Ashton Boatman

I just found this article lurking in the deep crevices of my computer. I think I wrote it for Waterways World but i don't think it ever got published. At the time Forget me Not had no engine so Southam  was towing her as well as Lilith. 

I miss the recycling trips, I think a lot of people do. Unfortunately they had to stop because of covid and it's not been possible to re-start them. Nowadays we are having to turn donations away at the door of the charity shop sometimes. i think this is because so many similar shops have closed for lack of volunteers. 

As the van bounced down the cobbled Portland Street I could see that the sky
beyond the canalside poplars was beginning to lighten from black to grey. I
parked at the end of the road against the steps leading to the footbridge over
the canal and unlocked the gates to the museum wharf. Celebrity canal cat
Captain Kit Crewbucket emerged from his nest aboard “Queen” and hopped
down onto the wharf, complaining bitterly about hunger and the drizzle.
I opened “Southam”s front doors and sorted out paper and kindling to start a
fire in her huge ex army range, wonderful cooking devices but pigs to light. As
it alternately roared and crackled, then belched smoke, then roared and
crackled again,I set about tidying the cabin, something of a work in progress
as it has been being re-fitted for the last few years, and checking that
everything we needed was in place. Adding a few more sticks to the fire, I
went out to check over “Forget me Not” and “Lilith” , wondering if any
volunteers would turn up on such a grim day. I checked “Queen”s pumps and
found that they had failed and the old boat was slowly filling up with water. I
brought 2 charged up batteries from the van and soon the pumps were
whirring again, saving the oldest surviving motor narrow boat from a watery
grave.
A bike rattled on to the wharf bearing with it young Aaron, always cheerful
and ready to laugh at everything you say, even if its not funny. I asked him to
fill “Southam”s firewood bunker from the bags of wood kept in “Lilith”. “OK” he
laughed.
Another early volunteer arrived, so he helped me to wind “Forget me Not” and
“Lilith” to get them pointing in the right direction. Using a long shaft to push
the stern ends round while I guided the bows with a line. The clouds parted
and a winter sun glinted on the wet boats. Thick wind blown smoke showed
that the range had decided to co-operate and begin to heat the kettles.
The allotted time for recycling trips is 9.30 AM. This came and went but there
were still only 3 of us. We need at least 8 to do a trip. A car arrived, full of
people. My 'phone rang. “I'm going to be about another 15 minutes” croaked
a familiar voice, “Is it OK if I bring me pipes”. “Hurry up and please do bring
your pipes” I replied.

“Southam”s fore end was now crammed with people. Someone had taken the
initiative to make tea for the masses. It was time to get people organised.
Sitting on “Southam”s roof I gave the obligatory safety talk, then selected
people to steer “Forget me Not” and “Lilith” (which were to be towed) and
work various lines as we set off. People moved to their action stations and I
went to “Southam”s engine room to fire up her huge old BMC Commodore.
I suddenly remembered the cat. Celebrity canal cat Captain Kit Crewbucket

had been following me around and trying to trip me up since I arrived. He
wanted his breakfast, but, had I fed him earlier he would have then gone to
sleep in one of the boats, only to wake up in a strange place, panic and
potentially disappear into the bushes. I picked out a sachet of catfood and
squeezed it out on to his dish, before giving last minute instructions to the
crews, untying “Southam” and putting her into forward gear.
The propeller stirred black mud and white carrier bags from the depths of the
arm as it pushed the boat forward then, as soon as she was into the main
canal, I engaged sterngear to avoid hitting the other bank. Moving the gear
lever to neutral position, I walked up the roof and used the shaft to swing the
bow to face in the right direction. “Southam” is very good at towing, having a
powerful engine, but, being a motorised butty, her manouverability is limited.
With the stern against “Forget me Not”s bow I take her line and shout “OK,
untie everything” to the boat crews before taking a turn on the T stud and,
with one hand holding the line and the other holding the tiller, I use my foot to
push the gear rod forward, a little grunt from the engine acknowledging that it
is properly engaged. As “Southam” moves forward I slip the towing line to
accellerate “Forget me Not” without a snatch. As she starts to move someone
walks back along her length with “Lilith”s line. As they hand it to the steerer I
move the gear rod to neutral and drift while they tie it on to the dollies. As the
steerer stands up and “Lilith”s line tautens I engage gear again and the boats
straighten into a line along the canal and past the new flats. The boats follow
dutifully as “Southam” swings round the first turn to enter the narrow confines
of Walk bridge.

