The thoughts, fantasies and random ramblings of Ashton Boatman Chris Leah, largely, but not exclusively, connected with his work for the Wooden Canal Boat Society, restoring historic wooden canal boats and putting them to work doing good deeds for the community and the planet.
September 30th was the 10th birthday of Tameside Radio and they chose to celebrate it by having a ride on our boats. On Friday 29th we got the boats ready and took "Forget me Not", "Hazel" and "Lilith" down to Fairfield. Some people from the radio station joined us in the morning and we set off. This went a bit embarrassingly. I put "Forget me Not" into gear and turned the speedwheel, but it stayed on tickover. A nut had dropped off the linkage and disappeared into the bilge. I rigged up a length of string to control the engine. The boats were now all over the place but I tried to start off again. Immediately she picked up something big on the blade. After a lot of struggling I got it off, it was a big thick onesy. We got going at last with the 3 boats in a train. "Forget me Not" pulled well. I connected the bit of string to the cabin slide so if you pull the slide back t speeded up and push it forward to slow down. It worked well.
I was aware that arriving at Portland Basin with 3 boats would be tricky and there would be a lot of eyes on us. It turned out to be busier than I anticipated as it was also the official launch of "Community Spirit 2" so there were lots of civic dignitaries about. As we came into the basin I signalled to Tom, steering "Hazel" to throw off "Lilith"s towline. Aaron shafted "Lilith" across the basin to breast up to "Southam" while we breasted "Forget me Not" and "Hazel" and tied on the towpath side. As soon as we were stopped "Community Spirit 2" came through, loaded with dignitaries.
Terry the Lion appeared to present us with a cheque for Marple and Romiley Lions Club's annual sponsorship. along with a plaque celebrating their long term support. We were interviewed on radio, photographed, then spent a bit of time meeting different people and showing them round the boat, before setting off with just "Hazel" in tow to work up the 3 locks to Stayley Wharf.
It's rare to work up these locks with adequate water. This time all the weirs were running hard and we didn't even stem up in Whitelands Tunnel. At Stayley Wharf we winded the pair and tied up. Our guests left and we stopped for a brew before setting off back down to Portland Basin. The trip went very smoothly with everyone working co-operatively with little need for advice.
We had had some problems getting "Lilith" out of the arm ready for this trip. The water level had dropped, leaving her sitting on something solid. I didn't want to put her back in the arm so we dropped "Hazel" alongside "Lilith" and I put "Forget me Not in the arm alongside "Still Waters", the trip boat.
Sunday 1st October was recycling day. I was concerned that we might not get enough people as the weather forecast was bad. In fact the weather was mostly OK and we had a good team, including several new people. Everything went smoothly and we got quite a good haul. A couple of good days.
I didn't take many photos but these are they.
The 3 boats waiting at Portland Basin to set of for Droylsden.
After being unable to do recycling trips by boat for a couple of months because Lumb Lane bridge was being repainted it was great to get out on the boats again for the first Sunday in April. Here are some photos I took on the trip.
"Southam" and "Lilith" are still stuck at
Scarisbrick. It could have been worse, they could have been stuck in
Bootle! The man at Red Lion Caravans opposite is being very helpful,
charging batteries to keep the bilge pumps going and keeping an eye
on the boats for me. Frank the engineer has stripped down the
gearbox. We thought that it was going to need new clutch plates. I
managed to contact the remains of the old Parsons company that made
the gearbox, now run by one man in his spare time. He can supply new
clutch plates, but we would have to wait 12 weeks and they would cost
£600. Luckily, after discussing the problem with the man, I don't
think we need them. The difficulty lies elsewhere and should be
relatively easy to fix. With a bit of luck the boats will be on the
move again soon. I've learned a lot about old marine gearboxes,
especially how much it costs to get bits for them.
Meanwhile I've arranged a tow for "Forget me Not" so
that we can do the monthly recycling trip on Sunday 9th May. It's a
week late from the usual first Sunday because of the Bank Holiday
weekend. If you would like to come on this trip just turn up at
Portland Basin, Ashton under Lyne, at 9.30 AM on the 9th.
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.
Today I tried to distribute leaflets for the recycling trip. This
is a job that I'd really like to delegate, but it looks like I'm
stuck with doing it for ever. To be honest it's a bit of a chore, but
it has to be done every month to remind residents in our collection
area of the date of the next recycling trip. Sunday December 6th in
this case.
Today my task was complicated by the fact that I've managed to
stab myself in the heel with a nail, so I'm limping, and I've
contracted some sort of virus, so I'm wheezing. I only managed to get
about half the area leafleted.
Most people are very welcoming of our recycling efforts, but
occasionally I meet with hostility. I try to do the leafleting in the
morning as troublesome children are less likely to be active then. I
am used to being insulted by them- "yer f_____g tramp" etc
and have sometimes had objects thrown at me, once being hit on the
shin by a half brick. On another occasion a child of about 5 or 6
repeatedly collided with me on his little bike. I think it was his
big brother who told me "we don't recycle" with an air of
moral superiority.
Today I was waved away from the living room window by someone as I
approached a letterbox. On another occasion a man opened his door as
I pushed a leaflet through his door and said "scuse me mate, I'm
not trying to be funny, but I don't want people I don't know coming
on my land. I said OK and moved towards the next house. He said"I
own that one as well". For someone not trying, he was being very
funny.
