Today we ran a trip to Hyde and back, stopping for a while at Jet Amber Fields. The crew was me, Aaron Booth and new recruit Sharon Watson.
A couple of our volunteers have hired a boat from Portland Basin Marina. Their plan was to go up on to the upper Peak Forest and Macclesfield canals. That idea was scuppered because Marple locks closed through lack of water. This is partly because of the lack of rain, but mainly because there are two reservoirs that need repair. They then thought they'd go up the Huddersfield Narrow instead. Lack of water, exacerbated by so many leaky lock gates, caused this to close. Ok, they thought, we'll go down the Ashton and on to the Bridgewater.
They worked down the 18 locks of the Ashton canal, only to find that the Rochdale 9 was closed because of gate problems. they tried to go up the Rochdale instead, only to find that that was closed (lack of water, leaky gates). They headed back up the Ashton but got stuck part way up the locks because of a shopping trolley jammed behind a gate. CRT cleared this the next day and I saw them in Dukinfield where they live. They set off ahead of us to enjoy a few days between Ashton and Marple.
A couple who have supported "Hazel" for many years were given a weekend on "Hazel" as a wedding anniversary present. they wanted to go up the Huddersfield Narrow. Now that it's closed they've postponed until next Spring.
I got an enquiry from a friend who lives in Cumbria. A farmer he knows is retiring and on his bucket list is going through the Anderton Lift. Could we help? I worked out a possible itinerary and cost, which was acceptable. Then we found that the Anderton Lift had closed. https://www.northwichguardian.co.uk/news/20593098.anderton-boat-lift-northwich-closed-notice/
This is very frustrating. Apparently the Rochdale 9 is open again with a restriction to narrow beam boats only. I have a feeling that the network is starting to fall apart. I worry that the Canal & River Trust, who run the canals, are losing interest in navigation. To give them their due, the Ashton flight has improved no-end in recent years. There is, of course, a water supply problem this year, but a single badly leaking lock gate will hugely increase the water demand of a canal.
Rant over!
The only place that we can really go with our "Hazel" guests is along the lower Peak Forest as far as Marple Aqueduct. We've just done a trip for a very pleasant family from mid Cheshire. Patricia, Geraldine, Aaron and me took them yesterday as far as the winding hole at Gee Cross. We came back about half a mile to tie among lovely woods beside Apethorn Wood and Haughton Dale https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/visiting-woods/woods/haughton-dale/
I stayed aboard "Forget me Not". It rained all night and was a bit chilly so I lit the stove in the morning. Aaron arrived early on his bike.
When Geraldine arrived, by 'bus, we had a brew then set out on the return trip.
Our guests met some friends at Portland Basin and went for a look round the museum. They left a glowing report in "Hazel"s visitors book. A lot of people have been under a lot of stress over the last couple of years. It's nice to feel that you're doing a little bit to help.
At the moment we're a bit restricted where we can go. The Marple flight is closed because of water shortage. Two of the reservoirs that feed the summit are in need of repair and so the only water supplying the upper Peak Forest has to be pumped up from the river at Whaley Bridge.
The Huddersfield Narrow canal is, at the time of writing, still open, but this waterway also suffers from water supply issues. A particular problem for us is the long pound between Ashton and Stalybridge, from lock 3 to lock 4. Because lock 3 leaks so badly (and has done for years) this is constantly low. There are also several places on this stretch where rubbish gets dumped into the water, further reducing the depth. We have offered to remove the rubbish but are not allowed to because we might disturb the wildlife (!!!!???). There have been several occasions when we've spent hours working through this pound, dragging the boats laboriously over old bikes, shopping trolleys etc.
We had a booking for a well being trip for a couple who I had met by chance at the museum. The plan was to go up to Marple and, after winding below the locks, spend a night near the aqueduct, then return to Ashton.
It all went fairly smoothly. Our crew consisted of Aaron Booth, Geraldine Buckley and John Lupton. The winding hole at Marple was, for once, fairly clear of CRT boats. There was quite a concentration of boats moored in the area and we couldn't get in at our usual spot between the aqueduct and Rose Hill tunnel, so, after winding, we had to go back through the former tunnel and tie at the end of the line of moored craft.
On the towpath side here there is a steep wooded cliff dropping down to the trickling River Goyt.
On the outside is a field, virtually grazed out by the raucus Canada Geese that now dominate the canal.
I had always wanted to explore the Goyt valley here but never got round to it. In the morning, after a little pottering in the engine 'ole, I walked along the towpath the short distance to Hyde Bank tunnel then, rather than climbing the steep horse path over the top, I plunged into the untrodden ways of the thick, steep woodland. Back in 2020 I prepared a ghost story for a halloween event that never took place because of the pandemic and this marginal land is the home for one of the characters, Old Mags the witch. Perhaps next year!
This woodland is one of the rare places where nature is allowed to take her course. It is too steep and pathless for an easy stroll. Huge trees dominate, but where there is a gap for light to get through there is a dense understorey of nettles, brambles bushes etc. Although the 2022 heat wave had only just got started the woods were already bone dry. I came upon a carpet of wild garlic, all wilted by the drought. Because humans rarely penetrate, dead wood is not removed. The steep slopes are hard to navigate and several times I grabbed hold of a branch to steady myself, only to have it break off in my hand.
I descended via a dried up side valley to the trickling river, following it upstream. There were paths here but they would suddenly disappear into bushes, presumably they were made by foxes rather than humans. The inevitable Himalayan Balsam enjoyed a waterside foothold.
I climbed up again to rejoin the towpath near a huge oak that had fallen but was caught by its sister trees, continuing to grow vertical shoots from the horizontal trunk.
Beside the canal I met an elderly lady briskly walking. She was slim and brightly dressed. By her accent I took her to be German. We praised together the beauty of nature and the amazing efforts of the canal builders before each continuing in our opposite ways.
Aaron arrived on his bike and Geraldine and John made their way down the towpath from the station. We had a pleasant and uneventful trip back to Ashton in the growing heat.
Our guests thoroughly enjoyed the trip. When we got back to Portland Basin we got "Hazel" cleaned and her batteries charged ready for the next outing. This was a two night booking for Jeff, his daughter Sarah and partner Jackie, all enthusiastic punk rockers. We had promised them a trip up the Huddersfield Narrow, but, I checked the water levels and decided that it was unwise.
We had to make another foray out to Marple instead.
Aaron was unable to join us for this trip as he was on dogsitting duties. Geraldine and John steered the butty while new recruit Steve Shipley made a good job of steering the motor while I sat on the deck supervising.
The rising heat was baking us as we went along. The canal was in many places matt green with a surface scum of algae brought out by the relentless sun. The winding hole at Marple was completely free of CRT boats as the last one, the 'josher' motor "Gailey", had moved to Dukinfield where the team were tracing leaks in the embankment. This time we were able to tie in our preferred spot near to the aqueduct.
Our guests all have mobility issues and were a bit disappointed that there were no pubs or restaurants within easy walking distance. By the time I learned that it was too late to move as our crew were all heading off for the station. I suggested we make a short trip to Romiley the following day, where there are hospitality venues a plenty.
