took Ollie for a walk. He met an enthusiastic lady dog on the towpath, who wanted to play. All was good until he cannoned into the back of my legs, and like a cartoon character, the legs went up, the bottom went down and I ended up sitting on the towpath. I laughed at the time but I’ve twisted my knee, so we took it easy for a couple of days.
Another day, another tunnel. This is Shrewley. Oh my goodness, was it wet and drippy in there! Martyn really regretted not putting on a coat. The stalactites, or whatever you call them when they are formed from drips down the wall are spectacular. See the half way point marker? I don’t think I’ve every photographed one of them in a tunnel before.
We got to the top of Hatton Locks on Monday and there wasn’t a soul around, no boats, no lockies and no movement. We decided we didn’t fancy tackling the 21 on our own so had another most of a day off. I thought there was something off about the first mooring spot we chose; there most certainly was – a large and very dead fish on the towpath and a wasps next right by our stern line. We moved up a bit and then had lunch at the Hatton Locks Cafe.
Looking back up the hill at Hatton
Yesterday we girded our loins once more to descend the Stairway to Heaven. I’ve never considered what you should call the Hatton Locks going the other way. Our luck was in, just as we were getting ready to depart another boat turned up. So we shared with Peter and Katya, who also had their son along as crew. I felt rather intimidated when Peter shared he’s a River Pilot on the Humber. Isn’t narrowboating a bit of a busman’s holiday? We flew down the flight about 2.5 hours, which by my reckoning is good.
Because of the gammy knee Martyn did all the locks on the Hatton Flight
Now we are happily moored up on the Saltisford Arm in Warwick. I love it here. Its run by the Saltisford Canal Trust, who celebrate their 40th anniversary this year. The friendly people here steward quite a lot of historic canal artifacts and boats, and it’s a haven for wildlife. They even have beehives, although so far we haven’t been lucky enough to get any honey. Beau Romer is going to stay here, safe and secure for a couple of weeks, while we go back to Dorset for a bit.
The cottage at the foot of the Hatton Locks, a welcome sight when you’re coming down
Wow, we’ve covered some ground in a week, off the Staffs and Worcester, through Stourbridge and Dudley, into Birmingham, where we bimbled around a bit on the BCN (Birminham Canal Navigations) and several other canals, and out the other side.
Looking back down the Stourbridge flight. Now there is only one glass cone in sight, but can you imagine what it must have been like with over 30 on the horizon?
Last year, during the blog silence, we went to Stourbridge. It’s famous for glass making, and we were lucky enough to be there during the biennial International Festival of Glass. We toured the Stourbridge Glass Museum and visited the Red House Glass Cone, imagining all the glassmakers at work. Then we popped into Holy Trinity, the glassmakers church, for tea and cakes. There was a lady there who had lived in Stourbridge all her life, and she told us stories of how the glassmakers used waste glass to make toys for the children; whistles with a reed inside that were easy to break and little ducks and animals.
Delph Locks are beautiful with their waterfall weirs. I’m sure if they were in a more picturesque setting people would be flocking to spend time there.
This year we bypassed the town and headed straight up the 16 locks of the Stourbridge flight. We were going to stop for the day after that, but were thwarted by a fishing match, so we carried on and did the Delph Locks too. We were a bit tired after that!
We were so tired we had to go for a pint or two; Batham’s Best Bitter, served in this lovely pub in Brierley which is the brewery tap, highly recommended and £3.80 a pint! Plus we met a couple of friendly boaters, Clare and William, and had some good conversation, which is always a bonus
The next day just for kicks and giggles we set off for Hawne Basin at the end of the Dudley No. 2 canal. That was a war of attrition – the canal is silted, overgrown and full of the usual urban rubbish. When we got to the Gosty Hill Tunnel we were hardly moving. Sensible boaters would have stopped to clear the prop, but we aren’t sensible. We pushed on at a snail’s pace. It’s no fun being trapped in a narrow, dark and low tunnel where you’re moving so slowly you can count every brick passing by. It’s not very often I’m nervous on the stern of the boat, but as the roof got lower and lower I wondered if we were going to come to a dead halt, and if so, how long it would be before someone found us on this quiet part of the system?
