Monday 27th April to Sunday 3rd May 2009
Rain was forecast and rain was what we got. It wasn’t warm but neither was it cold so although we didn’t use the central heating (spoilt or what?) we kept the fire going overnight.
We’re out in the country, somewhere near Seend (no that’s not a spelling mistake). One sees the occasional boat or two but there’s plenty of space between them and the cruising is up to standard.
By evening we’re listing again. Someone’s pinched the water. Yesterday we were robbed in the morning, today we’re robbed in the evening. This canal certainly takes some getting used to.
We’re approaching Hilperton marina so V and I take a walk (it really isn’t far, she said) and there I finger all the shiny bits in the chandlery and the icecreams. Not a bad shop I have to say, there’s things in there that I haven’t seen anywhere else on the system, reels of 6mm copper tube for my winter project and boat main fuses of all shapes and sizes up to 750 amps. I bought two giant fuse links at £3.10 each, compare that with Midland Chandlers if you will.
The following day we stopped at Hilperton Wharf’s services and did a rubbish drop. There’s no point buying diesel here, they will only sell with a propulsion/power split of 60/40, and no, I haven’t got that the wrong way round. At 60p a litre plus 46p extra duty we would be £63.60 worse off on a full tank of diesel.
Leaving Hilperton we continued towards Bradford on Avon. No sooner had we started than we stopped under a bridge to admire dozens of mason’s marks. There be stone bridges in these parts and Jo and me snapped away with cameras until we’d recorded everything. Even an approaching narrowboat didn’t deter us, he fought his way through the bridge hole while we loitered in it scanning stones for these unusual markings.
At Bradford Lock we halted for a shopping trip to dear old Sainsburys. Might as well take a walk into town while we’re there, she said, and we found it much as we’d left it 35 years ago.
In fact it’s much as we’d have left it hundreds of years ago.
The Bridge has been branded UK’s Top Tea Room 2009, topping the Ritz and all London’s top hotels and even Bath’s Pump Rooms, so the sign says.
What a lovely place to find near the Kennet & Avon canal, well worth the ½ mile walk from the boat.
Smashing place, nice people and a lovely accent is developing as we get closer to our old haunt of Bristol.
And then we spotted it – my relatives – Granny Mo’s, right there next to the lock.
Couldn’t go any further without sitting outside Granny’s sipping good coffee and watching the boats go by. This might even beat the Bridge because of its unique setting and it’s a darn sight kinder on the pocket.
We stayed the night (at the moorings, not at Granny Mo’s) and on Thursday joined the queue for the water tap before descending the lock. All went well as we waited our turn for the tap but unfortunately we met Mrs Grump on a hireboat coming the other way who couldn’t handle queues and let off steam about us and the system and probably life in general so we dumped rubbish, declined water and pulled away from the conflict. It didn’t stop then, she told her husband who yelled some more so I smiled, which didn’t help. Granny Mo’s owner came out to see what the fuss was all about and commented on how it provided wonderful entertainment for the locals.
Back out into the countryside we relaxed and enjoyed the cruise to the Dundas Aqueduct, built in 1804 across the Avon valley, and where we waited an hour for water.
The wide beam in front must have been 90% water tank, 10% accommodation. The owner has two of these which he hires out and we compared notes on central heating systems and engines. He’s getting a new 50hp Beta engine which will leave him with a spare Italian engine to dispose of. I got the impression he wasn’t asking much for it but I declined.
Made a note to cruise the Somerset Coal Canal until I looked in the book and discovered its only ¼ mile long now, the rest was abandoned many years ago.
Mike and Jo have popped home for an important birthday so we’re on our own for a day or two.
By the time we reached Bathampton we were cruising the canal equivalent of the M25. Wall to wall residents left little space for visitors so we pushed on in the hope of finding something in Bath.
A space on the 72’s and on rings was more than we could have expected and judging by the last few miles this is a rare find.
What’s even better was the bridge ahead of us was plastered with mason’s marks, just wait til I tell Jo.
Despite the weather we walked down town, following the locks, to see what the River Avon offered boaters. Moorings are scattered between the locks, sometimes in twos or threes, and we mentally booked our space on the public moorings below the weir in town, even if it’s going to cost us money. But that’s another day.
Friday arrived along with the population of Bath, all eager to tread the gravel path beside the canal.
I was given two lists by V, one summarised boat jobs while the other listed food in the fridge. Why? Because she’s doing a runner.
No, nothing like that, she’s going as carer/companion with a couple of ladies on a coach to the frozen north. Somewhere beyond the mainland, somewhere over the sea to a remote paradise, or it would be if the sun ever shone there, for a week. Meanwhile I get to indulge myself with cooking, washing, cleaning and attacking that long list of jobs.