When I was a kid there were many knocks on the door. My Mum dealt
pleasantly with all kinds of people. In those days there were many
tramps, probably mostly people who couldn't cope with life after
World War 2. They always got a sandwich and a cup of tea. My parents
didn't give lifts to people who they thought were beatniks, but they
would often stop for soldiers, who, in those days, would wear their
uniform to hitch hike home on leave. I think the IRA put a stop to
that tradition.
As I got older I found that hitch hiking was a good way to get
around the country. I met many interesting people that way, and I
hope that meeting me made their journeys more enjoyable. When I
started driving, both privately and for a job, I enjoyed many
interesting conversations with hitch hikers. If driving alone on a
motorway I would often drop off at a services to see if anyone needed
a lift.
Try hitch hiking nowadays- you'll starve to death before you get a
lift.
I remember in the 1980s standing at a junction near Luton until
eventually a Jamaican man in a big Ford Granada stopped for me. As we
rolled up the M1 he asked "how long you bin waitin there".
"About 3 hours" I replied. "No-one got no sense of
community here" he said. "In Jamaica you wouldn't even need
to lift your thumb, you just start walkin and somebody would stop to
ask if you needed a lift"
Never having visited Jamaica I can't vouch for his assertion, but
I do think we've become a particularly mean spirited nation during my
lifetime. People seem to live more and more in their own anaesthetic
bubbles and resent any disturbance from outside. The track
Comfortably Numb from Pink Floyd's The Wall springs
to mind.
The media have had a lot to do with it. The way that they report
exceptional events such as murders is calculated to increase fear. Be
afraid, be very afraid of strangers is their constant refrain. As
people absorb this subliminal message they steadily cut themselves
off from the outside world, and so the sense of community dies a
death of a thousand cuts. As they are brought up to consider
outsiders as hostile, children learn to have no respect for them,
hence the slings and arrows of outrageous youngsters that I sometimes
suffer whilst leafletting. This process is wonderfully described in
Michael Moore's film Bowling for Columbine.
So, how do we start to reverse this? Well, you could start by
coming on one of our recycling trips and meet a lot of friendly
strangers ( they don't come much stranger). Generally though, stop
being so fearful. Strangers are often very interesting people
We do two recycling trips each month, normally on the first Sunday
and the first Monday of each month. The Sunday one currently involves
"Southam" towing "Forget me Not" and "Lilith"
in an impressive 210 foot train along the canal. This is because
"Forget me Not" is currently unpowered pending fitting of
her 80 year old Bolinder engine. There are usually a fair number of
volunteers and we collect from about 350 homes near Fairfield
Junction, Droylsden.
The Monday trip is usually a more relaxed affair. A few volunteers
meet at Portland Basin at 6 PM and take a single boat for a trip to
collect from one street, Gorseyfields. In the winter the trip is
entirely in the dark.
For a picture of "Southam" see
- She's
the blue and red one in the bottom right hand corner.
This month the trips took place on 4th and 5th October. The Sunday
one was straightforward and very enjoyable. The Monday one was a bit
difficult.
We met as usual at 6 PM. Only 3 turned up, myself, Mike Greenwood
and Bex (Rebecca Morgan). That's Ok, We've done the trip with only
two. We set off on "Southam" and all was going fine until
the engine stalled at Guide Bridge. As it's a 3.8 Litre BMC Commodore
it takes some stalling. A little poking around with the cabin shaft
revealed an enormous tangle of wire on the blades. It turned out to
be telephone wire, but tangled up in it were sticks, clothes, wire
mesh fencing and part of a motorbike engine ( there used to be a
motorbike workshop in the adjacent mill and they tended to throw
unwanted components in the cut).
By the time this lot was stacked under the sterndeck it was dark
and we were running late. Luckily "Southam" swims like a
fish so we wound some power out of her huge engine and were soon at
Fairfield. We winded and tied up at Fairfield Road bridge. Just as we
were preparing to start collecting, a posse of hooded youths crossed
the bridge and started pelting us with stones from the cover of a
stone wall. This was not the first time that this has happened. I
chased them off and we rang the police.
It was necessary to leave Mike and Bex guarding the boat. As
expected, the miscreants made another attack up the towpath before
retreating to cause mayhem elsewhere. I went collecting as I was the
only one who knew the route.
Eventually I got the collection done, there wasn't too much, I
think partly because it was getting too late for some people to
answer their doors. The police still hadn't showed up so we started
the engine and headed back towards Ashton. We'd only gone two bridges
lengths when the engine stalled again. This time the problem was a
huge cluster of stainless steel swarf jammed on the blade. The cabin
shaft turned out to be insufficient to remove this, so I had to put
some thick gloves on ( it's vicious stuff) support myself with one
hand on the cavitation plate while I reached down to the propeller
and pulled off handfuls of curly metal with the other.
While I was head down and soaking wet my 'phone rang. It was the
police, wondering where we were. They had been delayed by a call to
another incident which they thought was probably caused by the same
group of toe rags.
With the blade clean (ish) again we got moving. At Guide Bridge
the engine grunted and coughed as we passed the site of the telephone
wire. An appeal to the gods of the cut and a quick blast of sterngear
cleared the blade again and we carried on, chuntering into Portland
Basin some time after 11 PM.
It was Mike's first recycling trip. Despite the problems he says
he'll come again. Well, it would be boring if it all went smoothly
every time wouldn't it?
On the Sunday trip we generally take a train of 3 boats with
"Southam" towing "Forget me Not" and "Lilith"
She's
the blue and red one in the bottom right hand corner.
