The thoughts, fantasies and random ramblings of Ashton Boatman Chris Leah, largely, but not exclusively, connected with his work for the Wooden Canal Boat Society, restoring historic wooden canal boats and putting them to work doing good deeds for the community and the planet.
Throughout my life I've had a continual struggle with a tendency to depression. Most of the time it's not severe, it just gives me a gloomy and pessimistic slant on reality. Sometimes it gets really bad and I spend some time living in a horrible version of reality where everyone is bad, everybody hates me and nothing good is ever going to happen. That's why I do my best to help others who struggle with depression, particularly by running "Hazel" the well being boat.
It's nearly 30 years since I was last drawn down into the maelstrom of a really bad depression. Partly that's because I can usually spot the signs now, I've learned to, and challenge the pessimistic and self destructive thoughts. Partly it's because I take a couple of St John's Wort tablets each day.
The post below was I think influenced by the fact that I had gone away for over a week and didn't take a supply of St John's Wort with me. I couldn't go home because my wife had caught Covid. I could have bought some more, but I thought I was OK. It sort of creeps up on you.
The post does reflect some of my genuine thoughts and feelings. I never feel at home in cities, I dislike the way that planners see canals as mere features rather than as water highways and I often feel like I'm on a different planet from most people. However, I'd normally express these things more positivel
I never feel at home in the centre of Manchester. "Forget me Not" and "Hazel" are tied opposite the old Dale St Basin, now a car park. The area is now renamed Piccadilly Basin. For some reason those in power like to rename things, like New Islington replacing good old Ancoats. We're tied next to the big black Dakota Hotel. A Darth Vader owned franchise I suspect.
Nothing here is cosy. It's all big and bold and impressive, and the people who constantly drift by also do their best to impress with their stylish clothes, tanned skins and estuary English accents. I feel very little connection with them.
I suppose that it's partly that they're mostly a lot younger than me. As the decades pass by you get less and less impressed by the superficial things like clothes or coolness. It's also that I'm a natural born Hobbit. I like cosy. A simple unpretentious life. I like natural things, woods, fields, water. Here everything is sharp edged. The only concession to nature here is one of those silly floating gardens that CaRT are so fond of.
Of course, in the olden days that I'm so fond of there would be little of nature. The basin would have been packed with flats loading and unloading supplies for the city. The air would have been rich with the sting of coal smoke. Horses would clatter to and fro hauling delivery carts or straining to get a heavy flat moving out of the lock. At least, though, the vessels and carts were made of wood, the buildings largely of stone and the people would have been down to Earth working people.
Our guests are young middle class people from the South. That's fine and they're nice, but I don't have any real point of contact with them, our environments are so different. One carfull was driven here from Brighton by somebody's dad. They're here for a festival.
The only people I feel a connection with are the guy who works in the hotel who came for a chat in his break, the two lads who were thinking about fishing asked asked me to take their picture, and the security man who is paid to patrol the area to discourage trouble.
It seems to me that the role of the canal here is nothing really to do with navigation. It's a sort of handy steampunk feature in the cityscape. We're temporarily enhancing it by bringing a pair of genuine historic boats into the scene for a few days.
Is it just me?
OK, so there's a few trees poking through the concrete. See what I mean about the Darth Vader franchise?
The would be anglers who wanted their photos taken.
It's been a while since I posted anything. We've been having a busy time and I haven't been taking many photos. About a fortnight ago we took the boats down to Ducie St, Manchester (or Paradise Wharf as it's been renamed) for some airbnbers.
On the return trip we managed to pick up lots of textiles on the blade.
Halfway up the flight the bracket that holds "Forget me Not"s gear change linkage broke. I removed the broken item and cycled with it to Dukinfield where our friends Dixon & Smith (Motor Engineers) welded it back together and added extra metal to make it stronger.
We had to stay where we were overnight
before carrying on up to Ashton in time to get "Hazel" ready for some wellbeing guests who just wanted to stay on board rather than go for a trip.
Last weekend we had two Marple trips. On the Saturday we took some of Liz's Guiding friends for a trip to Marple and back.
That turned out to take longer than expected, partly because of the water level being low so we stemmed up a couple of times and collected some impressive bladefuls.
As well as that the winding hole at Marple was clogged up with CRT work boats and it was impossible to wind without moving some. Even then, we could only wind the boats singly rather than as a breasted pair. "Community Spirit 2", which is about 50' long also did a Marple trip and had difficulty winding.
