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.
To celebrate the 50th anniversary of Ashtac, the Inland Waterways Association organised a working party to clean up part of the Ashton Canal on 21st/22nd March 2022. Ashtac was the codename for the huge 'big dig' on the Ashton canal in 1972, when over 1000 volunteers from around the country came to clear rubbish from the derelict waterway. They even laid an industrial monorail in the bed of the drained canal to transport the rubbish.
I think it's a great omission in Portland Basin Museum that there's nothing about this on display. It was a major event in getting the waterway restoration movement started.
The 2022 effort was rather less ambitious. It mostly consisted of litter picking and scrub bashing at Eli Whalley's, or Donkey Stone Wharf as it seems to be known nowadays.
In fact it's proper name is Ashton Old Wharf. It's the original terminus of the Ashton Canal. It ceased to be a terminus when the Huddersfield Narrow canal was built. It's role as Ashton's main wharf was later lost to Portland Basin.
The final industrial use of the wharf was as Eli Whalley's donkey stone works. Donkey stones were blocks of reconstituted stone that , were used for polishing the stone steps of houses. They were often distributed by rag and bone men in exchange for, well, rags and bones.
Some years ago British Waterways did some landscaping work on the wharf, including erecting three sculptures of flying geese. More recently I understand it has been let on a long lease to somebody and has become derelict. Latterly its been haunt for fly tippers, anglers, drinkers and the occasional homeless person's tent.
Our original plan was to take "Forget me Not" along but her gearbox problem prevented this. Instead we took "Lilith",towed on the outward trip by the Ashton Packet Boat Co's "Joel", another wooden boat. Our depleted volunteer reserves meant that there were only four participants from our group, me, Kim Tranter, Daniel Stocks and Nessie.
We laid "Lilith" alongside the foliage that was aggressively invading the canal from the wharf then, using implements provided by CRT, we proceeded to remove that foliage.
There were lots of young workers there from a scheme that was something to do with the Princes Trust and the Fire Service.
A good day was had by all. I still bear the bramble scars to prove it. Many people were involved in litter picking and I did my best to get the aluminium cans and bits of scrap iron loaded on to "Lilith" so that they could be recycled.
At the end of the day we winded "Lilith" and got a tow back to the basin with the trip boat "Still Waters".
On the Tuesday we left "Lilith" at the basin. I couldn't see much need for her as most of the recyclables had already been collected. People went on tree lopping and bramble bashing but, to be honest, I didn't really like what was being done. People like tidy and neat, but wildlife doesn't. We'd cleared the foliage that was obstructing the waters edge. To go further, I felt, was reducing the wildlife value of a piece of unused land.
CRT had supplied us with brand new bowsaws that were very hard to use as, though sharp, they had hardly any set on the teeth. I busied myself making these more usable, then went above the lock to deal with some overhanging vegetation at the entrance to Whitelands 'tunnel', one of 3 short tunnels in the area that was opened out over 100 years ago but is still known as a tunnel.
In the afternoon I had to head for home to organise paying for the gearbox parts that we are buying from Sweden.
I hope we'll have some WCBS working parties later in the year.
I'm disappointed! I was promised something that would
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!
What's actually happening is that it's a bit breezy and it's raining on and off. A sort of normal winter day in Ashton really.I actually postponed a trip because of the weather warnings.
This, it seems, is Storm Eunice. She was supposed to be far worse than Storm Dudley. I was at the Knowl St boatyard with Cheryl Dinsdale when Dudley struck on Thursday. He at least got us soaked and blew things about a bit. When I got back to Portland Basin I found that "Lilith"s cloths had blown off. Nessie has since put them back on.
I haven't taken any photos for a while, so, here's a nice picture of "Lilith" on a sunny day. Photo by Jay Jengba.
"Lilith" was my first wooden narrow boat. I bought her for £100 in 1974, then replaced all but one of her planks over the next 9 years. Some research be Dave McDougal at the Black Country Museum showed that she was gauged on 2nd December 1901.
