12 weeks on the cut

[Bill Kennedy]

Chapter 8 – Week 7, Little Venice/Regent’s/Grand Union Canal

 

Saturday June 12

Markets and Visiting History

 

Saturday and the day of Camden Lock markets so Bill indulged me a visit. I tend to find markets reflect the living conditions of an area and I enjoy their vibrancy. I especially like them if they display the arts and crafts of a town and you can talk to the craftspeople but find them depressing if they are full of tatty produce and cheap imports and the stalls are run by people looking for a quick buck. Camden Lock Markets, sadly, have grown into 80% of the latter. However I still enjoyed the experience and managed to find some treasures. Bought some African style beads and then found some cards with some beautiful photos of nature - stones in particular. The stall holder was the photographer, his stall was artistically presented and he had organized a web site and a pamphlet about himself. Saw some pressed flowers set into leadlight work but thought the flowers looked too entrapped in this medium so refrained. Amusingly, I wandered into what I thought was a glassware shop only to discover it was selling glass bongs. The other educational experience was that they were selling living hallucinogenic mushrooms, advertised as being “for research”. I had a chat with the stall holder who told me this was legal in Britain but illegal if the mushroom was dead, dried or frozen as this alters its chemical state. You learn something every day. Food stalls were beginning to send some fabulous aromas around the area about 11.30am but thought we’d have lunch later at our next destination.

 

As my great grandparents came from Spitalfields I was most interested in an historic walk through the area. We made the decision to spend the afternoon doing the self guided walk. I had always thought of it as a depressing slum area when my great grandparents were there but was interested to read that it was one of the first areas of the planned new London after the Great Fire in 1666, the monarch asked Sir Christopher Wren to value his property holdings in the area and granted a charter for a market. My great-great grandfather was a silk merchant there. However I suppose it was all almost 200 years old by the time my great grandparents lived there and would have been a slum area by 1864 when they left. Why else would you leave your parents and all that was familiar to you to come to the great unknown in Australia.

 

Many of the houses built after the Great Fire remain today and are being restored. A lot of the grade 1 listed buildings are being occupied by trendy businesses but this transition is gradual and by and large it is very much a low socio-economic area in need of a very large injection of corporate money. However I fear their solution might be to knock it all down and start again. In the nineteenth century large numbers of Dutch Jews settled the area. There were once 150 synagogues but now there are only four. The area has been taken over by Indians and Pakistanis and is now jokingly referred to as Banglatown. Curry houses abound and we sampled one of these at lunch. I enjoyed seeing Christ Church where my great grandparents were married. It was designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor, an assistant of Sir Christopher Wren and is described in the brochure as “one of the finest Baroque churches in Europe”. Unfortunately it was closed until Evensong so a visit was not a possibility.

 

On our way home we exited Paddington Station by the main entrance instead of the back door and explored the main drag of Paddington. By the canal some wonderful modern development is going on. The canal is being rejuvenated and used as a reflective pool in the midst of all the stainless steel and glass - really quite splendid.

 

Sunday June 13

Messing about on the Canal

 

Today we’d looked forward to for some time. Bill’s golfing buddy from Brisbane, Roy and his wife Denise, were making the car trip in from an hour and a half away to see us. The plans were flexible. Either we’d go somewhere in their car, or if the weather was good, we’d go for a jaunt on the boat and show them some of the city from the water. They’d be here by nine so surfaced at 7am to give the boat a lick over. Just finished when I heard happy voices from the tow path and they’d arrived early, thanks to a good traffic run. Greetings all round as it was a first meeting for me.

 

As the weather is beautiful and they seem quite taken with the boat we decided on a run up the canal with lunch at a pub or a picnic a good plan. The scenery is less than wonderful, but nevertheless interesting. Canalside flats of varying ages and states of adoration giving way to houses and then industrial sites and then finally a golf course and a decent sized canalside park. But all the way, people enjoying this little bit of water - other boats, walkers, fishermen, families, sunbathers, kids in canoes.

