Ashton Boatman

It was October 1974 when I arrived in Chester on a pair of floating chicken hutches. 

becoming a teacher I soon discovered that I had innocently sailed into a conflict between posh boaters and ‘undesirables’. Because

of my ramshackle boats, I found myself classed in the latter category.

As one of the chief ‘undesirables’ decided to emigrate to Holland he had to dispose of his assets here. This gave

 me the opportunity to buy a full length boat for £100. A simple BCN joey.

The boat carried a metal plate in each end with the number 9 painted on it, her Stewarts & Lloyds fleet

number. She had been part of the huge fleet that used to carry products from Coombeswood tubeworks. Her top

bends were painted yellow, denoting that she had later belonged to Alfred Matty, canal contractors.

I later discovered that one of the tricks of the seller was to tow away unattended boats, sell them to several

people, then disappear, leaving his victims arguing about who was now the rightful owner. Happily. I was never

challenged about the ownership of number 9. 

At the time I was engaged to an R E teacher called Kathy. The romance of the canals had really got to me

and I envisaged a future living in a back cabin. She saw herself enjoying life in a nice semi detached suburban

house. We compromised on a full length conversion of our new old boat.

When she visited to view our future home, I pointed out that the boat needed a name. “Call it ‘Lilith’” she said,

explaining that it was Hebrew for a screech owl and that she’d solved someone’s final crossword clue that day by

knowing that fact.

It turned out to be rather more than that!  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lilith

I found a mooring for “Lilith” on a farmer’s field at Croughton, halfway along the Wirral line of the Shroppie. It cost 50p a week!

It was clear that before beginning the conversion I would need to do some work on the hull.

Opposite my Chester mooring was Taylors boatyard.

(Photo by David Dixon)

Alan Parry was busy there rebuilding a classic Taylors cruiser,

“Barbara Joan”, which had been burned out by vandals. I asked him where I could get some oak. He advised that

I shouldn’t waste my money on oak but should just go to the local timber merchant and buy lengths of red

deal. “It’s just as good” he claimed. I was puzzled by this but took his advice as he was a proper boatbuilder.

Eventually it dawned on me that he was just being kind. He assumed that, like most wide eyed youngsters

that start doing up an old wooden boat, I would soon give up. He wanted to protect me from wasting too much money.

Work really started in the Easter break in 1975. I bought the longest piece of 2” X 8” red deal that they had at

the local builders merchant and somehow balanced it across the saddle and handlebars of my folding bike,

then carefully pushed the contraption the mile to my boats. I loaded it on to the roof of one of my tatty craft,

then set off to deliver it to “Lilith”.

I chipped out a plank, cut rough scarph joints on the ends of the new plank and bolted it into place. As I

removed one plank, those around it started to disintegrate, so I repeated the process on them.

Soon I got to planks that were curved and so the wood needed steaming. I had no equipment so I approached

Alan Parry again. He lent me a gas fired industrial wallpaper stripper to generate steam. David Jones, who

had taken over Taylors yard, let me use some space and the master boatbuilder, Arthur Howard, lent me some big G clamps.

I put the plank into a long plastic bag, scrounged from a carpet shop, then led steam from the wallpaper stripper

into it for a couple of hours. Whilst the plank was cooking I set up a crude former. I put a stout wooden

beam on to blocks so that it was off the ground, then put two more blocks on top of this at what looked like

the right distance apart. When the plank was ready I removed it from its bag and laid it on top of the blocks,

then used the clamps to bend the floppy plank down to touch the beam halfway between the blocks. I would then

lash the plank down so that the clamps could be removed and returned to Arthur. Next morning I would

release the plank, now hardened to its curve, load it up on to the boat roof and take it out to “Lilith” for fitting.

This method would not work on most boats. Luckily, joeys are of a simple shape with no complex curves or twists.

In the 1970s ex Stewarts & Lloyds joeys were everywhere as they gradually dispersed their fleet. Of all the wooden joeys that were in once in every corner of the network I’m only aware of 4 survivors. Birchills is in the Black Country Living Museum. Daisy now belongs to Forces Veterans Afloat and has been somehow re-bottomed in re steel. There may be another one called Flute. Someone kindly did some research and discovered that No9 was originally built in 1901, though how much original material survived is a moot point. As Lilith she is now celebrating her 125^th year, though more than 50 years after her restoration began, she now needs lots of new planks again.

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. 

“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.

To celebrate the 50th anniversary of Ashtac, the Inland Waterways Association organised a working party to clean up part of the Ashton Canal on 21st/22nd March 2022. Ashtac was the codename for the huge 'big dig' on the Ashton canal in 1972, when over 1000 volunteers from around the country came to clear rubbish from the derelict waterway. They even laid an industrial monorail in the bed of the drained canal to transport the rubbish.

