The Best Laid Plans!
Having "Southam" and "Lilith" stranded at
Scarisbrick has been very inconvenient. At long last the gearbox was
ready and me and Frank travelled over there on Tuesday to instal it.
Once everything was connected up we gave it a try and, once we were
satisfied that it was adjusted properly, I set off with the boats
breasted up.
Frank had to head home. I said it was about time he came for a
boat trip as he does loads of work but has never actually been out on
the boats. He said canal boats are too slow for him. He used to own a
powerboat that would do 60 knots! Funnily enough, though speed has
its excitement, I think I'd soon get bored with that. Each to their
own.
Alan, the very helpful owner of Red Lion Caravans who had kept our
batteries charged during the long sojourn at Scarisbrick, gave a
parting gift in the form of a little used battery for our bilge
pumps.
The only difficulty in taking both boats singlehanded was the
swing bridges. It would be hard for me to operate these and handle
the boats at the same time. I rang my friend Cookie who lives at
Burscough. As the first swing bridge hove into view I spotted a
little girl on a pink bike on the towpath. It was Cookie's daughter,
Cara. She enjoyed a ride on the bridge as Cookie swung it out of my
path, then the two of them whizzed past on their bikes to operate the
next bridge.
At Burscough we met Keith and Elsa Williams. Keith, formerly a
very active man with a building business, had been struck down with
some obscure life threatening illness. After ages in a wheelchair he
is now walking again with the aid of a stick, and coming on his first
boat trip since his illness.
We tied up next to the boat where Cara, Cookie and her partner
Kenny live. I got on my bike and rode back the 4 miles to Scarisbrick
to collect the van. I drove back to Ashton to make arrangements to
keep the rest of the fleet afloat in my absence. At Portland Basin I
met Joe and took him through the various pumps that need to be
checked regularly. With that organised I went home and flopped into
bed.
Next morning I was up with the lark to feed Captain Kit and check
the boats before catching the 7.34 AM train from Ashton station. I
was joined by Ian. I had been expecting Bex too, but she rang me
later to explain that her dog had had a crisis with his ear and she'd
had to take him to the vet.
The crowded train took us straight to Burscough, and a short walk
along the main street brought us to the canal. I set to work with the
aid of Kenny and Cookie's generator to repair some damage done by an
overconfident trainee steerer in Liverpool. We sorted out the food
kitty and Elsa went out to stock up on provisions.
It was about 20 to 12 when we set out. Ian steered the butty. He
hadn't done this before and was on his own, but he took to it like a
duck to water. Some people seem to learn instinctively. Others seem
to never learn to steer, however much you try to teach them. Cara
enjoyed watching the passing scene from the foredeck under the
watchful eyes of Cookie, Keith and Elsa. Cookie took care of the
swing bridges again, which involved a lot of running as she was now
bikeless. Keith and Elsa kept everyone supplied with sausage butties,
cups of tea etc.
It was a beautiful blazing hot day as we chuntered along the wide
canal, busy with pleasure boats, walkers and cyclists. I steered
"Southam" and listened to the engine note for any trace of
the gearbox slipping. Many people asked about the boats, but the
noise of the engine made it difficult to hear. I would tell them that
the butty was 108 years old as that was the answer to the most
frequent question. A cyclist stopped as we approached, took out his
camera and videoed our passing.
Sausage butties and brews distributed, Elsa came to take over
steering and I just stood on the gunwale and kept an eye on things.
We swung round the tight turn at Parbold and followed the canal up
the narrowing Douglas valley. The flatlands were now behind us and
the outside of the canal became a thickly wooded bank. Below us to
the right was the wandering course of the Douglas, once navigable by
Mersey Flats, but later superseded by the canal.
The engine revs began to oscillate, a sure sign that the gearbox
is slipping. This was not surprising. Frank had said that it may need
adjusting again when the clutch plates had bedded in. We breasted up
the boats and tied up on the towpath. I removed the gearbox
inspection plate and unscrewed the locking bolt on the adjuster. I
was afraid of dropping a component and handled the hot pieces of
metal very carefully. About a quarter turn on the adjuster was plenty
and then I had to screw in the locking bolt again, taking care not to
drop it. The bolt had to be tight and Frank had left me a socket to
screw it down with, there being no room for a normal spanner. As I
went to put the socket on the bolt it slipped out of my fingers and
dropped into the gearbox. I put my hand in to look for it, but it was
still too hot.