 

Roy had a turn at the tiller and did famously. He also seems very adept with the ropes. Denise and I sat at the bow, watching the passing parade and chatting. I think we may have a couple of new converts. We passed quite a big Sainsbury’s, right on the canal and Denise and I went in for additional picnic goodies. Must remember this place when we leave London as the proximity to the canal makes it an ideal place to stock up, particularly on heavy items like soft drinks. The boys found a park on the map with a turn around further on, so that became our destination. The mooring was too shallow but we managed to tie up with only about a foot’s gap to the boat which we could all manage. A little path led from the towpath into the park and we carried our folding table and platters of nourishment. It’s hard work this doing nothing, sitting in the sun in a big grassy park with great food and company. It takes a lot of beating - another day of feeling no pain.

 

Time for reality so on to our winding hole (wind as in blow; this is a widening in the canal for turning around - you put the bow into a notch in the far bank and then let the wind blow the boat around - or the motor, in this day and age). At the winding hole there was a nice looking pub with a water point so we filled up. Bill had an opportunity for some private enterprise when the host of the party came out and asked him how much he’d charge to take them for a “bit of a cruise up the canal”. As we’re not ready for that yet, he was turned down but Bill noticed that the woman with the fellow took down the phone number on the side of the boat. It would be nice if we bring some business for Countrywide Cruisers.

 

Roy was at the helm on the way back and I really think is fast becoming an addict to canal boating. When we arrived back at our old mooring, it was taken in our absence. Damn, there is nothing for it but to see if there’s a place for us in “The Pool”- there is just one left - meant to be. We are back at Rembrandt Gardens and prepared to face a fine for staying longer than 24 hours. We noticed one of the boats had been there three days. Denise was keen to see the photos of the trip so far and some of them look quite good on the slide show on the full computer screen. It is now 6.30pm (where did the day go?) and their daughter, who lives in the next suburb, is waiting on them for dinner. Roy and Denise have plans of a trip to Stratford-on-Avon in a couple of weeks, about the time we’ll be there, so we are hoping we can meet up again for some more water therapy and great company. What a wonderful day.

 

Monday June 14

A Maritime Theme

 

Bill was keen to see The National Maritime Museum and I thought I’d like The Museum in Docklands, a new museum at West India Quay. I think that choice was prompted by the tome that the girls at work gave me – “London”, by Edward Rutherfurd, which I am enjoying immensely (1000 of 1300 pages so far). The choice of outings sounded like a day full, as indeed it turned out to be.

 

First, off-peak travel passes (wonderful little things that they are) then away we went. Now Bill will not admit this but when he forgets to bring his glasses he’s a bit of a worry in the reading of the tube map. We can find ourselves on the wrong train quite easily if a train comes as we step onto the platform and we haven’t had a chance to workout exactly where it’s going. I, on the other hand, have problems when I’m underground (or let’s be honest, when I’m above ground too) in working out my north, south, east and west directions so I can have us on quite the wrong platform. Generally, though, if we study the map carefully and plot our journey, we are fine. The trip to the museums involved switching to a Docklands Light Rail (DLR) train so, being above ground, we got to see a lot of the new Docklands development, and a lot of the old depressing areas around Limehouse, through which we made our entrance into London. We even looked down on the very lock we had come through where two little Muslim girls helped us.

 

The Maritime Museum was light and airy and had some very professional displays, especially oriented towards the children with sailors’ lockers you have to open to see the display and initiate the dialogue, etc. There was also a wave tank and even the kindy folk loved making waves. Lots of interactive and revision IT panels too, for the older kids. They all seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. They had Prince Frederick’s gilded barge on display and having read of a similar one in my book it was great to see the real thing.

 

We wandered out of there around lunch time, popped into a noodle shop and ate a plate of noodles big enough to feed a family (but did I leave anything on my plate?). Walked to and climbed over the “Cutty Sark” to wear it off and decided we wouldn’t have been professional sailors in those days for all the tea/rice in China.

