Bugsworth, Bollington and back to Marple

In the morning Liz and Peter, her husband joined us, having cycled from Portland Basin. Kim met us at the locks. As Liz had been getting good at handling the motor boat I suggested that she take "Forget me Not" ahead up the locks with Kim's assistance while the rest of us followed on with the butty, taking turns at bowhauling between locks.

As we were working up Marple locks there was some concern about the locks being closed through lack of water. They were indeed closed at 3 PM but we were told they would re-open at 3 on Monday.

We met the final downhill boat in the short pound below the top lock. There were some problems getting the bowhauling line past the rooftop flower beds on the other boat and, in the process, it snagged on the timberhead. In trying to sort this out Aaron lost his balance and fell into "Hazel"s fore end, breaking one of the benches, but luckily he was unhurt. Aaron is widely believed to be indestructible!.

The boats spent the night  breasted up on the lock landing at the head of the locks as there were not going to be any lock users for the time being. The fuel delivery boat "Alton" appeared out of the Macclesfield canal and turned towards Whaley Bridge.

Promptly at 8AM in the morning Darren Shepherd arrived on his bike. We set off with Aaron steering the motor, Darren on the butty and me walking ahead to work the swing and lift bridges. With the low water levels "Forget me Not" struggled to get through some of these.

The upper Peak Forest runs on a ledge high up on the side of the Goyt valley with lovely views across into the hills of Derbyshire. 

The Goyt valley reminds me of a huge scenic model railway as different lines built long ago by competing companies appear and disappear and pop out of tunnels. From the canal the distant trains look like they are 00 scale.


Our target for the day was Bugsworth Basins, where once limestone was loaded into boats from the horse powered Peak Forest Tramway. https://canalrivertrust.org.uk/places-to-visit/bugsworth-basin  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peak_Forest_Tramway

It was the birthday of one of our guests and I had recommended to them the Navigation inn at Bugsworth. M and I had a very pleasant meal there a few years ago. We arrived at about 1.30 PM  and they booked a meal for the evening. Unfortunately they weren't impressed.

I had a 'phone crisis. My mobile 'phone, essential for organising crew, was nearly out of power but my 12 volt charger had stopped working. Tesco didn't have a replacement so I had to don my mask and head home by train. M made me a quick meal while I charged the 'phone, then I got the train back, replacement charger in my bag.

On Monday morning we winded, with some difficulty, in the muddy basins. An attempt to fill "Hazel"s water tank failed because a vital hose connector had gone missing.

The water crisis was partly because of lack of rain, partly because of the extra boat movements because people can't holiday abroad, but largely because Todbrook reservoir is out of use after it's near collapse last year. At Whaley Bridge huge pumps were in use to lift water from the river into the canal.

The return trip to Marple was a little easier as the level had come up an inch or so overnight, but we still stemmed up a couple of times. Joan Wainwright joined us at Furness Vale, having timed her arrival by train impeccably. As she walked off the station platform she could hear the chug of "Forget me Not"s engine as the boats approached.






I had been concerned about getting "Hazel"s batteries charged, a constant preoccupation whilst on a long trip. I partially charged them from the generator at Bugsworth, but I don't like doing this. I'd rather plug in and get a full charge up. My thought was that it might be possible to take her into Marple Marina for a charge, so we tried to stop near the entrance. Our attempt to breast up was stymied by the motor boat becoming embroiled in deep mud. We let the butty drift on and Aaron tied her with her bows in but her stern half way across the cut because of the shallow water.


I did the same with the motor.

I walked round to the marina but found that what used to be the marina office was now part of a private house. There were no services, just private moorings. On my way I passed boats and CRT volunteers awaiting the 3PM lock re-opening.

Once more I had to go off to sort other things out. I'd left the van at Romiley but it was required by the shop the following day. I cycled down the towpath to collect it. Passing the head of the locks I saw the boats were still there, despite it being well past 3. Re-opening had been postponed until at least Thursday.

I collected the van and drove to Ashton, had my tea with M again then left it at Portland basin and got the train back to Marple.