I went forward for a cup of tea to wait for the heat to dissipate.
On my return I found that the temperature was now bearable and
plunged my hand into the warm oil. Though I was now able to get it
deep into the machinery, there was still no way I could reach down
into the sump to retrieve the socket. I decided that it was too heavy
and compact to become a literal spanner in the works, so I abandoned
it to its oily fate. This left the problem of how to tighten the
locking bolt. I rooted through the toolbox and made a lucky discovery
of a bicycle spanner that fitted perfectly and was short enough to
turn inside the gearbox.
With the locking bolt tightened and lid re-fitted I started the
engine and we carried on, staying breasted as it was only a short
distance to Apperley lock, a huge deep chasm of a lock with badly
leaking top gates that flooded "Lilith"s stern on the way
down.
This time there was less of a Niagara, largely because the level
above the lock was about 2 feet down. Some of Cookies friends on one
of those big wide steel boats that are now so popular round here had
tied up next to the lock in the entrance to the abandoned locks that
used to run parrallel. We worked up and gingerly pushed forward into
the half empty waterway, singled out once again. All was well as long
as I kept "Southam" right in the middle. The waves that our
passage created at the sides betrayed the shallowness of the water.
A good crew seems to work by ESP, everyone knowing what is
required and just going ahead and doing it. It takes ages to reach
that stage though, and, in the meantime, there is manifold scope for
things to go wrong through misunderstandings. Verbal communication is
difficult over 140 feet of boat with the steerer standing next to a
noisy engine. A series of misunderstandings led to the arrival at
Dean Lock being a little embarrasing.
Between the village of Apperley Bridge and the lock I remembered
that there were some swing bridges locked open out of use. These
would make excellent places for Cookie to get off and run ahead to
set the lock. As we approached the second of these I made sure that
it would be easy for her to get off, but she made no move to do so.
Assuming that there was a third bridge, Cookie knows this canal
better than me, I carried on, only to see the locks come into view
with no handy narrows. I gingerly moved "Southam" towards
the bank and Cookie jumped off with her windlass. As I started to
ease the motor away from the bank, thankful that she had not stemmed
up, I began to wonder why Ian had the tiller pushed hard over on the
butty. "Other way" I bellowed. In reply he indicated the
abandoned lock that we were passing. As at Apperley, in the 1890s
traffic on this canal was so heavy that they doubled the locks. The
second, parrallel, set were abandoned years ago but are still
complete, though unusable. Ian didn't know this and couldn't
understand why we were passing the lock.
As we approached the operational Dean Lock, Cookie was still
preparing it. I tried to breast up the boats to wait, but got
"Southam" into shallow water. As I tried to get her into
the channel again, and breast up the butty at the same time, things
got worse as we drifted into the shallow entrance to the arm that
hundreds of years ago connected with the River Douglas. The boats
came to an ignonimous stop as "Southam"s stem impacted the
copings.
After much thrashing about in black silty water we got the pair
into the lock. As it filled I remembered that we should have stopped
in the tail of the lock to fill the water tank. "It doesn't
matter", I thought, "we can fill up later today in Wigan".
Above the active lock there is a wide channel leading to the
abandoned lock. In this was a small fibreglass cruiser with two men
aboard. They asked for a jump start as their battery was flat. I
asked them to move their boat alongside the head of the lock and, as
"Southam"s engine room drew level with their boat, I
stopped the pair and set up jump leads. The two sets that were on
board combined just managed to span the distance to the little boat
and soon its little engine was whirring away again.
Above Dean Lock the M6 motorway crosses the valley on a high
viaduct, its constant roar the only detriment to the peacefulness of
a winding, wooded, tranquil waterway. We chugged through a stone hump
backed bridge and were hailed by the inhabitants of a moored pleasure
boat. They told us that the next lock was closed through lack of
water and it would be best to stay here. I agreed as the next lock I
knew to be in a slightly grim location. I signalled Ian to breast up
and we brought the boats into the towpath. Cookie said that it was a
common problem of vandals draining the canal in an area known as
Hells Meadow.
It was a pleasant spot where the canal is bordered on both sides
by young woodland. Opposite a marshy area in the woodland indicates
the mouth of a small stream, perhaps the reason why this pound
remains full of water while all around are empty. When I first
travelled this way in 1977 we spent a night in this spot. At that
time a spindly wooden viaduct spanned the canal and river. It carried
a narrow gauge railway that transported the products of an explosives
works to the station for transhipment and onward travel by rail. Now
the works is gone and wagonload rail freight a thing of the past.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Southam%20Lilith%20sun%203%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
A boat passed towing our friends who we had jump started. They had
now run out of petrol.