I very much doubt we will ever pass this way again – see how the roof gets lower?
Hawne Basin in Halesowen is a very different place to stop than we are used to. The visitor moorings there are free because they want to encourage visiting boats. Although it looks like a marina there are no pontoons so we spent the night lashed to our neighbour. We could get on and off the boat with no problems, but it was a different matter for Ollie. We deployed the gangplank, and Martyn had to carry him on and off the boat. The real upside was that the basin was selling red diesel for 75p a litre. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so cheap.
Ollie woofed at the statue. Weird dog
We made the return trip through the tunnel with considerably less drama and headed into Tipton through the Netherton Tunnel, 3027 yards long, but wide like a motorway and with a towpath of on each side. We had thought about spending a day at the Black Country Living Museum, but it isn’t dog friendly, and we have been there before, so after a quick overnight off we went again.
Parts of the Old Main Line are as bucolic as any canal has any right to be
The last time we crossed Birmingham we used the New Main Line, engineered by Thomas Telford, straight as an arrow, and, dare I say it, as boring as a wet Sunday afternoon when I was a five year old in 1971. This year we decided to take James Brindley’s Old Main Line, and what a delight it was! We crossed over other canals, including the Netherton Branch we’d cruised the day before and counted the proliferation of coot nests. I’ve written before about how much I like coots, watching the males solicitously guarding their nests and their mates I like them even more.
Just when you forget you’re on an urban canal the Old Main Line swoops right under the M5 and stays there for about 20 minutes of cruising time. I wonder if the vehicles up above have any idea of what’s happening right underneath them?
We girded our loins the next day, it was going to be full-on., 25 locks and 10 miles to cover to reach the first safe overnight stop. We started off with the Farmers Bridge Locks. At the top they are right under the International Convention Centre, and the towpath is bustling with people. Half way down is Saturday Bridge, reputed to be where the workers would get their weekly wages back in the day.. The lower you get down the flight of 13 the grittier they get and it’s quite a relief to finally pop out at the bottom adjacent to the Jewellery Quarter. This area is definitely far removed from the bars, restaurants and attractions of Gas Street Basin.
The creepiest lock I’ve ever been in, No.9 on the Farmers Bridge Flight. It was dark, under a bridge, and for some reason smelled really strongly of coal.
It was at the Ashted Tunnel that things really went wrong for us. You descend the first lock of the Ashted Flight and right in front of you is the tunnel. If Gosty Hill was low and narrow, this was even worse. A narrowboat is 6’10” wide, and the Ashted Tunnel is only 6’11” wide, so there was no wriggle room at all. It’s also low, the roof is steeply curved, and the water level was so high it was over the towpath. It was a recipe for disaster, but hindsight is a wonderful thing. Martyn went on ahead to set the next lock, I chugged through the tunnel – or rather I didn’t. What actually happened was that even though I was rubbing along the towpath to my left, the right handrail at the top of the cabin roof hit the tunnel wall, and so did our pram hood frame and cover. We were totally unprepared for the damage to the boat. At the end of the day it’s nothing a bit of black paint won’t sort out, but it certainly knocked my confidence. Subsequent research and talking to another boater has revealed we certainly aren’t alone, the Ashted Tunnel is notorious for damaging boats. I wish I’d known before we set off, we would have gone another way.
To make matters worse, HS2 is going to cross the Ashted Flight
While I was licking my wounds and trying to restore battered confidence in my helming abilities, a passerby struck up a conversation. He was born into a working boating family, the youngest of 12 children. and one of only 3 not to be born on his parents’ boat, called Dover. Happily reminiscing he told us some first hand stories of what the life was like, of how his Mum would be back steering the boat 4 hours after giving birth because there was no money if they didn’t haul cargo, and how the workers at Bournville would throw chocolate to the boat children. Talking to him was exactly what I needed at that time.
