12 weeks on the cut

[Bill Kennedy]

Week 1, Shropshire Union Canal

 

Saturday 1 May

Brewood

 

Bill’s philosophy of “shit happens” was the only way to look at the altered travel plans. Things began to fall into place with the arrival at 5pm of our luggage. Tonight we are sitting on “Sir Ladinas”, in the gloaming, at 8pm, still replete from a pleasant lunch at the canalside pub, listening to the sounds of the English countryside, feeling no pain, while the men, a hundred yards away, continue to work frantically on Sir Ironside. We will set off in the morning in the substitute boat and keep in touch with the yard by mobile on the progress of Sir Ironside. Hopefully they can bring it to us when it is ready. One way or another we are ready to go.

 

Sunday 2 May

The Practice Run

 

I woke at 4am with Bill trying to clamber over me to go to the loo (had informed him I needed the passage side of the bed as I was more likely to need to get up in the night- big mistake - I may yet revise this). We had gone to bed at nightfall at 10pm so still had a good sleep but were waking at Brisbane summer time. Bill had turned the heater off after our showers, forgetting that it also drove the central heating. I was glad we’d asked for a second doona and that I’d bought a hot water bottle in Wolverhampton so we were still cozy. Our thermometer/barometer told us it was 10° C outside so the plan was to snuggle in for a read with a morning coffee brought by himself.

 

We are feeling restless as we saw other boats setting off on their adventures. We can’t unpack as we’ll need to transfer all our gear to Sir Ironside when it’s finished. Already some “house rules” that make the small space workable are evolving (like men must not pee in the dark - or if they do they must check the floor afterwards).

 

We finally set off about 11am to cruise up to Hartley Arms, a canalside pub at Wheaton Aston, which we were told had a good counter lunch. Just outside the town we met our first lock. I did my dutiful leap from the boat and went ahead to open the lock, hoping like hell that someone would tell me what to do, because as I looked at the thing, I didn’t have a clue. My only previous encounter with locks had been in 2001 when we spent a week on the Llangollen Canal. Watching someone else do four locks hardly qualifies one as expert. I was standing there with a windlass in my hand looking at an empty lock chamber which I’d expected to be full, without a clue what to unwind first (Bill says, a bit like him with engines). The first chap standing by told me the wrong thing (not that I’d have known.). Finally a man from a waiting boat in the now growing queue behind us came forward, discovered we were hopeless novices then instructed his wife to teach me what to do. Finally we were in, the chamber flooded while I numbly followed what the woman was telling me but not sure I understood any of it in my blind haste. Once we were through the lock and safely moored at the pub I sat down at our kitchen table with my book on locks, a schooner of Chivas, did the girly thing and had a snivel about my own stupidity and studied the book. After all there are five of the bastards coming up tomorrow and about 700 in the coming weeks. We moored at Gnosall for the night. This is where we had planned to be 24 hours ago in a different boat, so not bad.

 

Monday May 3

Conquering Locks

 

We are still having problems resetting the mental clock. We both woke at 3.30am to rain and icy cold boat windows with condensation from our central heating. Had to pluck up the courage to don the thermals and the wet weather gear and set off at 7.30am for Market Drayton, a good six hour cruise. Definitely beanie and gloves weather - about 9° C. We passed through some lush green high country, rather like Maleny in Queensland only wetter and greener (and colder).

 

When we couldn’t feel our fingers any more we stopped for lunch at the Wharf Tavern, frequented in past days by Tom Rolt, the man responsible for helping start the British Waterways Association after WWII. We met a couple, Michael and Pat, who sat next to us at lunch and chatted about boating, which they’ve been doing for 40 years. We passed over some amazing man made embankments, often 50-70 feet high, carrying the canal across the top, some stunning cuttings, one of which began as a tunnel but was converted to a cutting when its walls were unstable and drifts of bluebells, scattered primroses and primulas and some tiny clumps of violets.

 

I had some wins today, steered through four narrow bridge holes without scraping and did my five locks without a glitch. I’m not yet the Queen of locks but definitely feeling better about them than yesterday.