I think it's a great omission in Portland Basin Museum that there's nothing about this on display. It was a major event in getting the waterway restoration movement started.

The 2022 effort was rather less ambitious. It mostly consisted of litter picking and scrub bashing at Eli Whalley's, or Donkey Stone Wharf as it seems to be known nowadays.

In fact it's proper name is Ashton Old Wharf. It's the original terminus of the Ashton Canal. It ceased to be a terminus when the Huddersfield Narrow canal was built. It's role as Ashton's main wharf was later lost to Portland Basin.

The final industrial use of the wharf was as Eli Whalley's donkey stone works. Donkey stones were blocks of reconstituted stone that , were used for polishing the stone steps of houses. They were often distributed by rag and bone men in exchange for, well, rags and bones.

https://www.tameside.gov.uk/blueplaque/eliwhalley 

Some years ago British Waterways did some landscaping work on the wharf, including erecting three sculptures of flying geese. More recently I understand it has been let on a long lease to somebody and has become derelict. Latterly its been haunt for fly tippers, anglers, drinkers and the occasional homeless person's tent.

Our original plan was to take "Forget me Not" along but her gearbox problem prevented this. Instead we took "Lilith",towed on the outward trip by the Ashton Packet Boat Co's "Joel", another wooden boat. Our depleted volunteer reserves meant that there were only four participants from our group, me, Kim Tranter, Daniel Stocks and Nessie.

We laid "Lilith" alongside the foliage that was aggressively invading the canal from the wharf then, using implements provided by CRT, we proceeded to remove that foliage.

There were lots of young workers there from a scheme that was something to do with the Princes Trust and the Fire Service.

A good day was had by all. I still bear the bramble scars to prove it. Many people were involved in litter picking and I did my best to get the aluminium cans and bits of scrap iron loaded on to "Lilith" so that they could be recycled.

I'm disappointed! I was promised something that would

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!

What's actually happening is that it's a bit breezy and it's raining on and off. A sort of normal 
winter day in Ashton really.I actually postponed a trip because of the weather warnings.

 This, it seems, is Storm Eunice. She was supposed to be far worse 
than Storm Dudley. I was at the Knowl St boatyard with Cheryl Dinsdale when Dudley struck on 
Thursday. He at least got us soaked and blew things about a bit. When I got back to Portland Basin 
I found that "Lilith"s cloths had blown off. Nessie has since put them back on. 

I haven't taken any photos for a while, so, here's a nice picture of
"Lilith" on a sunny day. Photo by Jay Jengba.

        

          

                    

          
        

          
          

            
          
        

"Lilith" was my first wooden narrow boat. I bought her for £100 in 1974, then replaced all but one of her planks over the next 9 years. Some research be Dave McDougal at the Black Country Museum showed that she was gauged on 2nd December 1901.

After we set up the Wooden Canal Craft Trust (as it was then called) I donated her. Since 1996 she's worked on recycling trips, as well as doing useful jobs like carrying timber for "Hazel"s restoration. Now, after more than 40 years, she needs her stern end rebuilding again.

Sadly, she's unemployed at the moment, except for storing firewood and scrap iron. The recycling trips are suspended until the covid infection rate drops considerably.

Here's a photo of "Lilith" tied alongside Boatmans Walk.

No, I'm not just harvesting likes. About a month ago we found that a feral cat had given birth aboard "Lilith". We couldn't take them with us on the recycling trip so I moved the kittens on to "Elton". Mother cat then moved them into "Queen", well hidden. Several people have been feeding the mother, who was rather skinny. She's now looking a lot better.

Today I saw the kittens out gamboling in "Queen"s fore end. They're lovely. We already have homes offered for some of them but I think some help is needed in catching them. We need to catch the mother too and get her speyed, otherwise a boatload of kittens will become a regular thing.

The trip started a bit late because we found some Kittens aboard "Lilith" and had to move them. Good turnout and a lot to collect. Tameside Radio came along and did some interviews. Here's some pictures.

A really enjoyable trip. Here's some pictures.

A winter's night on “Hazel”.

It's the time of year when we don't get much sunlight and so “Hazel”s batteries need to be topped up from the mains every now and then. She has a huge bank of batteries that need a special charger and can't all be charged at once. Someone, normally me, has to stay to switch from one set of batteries to the other sometime in the night. I don't mind as I get to stay in “Hazel”s wonderful back cabin.