A very attractive mural at Warwick Bar
It started raining, so we stopped at the foot of the Camp Hill Locks for a bite of lunch. I also got to help out a party of Canadian hire boaters who were a bit lost and trying to climb up the side of the lock. We ran into them the next day and I’m glad that their enthusiasm for narrowboating wasn’t daunted by the experience.
We ended that particular day on the Camp Hill Flight, which I feel is one of the grimmest on the system, neglected, paddle gear not working and with the sort of grafitti that is neither art, nor ornament, nor intelligent
I certainly don’t want to end this blog on a low point. We love exploring urban canals, and the BCN in particular, even though this year’s tally down the weed hatch was a baseball cap, a pair of Nike shorts, the wrapper from a multipack of Andrex and goodness knows how much plastic and weed. The water is crystal clear in parts, oily black in others. My copy of the Pearson’s guide is out on the back of the boat at all times because there is so much of interest to identify. I’ve probably taken 100 pictures to squirrel away in the memory banks, and we enjoy the surprises and the challenges. There is nowhere in the country where I’m more aware of how privileged we are to spend so much of our time on a living museum, a transport network that is 250 years old that was constructed not for our boating pleasure, but as part of the industrial revolution and is part of our history. The pretty and rural is just around the corner, and we are lucky to have so much variety.
See the red doors on the bridge? They were used in WWII to allow the firemen to drop hard suction hoses into the canal to draw up water. I never noticed them back in 2022 when we were last here, this time I spotted them everywhere in Birmingham
These days I have to wear glasses to negotiate obstacles like the Stretton Aqueduct
The Shropshire Union is now behind us. We stopped in Brewood, where the Bridge Inn has the best idea ever for a canal side pub – a launderette. So for once our towels are nice and fluffy rather than reminiscent of sandpaper.
Art or vandalism? You choose
I have a real soft spot for the Shroppie, it’s never been a secret. Sometimes I think every canal we are currently on is my favourite. I can see good points in them all.
Congestion as we exit the Cowley Tunnel. It’s the only one on the Shroppie and barely qualifies, it’s so short.
We are now on the southern section of the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal, which is truly lovely. We cruised it last year all the way up from Stourport on Severn and Dan, Lianna and Rowan joined us for some of the journey. We also hung around Kinver for a few days, and enjoyed Kinver Edge and visiting the Holy Austin Rock Homes.
Kinver Edge, a blast from the past, summer 2024
Last year of course, my blogging output was woeful, so anything I write about this beautiful waterway now should be new and fresh.
The Toll House at Bratch locks. They are not a staircase, but the 3 locks only have 1.5 metre pounds between them. One of them was so leaky it flooded our bathroom. That’ll teach me to leave the window open. The compensation was the wonderful volunteer lock keeper who had us through in a jiffy
The first thing to say is that the Staffs and Worcs always smells particularly clean to me, and I mean clean like washing powder. Sometimes the locks are so foamy you feel like you’re in a washing machine (or escaping from the Blob, if you’re more into sci-fi than housework)! I even checked with Google, but there’s nothing particular in the water, no factory churning out soapsuds and discharging into the water, no reason for it at all. As the blowholes at the locks seem particularly fierce and it’s not unknown for me to get a faceful, clean is good!
The lock weirs on this canal, with their cages to keep out debris and careless individuals, are really pretty, and they beat a bywash any day!
Part of this canal is suburban, you can tell by the accents we are in the Black Country, and part feels very rural. We hear more sheep than we see, and there are lots of trees lining the canal. It isn’t so good for gaining solar power, but it certainly makes for a pretty journey.