Two short toots on the hooter is code for “can somebody please come and
speak to the steerer”, conversation along the length of the boat being
impossible because of the engine noise. After sending this message, Aaron
appeared in the engine room bearing an unasked for cup of coffee. Thanking
him, I asked Aaron them to send Danny up. He laughed. When Danny
arrives I hand him the tiller so that he can get the hang of steering along the
next, relatively easy, stretch of canal.
Looking back I spot Liz pursuing us along the towpath, carrying the black bag
that contains her pipes. There is a narrows at Princess Dock, where once
boatloads of Peak Forest limestone were shovelled from boat to railway
wagon. This allows the boat to nudge the bank so that she can clamber
aboard.

On the right we pass mills, built in a line along the waterway so that boats
could deliver coal to feed the boilers of the great engines that powered their
ranks of cotton spinning and weaving machinery. Now, just one is involved in
textiles, the rest of the survivors being divided into smaller industrial units. On
the left are railway yards. Busy in past times with wagonloads of goods being
shunted, now the few remaining sidings form a depot for track maintenance
machines.
Danny did well, keeping in the channel and negotiating a narrow bridgehole. I
took over again for the turn into Guide Bridge. “Forget me Not”s steerer took
the correct line, keeping the bow tucked into the inside of “Southam”s stern.
“Lilith”s steerer allowed her to swing too wide and so got dragged round the
outside of the bend. I cut the power as “Southam”s engine room entered the
tunnel like structure, then gradually wound it back on again, stirring
mouldering leaves from the bottom. Strangely, cutting the power at the right
moment makes a boat slip through a bridgehole quicker and keeps the
towline taut.

Silently thanking the Canal & Rivers Trust for the recent dredging the train of
boats passed a former railway bridge, once notorious for being full of
scrap iron, and approached the moorings of the Ashton Packet Boat
Company. Once a grim spoil tip, this is now a pleasantly wooded area with a
steam powered slipway, a narrow gauge railway system and various vintage
cranes. The boatyard is bordered by a main line railway and once, superb
timing ensured that the recycling trip co-incided with the passing of a pair of
Black Fives hauling a steam special. This time we meet a boat under the
railway bridge and I move over close to the last boat on the moorings to give
it room to pass, glancing back to check that the other two boats are following.
A long dark motorway bridge follows as the canal burrows under the M60 on
a skew. Exiting this, “Southam” rocks and rolls over shopping trolleys, already
built up after the dredging. Soon the waterway opens out into a wide,
bordered by interesting new houses, one in a Bauhaus style, then I shout a
warning to everyone to keep their heads down as we approach the ultra low
Lumb Lane Bridge.
Danny takes over again and I retire to the fore end, sitting on the roof so that I
can keep a good eye on all three boats. A few more bridgeholes are
navigated safely and I go back to take over as we approach the final bridge,
successfully avoiding giving a nudge to the boat tied alongside the old
Droylsden wharf house.
Approaching Fairfield Junction I shout instructions to the crew on “Forget me
Not”, reminding them to use the back end line (attached to a rail on the
forward bulkhead of the engine room) to stop her. I then give the tug a burst
of sterngear to slacken the towline, untie it and throw it back. While “Forget
me Not” and “Lilith” are drifting in to stop on the towpath bollards I aim
“Southam”s bow towards the third bollard from the lock. As it rubs against the
copings, Aaron steps off with a line and takes a turn on the bollard. I push the
gear rod forward, put the tiller hard over and increase the engine revs. The
stern begins to swing out and the boat powers round until I am able to throw a
line to someone on the towpath to get the boat, now facing back towards
Ashton, secured.
The volunteers on “Forget me Not” and “Lilith” had made quite a good job of
breasting up and tying the boats. Those in the know now go to work
unbidden, unloading wheelbarrows and wheelie bins and distributing gloves.
Someone gets busy with a spade clearing the towpath verges of doggie
droppings. Soon two collecting teams are organised and two convoys of bins
and barrows set off, to knock on about 350 doors, asking for clothes, bric a
brac etc . A couple of people are left back at the boats to keep the fire going
and load goods into “Lilith”.
This recycling collection has been run every month since 1996, calling at the
same houses every time. Intuitively you would think that the yield would
steadily diminish, but the reality is quite the opposite. Because our volunteers
are regular, reliable and they know the faces of the regulars, people save
their unwanted goods for us.
There is a pleasure in collecting other peoples tat that is I think akin to the
pleasure that some people derive from shopping, but with the great
advantages that it costs nothing and you don't have to find room in your home
for what you collect. The prehistoric joy of being on a gathering party survives
into the silicon age alongside hunting, fishing and tribal warfare, this last
surviving in a non lethal stylised form as team sports.
The collecting teams tend to spontaneously arrange themselves into
knockers and barrowers, the latter being mostly those who are shy about the
constant, and mostly pleasant, doorstep encounters that produce the goods.
Mostly our doorknocking volunteers are greeted with a smile from the
householder, often accompanied by bin bags stuffed with goodies.
Back at the boats, “Lilith”s hold steadily gets piled up with bags, boxes, bikes
and small items of furniture as barrowers from both teams deliver the goods.
Glenys is in charge of the big range on board “Southam” , keeping the fire
going, the kettles simmering and a big pan of stew that someone brought
happily bubbling.
Eventually the two teams link up to complete the last couple of streets en
masse, then the procession of bins and barrows heads back to the boats for a
well earned brew. Glenys cheerfully hands out mugs of tea and coffee and
butty bags are broken open. Nick, who kindly provided the stew, asks who
would like some, and soon dishes of this tasty concoction are being handed
round.

