Narrowboat Journal

Monday 22nd to Sunday 28th June 2009

At last it feels like summer, but I’ve underestimated the use of the barbeque and we’re down to the dregs, those crumbly bits of charcoal that lie in the bottom of the bag. There’s enough to light one more fire and after that it’s back to the stove.
We’re mostly on our own, each night a couple of boats join us but they’re generally gone in the morning. You can tell we’ve been here longest by the number of flattened weeds along the bank.

We still see boats heading for the Braunston boat festival, if the Leicester Line is anything to go by they must be pouring in from the Oxford and Grand Union Canals. Glad we’re here not there.

Tuesday was earmarked for work. There’s a new shutter lock to install in the stern doors, a job that’s been waiting for three years and I couldn’t put it off any longer. With the door panel removed and all the parts assembled for fitting I had almost run out of excuses when along came Del and Al on Derwent 6. Breathing a sigh of relief I pushed everything aside and joined them on the towpath for a cuppa and news catch-up. Such was the news that I went right through to dinner time without lifting a finger on the lock.

This was our first look-see inside Derwent 6 and well impressed we were too. Amazing attention to detail, hundreds of good layout and storage ideas and a very high quality fit-out, which is a rare find and a credit to the cabinet makers at Fernwood. Six months from launch and she still smells like a new boat and the exterior shines just like it did when she came out of the paint shed. If only there was a way to keep it like that.

I can’t remember how the subject arose but when the time came to part Del donated a refill for our barbeque and we ate out once again on a balmy summer’s evening. Thanks you guys, you saved our bacon (well, actually the chicken).

Wednesday was sunny yet again and we planned to move up to Foxton. The sky was deep blue and cloudless first thing and I couldn’t leave without poking the camera through the porthole.

Reaching Foxton around 1pm we met Mr Ter who was doing a spot of consulting in the vicinity and just happened to be carrying a bag of mail for us. While we sat on the taff rail chatting V worked the locks on the way down to the boat basin. This didn’t go unnoticed by V or the public who, leaning over the lock wall, made the usual comments about who does all the hard work.
I have to say it’s not all fun, I could be suffering from claustrophobia in those deep locks for all you know.

Did my best to cross the centre pond without touching the sides but it wasn’t to be and coming out of the bottom lock we only just missed Vagabond by using the bow thruster, and turned right to Black Horse Bridge in preparation for a Tesco drop tomorrow.

Thursday started grey but things brightened up about the time of our grocery delivery. Being the only boat on the moorings we were surprised to see another one tie-up behind us so close that we could have shared the same rope. Thinking this was unusual V met him and discovered he was hoping to join another boat at the swing bridge. He was a single-hander and not as young or agile as we. The bridge in question was only two minutes away and not the easiest to manage when you’re on your own. Brambles have taken over what must be one of the shortest offside lock landings for a swing bridge. I wouldn’t want to have to attempt it on my own.
But he didn’t need to wait long, while V shoved large packets of food into tiny spaces in the boat I cut the ropes and set off towards the bridge.

While he wandered off to Harbro’ we spun 180 and returned to Foxton before setting off again, this time to Debdale for diesel (55p self declare).

I haven’t thought out the full implications of this but just north of Debdale Wharf there’s a new sign telling us that this is the start of an SSSI area. Apart from cruising in such a way that we don’t chop the rare pondweed with our prop and stopping only in designated mooring areas there’s nothing to spoil our fun. However, this bit of canal is getting like the Harbro’ Arm was four years ago and is in need of weed clearing. Does SSSI mean no dredging?. Perhaps a few quids worth of signage saves thousands of pounds in dredging expenses. Very clever.

We looked for designated mooring places but couldn’t see any. Does anyone know what they look like?
We also looked for a sign to say we were out of the SSSI area but we hadn’t seen one by the time we reached Fleckney. Designated or not we moored anyway. And we cooked pondweed on the BBQ (not really).

Friday was wet and V said we didn’t have to go anywhere if we didn’t want to but I was worried about overstaying in a non-designated mooring area.
I agreed to stay for the weekend so V changed her mind and we went.

Spotted a friendly local blue shirt filling up a low pound and forgot to ask where we could find the north end of the SSSI. Making way again we were caught up by nb.Grumpy Git so we shared locks for the rest of the journey. Knew we’d seen this boat before but it wasn’t until we looked through the magazines that we remembered the article in Canal Boat (Sept 07) describing Paul’s new 54 foot narrowboat.