We had to move a couple of the boats. If they'd been tied a little more thoughtfully this wouldn't have been necessary.
On Sunday we took a care worker and her family to Marple, winded, then tied for the night at Chadkirk. That evening I had a meeting with Liz in the Friendship pub in Romiley. Unfortunately it has changed landlord since last time i visited and it's now a noisy sports pub.
Monday afternoon me and Aaron had a lovely uneventful trip returning our guests to Portland Basin.
I had Tuesday to get jobs done on the boats, then it was a trip down the locks to Manchester where we're tied at Dale St, or Piccadilly Wharf as they've renamed it. There are some Airbnb guests on board now, attending a festival at Trafford Park. I'm staying on "Forget me Not" to keep things safe before we return the boats to Ashton on Monday. I haven't been able to go home as Emuna contracted covid whilst I was away.
Today I had a day off as Em wanted to visit the land of her birth, Salford. We left late morning, intending to get brunch at a Kosher cafe that she knew. They shut early on a Friday for the sabbath and we saw that there was a long queue outside, so we travelled on to eat in a double decker bus serving Dutch style burgers and chips. I thought this would be run by Dutch people, but the staff clearly had ancestry from the Indian subcontinent and were playing Indian music.
We both had fishburgers, which were excellent, as were the chips, served with mayonnaise in the European manner. Em was dismayed that so much of the Salford that she knew had been knocked down and replaced with the ugliest of modern buildings. The Victorian chimney of Strangeways prison still stands proud and erect. In the distance the city centre of Manchester has grown upwards like a patch of steel framed mushrooms.
Hunger satisfied, we visited the place where Em spent her childhood in a brick maisonette, since demolished. The site is now occupied by boring modern housing, which also covers the sandhills where she used to play. The prison governors house is still there, apparently now a homeless shelter, but the prison doctors house next door has gone, it's garden derelict and overgrown.
Salford is surprisingly green at this time of year, but much of the greenery is accidental. Self seeded trees and shrubs on long disused land.
The next destination was Short St, where her mother lived as a child. The route that we planned to take was unavailable because of a one way street so we had to take a long detour. This took us close to the Black Friar pub where her dad liked to drink. She said it was a bit of a dive, which was what he liked. We briefly considered visiting, but likely problems parking discouraged us. It seems it's gone upmarket now https://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/whats-on/food-drink-news/inside-historic-salford-pub-black-21116643
Our route took us along a busy multi ethnic shopping street which had something of the atmosphere of Diagon Alley. At last we got to Short St, a tiny loop in an area dominated by grey and dismal light industrial units. Amazingly, the Albert pub still stands, though derelict.
Em's mother spent her childhood next door to the pub and an evenings entertainment was watching the fights in the street. They made their own fun in them days.
Em had fond memories of visiting 'The Cliff' beside the river Irwell. I had a vague memory of going there years ago and there being a pub there. We were unable to find it, which is a pity as the pub looks excellent https://www.staronthecliff.co.uk/ We found ourselves in an orthodox Jewish area of cobbled streets where lots of kids were getting ready for the sabbath and found our intrusion an object of interest.
Em was now getting tired so we headed for home to enjoy tea and cake in bed.
I just got back from running a 2 day trip for care worker Laura. She has worked through the pandemic looking after elderly people with challenging behaviours. She deserves a break, and, thanks to the National Lottery Awards for All fund, we were able to give her one. Laura brought along her fiance, Philip, and their friend, Steve.
It's sometimes hard to find enough crew on weekdays and unfortunately one crew member dropped out at the last minute because of a headache. This left just me and Aaron to run the trip, though Nessie helped by raising the lift bridge as we set out.
There were no other boats moving, save for "Community Spirit 2" which followed us as far as Hyde.
The weather was intermittently raining as we travelled up the Peak Forest canal. We had to stop once to remove plastic from the propeller. The law of Sod kicked in as we approached Hyde Bank Tunnel. Having met no boats all the way from Ashton, one had just entered the tunnel coming the other way. We had to stop the pair in the shallow water and hold them there until it emerged.
At Marple the winding hole (canal speak for a place where you can turn round) was full of CRT maintenance boats, some of which we had to move in order to wind. Winding completed, we headed back over the aqueduct and tied just before Rose Hill 'tunnel'.
Aaron could have stayed in "Hazel"s back cabin, but he elected to return home by train instead. I retired to "Forget me Not"s cabin to do some much needed cleaning and tidying.