“Will anybody mind” Liz asks, “if I play me pipes”? There are no objections, so
she begins marching up and down the towpath playing a medley of Scottish
and not so Scottish tunes on her bagpipes.
Dinner done with, it's soon time to start the return journey. First of all “Forget
me Not” and “Lilith” have to be winded. The breasted up boats are shafted
round as a pair to end up lying three abreast on the outside of “Southam”. I
explain once more the procedure for getting the boats safely and smoothly
under way, then go and start the engine. With forward gear engaged,
“Southam” slips out from the inside of the stack of boats. As I pass “Lilith”s
fore end “Forget me Not”s line is passed to me and I take the strain on the T
stud. The sun is now shining strongly and several people have chosen to sit
on the temporary deck that covers “Forget me Not”s hold for the return
journey. The boats are soon all moving and heading for the Fairfield Road
bridgehole.
The trip back was fairly uneventful, save for somone putting some wet wood on the fire,
resulting in a smoke screen to make the steerer's task more challenging. At the last
bridgehole Matthew, Glenys's son, got off and ran ahead. As we approached Portland
Basin I put the engine into neutral to allow the boats to drift almost to a standstill, then,
using short bursts of power with the tiller hard over, used the tug to steer Forget me Not
over to the wharf. As she drew close I threw back the towing line and her back end line
was thrown to Matthew who was ready and waiting. I moved “Southam” over to the
towpath, where people could get off easily. Looking back I could see that “Lilith”s steerer
had successfully brought her alongside “Forget me Not”.
Mooring pins were quickly banged into the towpath and, with “Southam” tied
there I sprinted over the bridge to move the van on to the wharf and organise
the unloading before everyone headed for home. Soon the van was
being emptied again at the charity shop, another lot of goods saved from landfill
and ready to be sold to raise funds to keep the old boats going.
When everyone had left, celebrity canal cat Captain Kit Crewbucket made a thorough
inspection of his boats before settling down in his nest aboard “Queen”.

Canal speak.
Wind (as in moving air) or winding=turning round
Breast, breasted, breasting = boats tied alongside each other.
Shaft= bargepole
Sterngear = reverse
Lines= ropes
T stud, dolly= points where you can tie lines on a narrow boat

It was busy at the boatyard. It's been quiet there for a while as Dave has to spend more time looking after his wife and Kim is sometimes away at his Spanish casa. I've been struggling to get the place sorted for ages, slowly but carefully getting stuff organised, weighed in or sold. Now Tony has got involved with this and I know he's frustrated by my careful sorting of everything. He's done a great job sorting out the non ferrous metals though. We just need the van back on the road so that we can weigh it all in. 

After a bit of a mix up about dates and times Geraldine and Helen showed up. I had planned to ask them to sort out nuts and bolts and screws but, as time had passed, they got on with cutting up all the brash from the foliage clearance and putting it into bulk bags. Dave has been repairing a stove and Kim was processing reclaimed wood for various jobs and painting Forget me Not's deck boards

There seems to be some progress on getting our mooring arranged with CRT at last. We seem to have a bit of a team working on it, including a civil engineer. The big problem has been that they just keep coming up with hoops that are very hard to jump through if you don't speak civil engineerese. 