The nearby station of Gathurst makes this an ideal spot for people
to join and leave the boats and I was soon on the 'phone making
arrangements. After an excursion with Keith and Elsa to the pub at
nearby Crooke,Cookie and Cara caught a train home. At various times
through the evening Ian's partner Lesley (Lel)and Bex arrived
separately by train and Russell Evans arrived by bike, having cycled
the towpath from Manchester. Bex brought her dog Satan. The name is
ironic,a less satanic hound would be hard to imagine.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Bex%20Russell%202%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
Elsa cooked us all an excellent meal which we enjoyed on
"Southam"s fore end in the evening sunshine. A discordant
note spoiled the evening a little. What I took to be friendly banter
as we sorted out the food kitty suddenly turned into a noisy
confrontation between two people. I hate it when my friends fall out,
especially on a boat trip. I recall a trip back from the potteries
many years ago when I had to do my best to keep two people 140 feet
apart! Luckily, in this case, both parties realised that it was
important to minimise the acrimony, though I had to spend the evening
walking on a carpet of eggshells.
As we approached the operational Dean Lock, Cookie was still
preparing it. I tried to breast up the boats to wait, but got
"Southam" into shallow water. As I tried to get her into
the channel again, and breast up the butty at the same time, things
got worse as we drifted into the shallow entrance to the arm that
hundreds of years ago connected with the River Douglas. The boats
came to an ignonimous stop as "Southam"s stem impacted the
copings.
After much thrashing about in black silty water we got the pair
into the lock. As it filled I remembered that we should have stopped
in the tail of the lock to fill the water tank. "It doesn't
matter", I thought, "we can fill up later today in Wigan".
Above the active lock there is a wide channel leading to the
abandoned lock. In this was a small fibreglass cruiser with two men
aboard. They asked for a jump start as their battery was flat. I
asked them to move their boat alongside the head of the lock and, as
"Southam"s engine room drew level with their boat, I
stopped the pair and set up jump leads. The two sets that were on
board combined just managed to span the distance to the little boat
and soon its little engine was whirring away again.
Above Dean Lock the M6 motorway crosses the valley on a high
viaduct, its constant roar the only detriment to the peacefulness of
a winding, wooded, tranquil waterway. We chugged through a stone hump
backed bridge and were hailed by the inhabitants of a moored pleasure
boat. They told us that the next lock was closed through lack of
water and it would be best to stay here. I agreed as the next lock I
knew to be in a slightly grim location. I signalled Ian to breast up
and we brought the boats into the towpath. Cookie said that it was a
common problem of vandals draining the canal in an area known as
Hells Meadow.
It was a pleasant spot where the canal is bordered on both sides
by young woodland. Opposite a marshy area in the woodland indicates
the mouth of a small stream, perhaps the reason why this pound
remains full of water while all around are empty. When I first
travelled this way in 1977 we spent a night in this spot. At that
time a spindly wooden viaduct spanned the canal and river. It carried
a narrow gauge railway that transported the products of an explosives
works to the station for transhipment and onward travel by rail. Now
the works is gone and wagonload rail freight a thing of the past.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Southam%20Lilith%20sun%203%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
A boat passed towing our friends who we had jump started. They had
now run out of petrol.
The nearby station of Gathurst makes this an ideal spot for people
to join and leave the boats and I was soon on the 'phone making
arrangements. After an excursion with Keith and Elsa to the pub at
nearby Crooke,Cookie and Cara caught a train home. At various times
through the evening Ian's partner Lesley (Lel)and Bex arrived
separately by train and Russell Evans arrived by bike, having cycled
the towpath from Manchester. Bex brought her dog Satan. The name is
ironic,a less satanic hound would be hard to imagine.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Bex%20Russell%202%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
Elsa cooked us all an excellent meal which we enjoyed on
"Southam"s fore end in the evening sunshine. A discordant
note spoiled the evening a little. What I took to be friendly banter
as we sorted out the food kitty suddenly turned into a noisy
confrontation between two people. I hate it when my friends fall out,
especially on a boat trip. I recall a trip back from the potteries
many years ago when I had to do my best to keep two people 140 feet
apart! Luckily, in this case, both parties realised that it was
important to minimise the acrimony, though I had to spend the evening
walking on a carpet of eggshells.