I woke early to lovely spring sunshine. Steve had been up all night fishing.
Hyde Bank tunnel was opened out over 100 years ago but is still known as a tunnel.
Aaron arrived on his bike and we set out for the return trip at the agreed time of 10AM. Steve had expressed an interest in joining us as a volunteer, so Aaron showed him how to steer "Hazel", a task that he took to like a duck to water. Once I was satisfied with Steve's abilities I was able to hand the motor boat over to Aaron and hop off on to the towpath to take some photos,
Back at Portland Basin we stopped on the aqueduct to unload our guests before battling a vicious wind to put the boats back in their place abreast of "Lilith".
Here's what Laura wrote in the visitors book;-
"Have had an amazing time on our trip on Hazel. Can't believe how much fun it is being towed by another boat, but what an experience!!! Chris and all the staff involved with this experience deserve a medal, and they are so attentive, friendly and go out of their way to make sure you enjoy your trip. Definitely would recommend the Well Being Boat. Top class."
I can't speak for anyone else but I'm not keen on medals. It's enough for me to see people enjoying all the different aspects of what we do, whether it's using "Hazel", working at the boatyard, running the shop, going on recycling trips (if and when we re-start them) or just enjoying watching the boats go by. These boats are special. They, and the activities around them, help people to live better lives. What we need now is more help from the wider waterway community to keep this whole project running.
Yesterday was a lovely day. It started cold so I lit the stove on "Hazel". Our first guests arrived at 11AM for a trip to Lumb Lane and back, about 2 hours. Two of them couldn't manage the steps so we used the lift to bring them on board. A straightforward trip, no problems. Aaron Booth and Mick Owen were the crew.
It was the first canal trip for some of them and they loved it.
As we came round the turn from Walk Bridge and breasted up I saw that a boat had taken our mooring. This wouldn't be a problem normally as we had another trip to do. However, if we're using the wheelchair lift we need to have "Hazel"s bow at a specific place on the wharf.
As we approached I gave a series of long blasts on the hooter but nobody emerged from the open doors of the boat until our bows were actually lying against it. The man came out and explained indignantly that they were taking water. Portland Basin wharf is not an official water point but there's a tap with a long hose that reaches to any part of the wharf.
When I explained about the need to unload disabled guests they became co-operative and moved off. We tied up and the other boat came in behind us to continue watering.
Mick had to leave so it was just me and Aaron for the afternoon trip. We just had time for a brew before they arrived. This time we were headed up the Peak Forest canal, so we had to negotiate the lift bridge. Normally we would send somebody ahead to do this but there was no-one available. As we approached I brought the butty up close and stopped with the bows in the narrows. I tied to the handy bollard and lifted the bridge. Returning to the boat I drove the pair through the bridge and stopped them with "Hazel"s stern just clear of the bridge. Aaron tied it then lowered the bridge. We set off again.
Between Dukinfield and Hyde the canal runs past a series of industrial estates, and yet they hardly intrude beyond the sylvan ribbon that borders the waterway. When I first came this way in 1977 we navigated past a huge and smelly landfill site with bulldozers heaping up the rubbish. That same place is now magical woodland.
We passed through Hyde and out into countryside bordering Haughton Vale, swinging the boats confidently round the tortuous bends as the canal follows the contours of the valley side.
The winding hole near the derelict Gee Cross mill was unusable until last year. It had become too silted with lack of use since "Maria" stopped doing horse drawn trips. CRT dredged in 2021 and we are now able to wind there again.
An angler sat staring at his float right opposite the hole. I explained that we had no choice but to disturb his fishing. He calmly dismantled his rod and sat watching us as we thrashed about in the muddy water, gradually turning the boats.
Aaron and me swapped boats when we set off and I enjoyed an hour or so of butty steering. I love steering the butty. It's a gentle tranquil experience but I don't often get the opportunity. The only incident on the trip was some difficulty getting past a moored boat that had come adrift.
At the M67 bridge in Hyde I jumped on to the towpath to run forward and get on to the motor. Aaron chose to get back to steering the butty by crawling along its roof rather than using the towpath. Each to their own! The boats couldn't go far out of line during this procedure as the canal here is a narrow concrete trough.
After working the lift bridge again we arrived at Portland Basin, stopping on the aqueduct to unload our guests, who were delighted with the experience. I went to move "Lilith" back on to the wharf as she had spent the day lying alongside the flats, then we moved the pair forward, breasted up and swung them round to tie alongside "Lilith".