There was no mention of the dog but you certainly know she’s onboard when you get too close. Woof!

And so to a quiet weekend at Wistow.
I’m about to start dismantling the stern door to fit the new lock when “Hello Balmaha” echos across the water. Looking out who do we find but nb.Windsong with Pip and Roger on the stern.
Fresh from their launch they’re exploring the system in their brand new boat and bumping into bloggers at every turn.

Find a space up the cut and come and have some tea, we said. Jobs were put on hold, the lock was stuck back in its box and we waited, and waited. We guessed what had happened, the only moorings for miles were full and to make matters worse the heavens opened.

Sorry it didn’t happen but we’ll catch up with you another time.

Saturday and Sunday were hot and humid, terrible for working outdoors, but the lock wouldn’t wait and now we are the proud owners of a shutter lock. It’s all about shoving metal rods upwards and downwards through metal door edges into metal door frames. That way no one can jemmy the doors open without making a lot of noise. We had one fitted to the bow doors during boat build but when it came to having one at t’other end we’d run out of time.
But it’s done now.

It’s been a week for spillages. A can of WD40 squirted itself dry under our top step when a windlass rested on it and a bottle of apple juice emptied itself under the side hatch steps. So what with the weather we are very sticky.

Next week we shall more than likely be heading into south Leicester to do shops, see people and celebrate yet another birthday, whoopee.

Monday 15th to Sunday 21st June 2009

From the peace and quiet of Somerton’s meadows, if you forget about the cow problems, we cruised to just above Kings Sutton Lock.

While I studied the deckhead for a few minutes V disappeared down the towpath and came back with two icecreams, a perfect end to a warm pollen blighted day. Hayfever has erupted with a vengeance and I could use some rain to clear the air. Hardly made my wish when thick black clouds headed our way from Banbury bringing thunder and lightning.

It wasn’t long before the show started and as we dived for cover from the rain and hail the sky around us lit up with spectacular flashes accompanied by deafening big bass drums.

Seconds before the rain arrived the crew from the boat behind us were shouting their approval with “Oooohs” and “Aaahhhs” as the sky lit up, before they too ran for cover. Brilliant.

Tuesday was dry which made things a lot easier for a shopping expedition to Morrisons at Banbury. Further on we were surprised to see nb.Shindig on her way back south after her Bristol to Sharpness adventure, there hardly seems enough time to do the circuit since we saw them on the K&A. Well done you guys.

Our moorings below Slat Mill lock saw the shears in action again, the weeds along the bank were over ninety feet tall. I cut more than we needed because a little bird told us Sarah-Kate was coming in to land. And so she did, with Mike and Jo who we’d said goodbye to at least once before, but it was lovely to see them again and lovely to empty their drinks cupboard once more.

Bourton Lock, I think it was, is in a state and I almost wept for the overgrown garden. High with grass and weeds you’d have a job to see the former beauty of this place. A notice on the house says it’s in new hands and being worked on but with so much to do the garden must fend for itself. It would be a shame if the owners didn’t swing a bill-hook now and again and an even greater shame if no one picks the fruit bushes next to the lock.

Wednesday we were away early but immediately fell into a queue for locks. Cropredy was choked with boats and not the place to hang around when everyone’s going silly on the water.
We pulled over far short of our intended bridge 124 because the clouds started dropping wet stuff and, anyway, we’d had enough for one day.
I panicked at one stage during the day when I noticed the green lamp on the engine monitor panel was off. As V steered I peered into the darkness below decks and found all fan belts whirring around as usual, the start battery was charging and when I stopped and started the engine all worked as expected so I assumed the lamp had given up the ghost. Sure enough my diagnosis was correct though I have to say I’ve never known one to blow on a boat or a car before.
Just to be thoroughly modern I replaced the filament with an LED.

On Thursday we pottered off to the top of Napton Locks and fell in behind the slowest boat in the world.
We stopped half way down for a brew, something we never do but it did no good because half an hour wasn’t enough to put a single lock between us. V tried helping them through but they wouldn’t have it any other way so we smiled and wandered down in twice the time it normally takes. We were so slow that Sarah-Kate, even after stopping at Claydon’s Bygones Museum, caught up with us.
By the way we didn’t appreciate how extensive and fascinating this museum is, looking at Jo’s photos has given me a real need visit next time we go down the Oxford Canal.
Opening hours are 10.30 to 4.30 Wednesday to Sunday, April to October (phone 01295 690258). It’s only £2.50 admission with concessions for the terribly old and the terribly young like me.