 

We arrived safely at Market Drayton about 3.15pm and had a nice ramble about the town which was granted market status in 1245. It is here we’ll mark time, go to the market and, when they bring Sir Ironside to us tomorrow afternoon, we’ll head off towards Chester. We are currently a couple of days behind our plans but it’s all very flexible.

 

Tuesday May 4

Marking Time

 

What is it about bladders and 3.30am? Sir Ironside is awaiting safety inspection before it can come to us and, with the bank holiday weekend, the surveyor chose to appear only this afternoon (at least we hope he did as no confirmation yet from the yard).

 

We discovered a great Deli and bought “goodies” for tea – smoked salmon from Scotland, cheeses from France, olives, sun-dried tomatoes from Italy and S.E Asian ingredients for a good curry. We are finding beans from Nigeria, asparagus from Peru, apples from New Zealand and wines from Australia very common. The world really is becoming a big village.

 

We thought we’d do something about the sleep patterns and had a snooze this afternoon after a walk on the towpath back to Tyrley Locks. The latest word from the yard is that they will set off in the morning and get to us between 3pm and 4 pm to change boats.

 

Wednesday May 5

Markets then quelle ennui

 

Made it to 4.30 this morning, woken by birdsong - always a joy. We set off at 8.30 to the markets with our Sainsbury’s shopping bag like two old locals (but I think the polar fleeces, rain parkas and gloves were a dead giveaway). We were greeted by the enchanting “Come on darlin, cabbages, only two for a poun”, and had a delightful wander through the stalls. Bill had to stop me from equipping the boat with all sorts of useful objects that men don’t think are necessary. I managed a hanging circular clothes line (a little like the one I had to jettison at home out of respect for our weight allowance) and a basin for washing the towpath mud from our shoes but he stopped me at two extra tea towels (silly mistake - I knew they’d only give us two for the four weeks before the next service is due - it’s a girl thing to know these things - now I’ll have to find another market). We bought more smoked salmon, some real pork sausages, Spanish asparagus, red onions from Italy and avocadoes from God knows where but hard as a rock. When I asked if she had any ripe ones she looked at me as if I’d asked her if she was selling me week old fruit and assured me they were “only in this mornin’ darlin”, so I let the matter drop.

 

Oranges and strawberries completed our purchases along with some more goodies from our favourite deli (we feel we’ve been here too long when we have a favourite shop). I found a pair of cosy evening slippers from the shoe lady and Bill scored two new books from the bookstall to keep him going. On the way back to the boat like two little squirrels with their hoard we saw a pay phone and stopped to call our three girls. It was such a joy to hear their voices. The texting and emails are great but not quite the same.

 

In the afternoon still no word from the yard. The waiting is so frustrating. Three o’clock came and went. Four o’clock. Let’s go for a walk back to the locks to meet them. We can work the locks and that will help them through faster. So back we went (about a half hour walk) but no sign of our boat. So more crosswords, reading, cards, coffee and fags. It did cross my mind to have another schooner of Chivas but decided against it. Then at 8.15pm around the corner she came, smoke wafting out of her little chimney, like she was some magnificent paddle steamer on the Mississippi, only in miniature (and without the paddles). Now we could start our trip in earnest.

 

We moved all our gear aboard – even after four days we had accumulated much more than we started with. The boat smells like a new car. One of the things the safety inspector decided the boat needed was an anchor so we have one big enough to hold the Queen Mary. However we do have a toilet that flushes not only once but twice without being asked, giving a grateful secondary gulp. The previous toilet really had us up close and personal with our bodily functions and we would trade secrets on how to have the most successful flush.

 

Thursday May 6

The real trip begins

 

I’m certain, in our eagerness, we were the first boat out of Market Drayton this morning, setting off at 7.15am (after waking at 4 am). There were only 15 miles to be travelled but 22 locks so I certainly got my bronze certificate in locks today. I saw a man at one of the locks wearing a T-shirt that said “I’m knackered, sod locking” - I want one. The locks vary in their ease of opening. I still can’t manage to wind up the paddles one handed but it is good post op physio for my shoulder and I’ll know it’s better when I can do so. One thing is for sure - you shouldn’t open fifteen locks on a full bladder unless you are doing an ad for Libra or Teena.