The end of a wonderful days boating.
The following day I met one of the guests from the morning trip in the charity shop. She was once more full of praise for the experience and explained some of the hardships that some of them had been through.
Thank you Christine Dinsdale for the best of the photos.
It's that time of year when we're tarring the sides of the boats. The Trusty Aaron Booth has recently done "Lilith". "Hazel" will be next. She's developed some annoying cabin leaks. Nessie has recently removed the solar panels from one side to lay an extra layer of waterproofing.
When we first publicised our project for care and NHS workers last Autumn we got an enquiry from a couple in South Wales who wanted to book the boat for several nights holiday. This was slightly beyond the scope of what was on offer, but we agreed a reduced price rather than a totally free trip and booked them in for Easter.
The repaired gearbox for "Forget me Not" arrived a couple of days before the trip and I fitted it on Thursday. The Albin gearbox shares its oil with the engine. The problem had been that the oil feed from the engine had got blocked, causing excessive wear to various components. Our friends pulled out all the stops to get it repaired and back to us as soon as possible. The main delay was getting the parts from Sweden.
I tried turning the gearbox by hand and it worked fine. Once fitted I started the engine. It ran happily in forward gear but when I put it into reverse the engine started to labour. I thought it just needed adjusting, so I took the lid off and screwed the clutch adjustment back a bit, re-tightened the locking bolt and started the engine with the gearbox lid off.
Once again, it ran fine in forward but as soon as I changed to reverse the clutch adjuster started to turn, in spite of the locking bolt being in. This tightened the clutch, causing it to try to run in forward and reverse at the same time, thus stalling the engine. Drat!!!
I'm not blaming our friendly gearbox menders, who did a fine job. Like I said, if turned by hand the problem didn't show up.
After studying the difficulty I came up with a possible solution to fix it temporarily. On Good Friday morning I got up early to work on it. After several hours of effort I realised that my bodge wasn't going to work. There was nothing for it but to jam it into forward gear and do the trip with no neutral or reverse. I wasn't going to disappoint our guests. it would just mean that I would have to steer the motor boat all the way and not do any training.
Getting volunteer crew at Easter is difficult. I can usually rely on the amazing Aaron Booth but he had a positive covid test. He claimed that this was a false positive caused by drinking milk shakes (!?!!) and would have been happy to come along. There's no way I was going to allow this. Luckily I'd just met a couple of new volunteers, Jason and his partner Claire. Jason was working Friday and Saturday but Claire was free so she agreed to come along for a crash course in butty steering. The faithful Nessie came as butty steering coach and Daniel Stocks joined us to work the lift bridge and generally help out.
The original plan had been for a trip to Bugsworth and back but this was stymied by the closure of Marple locks on Easter Saturday. Instead I had suggested a return trip to Marple followed by a foray up the Huddersfield Narrow Canal. Our guests were happy with this.
I was filthy, covered in oil, with just a couple of hours to go before our guests arrived. I headed home for a shower and to change into my boatman garb. Nessie fetched "Hazel" back from her battery charging point and got her ready.
With guests on board and crew assembled we set out. The lack of manoeuvring ability meant that we had to shaft "Forget me Not" on to the Tame Aqueduct then bring "Hazel" round behind her and connect the towline before starting the engine. Almost immediately she picked up something on the blade. With no reverse I could not perform a 'chuck back', a brief engagement of stern gear to reverse the propeller and throw the rubbish off it.
We stopped to clean some rope and plastic bags off the blade whilst Daniel waited at the lift bridge wondering what had become of us. In the narrows of the lift bridge we picked up another load of crap and had to stop once again. Black smoke and slow progress became a theme of the trip.
Claire turned out to be a natural at butty steering. At Manchester Road bridge in Hyde we stopped for yet another blade cleaning operation. "Forget me Not"s cabin shaft wasn't in its proper place. I expressed my concern that I may have left it on the towpath at the last blade cleaning location. Nessie offered to go and look and unthinkingly I said OK. If I'd thought about it I would have said no as I knew he was suffering with blistered feet. He'd not been gone long when I realised that I'd put the shaft inside the cabin. I rang him and listened to his 'phone chirruping in his coat in the cabin.
With the blade clean we set off again, concerned about how far Nessie might have to walk to catch us up. It seemed an age before he did so.
