Battered boats and cleaning up

With just a handful of miles to get back to the marina, we had yet another lie-in – I feel so very spoilt, especially with a fresh coffee on hand when I woke up.

Mother concentrated on cleaning the boat, while father and I hunted for kingfishers (none to be seen today), and worked the locks.

Of note was a boat looking a little battered and run aground, or perhaps just badly positioned, whose rear gear had failed before going into a lock - we were next in the queue going uphill. A boat coming downhill offered to pull it backwards but the battered boat’s ropes were too short to throw. In conversation neither the husband nor the wife that lived aboard, a mature couple, were entirely on planet Earth – the husband was probably somewhere in orbit, while the wife clearly came from a completely different solar system.

The boat behind us had been following the battered boat for a couple of days and reported both erratic steering and erratic speech, their only saving grace, that they kept apologising to all the boats they hit.

We returned to the marina, and mother continued cleaning while father painted, pumped and preened the boat, and I busied myself updating missive and reading a book. Oh, and also emptied the Dyson hoover, which was very difficult and complicated and took at least ten minutes including the trip to the skip via the ladies’ loo.

Father went to fetch the hire car that we will use to get home tomorrow, while mother and I watched a movie and had Pimms. Which has gone to my head.

The unpredictable adventures of boating

A lovely onboard dinner, followed by a film completed another enjoyable day yesterday.

This morning began with a lie-in again, followed by coffee as usual. But mother discovered a little problem. The onboard sewage tank appeared to be full enough, that mother’s final deposit was rejected, which meant completing the journey to Great Haywood Marina today instead of tomorrow.

This was not a hardship, as we’re mooching along pretty slowly, with only nine miles to go before we reached the Marina anyway. But we decided to go in, get pumped out and top up diesel, then go down the canal for a while before turning around and mooring up.

The weather was highly changeable again. At one particular lock, father and I started it in our full wet weather gear with a full on deluge from the skies attempting to drown us. By the time we finished that one single solitary lock, I was shuffling around in my very wet and very sweaty wet weather gear while father had stripped down to shorts and tee-shirt with sunglasses and sun-hat because it was so sunny and hot.

Mother was looking forward to seeing two crows that like having bread thrown at them to catch in mid-air. Unfortunately, they were not in residence when we passed. We went hunting for a kingfisher for dad, and located one fairly soon after the hunting started. It flew across the canal in front of us and was last seen heading for the river next door.

The wildlife was good to us today, and although there were no swimming squirrels, there were flocks of gossiping sparrows in the hedgerows, the odd robin, four goldcrests taking off from a bush, and the odd heron fishing from the back of a boat.

With children back at school, new boaters are taking advantage of the shoulder season, and there were some entertaining experiences. Two boats in convoy followed us, fairly closely behind which, with locks ahead of us was somewhat indicative of their inexperience, as they would then be backed up while we went through the locks. This inexperience was further demonstrated when they had to queue behind us for entry to the lock, and made a spontaneous decision to park sideways across the canal (a deliberate decision, honest), a manoeuvre that failed to impress the boater attempting to come out of the lock to let us in.

But entertaining doesn’t have to be relegated to just new boaters – getting out of the marina we encountered a small boat that decided it needed the entire marina to manoeuvre and then questioned what we were doing as we backed away out of the boats it had tried very hard to push us into.

We are into the running down phase now, which means eating and drinking whatever weird and wonderful quantities and combinations are need to finish things off. This phase has started with too much Pimms in the Pimms so that we don’t need to take the bottle home. Is such a hardship.

Do squirrels sink or swim?

It wasn’t mother’s day yesterday as her Pimms took a flying leap off the dining room table, with some impressive assistance from her backside. We commiserated with wine, curry and a good movie.

Today the weather decided to play with us, changing by the minute from sunny and hot, to icy and wet, to hot and wet, to sunny and icy, with the odd spot of random hailstones to keep us on our toes. It should be noted that the adverse element prompted the Cook to provide a rum-topped hot drink (hic!). 

We braved Harecastle Tunnel today. Over a mile and a half of narrow canal, with a very low ceiling in parts, that had us crouching down to avoid accidental decapitation. This tunnel is not for claustrophobes or those afraid of ghosts – when the fans which keep the air moving, stop and start again after the tunnel doors lock you inside the tunnel, a ghostly mist forms, cocooning the boat and blocking any views of the outside world.

There were a number of new boaters out and about today, from the bloke who clearly thought the canal was too narrow for just his boat, let alone two passing, to the bloke whose boat appeared unable to turn right without the use of a punting pole.

We passed through Stoke-on-Trent, and through one of the locks there, we passed a beautiful boat called Pipedream, which has been lovingly looked after for nearly 15 years – I might be just a little bit in love with her.