What’s with the double spindles, or have I just not noticed them on other canals? They’re very helpful for my ratchet windlass
Then there are the gardens. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a canal where people seem to appreciate what’s at the bottom of their gardens so much. We moored at Wombourne for a couple of nights, firstly because there’s a very useful Sainsbury’s rignt next to the canal, and secondly because the weather couldn’t make it’s mind up so we just stayed put for a day rather than risk getting drenched when we don’t need to. Next to our mooring a chap had adopted part of the towpath as an extension to his garden, and very nice it was too. We also saw a CRT volunteer party a couple of times, very friendly and taking an obvious pride in keeping the canal attractive.
This is John’s Garden at Ashwood. It’s open to the public on Saturdays
Sadly not everything has been a feast for the eyes. One of the things the CRT provide for us itinerant boaters is refuse disposal points. We’ve moaned for a long time that not many of them have recycling facilities. That’s all changed this year, and we now have to split our rubbish in the same way we do at home. I even have a compost caddy taking up some of our rather limited worktop space. Well, that’s all well and good, but we went to drop off the rubbish today at Greensforge Lock and were greeted with every bin full and overflowing. A passerby told me that being so close to Birmingham people suffering from the bin strike there are coming down to our facilities and depositing their rubbish here by thowing it into the compound. The very cheek! Yes, I did drop an email to CRT asking for an extraordinary bin collection. No-one wants rats.
No prizes for guessing why this is called Rocky Lock
However, I’m not going to let a little thing like that spoil my enjoyment of a beautiful canal we shall be leaving all too soon.
Normal service has been resumed; we’re on the move again. Plans have changed though. We are flying down the Shropshire Union Canal, en route to Birmingham. Although we have covered some miles in the past few days we are nothing like the Flyboats of old. They used to make the journey from Ellesmere Port to Birmingham in 3 days, using horsepower, never stopping, and sleeping in shifts. No wonder the canals were the superhighways of their day.
Alien seed in the wood? No, I think it’s a glamping pod
Although it’s sad and we had plans to meet friends, the Caldon Canal will have to wait.
This tree stump at Cholmondeston looks more like a character from a Star Wars film if you ask me.
We moved from Middlewich on Sunday though sheer boredom as far as Cholmondeston, but that turned out to be a real bonus, as we spent the next few days with Steve and Andy, enjoying cake and breakfast from the tearoom at Venetian Marina, and having a games evening that went on nearly to 1 am – typical boat life. The refurbished and shiny hatch doors are back. It rained too, and my newly-sealed chimney leaked like a sieve. Not sure what went wrong there, but I will have to do it again. Until such time, the plastic bag is our friend.
Adderley Locks are my favourite, complete with pretty flag irises. Just don’t look at the plastic bag …
All good things have to come to an end though, and we set off on Wednesday. We got as far as the reopened Barbridge Inn, and as we cruised by, noting there was a space just right for Beau Romer, there was a shout out of the window. It was Nigel and Diane, our former marina neighbours on nb Escapology. We stopped and had a jolly good catch up before moving on to Nantwich.
Outside the Barbridge Inn, photo copyrighted to Nigel!
Then later in the week we met up with Ian, one of the Friday nighters. He brought Sofia with him, she’s a lovely Portuguese girl hoping to get a job as a radiologist in the UK – we certainly need more like her.
Tea, cake and the evening sunshine. Shame we had to move on for the night because of the Shroppie Shelf
The day we cruised to Hack Green the strong wind and even stronger gusts were a nightmare to contend with. If the wind hadn’t been blowing in our faces instead of broadside there was no way we would have attempted moving. Rain is one thing, but in wind we turn into a 57ft sail. Talking of Hack Green, do you remember the R Whites Lemonade advert? If you sing “It’s a Secret Nuclear Bunker – Hack Green” the words fit the tune perfectly. Go on, try it!