At the old Joseph Adamson works in Hyde there used to be a man called Bryn who lived on the canal side in a caravan. He had a menagerie of animals and birds in cages on the bank. Bryn used to live on a boat but when he had it craned out for repairs it broke in half. On recent trips I'd noticed that the menagerie was diminishing but saw a flicker of TV from the caravan. Clearly age was creeping up on him. This time the caravan was all shut up, half the cages had gone and a younger bearded man, with a look of DH Lawrence, was working there, apparently clearing the site. I said hello then, when it was too late, kicked myself for not asking about Bryn. Presumably he's either gone into a home or died.
After Captain Clarkes bridge the canal follows a lovely wooded winding course along the edge of Haughton Dale. Bladefuls of rubbish became less frequent but I began to worry about excessive noise from under the cabin floor. I got Daniel to steer while I investigated.
About 10 years ago we replaced the thrust bearing that supports the prop shaft and transfers the push from the propeller to the structure of the boat. I was surprised that all that secured it to the shaft was two tiny grub screws. Nevertheless, it had given no trouble, until now. For some reason the grub screws had loosened, allowing the shaft to move forward until one of the couplings started rubbing on a floor bearer. Reluctant to get my clothes dirty I decided to carry on regardless.
Daniel had to leave us but Jason, Claire's partner, turned up on his bike, having finished his work shift.
By the time we reached Romiley the abrasion between shaft coupling and floor bearer was producing smoke and sparks. I had cooled it a few times with a handbowl full of water, but it was obvious that I would have to stop and crawl into the oily black void under the counter, clean clothes notwithstanding. Soon I had hammered the shaft back to its proper position and re-tightened the grub screws. Nessie headed for home and we carried on our way, with the engine labouring a lot less.
We tied for the night at Chadkirk, one of my favourite spots, in the concrete trough that was installed about 30 years ago when the canal started to slip down the hillside. Opposite are very nice gardens and on the towpath side the ground drops away into a wooded valley. A short walk away is a holy well, a mediaeval chapel and lovely gardens. In the other direction are the shops, pubs and restaurants of Romiley.
Claire and Jason got on their bikes to ride home. Our guests went food shopping and, after tidying "Forget me Not"s cabin I rode my bike into Romiley and purchased a veggie burger as I was tired and didn't feel like cooking.
The plan for Saturday was that Claire would join the boats at 10AM and we would go up to Marple to wind, then head back towards Ashton. Nessie would check the boats at Portland Basin then make his way up the towpath to meet us. I was dubious about this in view of Nessie's poorly feet, but he insisted that it would be OK.
Claire arrived by bike bang on time and we set off.
Under the railway viaduct at Marple we breasted the boats up and I used the long shaft to wind them before setting off back towards Ashton. Entering the narrows of the aqueduct I badly cross winded the motor, shouting an explanation to Claire that I was showing her how not to do it!
The return trip was mostly straightforward. At Romiley railway bridge I eased down to give a day hire boat time to clear the narrows then, entering the bridge, I gave a long blast on the horn to warn an approaching steel boat. The steerer did the usual beginners trick of slamming it into full reverse, causing the boat to slew sideways across the cut. Luckily he'd jumped on to the towpath and got it under control with a line by the time "Forget me Not"s stem iron got close.
We were still picking things up on the blade every now and then but I found that if I stopped the engine then quickly ran along the gunwale to the engine 'ole, leaned in and pressed the starter button then it would usually clear it.
Passing the Warble moorings between Hyde and Dukinfield we picked up something serious on the blade which stopped the engine. We breasted up to keep control of the boats and shafted them to one side to allow "Community Spirit" to pass with a load of passengers. A little work with the cabin shaft removed a mutilated dog bed from the propeller.
Claire did an excellent job of steering the butty. She's clearly a natural at it. As we got closer to Ashton I got increasingly concerned about Nessie. Attempts to 'phone him just accessed his answering service. Later we learned that he had left his 'phone behind and set out up the towpath but been forced to retire with painful feet and get a taxi back to Ashton.
The difficulty that I faced was that with only the two of us and no neutral or reverse gears, working through Dukinfield lift bridge was going to be tricky. With only a few hundred yards to go Jason appeared on the towpath, having been summoned by Claire at the end of his shift. I threw him a windlass and anti vandal key and he went ahead to prepare the bridge for us.