To charge up I have to shaft the boat the short distance across the aqueduct to Dukinfield and tie up beside the premises of Dixon & Smith, Motor Engineers. Pat and John are kind enough to let us plug in whenever we need power. Tying up is easier said than done because of all the rubbish in the canal. To get the bow close enough to get on and off the boat, the stern has to be pretty much in the middle of the cut as there is something big that catches the middle of the boat and causes her to pivot. There was nothing to tie the stern end to as the boat lies along the end wall of a factory. Between the factory and the water there is a small bank of rubble so, some time ago, I drove a pin into this and attached an old ratchet strap to it. In order to tie up I have to hook the ratchet strap with the cabin shaft and pull it to me. I then pass the stern line of the boat through the ratchet strap and tie the line to the timberhead. At the fore end there is a chain with a hook on the end secured to a post on the bank. All I have to do is put the fore end line into the hook and tie back to the T stud.

When tied like this, the back cabin is facing the railway bridge and I enjoy hearing Trans Pennine Expresses growling by, interspersed with the occasional freight. If I open the doors I can watch them and wonder if the passengers notice my cabin light below them on the canal.

For ages the weather has been rainy. I've been fed up of the rain, especially as I'm trying to work on “Forget me Not” on dock. Now, all of a sudden the wind has turned to the North and we're getting those cold clear winters nights that I love. Tonight the mopstick was frozen to crunchiness by 8PM.

I've been writing all evening, or rather talking to my computer, my friend Jackie will type up what I've recorded. Now it's bed time. The cabin is so warm I keep falling asleep. I tried opening the doors to let the heat out, with the range roaring away it gets extremely toasty in here.

Whilst writing the above paragraph I fell asleep. I woke again in a cooling cabin a couple of hours later, so I turned out the light and snuggled into my sleeping bag. In the morning it was cold. I had a flask to make coffee so I decided not to light the range. All I had to do was to shaft the boat back over the aqueduct to Portland Basin. I quickly dressed and put on all the gloves I could find, then climbed out into the crisp cold still dark morning. After disconnecting the charging cables I untied the lines, stiff with frost, and threw the ratchet strap back on to the bank. I then grasped the icy shaft with my gloved hands and, taking care not to slip on the frosty roof, pushed the fore end out into the channel, cat ice chinkling as the boat pushed it aside.

The stern end was stuck on something and, as I couldn't exert as much effort as usual because I was standing on a slippery surface, it took a while to get it free. By this time my hands were becoming very painful in spite of the 3 pairs of gloves that I was wearing. I decided that I would have to go inside to warm up. I went into the main cabin and lit a fire, enjoying its heat while I drank a cup of coffee.

When I had thawed sufficiently I climbed back on to the roof in the now bright and shiny but still cold morning, and started to move the boat towards the aqueduct, jumping down on to the towpath to give her a good tug with the fore end line before climbing back aboard to swing her round with the shaft and tie up abreast of “Lilith”. With everything secure I headed for home to get ready for another day working on “Forget me Not”.

Mad March recycling trip.

Despite having to scrape a thick coating of ice off the van windscreen I was surprised to find that the cut had frozen overnight yet again. Fian had spent the night boatsitting and I was a little concerned as she tends to feel the cold. Smoke was drifting from "Forget me Not"s chimney, so she was obviously awake, but I followed proper boating etiquette and avoided her cabin until she emerged. She said she had had a wonderful night and actually enjoyed being woken by squabbling geese at 3 AM!

After checking the bilges and feeding Captain Kit I carefully climbed across the ice sugared boats and started "Southam"s big engine to back her over to the towpath side for easy access by volunteers. "Forget me Not" and "Lilith" made a fine sight breasted up at the wharf. Soon people began to arrive and I had a busy time allocating people jobs, giving out safe boating information to first timers, of whom there were many and generally checking that everything was ready, dealing with a closed damper on a range that was causing people to be kippered etc.

As 10 AM approached I asked everyone to climb aboard and began shafting "Forget me Not" and "Lilith" round to face towards Droylsden. This was easier said than done as the ice, though thin, was a great impediment.

With the two currently unpowered boats a little way past 90 degrees of their 180 degree turn I noticed that the person I had asked to steer "Forget me Not" had taken it upon himself to go and start "Southam". Despite my waving he untied the boat and set off, but stopped again when my dancing, waving and shouting was relayed to him.

I had a dilemma that often occurs when working with volunteers. It's important for smooth running and safety that everyone follows the skippers instructions, but if you're too severe in imposing your authority you soon find yourself working alone.

I ran over to "Southam", which was now drifting in the middle of the cut and could only be accessed by climbing down off the footbridge. I found that the stern end mooring line was still tied to the T stud, it had been simply lifted off the mooring pin and thrown aboard instead of being untied and coiled ready for use as it should be. Even worse, the mooring pins had been left in the towpath. I climbed back on to the footbridge, retrieved the pins and re-gained the boat, explaining, I hope tactfully, that I had good reasons for my steering allocations and pointing out the shortcomings re lines and pins.