MOT time for the charity's van is always a bit of a worry. Big vans are expensive even when they are quite old, but so are repairs. Repairs are getting particularly tricky as vehicles get increasingly complicated and full of electronics. Our Transit is 17 years old and it's little electronic brain had a nervous breakdown long before we got it. It has about 180,000 miles on the clock

We've had the van for 2 years, and it's due for its second MOT in our ownership. Last year I took it to a chap in deepest Lancashire who often does repairs for us. He doesn't rip us off and he does a good job. I asked him to get it MOT'd. It had a few minor issues which he dealt with, no problem!  

I thought I'd do the same this year. I drove it to the relevant place and left it in our mechanic friend's capable hands. Next day he phoned me with a long list of faults, lots of welding needed, there was an oil leak that would involve dismantling the engine to fit new oil seals and it had failed on emissions. Emissions is a big one. Worn old diesels get dirty and it's very difficult and costly to get them to run clean again.

I contacted our trustees to explain that we were going to have to spend a few thousand pounds on a replacement van, then got a bus to the little Lancashire town to pick up the vehicle. 

When I saw the fail sheet from the MOT station I began to wonder. The oil leak was an advisory, not a fail. It had actually had that leak as an advisory on the last two MOTs and it hadn't got any worse. I wondered if the engine had been properly warmed up. Cold engines are smoky and it pays to have a good drive round before an MOT.

Next day I called at a local MOT station that I've used before and explained my dilemma. They told me to come back in an hour and they'd do an emissions test. I drove about to get the engine warmed up and lo, the engine did pass.

My conclusion is that our mechanic friend in deepest Lancashire had simply driven the short distance to the MOT centre and had it tested with it's engine still fairly cold. He then bigged up the faults, I suspect because he didn't fancy doing the welding. I don't blame him. It's not a job I've ever done, or ever wanted to do. Grinding out rusty metal with bits falling on you, then welding in new metal in awkward corners, with hot bits falling on you, doesn't really appeal. I'd rather be pecking wood.

Of course, passing an unofficial emissions test doesn't get us an MOT. All the other faults need to be rectified, but, if we know it can pass on emissions then they're worth doing. 

I took the van to see Canis. Our new trustee rejoices in the handle of Canis Fortunatis, latin for Lucky Dog. He has long experience of vehicle repairs and seems to revel in rejuvenating rustbuckets. He had a look under the van at the faults noted on the MOT sheet and declared them perfectly repairable. Today I delivered the van to him loaded with likely bits of metal from the boatyard and a bottle of CO2/Argon mix for his mig welder. I backed the van on to his ramps then cycled home from Chadderton. Fingers crossed for a successful MOT test sometime soon.

The van is a vital tool for the WCBS. We use it most days for ferrying stuff between the boatyard and Portland Basin and it's essential for our charity shop, collecting and delivering furniture etc. We could do with more van driving volunteers, especially for shop deliveries and collections. Don't worry if you're unable to carry furniture. We have a couple of hefty lads to do the hard work, we just need drivers.

                                                        Any offers?

                                                                             Let me know.

People keep asking me when Hazel will be back in service. I had hoped by the end of the month, but, with only a week to go that's looking a bit unlikely. People wonder why it's taking so long. Here's my excuses.

1)   I keep being diverted on to other tasks. It would be nice if there were more volunteers to do the other tasks. It would be even nicer if they were self organising volunteers. A lot of the time I end up spending more time explaining how to do a job, finding tools and materials and checking its being done properly than it would take me to do it myself. I'm also still spending a day every week running the shop so that Christine can have a much needed day off.

2) I'm doing the job properly and carefully. The electrical cupboard was rather thrown together when it was first made as we were under pressure to get the boat into service. Whilst getting the boat back into service is important now, I intend the work that I'm doing to outlast me. I reckon that Hazel will need a comprehensive renovation sometime around 2045. It should last until then. It's conceivable that I'll still be around then, aged 92, but I won't be doing much boatbuilding.

3) I'm insisting on having a day off every week. Well, sort of. I've chosen Wednesday, so that I can attend Latihan, but most Wednesdays I seem to spend catching up with office work and writing.

4)  I put a brave face on it but I'm still not very well. I get tired easily. I put it down to Long Covid. Whatever it is, it's a blasted nuisance.

Anyway, having got my excuses in first, what have we been doing? Nessie has largely repainted the interior. Currently he's putting trims round the windows where we've bulked up the insulation (because of hot summers rather than cold winters). The trim is made of strips of copper cut from an old hot water tank that was donated as scrap. The extended central heating is nearly ready to be tested. The LiFePo batteries are now charging off the sun and running all the electrics. I'm just finishing off the woodwork around the electricity cupboard, which will now include shelf space for tools etc, and more accessible fuses, switches etc. 