Crewing was a problem as none of the first day's crew were available. I spent the evening on the 'phone and the laptop trying to round up a crew. Luckily Patricia Ekaete was able to join us from Ashton and Mike Heap from Marple. Neither had crewed for some time so it was nice to see them. I was showing Patricia the aqueduct when Mike arrived. He was involved it the efforts to save the structure, and the canal, back in the 1960s.
We had a pleasant journey through the tunnel and past the lovely gardens and woodland of Chadkirk to tie near the main road bridge at Romiley. Having arrived by train Patricia elected to walk home along the towpath.
Our guests went out for a meal at 'Platform One' next to Romiley station. They don't recommend it. I spent most of another evening rounding up the next day's crew. This consisted of Kim Tranter and Dave Evans. Navigating the tortuous bends through Gee Cross in the sweltering heat we were glad of the shade from the mature woodland. We arrived back at the basin mid afternoon, bade farewell to our guests and crew, then put the boats away for the night, ready for another trip, as far as Gee Cross, the next day.
I thought it was going to be a nice sedate weekend. Five Girl Guide leaders had booked "Hazel" for 3 days. They were all experienced boaters, with certificates to prove it, but had never worked a motor and butty. They wanted to go through a few locks, so, the plan was to go up the 3 locks to Staley Wharf, spend a night there, then back to Ashton and up the Peak Forest to the bottom of the Marple flight, before returning to Portland Basin on the Sunday.
Because they were all boaters we wouldn't need any of our usual crew. The trip was set up by our trustee and Guiding official (she also finds some time to work for a living) Liz Stanford. Her husband, Peter, came along to add some much needed muscle power, returning home each evening to tend to their animals.
I realised that things were going to be more raucus than anticipated when I was showing them the hand signals that we use for communicating instructions. In my innocence it had never previously occurred to me that the signal that I use for 'untie' was suggestive of the sin of onanism. The ladies fell about laughing.
We set off and negotiated lock 1W very competently. At the far end of the long opened out Whitelands tunnel a downhill boat waited for us to clear.
As we passed its occupants told us that the water was low above the next two locks.
The long pound between locks 3 and 4 has been a problem since the canal re-opened in 2001. The main reason is that the top gates of lock 3 leak like sieves. Why on earth this problem has not been addressed over the last 20 years I have no idea.
At lock 2W we found that the balance beam on the top gate was on the verge of breaking free as a result of rot. I confidently predict that, when this fails it will be blamed on a boater.
Above number 3 the water was a good foot down. I decided to give it a try, but got no more than a couple of boatslengths before the motor stemmed up. I had a few goes at freeing her, but it seemed futile without raising the water level. I got on my bike and rode into Stalybridge town centre.
The pounds above 4 and 5 were low but the longer one past Tesco was brimming. As a couple of boats were tied in this pound I couldn't steal too much water, but I dropped it nearly a foot then headed back to the boats. The water had made little impact on the level in the long pound, but I thought the few inches gained might help.
I added an extra line to the back end line for Peter, as the strongest person present, to pull on. The line broke and Peter fell backwards on to his windlass, giving him a painful bruise.
The boats remained resolutely stuck. We discovered that the culprit was a large piece of submerged industrial machinery, similar to a very large washing machine drum.
Our team of Guide ladies was joined by various tough looking men who had been walking the towpath. We tried pulling and shafting in all directions. We attempted to remove the offending item, all to no avail.
A few years ago we offered to clear submerged rubbish from this location but were prevented from doing so on the grounds that it might disturb the wildlife!
A hire boat had followed us up the locks. It's crew kindly agreed to let lock 4 fill by leakage (that's how bad it is) rather than deliberately draw off more water. They were clearly keen to get past but our boats were blocking the way.
A knight in shining armour arrived in the form of the Grand Union motor "Bargus", heading down towards Ashton.. Normally operating as a fuel boat, "Bargus" had been relieved of her tanks and other paraphernalia ready to go on dock, so she was riding high in the water. She was loosely tied stem to stem with "Forget me Not" and backed away vigorously. Each time the line snatched "Forget me Not" moved a little, until finally she was free. Meanwhile "Bargus"s skipper, Jason, organised our ladies and Peter to haul "Hazel", which draws almost as much as "Forget me Not", over the underwater debris.
We set off again, with the hireboat in hot pursuit.
Nearing Clarence St bridge we stemmed up again. I let the following boat past then managed to back off the obstruction, almost scraping the moored boats in order to avoid it as I drove the motor ahead again. One of the ladies was standing on the gunwale next to me as I steered. She had quite a shock when the boat rolled violently as it rode over a sunken coping stone.
Rosie was the cook for the trip (I have yet to ascertain whether her husband is called Jim). During the delays she had been busy preparing a meal, which she was now anxious to serve.
The problem was, where could we stop for tea and enable Peter, who was on the towpath, to get aboard. I suggested the Tame aqueduct. This is narrow, so we would be blocking the way, but it was unlikely that more boats would be passing through that evening. There was nowhere else that Peter could get aboard.
We made the boats fast on the cast iron trough over the river Tame. This structure, revolutionary at the time, replaced an original stone arch that was washed away by floods before the canal was complete. Everyone clustered around the table in "Hazel" to enjoy a wonderful meal.
Stomachs quietened, we plodded on, stemming again at a narrows that is notorious for fly tipping, though in this case I think the problem was rocks from a tumbledown stone wall.
It was getting dark by the time we reached the winding hole at Staley Wharf. The boats were reluctant to turn because they were virtually on the bottom. When we finally got round we were confronted with another problem. Tying towpath side is not possible because a ledge of rock prevents boats from getting close. In previous visits we have tied on the outside but, since our last visit a couple of years ago, this has become a jungle. I aimed the bows for a small gap in the foliage at one end of the winding hole. It was possible to get "Hazel"s bow in here and get off. An attempt to drive in a pin was unsuccessful as the ground was solid. We threw lines over the top of the greenery and made fast to the top of a high factory fence. The lines were high enough to avoid the risk of decapitating anyone with the temerity to explore the rough path that ran through the area.
Peter got on his bike to head for home. The rest of us went inside "Hazel". The ladies got out the gin.................
In the morning we woke to a rainy day. I walked up the locks with my windlass to try to gain a little more water. As I approached Armentierres Square a rush of water from lock 7's paddles showed that a boat was on its way down.
Wrapped up in waterproofs, we set off into proper Peter Kay rain.
Ally joined me on "Forget me Not". Immediately the motor boat stopped as it ran on to a solid object.
We got her free and carried on to the first bridgehole,
where we were stopped again.
The following boat caught us up and stopped, presumably having a rest whilst we fought our way forward. We got the boat free and carried on.
I steered and carefully avoided the objects that we'd encountered on the way up.
There was no avoiding the obstruction at lock 3, though I now knew more about its nature and location.
Inevitably the motor stemmed up. We let the butty drift past her but she jammed nearer the lock.
During efforts to free her Peter fell in at the head of the lock, which mercifully was full and no water was running. He gained another bruise, but climbed out of the water and was soon at work again. I employed the risky practise of inserting the shaft under the boat and using it to lever her free. A very good way of breaking your shaft, so I only do this as a last resort.
"Hazel" came free and was worked down the locks.
I managed to get "Forget me Not" moving and into the refilled lock, picking up the butty again below lock 2.