As we approached the operational Dean Lock, Cookie was still
preparing it. I tried to breast up the boats to wait, but got
"Southam" into shallow water. As I tried to get her into
the channel again, and breast up the butty at the same time, things
got worse as we drifted into the shallow entrance to the arm that
hundreds of years ago connected with the River Douglas. The boats
came to an ignonimous stop as "Southam"s stem impacted the
copings.
After much thrashing about in black silty water we got the pair
into the lock. As it filled I remembered that we should have stopped
in the tail of the lock to fill the water tank. "It doesn't
matter", I thought, "we can fill up later today in Wigan".
Above the active lock there is a wide channel leading to the
abandoned lock. In this was a small fibreglass cruiser with two men
aboard. They asked for a jump start as their battery was flat. I
asked them to move their boat alongside the head of the lock and, as
"Southam"s engine room drew level with their boat, I
stopped the pair and set up jump leads. The two sets that were on
board combined just managed to span the distance to the little boat
and soon its little engine was whirring away again.
Above Dean Lock the M6 motorway crosses the valley on a high
viaduct, its constant roar the only detriment to the peacefulness of
a winding, wooded, tranquil waterway. We chugged through a stone hump
backed bridge and were hailed by the inhabitants of a moored pleasure
boat. They told us that the next lock was closed through lack of
water and it would be best to stay here. I agreed as the next lock I
knew to be in a slightly grim location. I signalled Ian to breast up
and we brought the boats into the towpath. Cookie said that it was a
common problem of vandals draining the canal in an area known as
Hells Meadow.
It was a pleasant spot where the canal is bordered on both sides
by young woodland. Opposite a marshy area in the woodland indicates
the mouth of a small stream, perhaps the reason why this pound
remains full of water while all around are empty. When I first
travelled this way in 1977 we spent a night in this spot. At that
time a spindly wooden viaduct spanned the canal and river. It carried
a narrow gauge railway that transported the products of an explosives
works to the station for transhipment and onward travel by rail. Now
the works is gone and wagonload rail freight a thing of the past.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Southam%20Lilith%20sun%203%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
A boat passed towing our friends who we had jump started. They had
now run out of petrol.
The nearby station of Gathurst makes this an ideal spot for people
to join and leave the boats and I was soon on the 'phone making
arrangements. After an excursion with Keith and Elsa to the pub at
nearby Crooke,Cookie and Cara caught a train home. At various times
through the evening Ian's partner Lesley (Lel)and Bex arrived
separately by train and Russell Evans arrived by bike, having cycled
the towpath from Manchester. Bex brought her dog Satan. The name is
ironic,a less satanic hound would be hard to imagine.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Bex%20Russell%202%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
Elsa cooked us all an excellent meal which we enjoyed on
"Southam"s fore end in the evening sunshine. A discordant
note spoiled the evening a little. What I took to be friendly banter
as we sorted out the food kitty suddenly turned into a noisy
confrontation between two people. I hate it when my friends fall out,
especially on a boat trip. I recall a trip back from the potteries
many years ago when I had to do my best to keep two people 140 feet
apart! Luckily, in this case, both parties realised that it was
important to minimise the acrimony, though I had to spend the evening
walking on a carpet of eggshells.
As we approached the operational Dean Lock, Cookie was still
preparing it. I tried to breast up the boats to wait, but got
"Southam" into shallow water. As I tried to get her into
the channel again, and breast up the butty at the same time, things
got worse as we drifted into the shallow entrance to the arm that
hundreds of years ago connected with the River Douglas. The boats
came to an ignonimous stop as "Southam"s stem impacted the
copings.
After much thrashing about in black silty water we got the pair
into the lock. As it filled I remembered that we should have stopped
in the tail of the lock to fill the water tank. "It doesn't
matter", I thought, "we can fill up later today in Wigan".
Above the active lock there is a wide channel leading to the
abandoned lock. In this was a small fibreglass cruiser with two men
aboard. They asked for a jump start as their battery was flat. I
asked them to move their boat alongside the head of the lock and, as
"Southam"s engine room drew level with their boat, I
stopped the pair and set up jump leads. The two sets that were on
board combined just managed to span the distance to the little boat
and soon its little engine was whirring away again.
