Friends and Neighbours

Hitching a ride with Mum

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.

Ollie wondering where Martyn is off to …

Not Beastly, just Beeston

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

Under Starter’s Orders

In 1770 work began on the Leeds and Liverpool canal, at Halsall, where I’m writing this post. We’re moored outside The Saracen’s Head, and full of the excellent meal we’ve just enjoyed there. Alongside the canal by Bridge 25 there’s a statue known as the Halsall Navvy. He stands there in commemoration, emerging from the ground, full of power and stoicism, and really makes you think about the navigation engineers who dug out the canals, cuttings, and tunnels; who constructed the locks and bridges with nothing more than picks, shovels, wheelbarrows, and their own hard labour.

Sorry mate, you’re rather stuck there …

It’s time to think of beginnings and activity after months of loitering. We’ve been out of the marina for a couple of weeks now, embarking on at least 5 months of travel. We had to wait for the boat to come out of the water to have its cutlass bearing replaced (it’s part of the stern gear – we must have hit something underwater that dislodged it). That was a scary day. I didn’t stay on the boat as it was floated onto a dolly and hauled up a ramp behind a tractor. I saved the white knuckle ride and watching the stern go underwater from the stern itself for Martyn.

Martyn riding the bucking bronco

All’s good now, apart from an annoying whine we’re all scratching our heads trying to fix. We took a tentative cruise down to Tarleton but didn’t go through the sea lock on to the Ribble Link. We turned around and cruised familiar waters, to Parbold with friends from our marina, and then into Liverpool for a week.

Jim and Diana’s lovely narrowboat Bleasdale waiting for Beau Romer to join them in the lock. We’ve never gone up the Rufford Flight so efficiently!

We couldn’t have asked for a better start to the cruising season. There were 4 Bickerstaffe boats and crews snuggled up in Salthouse Docks. A small rump of the Bickerstaffe Massive was in town.

One of our Bickerstaffes is missing …

We enjoyed the thrills of a ghost walk, visited the Museum of Liverpool on the day it re-opened post-lockdown, ate too much good food and drank too much good beer (outside!). We were joined by several friends while we were there, made new ones, took a cruise to the dock system’s far end and generally had a brilliant week.

Friends make good times fabulous

At this time of the year the canal is teeming with new life. We’ve seen ducklings, Canada goslings (sad the cute little yellow fluffy things must grow up into noisy antisocial Canada Geese), coots and moorhens on their floating nests with almost identical chicks, and tadpoles basking in the rare sunshine. Even the jellyfish in Salthouse Docks are about a quarter of the size of the ones we saw last year. There’s a feeling of new beginnings and optimism.

Who doesn’t like a cute baby?
I’m so relieved I didn’t hit that nest while mooring

On the way back from Liverpool we made a pitstop at Aintree Racecourse, site of the Grand National. I think I must have walked every inch of the 4 miles, 856 yards of the course itself, for that’s where I got my second Covid-19 vaccination and Google Maps let me down. Every gate to every footpath it tried to make me take was locked, so I took an extremely long route from the banks of the canal to the building where the vaccinations were taking place.

So close, yet so far

To finish this post off, we are known to be more than a little accident-prone. Here’s the list of offerings we have made to the Canal Gods so far since leaving our winter mooring:

  • One mooring chain
  • One handcuff key
  • One LED nightlight
  • One Jacksonville Jaguars baseball cap
  • One side fender

Oh dear!

David Foulkes took this photo. He’s one of the CRT volunteer lock keepers (fine people who we appreciate immensely) on the Stanley Flight that takes you down into the Liverpool Docks. The building on the left is the Tobacco Building, the largest brick-built building in the world. It’s being converted into appartments. I hope they don’t disturb the Peregrine Falcons we saw who nest there.