In the morning we woke to Autumn mist,

The extended lock closure meant a change of plan. I decided to head off down the Macclesfield canal in search of a plug in. This too is a lovely waterway. Our guests actually preferred it to the Peak Forest.

We eventually found our source of electricity at Bollington Wharf, and took the opportunity to top up "Forget me Not"s fuel tanks too.

For some reason my laptop had not charged from the inverter as we traveled along the canal. I needed to communicate with future guests and possible crew so, after cooking and eating a meal, I moved the motor over to the towpath (the wharf gates were locked) and went in search of a pub.

I don't recall when I last entered a pub, but it was before the lockdown, possibly last year. As I searched for a suitable hostelry I met a tall, posh, enthusiastic lady who recommended the Cock & Pheasant. This turned out to be halfway to Macclesfield (or so it seemed). It seemed to be more of a restaurant than a pub. They asked me what I wanted (a pint and a plug socket please). After a brief pause while the receptionist pretended to look, I was told that they were very busy (didn't look it) and had no tables near plug sockets available. I suspect I simply fell into the category of undesirable customer.

As I trudged back I met the tall lady again. She was full of apologies. I walked halfway to Pott Shrigley (or so it seemed) in the other direction. I found the Holly Bush and was made very welcome. I followed the rules, signing in, sitting alone and paying by contactless card. I enjoyed my visit and my 2 pints of bitter, then walked back via a steep flight of stone steps from street to towpath level.

In the morning with fully charged batteries we winded in the rather tricky winding hole full of boats and had a pleasant journey back to Marple. The locks had re-opened early but it won't be possible for us to descend until Monday. We filled the water tank with the very slow tap, collected a bit of help for Monday, made friends with a boat dweller called Daz and tied breasted on the 48 hour moorings. Our guests got a lift back to Ashton with a friend.

A Trip on "Hazel"

At last we've got away from Ashton for a few days with "Forget me Not" and "Hazel". We're running the trip with the crew socially distanced from each other and from the guests. Me and Aaron are in for the whole trip, with a back cabin each. Other people come and go as they can to help us through the locks and lift bridges.


The water level was low and we struggled to get clear of Tameside. Dunkirk bridge and Captain Jack's moorings were particularly bad. I was very pleased to see that the long promised dredging has started though, even if we did have a hard time getting past the dredger. The mud is being unloaded at Warble boatyard.

It was a lovely afternoon as we swung the pair round the tight turns at Gee Cross,

Towards Woodley there were some very odd ducks. Are they Grebe? Any ornithologists reading this?

Today we worked up Marple locks. Liz, Peter and Kim came to help. Tomorrow we're on to Bugsworth. Darren is coming to help. More crew needed for the return trip.

Parbella

I was flipping through an old copy of Waterways World and I came across this. When I left the boat museum in 1982 I vowed I would not return by boat until I could do so with one that was carrying a load. The following year I was able to do that, though I recall that getting there for Easter involved crossing the Mersey in conditions that were less than comfortable. Amazingly, 37 years later, the grain run is still going, using a bigger barge and unloading at Runcorn rather than Frodsham. The grain then goes by road to Nelstrops mill in Stockport (terminus of the sadly filled in Stockport branch of the Ashton canal). It works because the dock charges in Liverpool for overside transhipment ( ie ship to ship rather than ship to lorry) are so much less. It also saves a lot of carbon emissions and urban pollution by shortening the lorry journeys.

This is in sad contrast to most inland waterway carrying. In those days the Weaver was busy with soda ash traffic. On the same page is an article about the Sheffield & South Yorkshire improvements, which turned out to be too little too late. On the news today I heard about the start of construction work on HS2. 20 years ago I'd have been all in favour of this. Railways are good, but in an overheating world do we really need to release all that carbon just to be able to go faster. Much better to invest in a network of new waterways with electric bank haulage so that we can move freight with minimal emissions.

A Lovely 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.

The Covid 19 Test

Well! That was a strange morning!

Yesterday as I tried to tidy up  the boatyard every movement was a major effort. I struggled to lift things that I normally find easy and I ached in every muscle like I'd been trampolined by elephants. The day before I'd had a bit of a cough, and M had been coughing too.