We were pleased to see that BW had planted poppies on the lock landings to cheer us up. And very nice they are too.

I have to say I do like the bollard humour on the Oxford Canal. Perhaps BW could raise money by offering sponsorship of the lock bollards. By that I mean we could show our appreciation by sponsoring bollards that are in the right place.

The day ended between bridges 102 and 103 on the GU between Wiggies Turn and Braunston and finished with us eating our last supper with Mike and Jo. I say last supper because tomorrow we turn right and they turn left.

Friday was farewell Sarah-Kate and how do you do Moore 2 Life. Chas and Ann were moored (Moored – get it?) just round the corner so we stopped for a cuppa and a natter. After admiring the new cupboards and getting some exercise trying to take a stick off Molly, we said our goodbyes for the time being and wandered off to Braunston.

Rumours are confirmed, the old working boats, or ‘projects’ as one called itself, have gone. No burnt out shell or sunken boats on the run up to Braunston because CRS are doing a spring clean. When was the last time you saw the canal bank along here? It’s the end of an era.

Uhh-ooh, notices up outside Braunston Marina, we’re not welcome this week. Boat-fest next weekend says we’d better not stop. Not only that but the loo dump was choked again so we shall have to take our ‘stuff’ elsewhere.

I later read in Willawaw’s blog that Mark was in town on the same day but how we didn’t bump into each other I just don’t know.

Some good news – The Admiral Nelson is open again on the Braunston Flight. It was sad to see the shutters up earlier this year and notices posted in town saying regretfully the business wasn’t there to keep it open but it looks like someone is giving it another try.

Isn’t Braunston tunnel busy on Fridays? We passed four going t’other way, the first one stopped dead as we reached him which is usually fatal. I spent my time watching the other side, keeping the gunnels an inch off the wall so when he bounced off us I knew that he had wandered across to the middle of the tunnel. Boing he went and crash went something else as his starboard side whalloped the wall. He muttered something about us not helping things by going too fast but at little more than tick-over it’s the slowest I dare go. Does anyone else come to a dead stop in the tunnel in the hope that nothing will happen?

Hanging a left at Norton Junction we spotted a great big shiny boat. Ahhh, it’s Derwent 6 taking a nap. Nope, they’re obviously taking a walk because we couldn’t raise Del and Al with the horn.
Catch up with you guys somewhere I’m sure. And we still haven’t done the guided tour.

Watford locks has its own special welcome for us, it’s where we started to feel at home back in January 2006 when we braved snow and ice to get Balmaha onto familiar waters. We don’t care how long it takes going up the flight, there’s always a smile here and often time for a chat. Further on, mooring opposite the sheep and within earshot of the M1 (where isn’t?), we shut down for the night.

Saturday’s plan was to clear Crick and settle down for a couple of days. Tunnel traffic was all going our way, which was nice, and after a thorough soaking we emerged to find the place buzzing with boats. No spaces meant we hoved-to where we shouldn’t and while V did the Co-op run I prepared to argue for mooring opposite the new marina entrance. Signage is ambiguous anyway so one has an excuse for the little time it takes to get bread and milk from up the road.

Aiming for just short of the Welford Arm we pottered along in half decent weather. One fella poked his head out of his side hatch and commented on our engine, saying “Your engine is quieter than my fridge”. It’s nice to know the hospital silencer is still doing its job.

Looks like the rumours of a marina at Yelvertoft have substance. There’s a scar across the fields and a mountain of topsoil that says something’s going on. Just before the old BW dredging dump there are notices telling us to keep out as I presume they don’t want us playing on their machines, spoilsports.

Emerging from bridge 27 we spotted vacant moorings right next to the wooden seat. I shouted “full ahead” to ensure we got there first and then “full astern”, followed by “finished with engines” as we secured to rings while our bow wave cut loose and disappeared up the cut without us.

I was just putting my feet up when V reported a non flushing cassette loo. Not being able to find my ‘urgent and important’ jobs list I decided to tackle it without delay. Lying on my back in the corridor with my arm up inside the gubbins I pressed the wrong thing and got deluged by water from the bowl. When will I learn, always take the fuse out before messing with water solenoids.
It works again and I put it down to an infestation of limescale and I mentally booked a complete overhaul sometime in 2012. That should keep my mind off the Olympics.