The windows.

The electrical cupboard.

I haven't been posting much because, well, nothing very exciting has happened. I've been plodding away at repairs and improvements to Hazel. Just lately this has mostly been in the electrical cupboard. This is under the foredeck and it's where the batteries and all the fuses and switches go. I was never very happy with it as the woodwork was rather thrown together (under pressure to get the boat finished) and the fuses etc were very inaccessible. The need to replace the batteries gave an excuse to rip it all out and do it better.

The new LiFePo batteries are now installed and charging nicely off the solar panels. The switches and fuses etc are being re-fitted in a much more ergonomic manner. There will actually be more storage space inside the cupboard too. 

Meanwhile Nessie and Helen have been doing internal repainting.

Joe the Tree Surgeon has finished docking his boat Benevolence  at Guide Bridge and has tied her next to Hazel while he returns to Cumbria where he has work. He's looking to base himself aboard Benevolence  half the time and try to get work around Greater Manchester. 

Once upon a time Lancashire was packed with cotton mills. Each one had a huge steam engine to drive the looms via cotton ropes and line shafting. One of the main traffics of the Ashton canal was short distance runs of coal from local pits to feed the boilers of the mills that lined it's banks. Tropical plants grew in the water because of the amount of hot water flowing out of the mills. 

In the 1950s and 60s, one by one, they closed down.  Amazingly, in the deepest Lancashire village of Haslingden one survived in production, steam powered, up until 1979. The engine and one of the weaving sheds are still there and are being restored and developed as a museum. Yesterday I paid it a visit. The weaving shed wasn't open but I got to see the magnificent mil engine and the exhibition of bikes, cars and smaller steam and internal combustion engines .It's not a highly polished professionally presented museum but a reflection of the volunteer's love of old engineering. I rather like that. It's only open once a month, but well worth a visit.  Here's some pictures.

I've just come across some photos of Southam  on a recycling trip in summer 2012. Work on resurrecting her is currently paused while we concentrate on Hazel,  but will soon resume. 

Sorry! I'm afraid I haven't been posting much lately. To be honest, I've been a bit down and depressed. Usually irrepressibly optimistic, all I've been able to see is all the things that are wrong, starting with me, not having the energy that I used to have, and going out into the whole world, which seems to be increasingly run by psychopaths intent on destroying eveyrthing that is beautiful.

While my pessimism may be, as pesseimists always claim, mere realism, staying in that mindset is counter productive. You drive all the positive people away and find yourself surrounded with Eeyors. 

Nevertheless, we've been making good use of the sunny weather to get on with work on the boats. 

Work started on fitting Southam's  missing top strake.

We started boarding Southam's  Conversion.

Tony and Nessie got the plank fitted.

Unfortunately further stripping uncovered more problems with the conversion.

Tony has mostly been working on Forget me Not, particularly painting.

The sitting room window had been leaking on Hazel  so that was taken out and refitted.

Joe the tree surgeon moved his boat Benevolence  to Knowl St, Stalybridge. He winded above lock 7 and backed the rest of the way to the boatyard.

The electricity cupboard under Hazel's foredeck had to be stripped out. The wood was deteriorating and has to be replaced and the main batteries need renewing after 10 years. The opportunity is being taken to make it a bit more ergonomic as the switches and fuses used to be very inaccessible.

Nessie set to work removing the cabinside by the bathroom as some of the wood was getting soft. 

The side bedroom window had been refitted and well sealed. Extra insulation was added to the inside. 

The old AGM batteries had lasted well. They were removed from the boat to be replaced by LiFePo batteries.

The gaping hole in the side of the bathroom was a bit of a surprise for Helen when she came to stay.

But it's now been filled in.

About every 3 months we run a short trip so that a man with a long squirty pole can clean the windows at Cavendish Mill, which is now flats. There's no towpath access since the retaining wall started to collapse in 2002. Since then CRT (previously BWB) and Tameside council have been arguing about who should pay to repair it. For the most recent trip, on Thursday, John Tickner came to take some of his excellent photos. As the gearbox is stil not quite ready I had to shaft the boat there and back.

On this occasion, Matt, the window cleaner, forgot to turn on a valve in his van, so I had to climb out over a spiky fence to turn it on for him. I'm not complaining but it may occur to some people that it was the 72 year old cancer survivor who did the climbing. Anyway, here's John's photos. They're his copyright.

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.