 

Back a few stations to The Museum in Docklands, housed in a huge eighteenth century warehouse, but beautifully restored, keeping all its top floor gantries, loading platforms and original flooring etc. There are three floors of displays tracing the history of the Dockland area from pre- Roman times to the present day and it took us until 6pm when they closed to get three quarters of the way through. Well worth the visit and so much more relevant to me after having read all about it in the book - thank you again girls - great choice.

 

By this time we were totally done in. It was hot and had been a little stuffy in the museum. We emerged into the trendy new glass and stainless steel towers, café society, Suits Ville of the new Docklands development. All of a sudden one of those trendy cafes with their terracotta shade umbrellas and obliging little student/international traveller black aproned waitresses looked very appealing. We paused there to admire our modern surroundings and quench our thirst.

 

International shipping was moved closer to the estuary of the Thames a few decades ago so the docks are now water features between the high rises, and very attractive ones at that too. The docks are in proportion with the size of the buildings and in all, it is a very pleasing sight. The architects have kept the feel of the former function of the area by using old cranes all painted battleship grey, as sculptural pieces and there are party boats and bigger craft converted to convention venues at some of the dockside moorings. Where there are eighteenth and nineteenth century buildings worthy of restoration, these have been done magnificently so there is a fabulous juxtaposition of the buildings of commerce over three centuries. We lingered there for quite a while, taking it all in, and then home to rest.

 

The final amusement of the day happened as we stepped onto the train to go home. I must have looked so done in a little lass of about twenty tapped me on the arm and offered me her seat. Bill couldn’t stop smirking. I declined but when the seat beside her did become vacant I felt I owed her an explanation of all our mirth. I told her she was going in the diary as the first person to have offered me a seat in my dotage.

 

Tuesday June 15

Last Day in London

 

Decisions, decisions. So many choices. Where to go, what to do. Bill didn’t have a special preference but I was still keen to see the Globe Theatre, having missed it on the run down the Thames. So away we went on our little Day Travel Cards to Blackfriars Station and then took a walk over the Millennium Bridge. Now St Paul’s Cathedral looks directly out across the Millennium Bridge and I wanted a good photo. Unfortunately, from the River and even from The Eye, St Paul’s is dwarfed by the buildings in front of it so I didn’t yet have a good picture. Even standing directly in front of it I couldn’t get a decent shot because of the constant stream of traffic. Solution, much to Bill’s disapproval, I pressed the pedestrian crossing button and when all the cars had stopped, took the picture. He looked the other way like he’d never seen me before in his life.

 

We enjoyed the breezy walk across the bridge. Watched the big boats come and go and even saw one narrow boat with nine crew members on the decks, moving up the Thames. It was interesting to watch it from above. In the distance the Tower Bridge was lifting it’s drawbridge for a tall masted ship. I found the history of the current Globe most interesting but Bill was somewhat disadvantaged by his hearing difficulty. Our guide was great but the din from ten thousand school children created such ambient noise that Bill couldn’t hear a thing. There were dress rehearsals on when we were there, which I found fascinating, especially the costumes, but I was surprised by my inability to understand much of the dialogue. But then it’s a long time since I read Shakespeare. Think I’ll just watch Kenneth Brannagh doing it in the movies.

 

Discovering that there was a Pizza Express beside the front door we lunched there and the view across the Thames from our table was pretty spectacular. By this time we were feeling pretty tired. Our days of zooming all over London were starting to catch up with us so we decided to call it a day and head back to the boat to run the motor and heat some water for a shower then have a rest, before heading back into Covent Garden to see Lion King. All this done, we took our seats at the theatre, and then twelve chatty little schoolgirls and their teacher filed in and sat behind us (and did the usual kick you in the back every three seconds that fidgety little girls do). Bill started to look anxious as he realised that 50% of the audience were children and so I thought I’d better prepare him a little. The conversation went something like this. “You’ve seen the movie haven’t you”- “No”- “You know this is a musical based on a kid’s movie don’t you”- Silence- “Thanks a lot.”. All I could do was let the performance speak for itself and, to my surprise he said he enjoyed it immensely. We both did. It was a fitting finale to our London “Season”.