Mother wasn’t looking forward to Stoke, because the locks were very difficult (strangely, she managed to be very busy washing her hair when we passed through those, but we’ll forgive her because of the rum) and the canal had been very dirty and grotty the last time she had been. Today it was quite lovely, with just a couple of beer bottles and a coke can in the water to spoil it.

There aren’t that many homeless people along the canal, so it was a bit of a surprise to find a gentleman of lesser means in his very posh sleeping bag under a bridge, listening to a radio.

Wildlife has not disappointed, with a small bat flying out of his tower and across the canal and back.

We were happily pootling along when we thought we saw a water vole swimming across the canal in front of us. A very long water vole with a very long tail. As it happened, its trajectory matched ours, and we could see that it was in fact a squirrel. It met our hull, and attempted to board us. It kept attempting all the way along, until it came to the back end of our boat, at which point it struck out for the bank it had been aiming for in the first place. As we moved on, we were pleased to see that it reached the bank, scaled the short concrete step and scampered safely into the trees.

We moored up next to a family of swans – two parents and two over-grown cygnets, fully grown, but still grey feathered, with their nobbly bits not yet grown. I was so distracted by these, that I nearly forgot my Pimms.

Of boaters and ducks

We watched Miss Congeniality last night, and mother decided that I was just like Gracie Hart. So did most of my friends and colleagues that I shared this with. I think I’m flattered.

Slept in again this morning, which was lovely. We had a flight of 12 locks to deal with, which were very picturesque, if a little bit hard work. Some of the paddles needed some enthusiastic persuasion to turn.

We met many interesting people, such as the volunteer who had loads of information on the building of the locks to share, and his companion who was painting numbers on all the lock gates.

There was the boat ahead of us, who had also had problems with swing bridges, although not the same ones we had problems with. There was a boat full of Norwegians who were having fun. There was a boat with a very cross lady on board because the boat ahead of us lock jumped them. There was a boat whose wife (on the shore) made her husband (on the boat) run aground because she was cross with him, and there was the boat who used his bow-thrusters all the time, which almost pushed the boat in front of us into the adjacent cow field.

The wildlife today was good. Buzzards came close enough to see individual feathers, swallows were skimming the canal catching insects, and there may even have been an owl making a quick flight through some trees. We saw more herons, squirrels and swans for the first time, and some ducks with late clutches, the ducklings still fuzzy and squeaking. One solo duck followed us for a while, flying and landing to catch bread thrown, and attempting to hover with the most inelegant flapping of wings over the stern to announce her presence.

Mother took a rather impressive flying leap from the back stairs (but is okay), father has gone to climb a nearby mountain, and I think it must be Pimms o’clock, but maker of Pimms (mother) appears to have been distracted by a moorhen. 

The Macclesfield mooch

A lie-in happened again this morning, and there was just a single swing bridge were two swing bridges to take care of in the afternoon.

There were many herons to be seen, including one bunched up like Cousin It, keeping his feet warm. Mother threw bread at crows hoping that they might catch it on the fly. None did, though one retrieved a piece somehow and wandered around with it in his beak – perhaps the fact that it was garlic confused it.

We met two little day boaters coming in the opposite direction. The first boat was sent spinning by a cruiser under-taking it at speed (possibly by as much as five miles an hour), but they managed to regain control with the help of a pole and instructions from father. Some of the passengers were dressed up as parrots and chickens, and I’m sure there’s a headless joke in there somewhere.

Macclesfield was the highlight of the day, as mother spent an enjoyable time studying O-Levels there as a teenager and was keen to revisit it.

Finding somewhere to moor was a bit tricky, but father and I made efforts to get us in a mooring where the bottom of the canal was arguably a bit too near the top – but we got in eventually.

We saw what we think was the Hovis factory – it looked mill-like, although it seems to have been converted into flats now. We found our way into town and while much of it has been redeveloped, there are still a lot of the old cobbled streets and buildings in situ, which meant that key parts were still recognisable after 50 years.

Upon returning to the boat, we had lunch, and were almost joined by a large green caterpillar that hitched a ride in on father’s fleece.

The first swing bridge was heavy to push, but okay – the second snuck up on us without warning. It had actual cars going over it, and road barriers to drop down and loud alarms to activate and everything. It was extraordinarily complex with a lot of hard labour - my index finger may never recover from holding the button that did it all, down.

I may have to convalesce with a Pimms.

Pirates and Currie ahoy!

Last night we enjoyed a steak dinner on board, retired to bed and snored all the way through to 8am. Today we went into the pirate infested waters of the Macclesfield Canal. With actual pirates.

My morning started as usual with coffee brought to me in bed, and I enjoyed the view of the national monument through partially opened curtains to the bow. Some chirping and fluttering drew my attention to two greenfinches playing there, flying from one side to the other, perching on the bench, and hovering in front of the window.