Woodseaves Cutting is dark, narrow, and has two of these amazing high bridges. We just never want to meet another boat coming the other way
The Shroppie is a canal that plays many parts and has many faces. Most of its locks are at the top end and after Nantwich they come thick and fast in flights, 2 at Hack Green, 15 at Audlem, 5 at Adderley and 5 at Tyrley (complete with helpful ghost who opens and closes lock gates), then it’s straight as a Roman Road in many places and nothing but cuttings and embankments apart from one solitary lock at Wheaton Aston. The cuttings tend to be shady and spooky, and there are more stories of the supernatural; a shrieking spirit in Betton, and a strange monkey man in Grub Street. Neither of them troubled us this trip, although we spotted a pair of kingfishers in Betton, the first of the year. I feel sorry for poor old Thomas Telford, the famous canal builder. He never saw this canal finished, defeated by one of those embankments that wouldn’t stay in place at Shelmore.
Knighton Wharf with the factory in the background. It used be be Cadbury, then Knighton Foods, which among other things made Angel Delight. We heard it was closing in 2023, but now it’s open again,manufacturing baby milk
May is a lovely month to be cruising. The elderflower and dog roses are blooming (last year I made elderflower cordial), there are cygnets, goslings and ducklings everywhere. We got chased down the canal by a cormorant. The warm weather and the rain we’ve had over the past week have made the landscapes lush and green. Ollie is growing up and seems to love his travelling life. As long as we continue to have enough water in the canals everything is good.
Mother duck bringing her brood for lunch. She’s been very successful by the look of it
It’s not all wine and roses this narrowboat lark, you know, although perhaps on reflection that should be roses and castles. We arrived in Middlewich on Sunday night, we’re still here, although we’ve been hopping from mooring to mooring. We always planned to stay a few days. We needed a small cosmetic repair on the car (my bad) and I had an appointment with my podiatrist in Nantwich. He discovered a corn, no wonder my foot has been hurting since Liverpool. I thought corns were the preserve of little old ladies, what does that say about me?
Martyn wading through brunch, a Breakfast Bagel from Bondies Bagels in Nantwich. Very good it was too!
What we hadn’t factored in was the patch of rust Martyn found last week on one of our side hatch doors, right down the bottom where it had been growing unnoticed for who knows how long. Rust never sleeps of course. Cue a call to John, Bickerstaffe’s former boat painter, who is sorting it out with a door respray, so we have a board covering the hole and no doors. They were due back tomorrow, but the tin worm has progressed further than anticipated, so we’re hoping to get them back on Monday. That’s another day stuck in Middlewich. It’s always Middlewich, I feel like it’s Groundhog Day.
Another little patch I need to sort out. I wasn’t vigilant enough, this one got hold, thankfully it’s tiny.
We wouldn’t have got far anyway. The CRT closed the Trent and Mersey between Middlewich and Kidsgrove on Monday because of low water levels, and we were going that way. Apparently it’s the driest spring since 1952. Anyway we fetched the car, and have had it here until today, so that made a nice change. Apart from the trip to Nantwich, which is one of my favourite canalside towns, we helped Steve and Andy move their car up the canal. Not only did we get to have a chat with David Bramley where we weren’t just holding boats in the middle of some canal or another, they rewarded us with a couple of pieces of delicious Victoria Sponge. We also popped into Winsford, at the end of the River Weaver a couple of times. And of course, we haven’t had to lug groceries up the towpath. I feel like a normal person for once. Shame in a way the car’s now gone back to our marina, but we aren’t inclined to go through all the hassle of bringing it along with us and finding somewhere convenient to park it.
Close, no cigar. One day I will see something with my name on it
We got some boat jobs done during our enforced hiatus. I’ve had the touch up paint out, and was up on top of the boat this morning scraping the sealant from around the chimney. I looked like a sweep when it was done! Sealing the chimney needs doing every year, or we get leaks. I’m not too worried about cleaning the rust off the top of the stove, but I don’t want the ceiling to come down, as happened to a couple of our friends.
Compulsory Ollie photo. We were in a lock at the time. He likes to lick lock walls. Words fail me.