After we set up the Wooden Canal Craft Trust (as it was then called) I donated her. Since 1996 she's worked on recycling trips, as well as doing useful jobs like carrying timber for "Hazel"s restoration. Now, after more than 40 years, she needs her stern end rebuilding again.
Sadly, she's unemployed at the moment, except for storing firewood and scrap iron. The recycling trips are suspended until the covid infection rate drops considerably.
Here's a photo of "Lilith" tied alongside Boatmans Walk.
No, I'm not just harvesting likes. About a month ago we found that a feral cat had given birth aboard "Lilith". We couldn't take them with us on the recycling trip so I moved the kittens on to "Elton". Mother cat then moved them into "Queen", well hidden. Several people have been feeding the mother, who was rather skinny. She's now looking a lot better.
Today I saw the kittens out gamboling in "Queen"s fore end. They're lovely. We already have homes offered for some of them but I think some help is needed in catching them. We need to catch the mother too and get her speyed, otherwise a boatload of kittens will become a regular thing.
The trip started a bit late because we found some Kittens aboard "Lilith" and had to move them. Good turnout and a lot to collect. Tameside Radio came along and did some interviews. Here's some pictures.
It's the time of
year when we don't get much sunlight and so “Hazel”s batteries
need to be topped up from the mains every now and then. She has a
huge bank of batteries that need a special charger and can't all be
charged at once. Someone, normally me, has to stay to switch from one
set of batteries to the other sometime in the night. I don't mind as
I get to stay in “Hazel”s wonderful back cabin.
To charge up I have
to shaft the boat the short distance across the aqueduct to
Dukinfield and tie up beside the premises of Dixon & Smith, Motor
Engineers. Pat and John are kind enough to let us plug in whenever we
need power. Tying up is easier said than done because of all the
rubbish in the canal. To get the bow close enough to get on and off
the boat, the stern has to be pretty much in the middle of the cut as
there is something big that catches the middle of the boat and causes
her to pivot. There was nothing to tie the stern end to as the boat
lies along the end wall of a factory. Between the factory and the
water there is a small bank of rubble so, some time ago, I drove a
pin into this and attached an old ratchet strap to it. In order to
tie up I have to hook the ratchet strap with the cabin shaft and pull
it to me. I then pass the stern line of the boat through the ratchet
strap and tie the line to the timberhead. At the fore end there is a
chain with a hook on the end secured to a post on the bank. All I
have to do is put the fore end line into the hook and tie back to the
T stud.
When tied like this,
the back cabin is facing the railway bridge and I enjoy hearing Trans
Pennine Expresses growling by, interspersed with the occasional
freight. If I open the doors I can watch them and wonder if the
passengers notice my cabin light below them on the canal.
For ages the weather
has been rainy. I've been fed up of the rain, especially as I'm
trying to work on “Forget me Not” on dock. Now, all of a sudden
the wind has turned to the North and we're getting those cold clear
winters nights that I love. Tonight the mopstick was frozen to
crunchiness by 8PM.
I've been writing
all evening, or rather talking to my computer, my friend Jackie will
type up what I've recorded. Now it's bed time. The cabin is so warm I
keep falling asleep. I tried opening the doors to let the heat out,
with the range roaring away it gets extremely toasty in here.
Whilst writing the
above paragraph I fell asleep. I woke again in a cooling cabin a
couple of hours later, so I turned out the light and snuggled into my
sleeping bag. In the morning it was cold. I had a flask to make
coffee so I decided not to light the range. All I had to do was to
shaft the boat back over the aqueduct to Portland Basin. I quickly
dressed and put on all the gloves I could find, then climbed out into
the crisp cold still dark morning. After disconnecting the charging
cables I untied the lines, stiff with frost, and threw the ratchet
strap back on to the bank. I then grasped the icy shaft with my
gloved hands and, taking care not to slip on the frosty roof, pushed
the fore end out into the channel, cat ice chinkling as the boat
pushed it aside.
