A shortage of dry socks

Nothing much to report, really, as we return to a more normal routine. The canal is as quiet and peaceful as it should be.

Rain before 7.00, but not fine by 11.00. We togged up anyway – waterproof trousers and jackets and hats – and set off to climb the remaining 11 locks of the 15-Lock Audlem flight. We quickly set into a rhythm of working: after opening the top paddles of one lock, I would walk ahead to open the bottom paddles and gates of the next lock, leaving Ernest to open his top gate, drop the paddles, exit, then close the gate. After doing this once, he decided it would be a good idea to secure the boat with the rear rope when he left it to close the gate, just in case it decided to drift away…

Apparently, I sometimes caused extra problems by opening the bottom paddles of the next lock just as he was trying to close his gate, and the extra flow made his work harder.

It’s at times like this when it would be really good to have an extra pair of hands, or better still, two extra crew. One always going ahead to set the next lock, one always available to finish off the lower lock, one working wherever needed. But in the evenings and overnight, our boat really only has room for two. So the extra crew would have to arrange their own accommodation. Or camp on the roof.

We have in the past had extras (family and friends) ‘camping’ out with us (not on the roof) for short periods – and very welcome they were too (I know they read this blog, and I don’t want them to feel unwanted and unloved). But after a long day in the rain with much lock working, my inner introvert kicks in and demands to be ALONE. So I’d better just get on with working the locks all by myself.

A short respite after the Audlem flight, but then the five locks at Adderley. By this time, heavy persistent rain had tested and found wanting the waterproof coat (yes, the new one) and hat as well as the shoes. I left Ernest under his umbrella and retreated indoors to finish making bread, change some of my clothing, and make coffee, not necessarily in that order.

We moored for lunch in Market Drayton – I confess to bacon sandwiches with freshly made bread rolls – then pressed on, as the rain had stopped and the clouds had lifted. For a short while there was the promise of sun and warmth, but the promise was unfulfilled.

Five more locks at Tyrley – tricky ones with fast run offs, and an especially shallow pound between the bottom two locks where you are likely either to run aground on the towpath side or get pushed sideways by the run off and find yourself stuck against the steep rocky cliff on the other side (the two boats ahead of us kindly demonstrated the dangers for us).

Ernest must be tired because he got grumpy with the skipper of a boat coming down: a young couple, the girl went ahead to set the next lock down (the one Ernest had just left, crossing with a boat going down, so that lock was now empty) – Ernest told the girl not to open the top paddles, as there was a boat coming up. The girl communicated with her skipper on her walker-talkie (I am ambivalent about the value of these walkie-talkies – they seem to take the fun out of narrowboating, since much of the fun results from communication breakdowns) and the skipper obviously told her to open the paddles anyway, so she did. And Ernest was cross because that meant they had ‘stolen’ the lock from the boat coming up. I think the skipper might have been worried about crossing the shallow pound and didn’t want to exit his lock until he could see the next lock down set for him with gates open. But Ernest might be right – this skipper was just rude and inconsiderate.

No further incidents. A long stretch without Locks was somehow both relaxing and tedious. A bit of sunshine would have improved matters. We moored for the night at Norbury Junction ‘where the Newport branch used to lock down from the main line’, but which is now a busy boatyard with cafe, shop, pub and permanent moorings as well as CRT facilities.

We don’t usually moor in such a busy place. Almost metropolitan. Quiet at the moment, but we know it will be full of life in the morning. If we linger for long enough, we might be tempted by the bacon sandwiches in the cafe.

To round off the day, the local fire brigade entertained us with exercises in the cut: it looked as if the youngest recruits were being subjected to some initiation ritual – donning wetsuits and bright yellow helmets, climbing down into the water, walking across the canal and then along it for a few yards, then being dragged, floating, back across the canal and being hauled out by their mates. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it.

Good old Borlotti Bean Goulash and cheese dumplings for dinner.

21 locks and 17 miles in 9.2 engine hours.