At lock 1 I showed Ally the trick of holding the motor in sterngear against the bottom gate as the butty works through. This gets exciting as the paddles are opened and the counter dips into the resulting maelstrom, but the boats are perfectly positioned for exiting the lock.
The aforementioned lorry scrapyard is no longer there. I had to go to Darwen in deepest Lancashire to seek a replacement. This was a more modern part and needed modification, which was done as a donation by North West Propshafts of Salford. http://www.northwestpropshafts.com/
The plan had been for Stephan to meet us at Staley Wharf to fit the part, but, we had got there too late in the day. I rang him and he agreed to meet at Portland Basin. We dropped "Hazel" on the towpath side at the basin for Rosie to serve up another wonderful meal. I maneuvered "Forget me Not" to the outside for easy access by Steph.
With the aid of many blasphemous words, Steph worked face down into the black and oily bilge to exchange the components. He then rushed off to rapidly wash and change for he had a date to fulfil. The timing had not been good.
With another excellent meal consumed we made the turn on to the Peak Forest, now much easier to navigate after much needed dredging.
At the far end of Hyde is Captain Clarke's Bridge. A turnover bridge that also carries a small road.
https://oldhyde.blogspot.com/2011/08/captain-clarke.html
As we approached the bridge I thought about how difficult it used to be to get through before the dredging. I was surprised when the motor boat bounced on something in the narrows. The engine began to struggle, then stalled. We clearly had a bad bladeful.
We pulled "Forget me Not" to the bank and I started poking under her counter with the cabin shaft. At first I thought we had picked up a roll of tarpaulin, for the object was tough but had some give in it, with no obvious way of getting a grip on it. I was just thinking I'd need to get in the water when my hook caught on something. I pulled hard but it wouldn't come free. A small round gold coloured plastic container floated to the surface. Liz picked it up and opened it, just as the item released.
"There's a bullet in this" said a surprised Liz.
I dropped the offending item, a child's school rucksack, on the deck, with a clunk. Liz investigated. She found inside the bag a set of electronic scales,
handy for measuring out small quantities of expensive substances. Underneath this there was a plastic carrier bag. She opened this to reveal 3 guns, two pistols and an automatic.
There was also a quantity of ammunition, some of it spent. The cache did not appear to have been in the water very long.
We set off again. Cookie and Liz steered the motor while I sat in a canvas chair on the deck patiently trying to get through to the
police. At last, someone answered and we arranged to meet an officer at Woodley.
We stopped at the tunnel entrance and soon the officer arrived. Somehow they selected for this task probably the only constable in Greater Manchester who is terrified of canals. Rivers, lakes or oceans hold no terrors for her, but she won't go near a canal if she can help it. She stepped forward gingerly to peek in the bag, which was now residing on "Hazel"s foredeck.
Her role was obviously simply to ascertain that the was a genuine find and not just some discarded toys. She said that the firearms team would have to examine it and could we wait there until they arrived. We explained that it was impossible to stay there as we were blocking the canal. The real reason was that we wanted to get further on so that we were poised to get back to Ashton the following day. She managed to negotiate with her bosses that we would meet the experts at Chadkirk.
We said goodbye to the officer and set off into the dark wormhole of Woodley tunnel
(originally known as Butterbank tunnel).
Chadkirk is a secretive gem.
Our nice canalaphobic constable had never heard of it even though it's right next to Romiley. From the towpath some steps lead you to a narrow lane lined with old houses. If you turn left, down a steep hill you come to St Chad's holy well, then the mediaeval chapel, set among well tended gardens.
If you turn the other way it takes you under a low aqueduct then uphill into central Romiley, handy for shops and pubs. Where we tie the canal is carried in a concrete box channel, a repair made about 30 years ago when the waterway started to slip down the hillside. On the outside the impressive gardens of some of Romiley's more prestigious residences reach down to the canal. The towpath is normally busy with friendly dog walkers.
I met our helpful PC and her sergeant at the bottom of the steps and led them to the boats. Soon the towpath was buzzing with police. They took the bag of weapons and carefully opened it on to a tarpaulin laid on the towpath some distance away. Some of them donned white overalls to avoid contaminating the evidence. The constable took a statement from me, written on her mobile 'phone.
Rosie produced another culinary miracle, which we soon demolished. The gin had run out so we had to make do with wine. After dinner some of the ladies enjoyed standing in the forward well watching handsome young policemen coming and going along the towpath.
I don't know when they finished their work. When I retired to "Forget me Not"s cabin it was getting dark and they were still working by torchlight.
Some guests were concerned about getting back to Ashton at a reasonable time. We started on Sunday morning at 9 instead of our usual 10. Steering was done by our most confident steerers to ensure a quick trip up over Marple aqueduct,
wind, then heading back along the lower Peak to Ashton.
Captain Clarke's Bridge was approached with some trepidation, but we went through smoothly and collected no more guns.
Steady rain got heavier and heavier until it felt like the gods were having fun tipping buckets of water over us.
We did have something on the blade as we approached Ashton. I gave a 'chuck back ' (briefly engaging reverse gear) to try to clear it. One of the bolts broke in the new gear change mechanism. I had to travel the last couple of miles in the engine 'ole, ready to change gear at Peter's command.
We reached the basin at an acceptable time. I breasted the motor up to "Lilith", then positioned "Hazel" where she could be unloaded easily into cars.
The ladies want to come back for a longer trip.
We've had a very pleasant couple from Worksop staying on "Hazel" for a week and they booked a trip up the Peak Forest. We went up to Marple on Friday, a glorious summers day, winded and returned as far as Chadkirk. The crew were me, Aaron, Liz and Darren. We all wore masks whenever we had to come close to each other, maintained strict separation from our guests and sanitised the tiller etc when we changed steerers.
Aaron, Liz and Darren cycled home once we had tied for the night. I stayed aboard "Forget me Not". The crew returned for a 2pm departure on Saturday to bring the pair back to Portland Basin. Liz's husband Pete came too.The weather wasn't quite as good but still an enjoyable trip.
One Sunday we were passing the Ashton Packet Boat moorings on a recycling trip when someone called over, “Do you want to do some filming with John Sergeant”. “Possibly” I replied. “Ring Brian McGuigan” they said. Brian and Anne Marie McGuigan are the excellent couple who run our local fuel boat, delivering coal and diesel to boats around the Cheshire ring on the big motor Alton. Apparently the TV company had been in touch with them but they weren't interested.
A couple of days later I had a call from Oliver the producer and a long chat about what we could do with “Hazel”. He was a bit nonpluseed when I explained that the boat had to be towed. Knowledge of waterway traditions seemed to be a bit sketchy.
The timing was perfect. They wanted to film at the end of June and it was looking like Hazel would just about be ready to go by then. We were gathering a crew who needed some boating training and the project would need some publicity. A plan was hatched. We were to tow "Hazel" with "Forget me Not" to Bugsworth Basin where Mr Sergeant and the film crew were to join us for a 4 day trip back to Ashton.
A couple of weeks intensive work on Hazel had her just about ready to go and a merry band of volunteers, most of whom had not worked a lock before, bowhauled her through the centre of Stalybridge to join Forget me not, which I'd brought up from Ashton the previous evening, at Staley Wharf.