The stern end was
stuck on something and, as I couldn't exert as much effort as usual
because I was standing on a slippery surface, it took a while to get
it free. By this time my hands were becoming very painful in spite of
the 3 pairs of gloves that I was wearing. I decided that I would have
to go inside to warm up. I went into the main cabin and lit a fire,
enjoying its heat while I drank a cup of coffee.
When I had thawed
sufficiently I climbed back on to the roof in the now bright and
shiny but still cold morning, and started to move the boat towards
the aqueduct, jumping down on to the towpath to give her a good tug
with the fore end line before climbing back aboard to swing her round
with the shaft and tie up abreast of “Lilith”. With everything
secure I headed for home to get ready for another day working on
“Forget me Not”.
Despite having to scrape a thick coating of ice off the van
windscreen I was surprised to find that the cut had frozen overnight
yet again. Fian had spent the night boatsitting and I was a little
concerned as she tends to feel the cold. Smoke was drifting from
"Forget me Not"s chimney, so she was obviously awake, but I
followed proper boating etiquette and avoided her cabin until she
emerged. She said she had had a wonderful night and actually enjoyed
being woken by squabbling geese at 3 AM!
After checking the bilges and feeding Captain Kit I carefully
climbed across the ice sugared boats and started "Southam"s
big engine to back her over to the towpath side for easy access by
volunteers. "Forget me Not" and "Lilith" made a
fine sight breasted up at the wharf. Soon people began to arrive and
I had a busy time allocating people jobs, giving out safe boating
information to first timers, of whom there were many and generally
checking that everything was ready, dealing with a closed damper on a
range that was causing people to be kippered etc.
As 10 AM approached I asked everyone to climb aboard and began
shafting "Forget me Not" and "Lilith" round to
face towards Droylsden. This was easier said than done as the ice,
though thin, was a great impediment.
With the two currently unpowered boats a little way past 90
degrees of their 180 degree turn I noticed that the person I had
asked to steer "Forget me Not" had taken it upon himself to
go and start "Southam". Despite my waving he untied the
boat and set off, but stopped again when my dancing, waving and
shouting was relayed to him.
I had a dilemma that often occurs when working with volunteers.
It's important for smooth running and safety that everyone follows
the skippers instructions, but if you're too severe in imposing your
authority you soon find yourself working alone.
I ran over to "Southam", which was now drifting in the
middle of the cut and could only be accessed by climbing down off the
footbridge. I found that the stern end mooring line was still tied to
the T stud, it had been simply lifted off the mooring pin and thrown
aboard instead of being untied and coiled ready for use as it should
be. Even worse, the mooring pins had been left in the towpath. I
climbed back on to the footbridge, retrieved the pins and re-gained
the boat, explaining, I hope tactfully, that I had good reasons for
my steering allocations and pointing out the shortcomings re lines
and pins.
Moving the boat forward I nudged her past the bows of the other
two boats and quickly explained that as I towed "Forget me Not"
forward the line from "Lilith"s stem should be taken back
and tied on to "Forget me Not"s stern. I took the strain of
"Forget me Not"s line on "Southam"s T stud and
pulled her forward, though she bounced off the knuckle of the Peak
Forest turn because "Southam"s premature move had resulted
in the turn being incomplete. My instructions must have been
misunderstood because "Lilith"s line had not been carried
to "Forget me Not"s stern and, as the two boats had
separated, had to be thrown some distance. At the third attempt the
line made its target, but almost too late. Boats do not have brakes
so, once "Forget me Not" was moving her 15 tons or so was
not going to stop. Seeing "Lilith" lurch into line I
engaged forward gear again, but a few minutes later waving and shouts
of Stop caused me to pull the lever back to nuetral again. "Lilith"s
line had not been properly secured and was slipping off. There was no
way I could actually stop the train of boats so had to let them drift
while the line was re-secured. "Southam" stemmed up un the
outside of the turn by the old Junction Mill chimney, now an icon of
Ashton. "Forget me Not" wedged in alongside and, once more,
the ice made things difficult as we tried to shaft the boats off the
rubbish. As I tried to back her out "Southam" picked up a
sturdy canvas bag on her blades, which had to be cut off, hanging
over the side with a knife while young Daniel Cocker held on to my
feet.