Our (my) joy was complete as the barbeque worked its magic again on the stern deck. You can’t beat sausages and skewered pork I always say, washed down with something red, white or brown and fizzy.
It’s lovely being back on the Leicester Line, there’s nothing particularly special about the water, its brown like other canals but it is quieter than the main lines from the south or those from the west, especially in winter. The blue shirts up here are the best in the country, always friendly and ready to help, unlike all but one we met on the K&A.

Sunday brought out the usual marina traffic, they potter up the cut for lunch then potter back at closing time. Added to these are boats from up north because the River Soar is open and of course there are the hire boats doing the Leicester Ring. But we are getting treats with seeing working boats making their way to Braunston for the ‘show’ next weekend.
Here’s one that came through earlier.

Father’s Day didn’t pass without a call from the kids and as it’s a sunny day we shall cook on the barbeque and open a special bottle that came my way recently. Being an orphan I have to put up with getting gifts and receiving lavish attention, it didn’t used to be easy for me but I have recently found the grace to do it well.

It’s a special day for Mike on Sarah-Kate, his birthday – again. Not quite the oldest man on earth but he is doing quite well with his bus pass collection. Happy Birthday Mike.

Monday 8th to Sunday 14th June 2009

Monday is our last day of cruising on the Kennet & Avon for tomorrow we shall leave it behind and start climbing northwards to the Midlands.

Turf sided and scallop locks are just two oddities that will be discussed when we’re out of here. Actually now that the paint on the side of the boat has all gone I can definitely say that scallop locks are much better than flat sided brick and stone locks, they’re great for stopping in a straight line. This is handy when there’s another boat coming in beside you. There must be something else to compliment them but I’m out of ideas for the moment.

The day brightened as we reached the straight bit before Fobney Lock. Shears came in handy as the undergrowth had turned into overgrowth and stinging nettles reached my armpits. Needless to say the towpath was brilliant, a yard wide, gravelled, flat and perfect for cyclists. The verges were different, I doubt most towpath walkers could see the canal through the dense forest of green that used to be cut in the good old days of the ‘veg-pledge’.
I’d recommend a long handled machete or an industrial strimmer for those planning a cruise on this canal in the next few days. It’s either that or tunnelling equipment, if you want to get ashore.

Tuesday.
We found Reading’s upper lock (County Lock) very much as we left it, in need of some urgent repairs to its floating walkway approaches. Someone has taken the trouble to hang Defra rash and danger tape on it but those over 12 stone or anyone with a high centre of gravity better not attempt the walk without a life jacket.

Out the other side of the lock Mike pressed the river’s traffic lights button. When the light turned green we set off together and cruised through town. Little in the way of water flow meant a quiet passage downstream unlike those poor souls last year when a raging torrent meant risking contact with the concrete walls.

Finally Blake’s lock dropped us to the same level as the River Thames. There’s nothing much to say about the last few hundred yards of the K&A, no goodbye signs, no walkers waving, no certificate or plaque to collect from the last lock keeper. We left as quietly as we’d entered and so closed another chapter in our book.

Rounding the corner where the K&A joins the Thames we noticed a drop in speed as we headed upstream but we managed 3.5 mph which would get us most places.
Tesco missed out on two visitors because they’re charging £4.80 to moor through the summer, from April onwards. Pity because we had time and money to do a half decent shop.

Now that we’re back on the Thames we need to pay the toll.
I’m not saying where but when asked how long a licence I required I replied one day.
Oh, so you’ll be off by midnight tonight?
No, I’ll be off by midnight tomorrow.
Then you’ll actually want a two-day licence.
No, I want a one day licence because what’s left of today is not chargeable so I want to pay for one day and that will cover tomorrow.
No, you want a two day pass, for which we only charge one day.
Oh really?
Yes, that will be £35 for a 60 foot long by 6 foot ten inches wide boat, thank you.

I can only think of one reason to charge one day for a two day licence and that’s because it leaves open the possibility of calling it a reduced charge which could be changed to a full charge at some time in the future. I wonder if anyone can explain things to me.

The first thing I noticed about the Thames was how lovely it was. It’s deep and wide and is lined with interesting houses, boats and notices saying clear-off.
I’ve probably photographed this boat a couple of times before but isn’t it nice to see it again.

One day, maybe she will be mine, sigh….

Then there’s the boat houses, amazing places to house a boat. I’ve posted a picture of this before but isn’t it lovely.