But first I have to turn the boat and find a mooring that won’t attract attention from the blue-shirts. Remembering the check list, like fit the tiller arm and start the engine before casting off, I make it through bridges and tunnel to the winding hole above Bath locks. There’s a friendly fella with a boat at the ‘hole who chats to me as I turn around and has nasty things to say about sea gulls that drop fish onto his boat and forget to collect them. He held up his trophies that looked a bit like piranhas to me.
Back in the other direction I crawled along looking for a space to stop for a week and taking advice from a hireboat crew stopped as far from a suspicious looking floating wood pile as I could. Needn’t have bothered because another one turned up later and plonked himself right next to me.
Saturday 2nd May
Full of beans, well bacon and eggs, I was pleased to see the jolly old sun was out again. Time to find the two lists.
First open doors and windows, second lift the furniture, third sandpaper the floor.
And then slap on the varnish.
Great?
No, not exactly. It’s dandelion weather, gorgeous yellows have been replaced by fluffy whites which at the chime of mid-day float away on the breeze. I’m not sure how they steer but they’re very good at finding portholes and gaps in the doors and they collect in bunches in every corner of the boat. They particularly look for their favourite landing places - cups of coffee and glasses of wine, but worst of all they seem attracted to fresh varnish, open tins and sticky paint brushes.
So while the varnish dries I sit at the other end of the boat trying not to suffocate because I have to keep the windows and doors closed.
There’s another downside to sanding and varnishing wood, dust gets everywhere. But the good news is that you can only see it when you move something. The trick is to put things back in the same place and that’s made easier by dust leaving a shape the same as the object.
I kept the fire in overnight, it helped to dry the varnish which smelt a tad nasty and it helped to dry my socks which also smelt a tad nasty. I’d soaked them in a bucket with phosphate free (terribly high in nitrates) soap and couldn’t believe the colour after I’d rinsed them. Why don’t I do this more often I wondered.
Being close to Bath it’s terribly busy on the canal, boats pass every five minutes and many of them seem to be in a desperate hurry.
It’s not a pleasant experience being on pins at the end of long ropes outside reeds and balancing on submerged concrete beams that line the canal. I wonder if the concrete was higher than the water level at one time and served the purpose of a wall to rest alongside?
Perhaps the water level has been raised to save dredging and now the concrete is lying at base plate level so that waves from passing boats lift us onto it with an unpleasant bang and a scraping noise. Some clever boaters have dropped car tyres down the side to ease the scuffing but guess who didn’t bring any?
No, give me deserted canals and rivers any day.
Not that I’ve anything against the scruffs that line the bank in these parts, I’m getting to know them one by one and have found them, so far, to be a friendly lot. I think I’m getting to like them.
Some of the boats down here look very interesting, if only we could stop and talk and get to see inside them, I’d find them fascinating, I’m sure. There must be great stories to tell. I wonder if any keep blogs.
The towpath is wider here than we’ve seen it in the east, it needs to be wide to handle the traffic. Every day it’s the same, joggers first then dog walkers by the thousand and then cyclists by the million. There’s no way I’m going to be able to chop wood on the towpath. But there’s one good point worth mentioning, there are no anglers, no 30 foot perch poles, no fold up seats and no umbrellas to negotiate on the towpath.
Sunday 3rd May 2009
Sanding and varnishing continues. I’m doing the water stained bits that you think you’ve cured until the varnish goes on and the stains all reappear like magic.
Boats continue to whiz up and down so I’ve stuck a couple of notices outside. The first one I’ve used before on the Trent & Mersey, to good effect, it says “Please Slow Down, we’re almost out of china”. This usually gets a smile and often has the desired effect.
The other is “Go Slow – canal humps ahead”.
If neither work, as happens with hireboats, then just as the steerer passes the open side doors I drop a few empty tins on the floor and let out a yell, that usually gets their attention and their reaction makes me laugh.
Two pirate boats left for Bathampton this morning, must be a stag do, they were three parts jolly and having a real good time. A wide beam trip boat goes one way in the morning and returns later with rows of smiling faces and the sounds of a turkey farm.
The only thing that slows the trip boat is the narrow bridge hole a few feet away. As he applies the brakes his boat sends a small tsunami down the canal which treats us all to a free Alton Towers experience.
Hurry up V, I’m all for getting outta here.
Addendum
Any nonsense, grammar or spelling mistakes that mya occur are due to the absence of my editor.
Sounds like you two are having way to much fun at the moment. I love the idea of your signs for boaters going to fast. I must remember the tins idea, when they come past us at 90 mph. On the GU they do not know what go slow means it seems, but i suppose they think because it is wider they can do what speed they like. Happy Cruising to you both.