Working the pair down the next 3 locks with a team of green boaters was interesting. I had to be everywhere at once to make sure that everyone was following my instructions, and the occassional long distance bellow was required when someone was about to draw the wrong paddle. As we worked locks 2 and 3 a walker came over to me and said I should watch out for the following boat as it was in a dreadful hurry and had been ramming gates in their haste. Sure enough the boat appeared and its skipper asked to pass us as we were very slow. When I refused he claimed that it was the law of the cut that we should give way to him. I pointed out that in 45 years on the cut I had never heard of any such statute.
The Huddersfield Canal was unusually busy on this particular day. Usually, even in high summer, you can navigate these locks without meeting a single boat. At Whitelands Tunnel (opened out over 100 years ago but still very narrow) we had to hold back as an Eastbound boat emerged. They said there was another following, so we breasted up to wait. Inevitably our eager follower caught up and tried to pass, but was persuaded to tie up behind us and form an orderly queue. The skipper came along to chat and insist that they were very experienced boaters and the walker must have seen something that happened on the other side of the Pennines where they had to force the gates open with the boat because the leaks were so great that they couldn't get a level. I didn't want them breathing down my neck as I shepherded our trainees through the rather slow and awkward lock 1W, so, when the uphill boat appeared I let them go ahead.
When we were finally clear of this lock, hours later on our trip than anticipated, I sent someone ahead to get ready to strap us round the turn into the Peak Forest Canal. We went through the Asda tunnel and the awkward bit by Cavendish Mill where the retaining wall collapsed in 2002 and they're still arguing about who should pay for it, then into Portland Basin where Martin Gately was busy working on Lilith.
As we approached, someone on the bow threw a line to the person who had gone ahead. He took a turn on the strapping post that thankfully is still there (though the area is often occupied by anglers) and on my instructions tightened it at just the right moment to snatch Forget me Not's bow round into the narrow entrance to the Peak Forest Canal, releasing it again when instructed and passing it back onto the boat. It didn't go quite to plan as Hazel gave the copings a nasty bash, but that was my fault as i'd given her too long a line.
The 8 lock free miles from Aston to Marple allowed people to settle into the simple business of steering the boats. At Well Bridge we encountered a fallen tree, trimmed back but still almost impossible to miss with a full length boat. Forget me Not's engine was labouring as there was something on the blade that would simply not come off. In both Woodley and Hyde Bank tunnels we were accompanied by a following wind blowing at just the same speed as the boats. For some reason somebody always makes up the ranges when approaching tunnels, so we emerged red eyed in a dramatic cloud of smoke.
Its always tricky arriving at the bottom of Marple with a pair but not intending to work up the locks. There's a long low bridgehole with no towpath followed by a right hand turn into a basin that is usually lined with moored boats. Until you emerge from the bridgehole you cannot see if there is a 70 foot gap to slot into. On this occassion there was a suitable gap and our crew did well in breasting and tying up reasonably neatly.
It was pleasant to wake up early in Forget me Not's cabin and revive the fire which I'd kept in overnight with sawdust. To lie in bed drinking coffee with the doors open to the early morning sunlight, listening to the dawn chorus. Soon people were up and about and bacon and eggs were cooking in Hazel's kitchen. Eventually we were ready to go. Maxine Bailey had her painting work interrupted by this trip so she had come along. She went with Andy and a chap from one of the moored boats whose name I forget to work the motor boat on ahead while I showed the rest of the crew the techniques of bowhauling up Marple.
All went well except for a slight problem when the motor boat caught on a bottom gate, demonstrating that you have to be constantly alert whilst working through locks. Most lock accidents happen because no-one is watching the boat.
At the top of the 16 locks is the junction with the Macclesfield Canal. We were heading for Bugsworth* so the motor tied against a grassy bank just beyond the junction, having the first experience of the shallow rocky edges of the upper Peak Forest canal.
Working the butty up the locks I had enforced a strict rotation of duties, so everyone had their fair share of turns at drawing paddles, opening gates, steering and, of course, performing horse duty. By the time we reached the top and shafted across to breast up to Forget me Not they were all in need of rest and refreshment. I haven't yet explained to them that on future trips there may only be a couple of them to work the boat through the flight! It gets easier with practice.
The upper Peak Forest is narrow and shallow with rocky edges as already noted. It's also a lot busier than any of the canals around Ashton. When we were at last ready to set off we had to wait for ages for a suitable gap in passing traffic, then we had a struggle to get Forget me Not free from the shallow water.
The upper peak tested everyone's steering skills, especially on the deeper draughted motor boat. The slightest deviation from the channel would result in the motor stemming up and inevitably being caught up with by the butty. There are also numerous drawbridges, so a couple of our crew had some good exercise walking ahead to prepare these.
The previous night one of Hazel's two sets of gas bottles had run out, so I had hoped to replace them at New Mills marina. Unfortunately we could find nowhere to tie up reasonably near the marina, so we carried on. Eventually we reached the turn into the Bugsworth arm and plodded carefully up the narrow shallow waterway to tie, breasted, in the first of the extensive basins.
The next day was a Saturday and we spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon cleaning, tidying and waiting while filming took place elsewhere. We had been sworn to secrecy about the filming. A series of steel boats were taking water. I wanted to fill Hazel's tank but every time I prepared to move her, another boat nipped in. I went over to the water point to arrange a slot with the other boats. “Are you here to film with John Sergeant “ asked the man. “It's supposed to be a secret” I replied. “Oh, everybody knows, that's why we're all leaving”!
With the tank full it was time to wind. We started to do this at the entrance basin but were advised that most pairs couldn't get round there and we should go up to the wide a little further up. There was plenty of room to wind with Forget me Not powering the boats round nicely, then chugging back and backing into the lower basin to wait some more. I dropped Forget me Not astern of Hazel to facilitate our celebrity guest getting aboard, and carried on waiting.
At last they arrived, and instantly looked worried. "Who are all these people?" Asked Clive the director. I explained that they were our volunteers and not only were they interesting people but we were combining this fiming trip with crew training and they would be essential for working the boats down the locks and anyway we needed someone to steer the butty. They weren't happy but conceded that someone would have to steer Hazel, everyone else would have to stay inside with the curtains shut. Personally I think they'd have ended up with a much more interesting programme by including our volunteers, but what do I know.
We began filming with me introducing John to the boats and explaining why there were 2 of them. We got the cameraman and sound man on board then set off with Andy steering Hazel. Almost immediately we picked up something on the blade which made the engine smoke, much to my embarrassment. Regular applications of sterngear failed to throw it off.
John didn't seem too happy about perching on the gunwale and soon he was wanting to steer. We exchanged positions and carried on with our conversation, interspersed with constant reminders from me to stay in the middle. Inevitably, before long, we experienced the first of many stemmings up.
Secret crew members were surrepticiously unloaded every now and then to run ahead to drawbridges which magically opened ahead of us. We travelled on, with John acting a character that lay somewhere between the Queen and Paddington Bear. Behind us Andy was working hard to keep Hazel in a straight line while the motor boat zig zagged along the cut. “You know” said John “we've bumped into a few boats along here but I don't think they mind do they”?
The target for the evening was the Swizzels Matlow sweet factory at New Mills where they were planning to film on the next day. We dropped John off for the camera opposite the marina, then immediately filmed him getting back on again before continuing past the sweet factory to tie up in an elfin glade just beyond. We said goodbye to the TV crew and enjoyed the rest of the day making a meal and chatting.