V asks “Why do you have to take a picture of that again? You’re filling the computer with pictures of the same thing”. I know, I just can’t help it.

Mike pointed out a hobby sitting in the branches of a dead tree beside the river. He’s got eyes like a hawk, Mike and the hobby.

Talking about sitting in branches, we laughed when we saw a plastic garden chair sitting in the shelter of an upturned tree on its own little island on the Thames. Perhaps EA use it to spot licence dodgers on the river.

After a long day, 12 hours by my engine records, we pulled over for the night at Abingdon.
The towpath side was full, some boats doubling up for the night, so we took to the park moorings next to a bunch of noisy lads doing what they do in the evenings when parents aren’t around. Mike looked doubtful but I assured him they would all go and leave us in peace. We’ve seen it before and you’ve only got to look at the untouched spindly trees and undamaged park furniture to know they mean no harm.
Sure enough the park went quiet and the only noise in the night came from the other side where three Anglo-Welsh hire boats played music and talked loudly at some unearthly hour.

Wednesday. Still rubbing eyes we hit the road, well the water. I miss the Thames with its electric locks and cheerful lock keepers, always ready with a story to tell. One guy held my attention as he described his cruises up and down the Severn between Sharpness and Bristol in the days before the K&A was restored. These days he’s busy doing the English Channel.

Thinking I was clever I told one keeper that I’d noticed the river was down a foot in places and guessed they were lowering the weir sluices in expectation of heavy rain. Oh no, said he, we’re running out of water, we’re desperate for more rain. Bong!!

Bumped into Iain and Myra on nb.Martlet at one Thames lock. Only had a few moments to talk as the top gates opened but Iain was pressing the right buttons for me when he mentioned the Pass of Balmaha and her sister ship Pass of Brander, both tankers in coastal waters during the 1970s and early 80s. Must catch up with them another day and find out more.

Rounding the corners on the wiggly bit above Oxford as we approached King’s Lock I could see the cows, or maybe bullocks (I can’t tell without seeing the dangly bits) paddling in the shallows well below their knees. I can say knees can’t I?

Talking of shallow water we have discovered an announcement following the stranding of a Dutch barge near Bull’s Lock east of Newbury. BW state the maximum draft in the vicinity is 0.8m, far less than what we’d expected on the K&A considering how many deep drafted boats use the canal. Those planning such a journey please be warned.

Seeing as how I’d let a slow hireboat go ahead of us at the previous lock, wrongly thinking they’d bought their two day licence to cruise up to Lechlade, I told Mike by walky-talky that we might be better off slowing down to a crawl so that he could clear the next Thames lock before we arrived. In that way he’d be long gone when we arrived at Duke’s Cut. Some Thames locks are too small for three narrowboats together so rather than get split up and have to wait for each other we’d hang back until we were on our own again.
But I didn’t reckon on the efficiency of the Thames lock keeper’s telegraph. Well overdue after dawdling for fifteen minutes we rounded the last corner and there was the same hireboat sitting in the lock with the gates wide open waiting for one of us.

Our lockie explained that they all knew how many boats are on the river at any one time, and she put it down to lock keeper’s ESP. Now we know why they have a phone glued to their ears all day long.

And so our second day on the Thames was over and we were back onto canals again.

We ended up next to ironwork on the quiet side of Kidlington Green. Well kept canals do have their uses when it comes to uncomplicated moorings.

Thursday.
Back on familiar ground we studied a few back gardens in Kidlington. I wonder if residents realise how many boaters appreciate their gardening efforts. One garden has sprouted chickens since we were here last. No ‘Eggs for sale’ signs so we didn’t stop.

Today would have seen us make an appointment with Mark Paris at Thrupp for a boat safety inspection but he’s off doing other things on the day we pass through.

We met Mark P and Mortimer Bones outside Annie’s Tea Rooms, across the lift bridge at Thrupp and over tea and cake we discussed, as you do, the merits of mole’s claws. None of us had studied moles that closely so Bones’ specimen received close scrutiny and prompted questions like why would a mole need a tail?

As if this wasn’t enough nature for one day, Mark padded off in his net curtains to deal with swarming bees. Thrupp always seems to have something going on when we stop here, there’s never a dull moment.

Making this a convenient end to our adventure with Mike and Jo on Sarah-Kate we celebrated with a glass of bubbly before dining out at The Boat.
We had a splendid meal with smashing company (no reference to breaking bones and computers) and I made a note in Balmaha’s diary to fix another joint cruise before too long.