After getting up, we moved to the water point, topped up, had breakfast and started on our way up a short arm of canal to a turning point, just to see what was up there. Not a lot really, apart from a random encounter on the way up with a lady walking her dog. A somewhat familiar looking mature lady with perfectly coiffured hair and bright lipstick. We discussed the matter, and decided that it was probably Edwina Currie. We turned around in the basin and started to head back, encountering her on her return journey also. It was indeed Ms Currie, and father got so excited he forgot to steer the boat and hit the wall.

We returned down the Peak Forest Canal, with all the swing and lift bridges behaving themselves beautifully, mother cleaned house without tracking mud all over, and then we entered the Macclesfield Canal.

No sooner had we begun this stretch than we identified a pirate ship pootling down the canal straight at us. Or, more correctly, weaving in our general direction. It was just half our size and listing heavily, but it had a large crew on board, most of whom were waving their beer at us and swallowing their swords. Or perhaps the other way around. And definitely threatening to board us and shiver our timbers.

As they didn’t hit us, we laughed and shook our heads at their antics and continued on with our sandwiches and pink wine. A bit later on, a horn sounded in the distance behind us, and lo and behold but the drunken pirate ship was catching us up. The pirates ducked in and out of moored boats, circumnavigated flotillas of ducks and threatened to board unsuspecting canoes, all without ever hitting anything and we decided that the helmsman was in fact a highly talented steerer who was giving the happy tourists a fun ride.

We let them overtake us, which they did with good humour and much laughter and they disappeared into the distant horizon. Having thought we’d escaped the marauding pirates unmolested, we were almost alarmed to see another pirate ship coming towards us. This one slower and straighter, with less beer and more wine. The crew were rather more mature, though no less costumed and piratical.

Continuing on, we passed herons stalking fish on the banks, one so still we didn’t see him until he was right next to us at the stern. We passed adults with small children too, and asked them if they’d seen the pirates. Yes, they replied, and wanted to know if we were going to catch them because that would be exciting. One little girl went so far as to enquire if we had pirates aboard because she was scared of them and she wouldn’t like us if we did.

As we are high up at the moment, the views have been spectacular, especially the steep drops, the viaducts, and the great city of Manchester down and distant. And oh, look, it’s Pimms o’clock again.

The problem with swing bridges

The Chinese meal we had was delicious, and we watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding, before retiring to bed thoroughly knackered.

Having moored at a random spot in the middle of the countryside, it was lovely to be lying in bed with just the sound of leaves gently rustling in the trees, the delicate lapping of water against the hull, the odd duck have a little quack in the distance, all periodically broken by the quiet shriek of jet engines less than 500 feet above as planes came in to land at Manchester Airport.

We had a lie-in this morning until 8am, with 16 locks in one mile to look forward to. They were hard work, but fuelled with coffee and cookies, over soon enough that we had lunch at a civilised 2.30pm with a grey heron for company.

 Actually the locks were very enjoyable, picturesque and gentle, especially compared with yesterday’s.

Mother tidied up the boat, hoovered through and generally made it homely, immediately before tracking muddy boots throughout.

The afternoon was spotted with lift bridges and the odd swing bridge. And I do mean odd, as the first one would not lock back into place after we passed through. A cast iron element was bent too far out of true, that try as we might - hitting, bending and yelling at it - we could not get it to lock. So we gave up, and with a final careless shove, were astounded to see it effortlessly slot into place. The second odd swing bridge was much better behaved, although did make sure it put in an objection before doing so.

Tonight we are moored in Bugsworth Basin, which is an ancient monument. I don’t think I’ve ever slept in an ancient monument before. Time for Pimms.

Anti-vandal keys and litterbugs

We had an excellent meal at the Ox last night. It’s a friendly place, with limited, but gorgeous food. Which father bought us, before casually mentioning that since we have a few locks first thing, we might like to go to bed at a decent time.

A few locks turned out to be 27 over five miles, and we ended up having lunch at 4.30 pm. The first nine were big double locks and the last 18 were single, but very deep.

But we’re old pros at locks, so weren’t expecting any real problems other than the odd stiff paddle or gate (kinky much?).

Apart from the anti-vandal keys, which were also anti-approved user keys. If the lock hadn’t been tightened up too much, then the bolt was so worn the key spun around without getting grip. If the bolt wasn’t worn then it was probably misaligned, so re-jigging and persuasion was required. If the bolt behaved, then the iron strap wouldn’t come off the paddle. And so on. Tempers may have frayed slightly and windlasses may have been used in a non-approved manner.

