Aussies on the Kennet and Avon - Day 3

[Daryl]

Day 3

 

At 3 am I was awoken by the canal boat version of the Japanese water torture. At first I thought I was dreaming, but as the freezing cold water continued to drip on my forehead and run down my neck I realized that it was really happening. WE MUST BE SINKING! I sat bolt upright in bed, but the NB Kintbury seemed to be floating happily the way its designers had intended it to. Then another drop landed on my head and I looked up and there on the windows of the lounge area, heavy condensation on the glass. So heavy in fact that it was running down the window and dripping onto my head. I grabbed a tea towel and wiped the window down, but it was of little use as my bedding was now wet and very cold. I slunk into the bedroom and considered whether it was worth risking putting the slumbering Maddy back in her bunk or not, but I just didn’t have the heart to wake her.

 

As it was too early to start the engine and put the heating on, I decided to light the stove and oven and salvage what bedding I could and bunk down on the floor for a bit more kip. Fortunately I managed to make it through to 5.30 am when once again the HST trains blasting by at the Thatcham level crossing woke me. At this point I decided to give up trying to sleep and have that great solver of problems, a cuppa. At around 7 am it was time to “kick the tires and light the fires”. I must write myself a note next time I go canal boating to remember where you moor overnight. Still wearing my jim jams I strode out onto the stern to start the engine only to realize our vessel was parked right next to a busy road bridge into Thatcham which at that very moment was full of cars full of people waiting for a train at the level crossing. To say I must have looked rather silly was an understatement given the reaction of the occupants of the cars. Realising there was no way to salvage the situation, I gave them all a wave and slunk back inside.

 

The heating was engaged, but unfortunately it would not start. After numerous attempts it was decided that something was wrong and a call was made to Aldermaston Wharf that we needed help. We were told to stand fast and someone would come to our rescue. At around midday Marcus turned up and it was soon revealed that flat batteries were the problem. I think I had something to do with their state, but I remained quiet. Note to self – stop using too many electrical appliances. The batteries where soon changed and at around 1 pm we decided to set sail with the first lock being the unique Monkey Marsh with its amazing turf sides. This was followed by the Monkey Marsh swing bring which was past with not a monkey in sight and then onto Widmead Lock. Next as we passed under the Hambridge Lane Railway bridge another HST blasted over us vibrating the old steel piers turning the area below into a booming cavern. It was then onto Bull’s Lock and another encounter with the River Kennet which came out right below the gates. Once again the river played tag with the boat sending in a direction I didn’t want to go. It was only a blast of full forward throttle and then full reverse throttle that go me to the lock and stopped me bouncing off the gates. After clearing the lock and after quite a distance of rural farm land we suddenly found ourselves in industrial Newbury passing various factories and warehouses. The canal also became a bit more unpleasant with rubbish dumped along the banks. It seems not every appreciates the wonderful history they have running right through their own backyard.

 

Our final lock was to be Ham as the Greenham Lock was closed for repairs to the gates. As we came out of the lock and onto the River Kennet again Jacinta noticed that the current was flowing very strongly against us. As we passed what looked to be a large marina filled with a kaleidoscope of narrow boats, I eyed the fast moving water knowing that our return trip was going to be an interesting one. We cruised on a bit further with two beautiful swans for escort until Greenham Lock came into sight where we would turn the boat around and head back to Thatcham. Unfortunately the advice I was given about turning a narrow boat around on a flooded river using the flow was based on there only being one stream of the River Kennet joining back into the canal below the lock, not two. As I held the boat in the stream using full throttle I began to wonder whether I’d finally met my Waterloo. Boy, this was going to be fun. Well, nothing ventured - nothing gained. I pointed the bow to the flow to the right of the lock and powered on. As explained to me back at Aldermaston the flow would do the rest. The bow began to swing to the left and I turned the tiller and added power to make sure it kept going, but then the good old Kennet decided to have some fun with me as the other flow on the other side of the lock got into the act. Suddenly the bow began to swing back to the right and Jacinta, the kids and me became passengers as the two flow streams decided to fight over which direction 50 odd foot of narrow boat was going to go. At this point pure terror set in as I realized that I was no longer in control, but as quickly as the river had us spinning in all directions, it let go so I opened the throttle and headed for the nearby mooring. Thinking we might be given a break we pulled into the bank, but unfortunately the current was so strong that we could hardly keep the boat still. Jacinta was hoping that we might have headed off to the local pub for a drink and a meal, but what I really needed was a good lie down. The following argument certainly kept the passer bys using the boat path amused that "my" decision to take a canal boat holiday in the middle of winter might not have been such a good one. It was at this point I strode off with camera in hand determined to get at least a photo of the closed Greenham Lock and take a little time out. It was also at this point I looked at my watch and realized that it was now 3 pm and we still had to make it back to Thatcham for the night.