Above Dean Lock the M6 motorway crosses the valley on a high
viaduct, its constant roar the only detriment to the peacefulness of
a winding, wooded, tranquil waterway. We chugged through a stone hump
backed bridge and were hailed by the inhabitants of a moored pleasure
boat. They told us that the next lock was closed through lack of
water and it would be best to stay here. I agreed as the next lock I
knew to be in a slightly grim location. I signalled Ian to breast up
and we brought the boats into the towpath. Cookie said that it was a
common problem of vandals draining the canal in an area known as
Hells Meadow.
It was a pleasant spot where the canal is bordered on both sides
by young woodland. Opposite a marshy area in the woodland indicates
the mouth of a small stream, perhaps the reason why this pound
remains full of water while all around are empty. When I first
travelled this way in 1977 we spent a night in this spot. At that
time a spindly wooden viaduct spanned the canal and river. It carried
a narrow gauge railway that transported the products of an explosives
works to the station for transhipment and onward travel by rail. Now
the works is gone and wagonload rail freight a thing of the past.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Southam%20Lilith%20sun%203%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
A boat passed towing our friends who we had jump started. They had
now run out of petrol.
The nearby station of Gathurst makes this an ideal spot for people
to join and leave the boats and I was soon on the 'phone making
arrangements. After an excursion with Keith and Elsa to the pub at
nearby Crooke,Cookie and Cara caught a train home. At various times
through the evening Ian's partner Lesley (Lel)and Bex arrived
separately by train and Russell Evans arrived by bike, having cycled
the towpath from Manchester. Bex brought her dog Satan. The name is
ironic,a less satanic hound would be hard to imagine.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20Bex%20Russell%202%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
Elsa cooked us all an excellent meal which we enjoyed on
"Southam"s fore end in the evening sunshine. A discordant
note spoiled the evening a little. What I took to be friendly banter
as we sorted out the food kitty suddenly turned into a noisy
confrontation between two people. I hate it when my friends fall out,
especially on a boat trip. I recall a trip back from the potteries
many years ago when I had to do my best to keep two people 140 feet
apart! Luckily, in this case, both parties realised that it was
important to minimise the acrimony, though I had to spend the evening
walking on a carpet of eggshells.
As dusk approached I decided to try to take an arty photograph of
the canal. A couple walking their dogs turned up at just the right
time to animate the scene, but, when she saw the camera, the female
party started to antic about, rather spoiling the image that I was
trying to create.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20evening%202%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
She was a small lively woman with a cheeky freckly face and a
barmy hat. Everything about her spoke of a rejection of convention.
She insisted on being photographed with her poodle.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Gathurst%20menagerie%20woman%20poodle%202%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
As her partner hung about looking embarrassed, the woman took
great interest in our boats and suggested that we should leave them
there so that she could live on them. After some discussion of the
idea she concluded that it would be impractical as she and her
partner had a huge menagerie, including a massive tank full of fish.
They walked on, but shortly afterwards returned asking if we had seen
one of her dogs. Russell said that it had run down the towpath. She
left me in charge of the huge bunch of keys to her private zoo to
facilitate an olympic sprint in pursuit of the canine, shortly
afterwards returning with the offending animal in tow.
Next morning dawned bright and shiny. I hauled myself out of
"Lilith"s little forecabin and went for a walk to explore
the area a little. I was particularly interested in the old Douglas
Navigation, abandoned in about 1780, but little is to be seen of the
old navigation works as the river has been improved for flood
prevention in recent decades.
I decided to cycle up to have a look at the waterless stretch of
canal. The area is well named as it is a bleak stretch of post
industrial wasteland, now encroached upon by the ugly new buildings
of a football stadium and retail park. The canal was certainly well
down. I could climb down the copings and stand on the bottom in
places without getting my feet wet.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Empty%20canal%20Wigan%203%206%2010%20pixie.JPG.html
I
carried on to find a huge branch of Asda where I stocked up on
provisions. On the way back I chatted with boaters stuck at the lock.
They said that something was going to happen at 1 PM.
After an excellent cooked breakfast I once more cycled into Wigan.
This time my aim was to visit the British Waterways offices. As I
waited in reception I could overhear a conversation between the
manager and a representative of boats mooring below the locks, now
restricted to 30 miles or so of canal between Apperley and Liverpool.