Dukinfield lift bridge is an out of the way spot and so a favourite place for fly tipping. The canal was dredged a couple of years ago, which greatly improved things, but now it is filling up with rubbish again. On this trip I noticed that the adjacent car park had been recently blocked with two lorry sized mounds of soil and rubble. These don't affect the canal, but do demonstrate the scale of the problem.
As we went through the bridge the motor boat rode over some rubbish, then the engine started to struggle as she had picked up more on the blade. I decided to call it a day so we breasted up and tied at the end of the landing bollards. It's a nice spot for our guests to stay the night anyway. Sometimes, when Portland Basin has become a night time haunt for drinkers I bring "Hazel" up here for overnight guests.
I went home for the night and spent the evening 'phoning potential volunteers. One of the frustrations of working with volunteers is that some people regard showing up as optional. For this reason you have to invite more people than you actually need to make sure that you have enough. Sometimes this results in an embarrassingly large number for the job in hand, but that's better than too few.
Sunday's planned trip was up the 3 locks to Stalybridge, then back down them again. Easy! Well, it should be, but this length of waterway has many obstacles. I wanted to be mob handed.
I was pleased as the crew started to assemble. Aaron Booth was first there as his covid tests were now showing negative. Daniel came to join us, and both Jason and Claire were there as neither were working that day. Nessie joined us, in spite of his foot problem, as did Joan Wainwright. Geraldine Buckley 'phoned to say that she'd meet us at lock 1.
The first difficulty was the turn at Portland Basin. This would be very difficult with no reverse so I stopped the boats on the aqueduct just before the junction. I shafted the motor round the turn Aaron and Nessie followed with the butty with Joan steering. Nessie threw me the towing line, I dropped its eye over the dolly, started the engine and we were off. All very neat.
The next problem was entering the lock with no stern gear. Normally I will shorten the line as I approach the lock with brief bursts of astern to enable the butty to catch up. When the motor is mostly in the lock and the butty right behind a burst of astern can be used to stop the butty just short of the bottom gates. The mast line is then thrown up from the butty to someone on the lockside and the gates quickly shut as soon as the motor is in the lock. The top paddles are drawn and, as soon as there is some water against the bottom gates, the butty can be hauled forward so that its fender is pressed against the gate. The line is made fast to hold the butty in place when the lock is emptied again when the motor has moved on. It is then an easy matter to haul the butty into the emptied lock.
On this occasion I cut the engine just as the motor's bows entered the tail of the lock and it all went surprisingly smoothly, despite a little confusion about which line to throw up from the butty. Geraldine had the lock workers well organised and a couple of people walked ahead to prepare lock 2 unbidden.
We set off into the narrow shallow Whitelands tunnel, opened out over 100 years ago. The motor always struggles through here so, as it's not possible to steer in the narrows, I stepped on to the towpath and helped her along by hauling on the back end line.
The next lock was not quite so smooth, but not bad for a largely inexperienced crew.
Locks 2 and 3 are close together so we bowhaul the butty between them.
I took the motor ahead, but my heart sank when I saw the water level on the notorious long pound between locks 3 and 4. It was about a foot down and I knew that we would have a hard time getting through it to the winding hole at Staley Wharf. It was, of course, inevitable that we took 2 lockfulls off before starting along the pound.
The first few yards above lock 3 are some of the most difficult. On the towpath side the bottom is strewn with rocks, probably left by contractors when they rebuilt the towpath wall. On the outside there is lots of submerged industrial machinery. The gap in the middle between these obstacles isn't very wide or very deep.
Inevitably we ground to a halt in mid channel. Luckily we had some strong lads with us who were surprisingly easy to co-ordinate. Sometimes when a boat is stuck different people have competing ideas about how to unstick it, which makes things very difficult.
Gradually we moved forward, stemming up time after time and having to be hauled free by the strong men on the towpath. The exhaust threw out black smoke as the propeller dredged up plastic bags from the canal bed.
At the cast iron aqueduct over the river Tame we found ourselves stemming a tremendous flow of water as the boats inched forward.
I later discovered that this was because another boat was following us up and was drawing off a further lockful. On the plus side, Geraldine and Nessie had gone ahead to try to find water to run down from pounds higher up to help us through.
Just beyond the aqueduct the narrows of a former bridge is another notorious fly tipping spot. Cheryl Dinsdale met us here to take photos as we laboured to get through this obstacle. Eventually we moved on and, after struggling through Bayley St bridge
we entered the relatively deep stretch leading up to Staley wharf. Here we breasted up and let the following boat, which had now caught us up, pass us to enter lock 4.