 

Wednesday June 16

Leaving London

 

Back to reality. We pulled out of “The Pool” around 8am, travelled along Regent’s canal and stopped at the canalside Sainsburys to stock the larder. The landscape was varied with urban areas of rows of two up/two down houses from the eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries. It’s interesting when you look at them in close proximity to one another; there really is very little difference in design over the centuries. The dwellings were interspersed with industrial areas and green corridors and if you closed your eyes to the graffiti and the debris in the canals it was tolerable.

 

We have been in search of diesel and a pump out today and finally thought we had found both north of Uxbridge at a flash new marina run by South African people, however after we had gone to all the trouble of maneuvering ourselves in there and tying up, the diesel they advertised in the guide was not yet available. They offered a DIY pump out for ₤10 but we knew the going rate for this was ₤5 so we thought we’d give our money to the person who could do both pump out and diesel so we turned around and motored right on out again.

 

We finally found what we wanted at a pokey little Marina that was a nightmare for Bill to get in and out of. We got our pump out for ₤11 and didn’t have to do it ourselves. In addition we got a 2p per litre discount on the fuel as we needed just over 100litres. To complicate matters, immediately after extricating ourselves, we had to enter a lock. The approach had a cruiser moored there and the chap was washing his boat and didn’t want to enter the lock until he’d finishing washing the other side. He wanted us to go before him but had left us nowhere to tie up. The end result of this was that we had to mark time in mid stream. And then, lo and behold, the lock opened and there, emerging, was a very wide British Waterways barge, heavily laden with gravel. We were warned by the owner of a nearby boat that we’d better get out of the way of the barge as his deep draft would suck us towards him as he passed us. This was easier said than done and Bill did his best to back up but our bow was then in very shallow water. We just held our breath until it went past and then entered the lock. Unfortunately our boat washing friend’s position didn’t leave Bill a spot to drop me off to operate the lock and I had to climb the mossy ladder out of the chamber, missing it on the first pass and necessitating Bill’s reversing back level with the ladder

 

Now I don’t know about the rest of you married folk but around about 4.30pm, when we are both very tired, we start to become a little snappish and have unrealistic expectations of one another (like scaling up a slippery ladder from a moving boat in a lock full of freezing bacteria laden water or being able to set down a deck hand when there is no space to set them down.) and we know it’s time to stop and have happy hour.

 

Thursday June 17

Countryside again

 

Before we set off for the day Bill decided to check the weed hatch to see what debris we had picked up in the prop on our trip out of London. The yield was a small selection of shreds of plastic bags. I did suggest that hammering open the clamp on the weed hatch at 6.30am may slightly contravene the rules of the canal about engine noise before 8am but he merely pointed out that that’s engines, not hammers. It was most interesting to be able to see the prop under the water. Before replacing the floorboards, Bill put back the weed hatch cover and screwed it down tightly then checked the engine in forward and reverse gear to be sure it wasn’t leaking as one can sink one’s boat if there is a leak. All fine, we were ready to go. I took my place at the front of the boat then noticed Bill had taken in the stern ropes. Gosh, he’s keen to get away, thought I, and quickly took in my bow ropes. Bill then appeared from inside the boat and stepped onto land only to realize that the boat was quietly drifting out into mid stream with me on it. Glares from Bill as I quickly passed a windlass from boat to land and the following exchange took place:

 

B. “Why did you untie that rope Lynn”

L. “Because you untied yours”

B. “I didn’t”

L. “You did”

B. “I didn’t. You must have untied both, Lynn”

L. “I did not”

B. “You must have because I didn’t, and there’s only the two of us”

L. “I tell you I didn’t”

 

Bill (on land) goes to stern. Lynn (on boat) goes to stern. Rope, still tied, dangling in water. Pin (iron stake) nowhere to be seen and obviously in depths of canal. Sickening feeling. Is rope around prop again? Bill “Don’t touch anything.” Lynn (unspoken) “As if I would.” The boat is in neutral so I gently draw up the rope - all clear. Whew. It had obviously pulled out when Bill tested the weed hatch cover by running the engine in forwards and reverse.