The overheard conversation answered most of my questions. There
was a severe water shortage exascerbated by leaking lock gates and
vandalism. Water was being pumped into the canal from the river but
it would not be open today and there was no date set for it's
re-opening. I had a talk with the manager, which confirmed all this,
then cycled back down the towpath. I spoke to the boaters who were
held up at the lock. One of them played the part of a self important
middle class **** by getting all aereated because the manager had not
come down to personally apologise individually to each boater. I
imagine she's too busy trying to solve the problem. Though I am often
irritated by British Waterways bureacracy, bungling and arrogance, I
really do sympathise with their task in dealing with so many boaters
who think themselves the centre of the universe.
As we talked a BW pickup arrived and I recognised the driver.
Robert is the brother of my friend Tony who set up the timber deal.
He had been sent to rack the gates. This involves throwing sawdust or
ash into the water above the gates. The flow of water through any
leaks will draw in the particles and so block them up. Robert got an
earful of moans about his bosses from the boaters, which only served
to delay his task of reducing leakage to aid their passage up the
lock.
Back at the boats we discussed the situation. It was now Thursday,
but it seemed unlikely that we would be moving before Saturday. On
Sunday I had to run a recycling trip, but there was now no way that
"Southam" would be back in time to provide a tow. This
meant that I would need to arrange a tow for "Forget me Not",
which meant that I needed to get back and start begging. We decided
to leave the boats at Gathurst. Bex and Russell would stay overnight
while Keith and Elsa popped home to Bolton. The following day Bex and
Russell would go home and Keith and Elsa would return to mind the
boats until Tuesday when we would attempt again to get through Wigan.
Elsa expressed concern about water supplies, so we decided to go back
to Dean Lock to top up the tank.
Leaving "Lilith" behind, we set off towards Crooke,
where it is possible to wind in the entrance to an arm. Elsa steered
us round the meanderings of the waterway under low flying tree
branches. Approaching Crooke we passed the long shortboats "Ambush"
and "Viktoria", originally built to serve Ainscoughs flour
mill at Burscough but now used for retail coal. As we passed the
moorings there was some human activity around one of the wide steel
boats. Elsa wanted to hand over to me for winding, but I insisted
that she do it. I talked her through the procedure which she
accomplished faultlessly, though needlessly panicking when our stern
came within 6 feet of a moored cruiser.
With the boat facing back towards Gathurst I shouted in Elsa's ear
"forward gear and wind some power on". At that moment the
wide beam craft, low in the water like some early monitor, slid into
view with barely 6 feet to spare between it and the moored craft.
"Reverse?" asked Elsa. "No" I replied, and took
over. In sterngear (reverse) "Southam" lurches to the left,
which would take her right into the path of the leviathan. I
carefully pushed the bow forward into the tiny gap which semed to
widen as we moved into it. Though the boats touched slightly there
was no damage and no crisis.
We plodded back down the winding canal followed by a green
Dawncraft cruiser. Passing "Lilith" we went on through the
hump backed bridge towards the motorway viaduct. There is a winding
hole above the lock but it was partially blocked by a wide beam
maintenance craft. I asked Bex to take a line on to this and take a
turn on one of its forward bollards. This sprung the boat round
across the canal. Elsa and I on the stern end were plunged into
substantial foliage on the outside of the canal. I asked Bex to give
the line some slack. She did this and our bow slid forward up to the
coping stones, which just gave enough room to get the stern end
round. I drew the paddles to fill the lock as the green cruiser,
shortly after followed by the huge wide boat that had caused such
consternation at Crooke, slid behind us into the channel that once
led to the other lock, joining other pleasure craft already moored
there.
My plan had been to work "Southam" down the lock, back
out to the tap, fill up then work back up. As Elsa backed the boat
into the lock I noticed that the pleasure boats beside the lock had
rigged up an extended hose. I asked if we could use it and permission
was readily granted. The tank took ages to fill, which suggested that
this little jaunt was a wise move.
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/186/483743566/Liverpool_trip_April_2010/Southam%20watering%20Dean%20Lock%203%206%2010.JPG.html
With the tank eventually refilled we chugged back up the valley to
tie just behind "Lilith", which we then handballed back on
to the outside of "Southam". Though it is conventional to
breast up with the butty on the inside, this arrangement would make
it easier for Keith, who had struggled to climb over "Lilith"s
forecabin.
I organised my possessions, locked my cabin and walked to the
station. The train was crammed with returning seasiders and I
struggled to get my bike in. As it was going to Picadilly I decided
to use the connection from there to Guide Bridge, then ride the short
distance to Portland Basin to check on the boats before going home.
All was well and I enjoyed having tea with Emuna.