We took the washing to Morrisons, where there’s one of those handy dandy outside launderettes, and we got a cup of coffee in their cafe while we waited for it. We have a washing machine onboard, but don’t have the easy opportunity to fill our water tank until we move. I can make a tank last comfortably for 5 days, we’ve done 6 before, but a week or more is pushing it, so every saving is a blessing.
Also very close!
So I definitely have itchy tiller. All our friends are at the Crick Boat Show too, so I’ve got FOMO to boot. We could have gone, but I think Ollie would have gone into meltdown with all the people and dogs. Will we move on Monday? Who knows. I can hear Sonny and Cher playing in the background …
A family on a hireboat from Andersen Boats setting off on their holiday. Apparently a lot of their customer base come from Scandinavia. I always think their boats are smart in their bright red livery
Taken from our mooring, destination Beeston Castle
We are on go slow this year. Normally it’s rush here, rush there, always chasing a deadline or a rendezvous. This year we’re going with the flow, chilling out a bit more, getting the dog used to his travelling life . I quite like it, but whether I will continue to do so or get itchy tiller remains to be seen.
Come on Sweetheard, just another few steps
We stopped for a couple of nights above Wharton Lock, in the shadow, as it were, of Beeston Castle. You can see the castle on top of a crag for miles. We decided to visit and set off for the canal for what we thought would be quite a strenuous hike. It wasn’t in all honesty, that bad.
We were higher than the birds
Beeston Castle, or the ruins of what we see there today, was built in the 1200s. It’s got an interesting history, in the Civil War the Castle was held by both Royalists and Parliamentarians, and it certainly sits in a commanding position with breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside. I was struck by it’s similarities to Corfe Castle. They were both destroyed about the same time, although Corfe’s building is more complex and it was older. There has been a settlement at Beeston since the Bronze Age, and English Heritage have built a very interesting replica Bronze Age roundhouse in the outer ward.
Yes, it was a long way down
We had a very pleasant visit, even the small gift shop and the wooden tea hut were nice. And as most people would have realised by now, Martyn and I do love a high vantage point.
Pay attention, I’m trying to take your photograph
From Beeston we continued south, thankfully not getting involved with the Bunbury Shuffle at the staircase locks there, although we did help a hire boat through, it was day 2 and they were a little unsure. Let’s not talk about getting water at Calveley. Tell me, if you were at a water point with two boats hovering waiting to fill up, would you be washing your boat? No I didn’t think so, but guess what we had to wait for? No point in moaning; we’re on canal time, and that’s boat life for you, but I keep looking daggers at the offending boat which we have seen several times since and is now moored just in front of us.
I do love an old ruin
Fresh off the frustration at Calveley, Martyn decided to make friends with a bush at a bridge hole—though the feeling wasn’t mutual. The resulting scratch has since polished out, and I’ve just about forgiven him (for now).
Waiting patiently at Beeston Iron Lock
I need to remember to keep my criticism of his driving to myself though, because soon after, we approached Barbridge Junction—a place that, historically, has been my personal nemesis. My track record? Let’s just say “smooth navigation” hasn’t been on the playlist. But this time there was no clattering and no swearing, just the rare thrill of victory and a bit of a smug smile.
Martyn picked up a hitchiker (sorry about the washing!)
The next day on the Middlewich Branch of the Shropshire Union, a very familiar route, we stopped for lunch just after Aqueduct Marina. Unbeknownst to us, Andy and Steve on Saorise, the Bears Aboard, were moored just in front of us, so we made it all of 200yds before mooring up again for drink and a jolly good catch up. That’s one of the joys of canal boating, you never know when you’re going to bump into friends.
Gin o’clock, naturally
The big worry for us now is water levels. As much as we are enjoying the lovely weather, the canals are really suffering. The Leeds and Liverpool is effectively closed from Wigan to Leeds, and one of the branches of the Caldon Canal, where we were planning on going, is now closed too. We really need some rain.
Hail fellows, well met, and thank you for the photos
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
