Narrowboat Balmaha – Bedford to Lazy Otter.

Tuesday 2nd September 2008 Barford Old Mills
Upstream from Great Barford we are tucked in behind the island with its redundant narrow lock.
Weather is so horrid that we’re staying for a couple of days and getting on with indoor jobs that I’d kept for the summer months. It’s not much fun smelling varnish drying but it has to be done.
With rain on and off and forecasts predicting worse we‘re watching the river closely but apart from going down three inches nothing awful has happened.

Wed 3rd
Today is a bit special It’s Merchant Navy Day and the Red Ensign (I was going to say red admiral for some reason) is flying from an ensign staff (broom handle) lashed to the rudder’s swan neck. The flag was rescued from the rag bin on the chemical tanker m/v Pass of Balmaha sometime in the 1970s and still smells of Stanlow oil refinery, which is nice.

Red flag flying, we bid the pilot farewell and broke through the surf onto the Great Ouse, bound for St. Neots and a water tap.
Looking like a total scruff-bag I acknowledged a few nods from plastic admirals going upstream but then I had to stand as we took a salute from another narrowboat flying the flag.

Nice to see we’re not the only ones remembering those who never returned from their duties in WW2.

I could have worn my MN cap but I was already on a dispensation with the flag and swapping my shammy hat for the real thing would have brought V out in a mutiny so I let things be for now.
The sun shone for a while as we stopped for water and the shops at St. Neots but it wasn’t to last and before long the wind dragged in clouds and a chill sent us to the clothes locker for last winter’s waterproofs.

A longish day and a tired crew touched down at Godmanchester’s lock side moorings.

Someone has installed camera and loudspeakers at Godmanchester Lock since we were last here. Nice to know we’re being looked after but on the other hand it’s a bit worrying that they may have had troubles in the past. We’ll give it a night and see how things are. V watched the camera and counted 40 seconds between camera movements that covered 360 degrees which, I suppose, means everything is automatic, there’s no one at the other end.
It looked quite funny at night with its twin red lamps shining like robot eyes in the film “Short Circuit”.
I guess the loudspeakers are a warning for unruly kids, telling them they are being watched and reported. I wondered if they were playing annoying high frequency noises that only kids can hear but there’s no way I could find out, it’s bad enough trying to hear V’s “Ss”. She says it’s nothing to do with the way she pronounces her words now that her gums are receding but claims it’s all to do with my age.

Thurs 4th
Well nothing happened last night, no night time visitors, no bricks from the sky, which reminds me I haven’t repaired the paint chips from the last hail of stones at Wellingborough.

A light drizzle didn’t stop us setting off downstream and within the hour an umbrella was called for. Heavy rain on a cruiser stern made sure we huddled close under the brolly with the tiller arm between us which meant we did the foxtrot every time we needed to change direction. Not easy if you’re holding a mug of tea at the same time.

I love the EA veg cutters in these parts, they buzz up and down the river, spinning at the end of their run, returning to where they started. Seeing how they took up the whole river we approached cautiously but needn’t have worried because they’re so quick and nimble and easily dodge boats like us.

I didn’t notice the church’s steeple at Hemingford Grey on the way upstream. It’s very pretty but it’s definitely short of a brick or two.

St. Ives came and went and fortunately the rain kept off as we worked the locks. It was tempting to stop for the day at the Pike and Eel but the skies were brighter so we carried on.
Through Brownhills Staunch and something like a six inch drop onto the tidal river we swept onwards keeping an eye out for the elusive seals that are rumoured to swim in these parts.

Arriving at Hermitage Lock smack on lunchtime in a gale and driving rain we were cheered to get the “thumbs up” and were through onto the Old West River in minutes. As if to go with the change of scenery the skies turned brighter and we finally quit another epic voyage somewhere south of Aldreth. At least the moorings are fairly sheltered and we are spared the worst of the winds but once again showers continued into the night.

Something tells me we’ve been robbed of our summer because like all old people my long term memory still recalls the national TV News telling us we were entering a decade of hot dry summers and Mediterranean winters as global warming took hold. Ever since those dire warnings I reckon we entered the ice age, particularly evident between June and September. The barby has hardly been thrashed this year, we’re still on last year’s bag of charcoal and I’ve worn flip-flops just once.

To support my theory we lit a fire, the first in many months since the end of 2007’s winter. It was lovely to watch the rosy glow behind the glass of the wood burning stove in one corner while the TV flickered in the other. This is what it’s all about, fighting the tiller for six hours, out in all weathers then dropping off to sleep in front of a hot fire with nothing but the sound of the wind tearing the trees apart and rattling the boat pole somewhere up above us.

Fri 5th
This is a sit tight day. Rain they said and rain we got. The indoor jobs list saw light of day and our noses took a battering as the varnish sloshed onto the wood work again. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, this is a grand life and since the schools went back it’s taken a turn for the better, most of the time we have the river to ourselves.

Between showers V braved the wind and walked to Aldreth across Ewell Fen. She reported on the causeway, an ancient pathway from Cambridge to Ely and possibly the route that brought that hooligan William from France, who arriving at the Fens, caused much trouble with that English gent Mr Hereward the Wake.

The solar panel didn’t exactly come into its own today, a mere 8Amp/Hours delivered to the batteries, replacing about a twelfth of the power taken out. That’s all you can expect from grey skies at the tail end of summer.

Sat 6th September 2008
I often get accused of taking uninteresting pictures on our travels and maybe I do but it’s not easy finding things when you’re stuck on a meandering river between two earth banks, too high to see over. Today we shall have a competition to see who can take the most boring picture.
Mine’s the boat, V’s is the cows.

Answers on a postcard to …….

We’d heard stories about Twenty Pence road bridge, its shoaling, mud banks, nasty corners and engines ruined trying to break contact with the river bottom. As it happens we crept through unmolested by the shallows and I mentally thanked those who’d passed on their horrible experiences. Twenty Pence Marina and Twenty Pence Inn added to the mystery of these parts and I resolved to discover one day how the locals built all this and still had change from a pound.

An easy hour and a half cruising later we were blown onto the GOBA moorings at the Lazy Otter where we joined an over-stayer the Anna-Rose.

Oops, another boat photograph and no cows for miles.

Wondering what to do next when the phone went – friends, the ones responsible for us living on a narrowboat, were passing and wanted to call in to see us. A couple of hours later we were in the Lazy Otter ordering a meal and catching up on news.

If it looks a bit serious it’s because the camera is on ‘timed’, sitting on a shelf in the bookcase with me running back to my seat just in time for the flash.

With every table reserved we were fortunate to get a place to eat which says a lot for end of summer, out of school holidays but they fitted us in.
Scrummy food, good service and lovely company - a smashing end to the day, thanks John and Jean.