I began to wonder if we had the virus.

This morning I woke up and reluctantly started to get ready for the day. I was supposed to be meeting a couple of young lads who have volunteered for online selling.

I really didn't feel well and normal simple tasks seemed a huge effort. I found climbing the stairs a little daunting, and it left me puffing slightly. That's not me!

M woke up, coughing. "It's the cold air" she said "Close the window". I closed the window but she was feeling rough and already thinking of postponing her day's tasks.

"Perhaps we should have a test" I suggested. I wasn't really that keen about it, and M was quite fearful. We started to discuss the pros and cons as we sat in bed drinking coffee.

Back in March we had felt much the same. We considered going for a test then but it seemed pointless. We were locked down and not seeing anyone so there wasn't much chance of spreading it.

M has M E (or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and I am coming off hormone treatment for prostate cancer. These things could explain how we felt. Another possibility is that we did have it back in March (or earlier, we felt ill around Christmas and they're finding evidence of cases back to December now). Many people suffer post Covid fatigue, perhaps it was that.

We discussed the implications of a positive test. Troublesome to say the least. However, though ignorance may be blissful, it doesn't stop you infecting other people, some of whom may be even more vulnerable than us. The clincher was the fact that yesterday I had been with someone who told me he was going to visit his mother next week for her 90th birthday. I really don't want the responsibility of causing an old lady's death. Some may say 'well, she's had a good innings', but it's only 23 years until I'm 90 and I'm pretty sure that if I get there I'll be hoping for another 23+ years. Let's look after our older folk, none of us is getting any younger.


M went online to find testing centres. The nearest one was Oldham. It had a 'phone number, but it didn't work! The other ones said you had to book, but had no contact details. I fired up my laptop and went a different route via Tameside Council. This led me to a long long online form, which I filled in for myself, then had to do it all again for M. They sent us a QR code to our phones and email addresses. My 'phone is a brick and doesn't do this clever stuff but I got a long series of numbers from the email and wrote them in a notebook.

We had elected to get tested at the Etihad. For foreigners who do not follow football this is the Manchester City stadium. Our choice of venue does not imply any allegiance to this particular team. Our appointment was at 10AM, so we had nearly an hour to get up, get dressed and drive 4 miles.

We arrived at the appropriate car park spot on 10. I had anticipated a queue of vehicles, but we were the only one. Signs told us to keep our windows closed. At the first checkpoint a man held up a notice asking for a QR code. I showed him the numbers in my notebook. He laughed and waved us on.

We followed a lane marked out with masses of traffic cones to another checkpoint. Not sure what the point of that one was as they just stopped us then waved us through. The lane of cones continued. Every now and then we passed someone in a yellow vest who waved us by and gave us a thumbs up. The lane curved into the main car park. A line of big tents was set up across the middle of it with lots of people in hi viz clothing standing about. I saw one other car driving into one of the tents. M remarked on the post apocalyptic nature of the scene.

The cones snaked around the edge of the car park and led to another tented checkpoint. Here our identities were checked, though we didn't need the passports we'd been told to bring, and we were asked if we'd like to take the swabs ourselves or have them taken for us. I wasn't bothered but M wanted them to do the swabbing. Her rationale was that if they did it it was more likely to be done properly.

Driving on, we came to another tent, on its own and separate from the line of tents in the middle of the car park. Here we were asked to wind down our windows. A cheerful nurse called Chris stuck a swab into the back of my throat, twice, then another to the back of my nose, which made me sneeze. His colleague then did the same for M. She didn't mind the nose swab but struggled with the throat one.

That was it. We each had a card bearing a barcode as a souvenir. We drove home to await the results.

I'm quite amazed that the testing facility is seeing so little use. It's not like the virus has gone away. Liberal though I am most of the time, if I ruled the world I'd have compusory testing for as many people as possible. The only way to tackle this virus is to stamp it out. If a single person remains infected then it can flare up again, like a single match lodged in a haystack.


The test wasn't traumatic (and our presence relieved the boredom a little for all those yellow jacketed attendants. If you're not sure, go and get a test.