And apart from all the landfill, which people have decided belongs in the canal. We had a plastic beer glass and some plastic bags around our propeller. We passed a boat who had just spent 45 minutes removing a carpet that had snagged around theirs. Which caused father to reminisce about the time we had a mattress snagged around ours.

And apart from the water levels being low which made running aground a bit of a possibility.

And apart from the rental boat ahead of us who kept leaving the paddles up. And locking the anti-vandal locks to make sure they stayed that way. Which greatly increased chances of running aground,

And greatly increased the chances of spontaneous canal-side violence should we ever catch up to the rental given the lock crew’s extra workload of manually pulling the boat with ropes, having to open extra paddles to run enough water through that the boat could travel without hitting bottom, as well as having to finish off their work before starting our own.

It was an adventure and an experience. A lot of it was fun, especially the mini-porkpies while waiting for a lock to fill, and people we chatted with along the way. Including man with little son Dylan on his shoulders who watched us work a lock. They wandered off along the towpath, and after a very short while we caught up with them. Dylan was happily riding on dad’s shoulders, but dad was quaking in his boots as he was faced with the fiercest type of dragon to be found along the towpath, the fearsome Canada goose. Taking a deep breath, he took the goose on and scuttled past. Only to be confronted by two more of the terrifying beasties. Taking pity, we called to the two geese who turned to look at us, and taking advantage of the distraction, man and son bravely ran around the outside of them to safety.

And there was plenty to entertain. Herons sitting on brick walls, Canada geese following us in single file – which was impressive given that there were around fifty birds in the flock. I opened a swing bridge, and they passed our boat to go through ahead of us and make their way one by one up the bank and into a field.

Another junction and another swing bridge, followed by a simply stunning kingfisher. I have seen the flash of blue as they dart away, but never seen one still and close enough to see its markings before.

The weather has been cool and grey and threatening to rain all day, but has so far held off. I took a shower as the evening started to draw in, and started by running the bath until the temperature was right, at which point I hit the button that changed the water flow to the shower. No water ran which was a little disconcerting. Until suddenly, a big fat water balloon narrowly missed my head and splatted in the bottom of the bath. I mean, who leaves shower caps on the end of shower heads anyway?

 It’s nearly 7pm as I type and we are still pootling along, but having showered, I am enjoying a deservedly large Pimms in mother’s company. We might be having Chinese tonight.

Hawksmoor Day 1

Abandoned kits to catch train to Manchester. The trains were well behaved, the passengers not so much.

One suit type and one stubbly artist type argued over reserved seats. Venomous insults such as ‘you have very bad manners and clearly have no idea how to shave’ and ‘are all your suits blue, because you look like a conformist to me’ flew thick and fast.

A punch by each failed to make contact with anything other than a bewildered bluebottle, and they finally settled for sitting opposite to engage in a glaring contest. Right up until they each got distracted by their iPhones bleeping.

Father was waiting on the correct platform at exactly the point my carriage stopped (which was very impressive) and escorted me to our chauffeur driven vehicle (otherwise known as a Number 3 free city bus) which dropped us off vaguely near Hawksmoor.

Passed Museum of Science and Industry which apparently has fabulous old cars inside and planned to go there later.

I was greeted with coffee and lunch, which included a scrummy cream cake, all lovingly prepared by mother.

The day was shaping up awesomely.

Then we went shopping, ultimate target M&S, which meant that, naturally, it started to rain. Heavily.

Museum of Science and Industry was closed for refurbishment.

Undeterred, we headed for the nearest Sainsbury Local, where mother cunningly hid the loaf of bread she’d identified as hers at the back of the bread shelf.

Then we took a number 3 bus from outside the Sainsbury to the Arndale Centre.

Or at least to a stop where we could change on to a number 2 which would take us to the Arndale centre.

Except that, having been on the number 3 for ten or fifteen minutes, we eventually realised that we were approaching an astonishingly familiar Sainsbury’s.

So we got off and walked instead.

Having located the Arndale Centre, we discovered that there was no M&S. So we looked around BHS, where mother took an escalator up. And immediately took the escalator down. Apparently because she likes escalators (I’m now thinking about getting her an Oyster card for Christmas – hours of fun…).

We then all took the escalator up, and with some help from the nice BHS lady, located M&S further down the road. Purchases purchased, we located the number 2 bus directly outside M&S and got on that, planning to stay on, as it’s a circular route that would drop us off not too far away from our Sainsbury Local.

After travelling for ten minutes in the wrong direction, the driver announced last stop and kicked us all off.

Fortunately it was a bus station, and after navigating stand numbers and zebra crossings, we located the next number 2 which took us where we wanted to go. Sainsbury’s Local still had the loaf of bread that mother had sneakily hidden, and we headed back to the boat.

Now have a cup of tea and a large pink wine. Will head off to the pub shortly for food (no buses involved).