We paused for a while at Staley Wharf. I left it to Aaron to wind the pair, using the shaft, while I pulled strings of twisted polythene off the blade. Some people went off in search of food and drink and our guests provided coffee for anyone who wanted it. Geraldine returned from her water hunt but attempts to communicate with Nessie were once more met by his 'phone ringing on the boat.
Eventually we set off for the return trip. This was a little easier as the water level had risen. The biggest problem was that a vicious wind had sprung up, making it difficult to keep the boats in the channel. At one point we were stopped for quite a long time with both boats pinned on to the towpath by the gusty cross wind. As soon as you got a boat free another gust would put it back on the towpath.
At last we reached lock 3 and started to descend towards Ashton.
Earlier in the trip Carl, one of our guests, mentioned that a cousin of his had a boatyard in the area. This turned out to be Robert Holmes of the Ashton Packet Boat Co. I said I'd take him there, so this became our final destination. We worked down lock 1 and set off towards the Asda tunnel. As we passed Portland Basin it suddenly occurred to me that I couldn't see Claire anywhere. Jason was steering the butty and a shouted conversation with him established that we'd left her behind at the lock.
It was pleasant to be navigating relatively deep and clear water. The ocassional plastic bag was removed by stopping and restarting the engine. Soon we reached the Ashton Packet Boat Co and tied to the rings opposite which have happily survived the tarmaccing of the towpath. Claire arrived, flushed from running to catch us up. She had been detained at the lock by a talkative person.
Carl went over Hanover St Bridge to meet his cousin and get a guided tour of the boatyard and its rail network. I cycled home.
In the morning our guests left for the drive back to Swansea. Aaron and I returned the boats to Portland Basin. I worked out a way of making the gearbox function correctly again.
Many thanks to Jason Wilson and Cheryl Louise Dinsdale for the excellent photos. The less excellent ones are mine.
Every year we plant a few trees to make up for the ones we use restoring boats. Mostly they are oaks. I collect acorns in the Autumn, plant them in a container, then keep repotting them until they're big enough for planting out. Last Autumn there weren't many acorns, but I did collect a few conkers and planted them. Here's a picture of the first one showing its head above the soil.
Some people may have read that I've been struggling with what Winston Churchill called The Black Dog recently. Nevertheless, I've been getting things done, though, perhaps, at less speed than usual. Last Saturday Aaron helped me to load scrap metal out of "Lilith" into our trailer for delivery on Monday to Mullaney's scrapyard up by Hartshead Pike. The metal has been in "Lilith" for a long time as we did our last recycling trip in February 2020. Prices have now recovered and we got £115 for this load.
After we'd loaded the trailer Aaron winded the 3 boats to put "Hazel on the inside to make things easier for Ryalwyn Garner, our gasman, to gain access for "Hazel"s annual gas safety check.
It's getting hard to find a Gas Safe registered engineer who is certified for LPG on boats with cookers and water heaters. A lot say that it's not worth all the extra training and fees for the amount of work available. Ryalwyn's main work nowadays is trading in parts for Messerschmitt bubble cars, which is far more lucrative. When he first told me he had a Messerschmitt I asked him if it could fly! He says he likes to keep his hand in with boat gas work as trading online he doesn't get to meet people.
Since I found I had prostate cancer in 2018, Nessie has taken over a lot of my day to day tasks. One of these was looking after the bilge pumps and their attendant batteries in our leakier vessels. These each have a float switch so that the pump switches on when the water reaches a certain level. For most of my adult life bilge pumps have been a major preoccupation. Almost every holiday has been marred by returning to a sunken boat as most people don't seem to be able to understand the simple physics of leaks, batteries, float switches and pumps.
Nessie has been improving things by installing lots of solar panels to keep the batteries charged. This saves a lot of lugging about of batteries. The latest panels are on the foredeck of "Elton".
Since the photo was taken he's angled them more to catch the midday sun, particularly important in winter.
it's nearly a fortnight now since we had a clearout of "Elton"s hold. It got to be a mess as it was used as a 'deal with that later' place for metal collected on recycling trips. It built up while we were busy restoring "Hazel", after which the society went into a decline that we're now recovering from.
Anyway, this is the second session of clearing, and we actually found the bottom of the boat. Daniel Stocks and Liz Stanford worked in the hold while I was on the bank identifying different metals and bagging them up.
The metal was weighed in and netted the charity nearly £70.