Next morning Pauline cooked us all bacon and eggs as we waited for the film crew to arrive. They were a little late and there was some concern about keeping to the schedule. We soon resumed our leisurely progress, impeded by frequent encounters with the rocky bottom of the canal as John struggled to get used to steering a deep draughted boat. He seemed to be enjoying being treated like royalty by passers by on land and water.
At Disley some modern bungalows back on to the canal. John struck up a conversation with a man in the back garden of one of these. He turned out to be a chef who had just got home from his shift in an hotel. “Would you like some capuchinos?” he asked, so we waited and waved past a series of pleasure craft as he prepared the coffees. All grist to the mill for a lighthearted documentary.
The Peak Forest is not a canal that you can hurry. The director, hiding in Forget me Not's cabin, glanced at his watch with increased frequency and anxiety, for they had a busy schedule for the rest of the day.
John spotted some girls on horses and asked to stop. Being unable to get near the towpath, the only possible stopping point was in the bridgehole that the horses and their mounts were crossing. I held the motor in the narrows and hoped that no boats would wish to pass as the interview with the girls continued. When they were finished with, there developed a conference between director, producer and star. Sure enough, the top lock training boat came along and had to wait. Eventually I persuaded the film people that other people wanted to use the canal and we'd better get moving.
It had been agreed that we would tie up for the night at Brick Bridge, the last one before Marple top lock. Because the canal is fairly narrow there my plan was to tie up singly rather than breasting to make it easier for boats to pass. When we got there I struggled to find anywhere that I could get Forget me Not anywhere near the towpath because of all the rocks lying in the bottom of the canal. Eventually I found a spot, but Hazel, drawing about 2 feet along her length, would not come near. We had to pull her alongside the motor and hope that boats could get by.
Our TV friends went off to film at some nearby locations before John returned with the cameraman to stay aboard Hazel. Clive explained to us that for all kinds of complicated reasons the only people to stay on board were to be John and the cameraman. I had hoped that One of us could sleep in Hazel's back cabin, but the director said no. For “all kinds of reasons”, the only one that he specified was insurance, none of us could stay on the same boat as our celebrity guest. That left room for 2 in Forget me Not (none of us fancied sharing the cross bed or sleeping on the floor) but there were 3 of us. Luckily Tom and Pauline had brought a tent. The problem was, where to pitch it.
They said they would be back at about 6 pm, so we busied ourselves cleaning and tidying inside Hazel and making up beds for our guests. After much discussion we decided to try pitching the tent on Forget me Not's temporary deck. This worked very well, so we had our tea and waited, and waited, and waited. At one point our TV people showed up on the nearby road in a vintage car, then they went again. It got dark, and we carried on waiting. Eventually I decided that they weren't coming, so I went to bed on the motor boat's sidebed. As morpheus began to creep up on me I was suddenly brought back into the land of wakefulness by voices and lights outside. They had arrived. I got up and showed them into Hazel. John then acted out a rather Paddington Bear like scene of confusion and difficulty of dragging his suitcase through the boat.
The three of us crawled into our sleeping bags and spent the night aboard Forget me Not . I discovered that Forget meNot's gunwale still leaks. Andy discovered that I snore and John slept like baby in his tent. Aboard Hazel, celebrity and cameraman found their berths very comfortable..
In the morning I was expecting that we would enjoy breakfast with our guests, but instead they filmed Mr Sergeant making a big show of finding the cupboards bare (not true) and going off for breakfast in a greasy spoon. I was beginning to get concerned about the way that the film might portray Hazel and our society. Every time I had tried to talk about the boats on camera John had changed the subject. I pointed out to the director that we agreed to this trip on the understanding that the film would give good publicity to our project, reminding him of my lifelong hatred for Griff Rhys-Jones since he totally failed to mention the Wooden Canal Boat Society when he filmed a trip on Forget me Not. He told me not to worry, we would get a good plug in a voice over.
They said that they'd be back to film our descent of Marple locks in the early afternoon, so I decided to pop back to Ashton check on the other boats. Before I left a motorised River class boat, belonging to A &R Rothen, came along heading towards Whaley Bridge. The Rivers were some of the last working narrow boats built, made of welded steel they are rather like slimmed down Thames lighters. Only two motors were built, of a rather unusual and unsuccessful design. This one is a former butty that has been given a conventional motor stern and is now used for canal maintenance work. It was steered by our friend Fred who ran a recycling trip for us a few months ago when I was unable to be present. I was pleased and surprised to see that it got past our pair without difficulty. As I'd heard that the fuel boat Alton was heading our way I walked round on to the Macclesfield canal to warn them about the potential difficulty before heading for Marple station.
The railway from Marple to Guide Bridge (change at Romiley) is a very pleasant ride parallel to the canal. It's a surprising survival as most of the minor railways of the area disappeared in the days of Dr Beeching. With unstaffed stations and “nodding donkey” trains (Leyland buses mounted on wagon chassis) the line provides a good service to Woodley and Hyde and is quite well used.
Back at Ashton the boats were all floating happily and I had time to pop into the shop and call at home before getting the train back to Marple. When I got there our editor had arrived in the hope of having a trip down Marple locks. Colin Scrivener had arrived to enjoy the trip down the locks, but it was not to be. We spent a pleasant afternoon chatting and drinking tea, but by the time that Colin had to leave there was still no sign of the celebrity and his retinue.
Their eventual arrival co-incided with a sudden deterioration in the weather as squally gusts of wind whipped up wavelets on the waterway and dark clouds threatened more than the few droplets of rain that actually fell. A plan was decided on and cameras set up accordingly. Celebrity John was now steering Hazel with me on the roof trying to direct operations. Andy was steering the motor boat. A couple of people had gone ahead to prepare the lock, my plan being for Forget me Not to go straight into the lock. John's straw hat blew off, much to his overacted distress (he had a spare in case of such an eventuality). As we a approached the lock I realised that I hadn't explained my plan clearly enough. Not only was the top gate not open ready but the paddles were not yet drawn to fill the lock. I gesticulated wildly to our lock team to prepare the lock whilst formulating a revised plan. This involved much use of the long shaft to control the boat in the vicious gusty wind and bring her reasonably gently alongside the copings above the lock. Butties have no brakes and so sudden changes of plan can be difficult.
Quite how all that will appear on TV I'm not sure. Mr Celebrity was mainly concerned that the cameraman should rush back up the towpath to get a shot of his still floating hat. The secret crew had emerged from Hazel and were now plainly visible as they started working the motor, then the butty, down the 16 lock flight. Andy got told off for smoking as he steered Forget me Not as tobacco use cannot be shown on TV nowadays lest it be seen as a cool thing to do
After a few locks the TV people met up with representatives from the Marple Locks Heritage Trust. They fitted the motor boat with Go Pro cameras, little video cameras that can be clipped on wherever you want them and will record until the battery runs out, and sent us on our way while they went off to film something else. I re-organised our crew, electing to work the motor myself whilst everyone else was to work Hazel down. I stayed one lock ahead to keep ane eye on things and ran back occassionally to give advice. All went well.