Eventually we got going again. Julie Edwards had rung up earlier
to say that she would be late and would catch us up. She was waiting
at Margaret St Bridge and hopped on to "Southam"s sterndeck
as we passed, sharing with me the noise and smoke for the rest of the
journey.
Despite my efforts with the knife, there was clearly stil some
rubbish on the blades. The engine was struggling and making black
smoke, the rudder was juddering and the water was boiling round the
stern rather than going back in a clear stream. I kept giving bursts
of sterngear to try to throw it off. This had some effect, but never
got the blade completely clean and it would always pick up some more.
As we passed the site of Robertsons Jam factory, now nearly
demolished, a grunt from the engine indicated more rubbish collected.
I tried reverse again and the engine stalled. Restarting it, I tried
forward again. This unravelled the rubbish, but, looking down into
the water, I could see something trailing behind that would obviously
go back on to the blade if sterngear was engaged.
We tied up "Forget me Not" and "Lilith"
breasted at Fairfield Junction quite neatly and winded "Southam",
a manoeuvre slightly impeded by the crap on the blade, then everyone
unloaded themselves and started digging out barrows from "Forget
me Not"s hold. There were lots of new people and setting off on
the collection round was a little chaotic. Most people got the hang
of it quite quickly though and soon the two teams were busying
themselves collecting from the Moravian Fields estate.
With so many people the speed of collection made up for time lost
at the beginning of the trip. I became a little disappointed by the
quantities and began to wonder where half the volunteers were,
beginning to grumble that they were probably back at the boats having
a brew, only to find that they were actually all busy emptying a
garage full of stuff that had been donated.
When we had knocked on the last front door and barrowed the last
load back to the boats, Fiona started handing out dishes of the
excellent food that she had brought, with alternative options for
carnivores and herbivores. Time to relax and eat and chat.
After two plates of excellent grub, I picked up the cabin shaft
and started poking at the tangle of garbage on the propeller. This
turned out to be mainly carpet, which was wound tightly on and bound
with all manner of fibrous plasticky stuff. After much prodding and
pulling I managed to get it all off, building a great mound on the
sterndeck.
The next task was to wind "Forget me Not" and "Lilith".
This is carried out by pulling them forward alongside "Southam"
then, as their bows approach the tug's stern, pulling back on their
front lines whilst shafting the stern ends sideways. This usually
swings them round quite neatly and puts them in a good position for
setting off, which was achieved quite neatly this time.
With the train travelling quite nicely along the canal and Kevin
enjoying having a go at tug steering, I decided to walk alongside,
stopping at Lumb Lane bridge (one of the lowest on the canal system)
to try out the video function on my new camera
The early morning frost had given way to a really nice sunny day,
with refreshingly cold air. I enjoyed my walk, but kept my eye on the
boats to make sure that everything was OK. I jumped back on board
before the tricky turns through Guide Bridge, which were negotiated
neatly by the steerers. I took over at Margaret St bridge to deal
with the tricky arrival at Portland Basin. The procedure here is for
"Southam" to head straight for the wharf then swing round
to run parallel to it. "Forget me Not" follows and, if you
judge it right, she will run neatly alongside the wharf to be stopped
with her back end line (which is on the front of the engine room)
while "Lilith" neatly slides alongside her. "Southam",
once the towline is thrown off, then goes over to the towpath side of
the canal to make it easy for volunteers to get off. She is then
shafted back across to tie alongside "Lilith" (trying to do
this by engine power is a nightmare because of the impossiblity of
manouvering this boat in reverse gear).
Very quickly all the volunteers melted away in the afternoon sun
and I made my way home.
On Saturday afternoon we took "Southam", "Forget me
Not" and "Lilith" for a trip to the bottom of the
Marple flight to be in position for today's trip for "Hazel"
sponsors. We took all 3 functioning boats partly because we didn't
know how many guests might turn up on Sunday, partly to provide extra
cabin space for volunteers staying overnight and partly because I
like towing trains of boats. On the trip out we had a lot of trouble
with rubbish on the blades and this contributed to the overheating
problems that we've been having with "Southam"s engine.