 

The problem still existed that I was out in midstream (which is not terribly wide anyway), in neutral, being blown by the wind towards the boats on the other side of the canal. “Never mind”, says I, authoritatively, “I’ll take it in and you open the lock”. I reach for the tiller, only to realize it has not been assembled (you take down the fancy brass bits and store them in the boat at night). Nor did I have my glasses. A lot of hasty assemblage of the tiller took place just in time to avoid the moored boats opposite and a lot of squinting as I realised Bill, up at the lock, had only opened one gate ( a tight squeeze but it reduces the work by about a third). With Bill safely back on board later, we had a good laugh about our comedy of errors and I told the boy he owes me big time for that one. Must be good for at least two craft shops.

 

We passed a row of interesting gypsy boat camps. They are called “Travellers” here, although, from the look of the camps, they don’t travel anywhere. Their boats are large but derelict with canvas over their rooves for the obvious leaks. They extend their environs to the adjacent land, in this case, a gully adjacent to their boats. In this they have an open fire with logs around and a hurricane lamp. At one boat a camping shower hung in a tree, which tells you there is no bathroom on board. As they never shift, they obviously don’t go to water points or pump outs and there are none supplied as at the fee paying permanent moorings. I wondered what they did for fresh water. One can only assume the bush is their toilet, or hopefully, that they dig a latrine. There was even a brightly coloured slippery dip at one camp and that made me wonder about the children brought up here. Learned later they don’t go to school and that there is an unspoken agreement with British Waterways that they are left alone in certain sites out in the wilds as many of the towns have insisted that they be moved on.

 

At the second lock of the day, we were passing a row of boats and a man appeared on deck and asked us if we were going north and would we be prepared to share the locks with him. We were only too happy to do this as it is easier with two to work the locks. So Brian and Jane have been travelling with us all day. They are moored with us tonight and we will travel in tandem again tomorrow. We are about three or four days away from their destination. Jane is a retired botanist, now doing a fine arts degree. Already we have plans to visit her favourite craft shop in one of the villages tomorrow.

 

At one of the locks we met some people coming from the opposite direction who had been held up for three hours at the last lock. Apparently a doe had fallen in the lock during the night and in trying to clamber out (impossible as Bill was to discover later) had wedged a hoof in one of the recesses in the lock gate. The fire service was there trying to rescue it and it was protesting loudly and resisting their efforts every time they came near it. Finally success was theirs and it was liberated, apparently none the worse for wear. We pulled up after this lock for lunch in very pretty country. Can understand why the deer like it.

 

The other interesting sight was a big manor house on a hill with a large golf course in its grounds called Cassiobury Park. The golfers were all zooming about in large buggies at what seemed like twice the normal speed and we watched a helicopter fly in some golfers. How the other half lives. There was a very elegant bridge on the property, over the canal and we learned that the owner, the Earl of Essex, insisted on the building of this ornamental bridge before he’d allow the canal to be constructed across his property.

 

The canal is extremely convoluted in this area as it is actually a mill stream being utilized as a canal section. I was having a steer at this time and the canal suddenly did two right angled bends then passed under a bridge and we came immediately upon a lock with a small holding pool. Now I have to say I did not do this at all well, with a little help from the wind and the mill stream current, I finished up with the stern adjacent to the bank but the nose pointing at the opposite bank (meant to be in parallel, not across it). My solution was to grab a windlass with the intent of doing the lock, jump off and suggest to Bill that he’d be better at fixing it than I would. This, the poor man did, but not before he’d become entangled in a weeping willow on the opposite bank and the boat now has a significant scratch down one side. He was not impressed, especially when I suggested I should drive more, not less, in order to correct these failings.

 

We are now officially out of London, having passed under the M25 today - it’s only taken us two days. No wonder we’re relaxed.