Because we had started so late on the locks it was a close thing whether or not we would be finished before dark. At lock 5 it was getting dusk when Oliver came to reclaim the Go Pros. By the time we reached lock 1 the last glimmers of light were fading. We roughly breasted up below the lock and those of us who were staying fell into bed, while others faced a drive home.
The main job for us on the final day of filming was to capture the crossing of Marple aqueduct. This was to be filmed by a drone. We crossed the aqueduct slowly with the drone whizzing about above our heads while John and I discussed the splendour of the scene. We then had to do it again, so I took a line from one of “Hazel”s stern end timberheads and dragged the two boats backwards ready to repeat the procedure.
Ashton under Lyne is an interesting town. It was a boomtown of the mid nineteenth century growing rapidly as the cotton trade expanded, the burgeoning mills being fired by local coal dug from local pits and in many cases delivered by boat. At one time it even had its own religious cult, the Christian Israelites, who believed that it would be the site of the second coming of Jesus Christ and at the height of their influence planned to build a city wall to join up their four gatehouses. It is also the Northern terminus of the Peak Forest Canal.
It was with some difficulty that I persuaded the TV people that they should actually bother with the lower Peak Forest canal rather than terminating their journey at Marple. There seems to still be a view widely held in the South that “dirty Northern towns” have nothing of interest. With the aqueduct filming over, the plan was for the TV entourage to go off to Hyde and film at boxer Ricky Hatton's gym. The boats were fitted with go pro's again and set off for a pleasant journey along the winding wooded water route, to tie up, as arranged, just before Dukinfield lift bridge.
Another long wait began as, it turned out, a conference took place in a nearby pub. Eventually the star and retinue returned to the boats, but continued their conference for some time. At this point I witnessed the downside of celebrity status as some people tried to but in to the private conversation that was going on, calling on John to pose for their cameras. He deliberately turned his back on them in a way that could be seen as rude, but if this sort of thing happens frequently it's difficult to see how one could deal with it politely without disrupting ones working day. He was, after all, at work.
With the filming soon to finish we had a group photo taken, all sitting on Hazel's roof with our feet on Forget me Not. With this done the drawbridge was lifted, the engine fired up and we carried on the last quarter mile, stemming up only once. A dogwalker on the towpath asked john if Forget me Nots decked over hold was for him to practice for Strictly Come Dancing. “Thank you” said John as he turned his head away from the towpath joker. Apparently references to his star performance on that programme don't go down too well.
Arrival at portland Basin from the Peak Forest is quite a tricky manouvre with a pair. You have to give a burst of power as you leave the narrow Tame aqueduct to give the butty some speed, then immediately go astern to avoid crashing into the moored boats and allow the butty to slip alongside. The boats have to be tied abreast quickly and neatly, again, to avoid collisions, then, if you're quick, the buttys momentum is used to help the pair to swing round more than 90 degrees to tie up alongside the wharf. All went beautifully until I pulled back the gear rod to reverse the stern ends alongside the wharf. It came right back and the boat carried on in forward gear. The linkage had come apart and I had to rush through into the engine 'ole to pull back the gear lever.
With the boats alongside the wharf a final piece to camera was fimed, there were lots of thank yous and handshaking and a promise from the director to arrange for a donation to be sent to us.
It had been an enjoyable few days and I looked forward to seeing the finished product on the television. It was eventually screened in May 2016, which would have been an excellent time to tell the nation about “Hazel” and her mission to help people with mental health issues by taking them into the waterway environment. I had, however, an uneasy feeling that, a verbal promise from a TV director might not be worth the paper it was written on.
My fears were confirmed when I saw the programme. The only mention of the Wooden Canal Boat Society was in the credits at the end. There was nothing to explain that our star was travelling on important historic wooden boats, in fact, to the uninitiated the boats must have seemed a bit of a mystery.
Far be it from me to tell an established TV director how to make a programme, but actually these boats are very interesting to most people. Whenever we travel anywhere with them we see people aiming their cameras and 'phones as we pass and people with only a passing interest in waterways come over to as about them. When I mention their project to give time in the waterway environment for people who are mentally unwell, this often strikes a chord, for even if the person I am talking to has not themselves suffered mental illness, they will almost certainly have a friend or relative who has. By reneging on our agreement the director not only made me very angry but he actually made a much less interesting programme.
Unsurprisingly, the promised donation did not immediately turn up, however, shortly after the screening someone from the TV company rang up to ask if it was OK to pass my number on to someone who was interested in the history of the boat. I said that was fine, then went on to explain how disappointed I was at the lack of integrity that had been displayed. He was very apologetic and said that he would pursue the matter of a donation.
After a little while a generous donation of £100 appeared in the society's bank account. That's £25 for each day of filming! Shortly afterwards Beth and Arnold Allen, who have been great "Hazel" supporters, visited. Arnold said he would contact the company. He did so, resulting in a further £400 personal donation from the boss.
*The village referred to was the transhipment point between the Peak Forrest Tramway, which brought limestone down from quarries around Dove Holes, and the Peak Forest Canal. For centuries it was called Bugsworth but, during Queen Victoria's reign, the residents decided that they wished to expunge any suggestion that they may be troubled by small bitey creatures, so they changed the name to Buxworth. I prefer to use the original spelling.
I've had a tiring couple of weeks.
On Monday 23rd October we started our canal clean ups. We were expecting two groups to join us and I was a bit concerned that there would be more people than I could find jobs and equipment for. It was drizzling. Phil Smith from CRT arrived with lots of litter pickers, grappling irons etc. Luke arrived and we decided to hang on to wait for others. No-one showed up, so me and Luke set off for lock 1W. We hauled out a few shopping trolleys then went up the lock.
Aaron and Kim joined us and we looked for the obstruction in Whitelands tunnel. I think it's mostly stone, which we're unable to get out, but Aaron and Kim pulled out a huge lorry tyre which couldn't have been helping things.
(This series of photos by Luke Clarke)
At lock 2 we used the boat to access an area covered in rubbish that had been annoying me for ages and cleaned it up. Kim had to leave above lock 3 and time was pressing so we moved on to Stayley Wharf.
It had been a bit disappointing but we had a respectable haul. I cycled down to Portland Basin to get the van and, as dusk fell, me and Aaron loaded the van with scrap iron, piled cut foliage in a neat heap and piled non recyclables on the bank.
Being a Monday I was fasting, so I enjoyed a bit of solitude aboard “Forget me Not”, reading a book. I went to sleep early but was up again well before dawn. I drove to the boatyard to pick up batteries and more scrap, then to Portland Basin to pick up even more scrap and change batteries on various bilge pumps. From here I went to Mullaneys scrapyard up near Hartshead Pike, unloaded the scrap, then back to Portland Basin where the van was to be collected for shop deliveries. I cycled up the towpath to get back to the boat about 9.30 in time for Phil to pick up the rubbish.
Tuesdays team were mostly volunteers organised by Peter Hawley, the Stalybridge Town centre Manager. About half a dozen arrived. I suggested backing up to clear the narrows near the aqueduct as this is a favourite place for getting stuck if the level is down a bit. Trainee skipper Alan took the controls as I steered the reversing boat with a shaft from the bow. We got plenty of road signs, bikes and trolleys out of the narrows. Some of the trolleys were so embedded in mud that we had to drag the grappling irons with the boat to get them out. One raised concerns that the iron might be caught on a plug to drain the canal, but it was only a trolley.