Bex, whose birthday it happened to be, brought a big pan of
chicken stew, and a smaller pan of veggie stew for any veggies- much
appreciated by Ike who eschews the eating of flesh. We stopped near
Hyde to eat this. It was followed by birthday cake made by Emuna, who
was too ill to come ( she has M E )
"Southam" only just fits through Woodley tunnel (she was
once stuck in it for 7 hours) so we went through very gingerly. All
was well and we reached Marple about 7 PM. The winding hole was full
of BW boats and Ike had to shaft some of them out of the way so that
we could wind the 3 boats. As we were doing this Neil Goodier's
hireboat "Border Rose" arrived. We tied "Southam"
and "Forget me Not" breasted, stem to stem with "Border
Rose", with "Lilith" behind under the railway viaduct.
With the boats secure we walked up the locks to Marple in the dark
and found a pub called, I think, The Bulls Head. I'm sure it was some
part of a bull. I very rarely drink and had more than is good for me.
Some very good discussions took place and Bex did much networking
around the bar. I expect everyone there to turn up for the recycling
trip next Sunday.
The return walk to the boats became a little tiresome, not least
because of the amount of flavoured petrol, or something very like it,
that some people had consumed! In an outbreak of religious fervour
Bex tried full immersion baptism in the canal. Fiona bent my ear
about formulating an alcohol policy for the society, probably a good
idea, though I'm not sure how you get people to adhere to it when
reason fails and it's too late or too far to send them home.
Sunday morning I awoke in "Lilith"s wonderful little
forecabin, built last year by Tony Forward, and drank coffee to ease
the dull ache in my brain. I dressed in my boatman costume and gave
Bex my work clothes as hers were still drying over "Forget me
Not"s range. Ike had been involved in discussions with nocturnal
ramblers interested in the boats and had not slept for a second
successive night. I don't know how he does it. Jim and Daniel Cocker
made bacon butties and we busied ourselves cleaning and tidying the
boats ready for our guests.
Lester and Janet Mayo arrived with Alan Crompton, the Lancashire
coracle man. It was good to see him as he's been unwell for a while
and unable to come on recycling trips. Pans of food were loaded on
and "Southam"s range stoked up. Soon the Marple Lions
arrived en-mass, a total of 19 "Hazel" sponsors in all.
With everyone arranged on the boats and numbers carefully checked,
we set off, trying, and failing, to avoid nudging "Border Rose".
Soon the convoy was snaking around the bends on the wooded approach
to Hyde Bank Tunnel. Of course, someone fuelled up the range as we
approached the tunnel and my eyes were stinging by the time we
emerged from the low Northern portal.
We tied up for lunch at Gee Cross, oposite a luxurious house built
with reclaimed bricks on the site of an old mill. Lester and Janet
served up an excellent meal of meat and pasta. The sun had come out
so we were able to dine al fresco on "Forget me Not"s
temporary deck.
We had some difficulty getting going again as "Forget me Not"
was well and truly stemmed. I pushed her off from the bank and had to
walk to Captain Clarkes bridge while Lester steered "Southam"
I enjoyed the sound of her chuntering engine and the sight of the
train swinging round the tortuous curves of the canal. From Captain
Clarkes I concentrated on washing up, boiling water in the big old
copper kettle on "Southam"s huge ex army range. Chores
done, I enjoyed chatting with our guests in the fore end.
At Portland Basin we stopped on the Tame Aqueduct to unload
everyone. We couldn't hang about as a boat wanted to turn into the
Peak Forest and we were blocking their way. Lester took "Southam
round the turn and I used a long line from the T stud to strap her
off the junction strapping post. I then started shafting "Forget
me Not" and "Lilith" across to the wharf, only to find
that I was in the way of the Huddersfield Canal Society trip boat
which wanted to back out of the Warehouse arm. Soon the boats were in
place and the trip boat away, pans loaded into vehicles and everyone
on theirways home, except Chris and Kath who were boatsitting.