Moving the boat forward I nudged her past the bows of the other two boats and quickly explained that as I towed "Forget me Not" forward the line from "Lilith"s stem should be taken back and tied on to "Forget me Not"s stern. I took the strain of "Forget me Not"s line on "Southam"s T stud and pulled her forward, though she bounced off the knuckle of the Peak Forest turn because "Southam"s premature move had resulted in the turn being incomplete. My instructions must have been misunderstood because "Lilith"s line had not been carried to "Forget me Not"s stern and, as the two boats had separated, had to be thrown some distance. At the third attempt the line made its target, but almost too late. Boats do not have brakes so, once "Forget me Not" was moving her 15 tons or so was not going to stop. Seeing "Lilith" lurch into line I engaged forward gear again, but a few minutes later waving and shouts of Stop caused me to pull the lever back to nuetral again. "Lilith"s line had not been properly secured and was slipping off. There was no way I could actually stop the train of boats so had to let them drift while the line was re-secured. "Southam" stemmed up un the outside of the turn by the old Junction Mill chimney, now an icon of Ashton. "Forget me Not" wedged in alongside and, once more, the ice made things difficult as we tried to shaft the boats off the rubbish. As I tried to back her out "Southam" picked up a sturdy canvas bag on her blades, which had to be cut off, hanging over the side with a knife while young Daniel Cocker held on to my feet.

Eventually we got going again. Julie Edwards had rung up earlier to say that she would be late and would catch us up. She was waiting at Margaret St Bridge and hopped on to "Southam"s sterndeck as we passed, sharing with me the noise and smoke for the rest of the journey.

Despite my efforts with the knife, there was clearly stil some rubbish on the blades. The engine was struggling and making black smoke, the rudder was juddering and the water was boiling round the stern rather than going back in a clear stream. I kept giving bursts of sterngear to try to throw it off. This had some effect, but never got the blade completely clean and it would always pick up some more. As we passed the site of Robertsons Jam factory, now nearly demolished, a grunt from the engine indicated more rubbish collected. I tried reverse again and the engine stalled. Restarting it, I tried forward again. This unravelled the rubbish, but, looking down into the water, I could see something trailing behind that would obviously go back on to the blade if sterngear was engaged.

We tied up "Forget me Not" and "Lilith" breasted at Fairfield Junction quite neatly and winded "Southam", a manoeuvre slightly impeded by the crap on the blade, then everyone unloaded themselves and started digging out barrows from "Forget me Not"s hold. There were lots of new people and setting off on the collection round was a little chaotic. Most people got the hang of it quite quickly though and soon the two teams were busying themselves collecting from the Moravian Fields estate.

With so many people the speed of collection made up for time lost at the beginning of the trip. I became a little disappointed by the quantities and began to wonder where half the volunteers were, beginning to grumble that they were probably back at the boats having a brew, only to find that they were actually all busy emptying a garage full of stuff that had been donated.

When we had knocked on the last front door and barrowed the last load back to the boats, Fiona started handing out dishes of the excellent food that she had brought, with alternative options for carnivores and herbivores. Time to relax and eat and chat.

After two plates of excellent grub, I picked up the cabin shaft and started poking at the tangle of garbage on the propeller. This turned out to be mainly carpet, which was wound tightly on and bound with all manner of fibrous plasticky stuff. After much prodding and pulling I managed to get it all off, building a great mound on the sterndeck.

The next task was to wind "Forget me Not" and "Lilith". This is carried out by pulling them forward alongside "Southam" then, as their bows approach the tug's stern, pulling back on their front lines whilst shafting the stern ends sideways. This usually swings them round quite neatly and puts them in a good position for setting off, which was achieved quite neatly this time.

With the train travelling quite nicely along the canal and Kevin enjoying having a go at tug steering, I decided to walk alongside, stopping at Lumb Lane bridge (one of the lowest on the canal system) to try out the video function on my new camera The early morning frost had given way to a really nice sunny day, with refreshingly cold air. I enjoyed my walk, but kept my eye on the boats to make sure that everything was OK. I jumped back on board before the tricky turns through Guide Bridge, which were negotiated neatly by the steerers. I took over at Margaret St bridge to deal with the tricky arrival at Portland Basin. The procedure here is for "Southam" to head straight for the wharf then swing round to run parallel to it. "Forget me Not" follows and, if you judge it right, she will run neatly alongside the wharf to be stopped with her back end line (which is on the front of the engine room) while "Lilith" neatly slides alongside her. "Southam", once the towline is thrown off, then goes over to the towpath side of the canal to make it easy for volunteers to get off. She is then shafted back across to tie alongside "Lilith" (trying to do this by engine power is a nightmare because of the impossiblity of manouvering this boat in reverse gear).

Very quickly all the volunteers melted away in the afternoon sun and I made my way home.