Some of the volunteers preferred litter picking, and there was plenty to find. They dragged bulk bags along the towpath to contain it all. Above lock 4 Phil met us with the CRT pickup to take away the rubbish. As I pulled away with the boat I noticed that the grappling iron that I was towing was causing much disturbance and globs of oil. I'd hooked on to a motor scooter which, with much effort, we dragged on to the bank, then pushed to above lock 5 to load it. I informed the police of our find.
The narrows below Armentierres Square is a happy hunting ground for shopping trolleys. “Forget me Not” stuck on one, but we soon had it out.
With the deck well loaded with soggy smelly scrap again everyone left at lock 6 and I travelled on alone through 7,
then winded and backed up to the boatyard. This wasn't easy as a wind had sprung up and there was stuff on the blade. A passer by helped me remove some clothing from the propeller and I told him about recycling trips which he says he'll join us on. With the boat tied at Knowl St I was off home for the night.
Wednesday was a sorting out and repositioning day. Tony and Aaron arrived to help unload the boat, filling the boatyard with dripping smelly bikes and trolleys. We loaded on to the boat foliage from the boatyard trimming of the previous week then set off back down the locks, collecting the brash that we'd left at Staley Wharf. At the railway bridge behind Asda there was a stack of trolleys that someone had previously fished out, rusting in the undergrowth, so we stopped and loaded these up, then ferried them to the inaccessible space under Cavendish St Bridge, where they were exchanged for more foliage which someone had left there and some bags of rubbish.
At Portland Basin we turned left into the Peak Forest canal and unloaded the brushwood at the intended site for the Samhain fire, a patch of himalayan balsam next to the Great Central railway bridge.
We haven't used the winding hole at Jet Amber Fields for a few years, since a huge raft of american pennywort prevented us from winding. However, this seems to have subsided, so we decided to try it, rather than carry on to Hyde to wind. “Forget me Not” just managed to get round, though I doubt if we would succeed with “Hazel” as she is deeper at the bow.
We tied the boat at Portland Basin to await the next days adventure.
Thursday was the day for dibbling for rubbish in the Peak Forest canal. As well as the usual suspects we had Albert and Adam from the shop and a couple of new volunteers who had seen it advertised. We started right at the exit from the basin, looking for whatever the boat had bounced over there the previous day. We found nothing, it must have moved. Slowly we worked our way through Dukinfield to the lift bridge. Our new volunteers tended to hang back, constantly and mostly fruitlessly casting their grappling irons in the same spot as the boat left them behind.
I managed to gather everyone together at the lift bridge, a known trouble spot, and do some intensive grappling. The results were disappointing, though we did pull out some tyres. I found a clue to the problem here when I pulled out a brick with the keb. I think someone has tipped a load of rubble in here, which will need one of those rare and fabulous beasts, a dredger, to remove it.
I was eager to get to more problem areas further up the canal. The Great Central railway bridge was the next one. Some homeless people were camped on the old pit loading wharf there. It had been adopted as park land but appears to have been abandoned by the council as a result of funding cuts.
“Forget me Not” frequently touches the bottom along here but my hunch was that the problem was mostly railway ballast, carelessly cast into the canal by the railway authorities. This turned out to be the case, though we found quite a lot more debris in the water which we were able to remove. This included quite a lot of scaffolding, I suspect lost by contractors painting the bridge girders, and several more tyres.
I had an idea about the source of the tyres. Some time ago I had noticed a load of tyres dumped near Dunkirk bridge. These had now disappeared. My hunch was that they had found their way into the canal, which would explain the difficulty sometimes experienced in traversing this narrow bridgehole.
Tempus was busily fugiting so we hurried on to the afformentioned Dunkirk bridge, which “Forget me Not” frequently struggles to get through. Here, as anticipated, we pulled out lots of discarded tyres as well as the usual bikes, trolleys and what looked like the remnants of a pottery kiln.
A grappling iron got hooked on something that all the huffing and puffing of volunteers couldn't shift. I followed my usual procedure of attaching the line to the dollies and towing it out, but this time the line parted, so, we were one grappling iron down.
At the M67 motorway bridge there was a line of items that someone had clearly pulled out before us leaning against the concrete (there's a You Tube video of someone fishing them out with a powerful magnet) They included a large number of wheelclamps! We went through the bridge and winded. I would have liked to have backed up to Manchester Road bridge, another trouble spot, but time was pressing and volunteers were ebbing away. Returning through the motorway bridge we picked up the wheelclamps etc and enjoyed the trip back to Ashton in the fading light.
Friday was spent clearing away the spoils of the week and preparing “Hazel” for some overnight guests.
Early on Saturday morning I started getting “Forget me Not” ready for the trip. Our guests were a family from the North East, though coming originally from Chelmsford and all round the world. One of them was celebrating a milestone birthday and his wife had booked the stay on the boat and a trip to Roaches lock and back as a surprise.
Some were dubious about our ability to get to Roaches in a day. Though it's only about 5 miles and 14 locks it's on the difficult and unreliable Huddersfield Narrow Canal. As well as the usual suspects, myself, Tony and Aaron, Luke joined us again and I had recruited tree surgeon Joe and leaflet deliverer Andy.
We started at 9 and were soon starting to work up the locks towards Stalybridge. The weather was dull and drizzling. Things went smoothly at first, though I was a little concerned that, though the water levels were OK, there was no water running over the weirs. This made me think that there may be trouble ahead.
Trouble presented itself in the pound above lock 8, Grove Road. The pound was well down. This was a surprise as several substantial streams feed this pound. I've no idea where the water was going but it wasn't feeding down the canal.
I walked on to set the next lock, but, before I reached it, I got a call from Tony to say that the boats were stemmed in mid channel.
The affected pound is long by Huddersfield canal standards. The next one up is short. I virtually emptied it supplying enough water to bring the boats up to the lock. This meant I had to run down water from the pound above to get through this pound, thus lowering the next pound up. Going uphill, if you get a low pound you are constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul in this way.
Between 11 and 12, through Scout tunnel, the pound is slightly longer and I hoped to get through without robbing any water from further up. Sludging carefully along the middle it looked like we would succeed, until the boats firmly stuck just a few yards from lock 12. This meant stealing more water to get into the lock.
The next pound up runs through Mossley and was the longest that we would pass through. Despite this, getting the boats those last few yards took enough water to drop it a few inches below weir level.
Still, things looked good and we made steady progress until the second bridgehole, where “Forget me Not” got firmly stuck. It was only after much hard work that we got her moving again.
By the time we got into lock 14, Woodbank lock, it was dark. Some of our crew were getting anxious about getting home and our guests were expressing anxiety about their 6.30 booking at the Roaches Lock pub. There was only a short distance of winding canal to traverse and Tony made a good job of steering the pair through the pitch black.
As we reached the wide below Roaches we breasted up and, as a moored fibreglass cruiser loomed up ahead of us, tied rather clumsily just short of it. Our guests hurried up the bepuddled towpath to the pub whilst our crew trudged off down the road towards Mossley station, where the trains turned out to be buses, so they got a bus instead.
With the boats secured I went out in search of food, which I found in an Indian takeaway. I sat on the balance beam of lock 16 in the continuing rain, eating my meal and listening to the water running over the weir.