 

Friday June 18

Slow Going

 

We knew today was to be a day of locks as we are climbing The Chilterns but 17 in only six miles. Yes, that’s the entire distance we’ve travelled today - just six miles, six piddling miles, and it’s taken from 8.15am to 3.15pm, with an hour off for lunch and a spell, to let the muscles build up their ATP. We are here in Berkhamsted, moored near the centre of town and opposite a pleasant park and playground. Jane and I have been to the high street to her craft shop which had a very comprehensive range of goodies. I succumbed to two pens and some nice papers that I’ve not seen before at home. There is a Farmers Market on in the morning and I’m trying to persuade Bill to stay for it. Think I’ll have to call in a few of those favours from yesterday. Bill went to the library while we did the craft thing to send the latest news of our journey. The canal was the lifeblood of this village in days gone by and this appears to be something that the locals have not forgotten. The canal and a little adjacent stream flow through the lower end of town and the areas for public enjoyment, including two charming pubs, lie beside the canal. The village has a very strong feeling of community about it. Rather like the market town of Stone did.

 

We have journeyed through some very pretty country today, with green corridors and glorious gardens, charming cottages and ancient pubs bedecked with hanging baskets of massed flowers. We travelled through a very handsome new residential development at Apsley Locks, across the canal from Hemel Hempstead, for those following us on a map. There was an eighteenth century canalside warehouse residential conversion which had obviously been the architect’s inspiration. The new buildings mirrored the old with the same window arches etc. There was an adjacent smart new marina for narrow boats with a handsome reproduction swing bridge at its entry. The ideal set up for retirees who want lock up accommodation and the ability to jump in the boat and head off, without having to drive miles to a mooring.

 

There was only one spot of amusement (in retrospect) today. At Apsley Lock we met up with an old lady travelling alone in a small narrowboat. I would guess she was in her mid seventies. Brian invited her to travel with us as doing the locks and driving by yourself is quite challenging, let alone at her age. I had gone ahead to open the locks and as she had arrived first I called to her that if she liked to come in on the right, where I was standing, (she was headed there anyway) I’d take her rope. “Can’t hear” she gestured, pointing to her ears and the engine. So when she got into the lock I called “If you’ll throw me up your rope I’ll take it”. Previously she had been climbing up a very slippery ladder with the rope. And that was when she let me have it, telling me I’d made her all confused, that she’d been doing this for years and that if I’d just leave her alone, she’d be alright, that she’s only got two hands and that she can’t steer a boat and throw a rope at the same time etc.

 

I said not a word and retreated to a safe distance and let her climb the slippery ladder although when she discovered she’d left her boat in reverse she had to climb back down, put it into neutral and the climb back up again. I was careful to stay on the opposite side of the lock though she was bending Brian’s ear when he alighted on her side. She told him she had travelled down the Thames from Lechlade and only had two accidents - one when she hit and sank a canoe she didn’t see - “and the fellow just kept yelling and yelling at me - there was no need for that”, she said - and the second when she didn’t see a warning buoy and ran aground on a sandbank and someone had to come and tow her off. I wonder who’ll be game enough to tell her it’s time to stop boating. Thankfully she decided to stop and make a cup of tea and we all made a unanimous decision to push on.

 

We have had “happy hour” on the boat and now plan to repair to “The Boat”, a canalside pub half a mile back, for dinner. There are more locks ahead tomorrow as we approach the summit at Cowroast Lock. Water for the locks now comes from a deep borehole in the chalk beds, near Northchurch. Previously, in summer boats had to queue, waiting for water to fill the summit locks, because of the drainage at either end. Nicholson’s guide says that every time a boat crosses the summit, it draws almost 200,000 gallons of water. Just imagine how much I sent down Northgate Locks in Chester. I wonder if the Shropshire Union Canal has recovered yet.

 

Progress This week Distance (miles) 52 Locks 37

Total Distance (miles) 498 Locks 371

 

 

The journey continues