If you would like to become a "Hazel" Sponsor please click this link http://wcbs.org.uk/?p=393
It had been a long day, made less comfortable by a vicious wind
that whipped up the sawdust into a desert storm. As I inserted the
resharpened saw into the groove for the final cut, an Anderton Marina
hireboat emerged from the Peak Forest Canal and started to turn into
the wind towards Manchester.
The lady of the boat, a solidly built cheerful scotswoman, walked
by on the towpath with a big collie dog. We exchanged smiles and she
carried on, then backtracked to ask about a safe mooring for the
night. Her husband was now frantically backing up to avoid the boat
hitting the newly repainted "Community Spirit" on the
outside of the turn. The wind caught the flat cabin side like a sail
and took the boat sideways.
I suggested that they back up and tie on the outside alongside the
flats, the site of the prophet John Wroe's magnificent but long
disapeared house. This was good advice from the point of view of
having an undisturbed night, but would involve some manoevring that
beginners would find challenging even on a still day.
As we spoke the boat reversed into the shallow water on the far
side of the bridge and the rudder crunched into the stone copings.
The bonny lady hurried over the bridge to help push it off and pass
on my advice to her partner. He engaged forward gear and attempted to
get the stern away from the bank, but an ominous underwater
clattering indicated that the blade had picked up something that was
battering the bottom of the counter as it rotated.
Its ability to manouvre further inhibited by rubbish on the prop,
the boat moved slowly forwards, still in the grip of the wind. I
could see that he wasn't going to get the boat to its destination
without hitting one of our boats, but I wouldn't have minded if he
simply scraped his bow along the side of "Southam". The
sensible thing to do would have been to forget about engine power and
use the shaft, which lay idle on the cabin roof, to get control of
the errant fore end. I have always, however, found a great reluctance
among trainee, and sometimes experienced, boaters to use the shaft.
The strategy employed to control the boat was a surprising one. As
the bow headed into the arm where the boats awaiting restoration
float in shallow water I expected to see a flush of sterngear from
the still clattering prop. Instead the boat carried on until it
impacted "Elton"s stern. She gave a lurch, then resigned
herself to being used as a fulcrum as, still in forward gear, the man
put his tiller over to lever the boat round. As soon as he backed up
the wind caught the bow and he lost control again. He repeated the
manouvre, but this time, the hireboat's bow having moved a few feet
Eastwards, it was "Queen"s turn to suffer the indignity of
a ramming.
I stood watching, open mouthed and dumbstruck. I knew that both
boats were tough enough to withstand these blows, but I was amazed at
the sheer disregard for other peoples craft.
The boat backed up again. The next boat in line for a blow from
its bow was "Hazel", our most fragile boat. Somehow he
managed to miss her, but, as anticipated, scraped his bow along the
side of "Southam" instead. As his stern end approached the
footbridge he threw a line up to his wife, who sensibly led the boat
back to the overnight mooring that I had suggested.
I started the saw and quickly completed the last cut, by which
time my anger had subsided a little. I shafted "Lilith"
back across the basin to tie up abreast of "Southam", then
went to dig out some leaflets from "Forget me Not"s cabin.
I walked over to the moored hireboat and tapped on the roof. The
woman emerged and reddened when she saw me. I sought to defuse her
embarrasment with a smile, it wasn't her who had been steering, and
handed her the leaflets. I said "Here's some information about
the historic boats you just rammed". She was full of apologies,
but she didn't call her husband out to face me. I diverted the
conversation away from the incident as she was clearly uncomfortable,
but it was her partner that I wanted to feel that discomfort. He had
not once looked in my direction as he carried out his cavalier
careering around the basin.
I went off to get some food. Early in the morning the boat left to
work down the locks to Manchester. I wonder what sort of night the
arrogant man had. It would be no surprise to me if the ghost of Jack
Monk ( "Queen" was his first motor boat and remained his
favourite) had visited him in the night and given him terrifying
dreams of boatmans justice.