That night, the clocks changed. I used the extra hour to tidy up and organise firewood. I wondered if the crew would arrive on time. It was important to get moving early to avoid running on into the night. I walked down to the lock and got it ready so that, if necessary, I could start the boats moving with just a little help from our guests.
Today the usual suspects were to be augmented by Keith and Elsa Williamson, who gave some people lifts from Ashton. I'd just got the engine started when they began to arrive. A towpath walker warned of a low pound in Mossley.
Soon we were winded and on our way, working smoothly through Woodbank lock. A short pound brought us to lock 13, where we saw with dismay that the walker had not been exaggerating. The longest pound of our trip, through the centre of Mossley, was nearly empty.
We ran the motor down the lock and she sat, with her counter well out of the water, on rubbish in the bottom. We drew the top paddles then rushed to jump aboard at the tail of the lock as the boat, carried by the rush of water, shot out like an express train, only to stem up and sit awkwardly across the canal.
I walked to the next lock to see if I could find the reason for the problem. Elsa was ahead of me. We found that a top paddle was up and the bottom gates were leaking badly. I was worried that it could be our fault, did we leave a paddle up? Thinking back to the previous day I recalled that, at that particular lock, I had repeatedly asked one of our crew to shut the paddle until he eventually did, so clearly the problem wasn't our fault. This is why I try to drum into new crew members to shut the paddles as soon as the gates are open, otherwise its so easy to forget.
Later we heard that , the previous night, a dog walker had chased off some kids who were messing with the lock machinery. On this particular paddle the anti vandal lock was broken.
Our crew began running water down, but the short pound above the lock would soon be depleted so I walked up to Woodbank lock to steal some water from the longer pound up to Roaches. Eventually, Tony rang me to say that “Forget me Not” was afloat again. I shut the paddles and, after working the butty down, the pair set off, carefully, slowly, sludging along the muddy middle of the canal. Aaron stayed at lock 13, alternately filling and emptying the lock to send waves of water along the canal to lift the boats over any obstructions.The boats stuck solid in the same bridgehole that we had had problems with on the way up.
I ran down more water from Woodbank to help the now nearly empty short pound then, when I dare take no more, returned to the stuck boats. Elsa, who had stayed at lock 12 asked if she could bring an uphill boat up the lock, then we could use the same water to take our boat down. I asked her to hold the boat below the lock. Taking a lockfull off the pound would delay getting our boats unstuck, we wouldn't be able to pass each other and the leaky gates would soon empty the full lock anyway.
Eventually, with the pound nearly full and the ballast tanks emptied, we got moving again. Elsa rang again. The Eastbound boater was getting impatient. I explained that we were nearly there, as we stemmed up again. This time it just needed a bit of work with the shaft to get the boats moving . We reached the lock, worked the motor through, the impatient boat came up then the butty followed down and we carried on through Scout tunnel.
We were now on a waterway well supplied with water. Things went smoothly for a while but it was already well into the afternoon. At lock 7, near the boatyard in Stalybridge, some of our guests had to leave to catch a train. They thanked us profusely for the trip and said they would be back.
The procedure for working the pair down a narrow lock is as follows:- First the motor is worked down while the butty lies against the top gate. The lock is then refilled and the motor backs up, tiller removed, to sit with her fenders against the bottom gates, ticking over in reverse gear. It's very important that the boat is in contact with the bottom gates. When the bottom paddles are drawn to bring the butty down a powerful eddy holds the motor in place. The steerer can do nothing so they can go into the cabin and attend to the range. If the motor is not against the gates it will be brought back and crash into them with tremendous force. When the lock is empty the reversing boat simply pushes the gates open, the steerer picks up the towline and attaches it to the dollies and the pair steam on along the next pound.
As we approached lock 7 I had been preparing 6 bacon and egg butties for the crew. 6 rounds of bread were buttered on the table and the fillings were cooking on the range. I asked the motor steerer to back up to the gates and finish making the butties (sandwiches). We worked the butty (boat) down, but when I went to see about distributing the butties (sandwiches) I was told we had a problem. The swans neck was pointing in completely the wrong direction. The rudder had got turned far beyond its normal arc of operation and was now jammed under the counter, where it had hit the propeller and stalled the engine.
Clearly the boat had not been against the gates when the paddles were drawn and the rudder had caught on something as the power of the eddying water hammered the boat backwards. Our attempts to untangle the ironwork only resulted in bending the tiller. As I tied up the motor to allow the butty through the butties (sandwiches) were distributed. I was rather miffed not to get one.
There was nothing for it but to bowhaul the butty for the rest of the trip and leave the disabled motor where she was. Me and Aaron took turns at bowhauling, Tony was suffering from a bruised leg as a result of being hit by a flying pallett during the cleanup, so he steered. Luke lockwheeled without a bicycle.
The remaining locks were dealt with quickly and efficiently in the gathering dark. At the Asda tunnel some of us lay on the roof and stretched our legs up to walk upside down along the smooth concrete, then we shafted the boat along the towpathless stretch past Cavendish Mill to tie up at Portland Basin at about 6 PM.
I had been a little concerned that our guests may have been disappointed with their experience. They had spent most of the trip inside the cabin and didn't seem to be taking much interest in the boating activity. As they left, however, it was quite clear that “Hazel” had worked her magic on them. They told us they had really enjoyed the trip. They had rather stressful jobs and had appreciated the relaxation afforded by their time on the boat.
Once everyone had left I headed back up to Stalybridge. There had been some young scallywags hanging around the town centre as we passed through so I wanted to make sure that “Forget me Not” was safe. After spending a pleasant night in the back cabin I started shafting the boat down the locks. Near the Tame aqueduct she stemmed up in mid channel. A little work with the keb brought out a tyre, one that we missed during the cleanup. At the Clarence St moorings the boat stemmed up again, this time on a submerged tree trunk. It took the efforts of myself and several of the residents to dislodge the boat then recover the offending log. One of the moorers caught me up at lock 3 offering to help, but I turned him down, partly because you can't really have 2 people shafting and partly because I was just enjoying doing it on my own.
As I neared my destination I got a 'phone call from Janet, our neighbour at Knowl St. She thought that someone had climbed into the boatyard. As soon as I got the boat tied abreast of “Lilith” I cycled post haste to Stalybridge. There had indeed been an intruder as I could see that things had been disturbed, but I couldn't identify anything as missing. I collected the van and drove home for a good rest.
Tuesday night should have been the night of the Samhain fire, but I was too busy to organise it so the brushwood will have to wait until the Winter Solstice before it is ignited.
I had arranged to meet a police officer on Friday morning to hand over the motor scooter. When she arrived at the boatyard I led her to the place where we had unloaded it. There was nothing there! Perhaps this was the target of our Monday intruders.
On Friday evening I shafted “Forget me Not” to Ashton Packet Boats boatyard in Guide Bridge. On Saturday morning they pulled her out on the slip and we found that the damage was nothing that a few good blows with a sledgehammer wouldn't put right. With the rudder untangled “Forget me Not” was ready for action again, just in time for the November recycling trips, which were excellent.
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Today we took "Forget me Not" and "Hazel" to Marple. Our guests were people who have been dealng with depression. It was wonderful to see them enjoying the positive ambience of the boat and the waterway. That's what "Hazel" is for!