 

Everyone quickly hopped back on board and we were off. For once the fast flowing river worked in our favor and we were soon making good time - a little too good. Ham Lock was suddenly before us again where the canal and the river parted ways at speed. Caught in the flow until the last moment with the throttle hard in reverse, I swung the bow into the small amount canal before the gates. Fortunately the canal is fitted with banks and I certainly made an impression on the one I hit, but it was either that or down the river and onto a weir. With a little bit more experience I would have moored up on the right bank, filled the lock and then quietly cruised in instead of attempting the kamikaze run I made. We got the boat into the lock after filling, but it was at this point, with me in a hurry I pushed just too many of Jacinta’s buttons. Walking between gates, she slipped in the mud and fell on her butt. Instead of asking if she was alright I asked to her to hurry up as we were running out of time. Coming from a union background Jacinta probably decided I had broken just too many work rules and downed tools. Realising we were going to end up having to moor somewhere in the dark on a fast flowing river I decided to go solo. After I finally managing to get the gate key from her without coping it in the side of the head or having to fish it out of the canal, I set to work to become a one man canal and lock machine. To say that anyone watching a lunatic racing up and down Ham Lock winding gate paddles, opening gates, climbing on board and taking up the tiller while all the time tying to appease his exhausted wife would have been amused. It was then onto Bull’s Lock as the fog came onto the horizon. This was getting more fun by the minute. A stuck Bull’s swing bridge did not help, but thanks to a couple of lads from a local factory we were soon through. I thought of offering them a couple of beers, but I realized it was me who would probably need a drink that night.

 

As we came out of Bull’s lock the fog swirled across the canal and suddenly it got darker real quick. It was like a scene out that 70s movie "The Fog". If a big sailing ship full of dead guys from the bottom of the sea had suddenly made an appearance it would have been time to abandon ship. It was decided at that point that I would make a run for Thatcham and I must admit I probably broke a few narrow boating rules to do it. Since we were on the river anyway I opened the throttle and we were soon making a few knots, but that idea was quickly bought undone by the fog which just seemed to get thicker and thicker. It got so bad that I had to ask Jacinta to stand on the bow and keep an eye out for swing bridges and locks as I could no longer pick them out until they were very close. At Widmead Lock things got really interesting. The lock was still full when we arrived so the gates were opened and I cruised in. Jacinta, probably deciding we weren’t going to make it to Thatcham without her help, took up the lock key once again, closed the top gates and headed to the bottom gates to open the sluices. Unfortunately what we hadn’t noticed was the sluices in the top gates were still open. As the level in Widmead got lower the water began flooding into the lock driven by the pressure from of the up stream canal. The water jetted out and was pouring over the stern as images of the Kintbury filling and sinking right there and then in the lock filled my head. Oh I could see the headline on the front of the local newspaper now. “Tosser sinks canal boat in lock”. I was bellowing at Jacinta over the sound of the rushing water, but as she was at the other end of the lock she could not see the rather perilous situation I was in. In the end all I could do was drive the boat as far forward as I could before the engine room filled and the motor stalled. Jacinta finally noticed my frantic waving and came to the rescue. With my blood pressure running at a somewhat higher level we finally left Widmead behind. It was now not only foggy, it was getting dark, but with only Monkey Marsh lock between us and the Swan pub in Thatcham I pushed on. Finally Monkey Marsh came into view, but it had to be filled first. As we waited it got darker and darker. By the time it was full, I was beginning to think I would need a guide dog and cane to make it. As we came out of the lock I was never so happy to see the lights of Thatcham and we were soon moored up for the night. Even though you could hardly see your hands in front of your face I decided that I needed something stronger than a beer and headed for the Swan. Somehow we had managed to cruise from Thatcham to Newbury and return through 8 locks and 4 swing bridges in around 4 and a half hours covering 5 miles of canal with only 1 and a half day’s experience with me handling at least 2 solo. Something to tell the grand kids I guess. Hey kids, let me tell you about the time Poppy decided to take on the Kennet and Avon Canal solo and gave himself a hernia.

 

After several scotches at the Swan we returned to our caravan on the canal where I crashed into my couch bed not caring how much water dripped off the windows that night and headed off to sleep. Sadly we had only half a day left on the NB Kintbury and just when I was begining to enjoy myself.

[Bones]

Fantastic read so far! I am looking forward to the final half day instalment!