 

We passed a man in his thirties and a woman we guessed was his mother. They were walking on the towpath with four white boxer dogs, one of which was an albino but the others, not. We had come across this young man the previous evening on the Market Drayton towpath when he was two (or three) sheets to the wind. The dogs must have sensed his inability to control them as they were loping about in a most undisciplined manner, having a great time. One came over to Bill on the boat for a pat then another began to bark at the first. The young man’s efforts to rein them in verbally were quite useless until he finally bellowed, “Coom ‘ere, fooks saake...”. His mother countered, apologetically, “Yer can tell e’s in a good mood tonight.”

 

One of the first stories Bill read about the canals was about a pub called the “Shroppie Fly”. We had lunch there today - lots of character- great oak ceiling beams, a comfortable fire that could tell some stories of past decades and a wall lined with books - just the place to spend a cold, snowy Sunday afternoon. I can understand how pubs are so much a part of the UK culture.

 

The wild life continues to amaze. Saw about fifty white swans in a canalside field and two making a splendid nest by the canal edge. A bunny fled from me at the last Adderley lock. The Magpie Geese have flown in and the ducks are everywhere. When we arrived at Nantwhich at 3.30pm, right near our mooring was a mother duck with twelve babies so we fed them bread for their dinner and took pictures of them for Georgia. Two beautiful white swans came by the boat and performed the most exquisite courting glide, their wings raised vertically so that they looked like the fairytale image of swans and then they inclined their arched necks toward one another, then slid away from one another, the gesture all over in a moment. Unfortunately I wasn’t quick enough with the camera.

 

We strolled in the gloaming up to the chandlery for some compatible brackets for the fenders, picking some wild flowers to press on the way home. I will build up a little stock then play with an arrangement or two.

 

Friday May 7

Characters of the Cut

 

We woke to a beautiful morning of sunshine and birdsong on the Nantwich embankment. I ate my weaties standing on the stern watching and listening to it all. Our neighbour emerged from his boat with a cheery good morning. Cycling by on the towpath was a woman with a portaloo in her front basket (one presumes en route to a disposal point) - the things you see when you haven’t got your camera. Our neighbour urged us to walk back three boats and talk to the blacksmith Dennis who works a forge boat. This smithy was from Dudley and had a very broad midlands accent that was difficult at times to understand. He told me he talked “proper” and I talked “posh”. He was 65 years old and had been working his purpose built smithy’s shop for thirteen years. The sign above his furnace said “Ommer um’ Cradley”- The Hammer of Cradley. He made various things for boats, candlesticks and fire tools and other bits and pieces. He chatted incessantly, telling us about his dinner of eel pie from eels caught in the canal, his work and his life and as we parted he gave us, for good luck, a number ten horseshoe (from a “hoss” about “seventeen and a ‘arf ‘ands, a big ‘un” from the big farm at Wheaton Aston).

 

We set off in good spirits for Chester an hour later than planned, thanks to the smithy. I decided to do my half hour walk as I promised myself (better a week later than planned than not at all). This walk took me below a large embankment, sheltered from the wind, and along the path grew masses of buttercups and English daisies - bliss.

 

In the afternoon at one of the locks we were waved in by a couple (indicating that the lock chamber was set at full for us and the lock gates open), only to discover that they didn’t have a boat - curious. It turns out they were from Chester and liked to bring a picnic to the countryside. They favoured the locks and brought a windlass with them. That way they met people, did a good turn and had a pleasant picnic - what angels of the English countryside. The trip to Chester was longer than I expected and the cold winds came up over the Cheshire plains. Finally we called a halt and moored outside Chester. Bill was freezing and there were three more locks to Chester which I was happy to leave until tomorrow.

 

Progress This week Distance (miles) 57.5 Locks 41

Total Distance (miles) 57.5 Locks 41

 

 

The journey continues .....