We have thoroughly enjoyed their company and through them our knowledge of canals and nature have come on in leaps and bounds since we joined up 2 months ago. We shall miss the company and the socialising and I just hope we don’t get hung up on a cill again without them.

Friday saw us separate from Sarah-Kate at the water point at Thrupp. Chugging up the Oxford we passed Dusty on his coal boat (diesel 66p) and moored near Somerton overlooking open fields of cows and bulls and with the odd duck or moorhen for feathered company.
On the way we came across this recently fixed bollard at a lock which tells its own story.

Sited somewhat below ground level this handy rope anchor will soon be overtaken by mud and grass and become useless except for breaking toes or tripping the unwary.

Saturday brought sunshine and Sarah-Kate. Mooring behind us on this excellent countryside vista Mike and Jo joined us at barbeque in spite of the drooling jaws of cows and the roar of bulls across the canal.

A quiet night passed with the occasional padding of feet across the roof and the sun arose on yet another promising dry day. Departing at 7.30 Mike and Jo set off for new pastures leaving us to enjoy the sunshine, the walkers and the inevitable weekend boats.

From here we shall head off back to Leicester hopefully spotting Chas and Ann on Moore-2-Life somewhere along the way and where we shall no doubt drink tea and natter.

At Leicester we shall open the summer cruising diary where someone has written “River Trent and the North”.

Monday 1st to Sunday 7th June 2009
Monday
The start of our journey this week took us from Wootton Rivers to Great Bedwyn. Remembering what happened to us last time we were here we were extra careful not to slip, trip or fall, we hadn’t time for broken bones.

On the way we saw some fabulous stretches of woods and water and when the light was right it was a pleasure to snap away with the old Brownie camera.

The sun has brought out the water weeds since we passed through here in April. Great wadges of the stuff looking like carpet underlay floated just below the surface looking for boat propellers.
Making the most of the sunshine we ate out on deck, sampling bottles of this and that and eating cinders from the barbeque. Discovered that apple skins float but melon skins sink.

Sitting there taking in the surroundings I marvelled at how clean and green nature was and how utterly filthy our boat had become. Guilt prompted an attack with a bucket and sponge but a four foot section of roof was enough to tell me this would take hours. I left it at that and vowed to do better another day.

Tuesday
Putting Gt.Bedwyn lock behind us we motored towards Hungerford at a steady pace.
Pitching tents above the town’s lock we set off on foot for the new Tesco’s in the centre of town. Not impressed, the car park is too big, the shop is too small and low on product range and the prices are the highest we’ve seen in a long time. I still think the little high street Co-op could give them a run for their money if they really wanted to. On the bright side it shone like never before and we cooked outside again. V and Jo did us proud with the food and I managed to shrink the meat on the BBQ without turning everything black.
Can’t help noticing there are fewer boats on the move these days. We occasionally meet a boat at a lock but there are very few travelling t’other way and that’s one of the reasons I’ve marked the K&A highly as a good cruise. Of course that may change in a month’s time when the silly season starts but I’d recommend spring and early summer for no stress, to see things at their best.
Here’s something you don’t see every day, it’s a swing road-bridge over a lock.

Wednesday gave us a later start than usual because we weren’t going far. Kintbury is a lovely place to stop and as it happens we were treated to the sights of a horse drawn boat. There’s no sound apart from a steady clip-clop as Neddy pulls his boat of sightseers a mile or two up then back again.

On the way down to Kintbury V spotted a water vole sitting at the water’s edge, my first sighting in 3+ years. As if that wasn’t exciting enough we watched a crayfish play on a lock gate behind us as the water dropped through the bottom paddles.

We’ve heard so much about these creatures so it was lovely to see one out for a stroll. We’ve also heard that they are responsible for wrecking the canal bank by burrowing below the water line and I’m amazed at the quantity of holes in some parts where the river joins and leaves the canal sections, sometimes as frequent as every six inches along several yards of the mud bank.
Oh, we also saw nuthatches running up and down the trees. Mike says they might have been tree creepers except TCs don’t run down trees, only up, that’s how you know the difference. I’m certainly learning stuff this year, but how long I can remember it is anyone’s guess, V says I’ve only got an attention span of 5 minutes.
Something that did get my attention was a group of portrait painters setting up camp at Dunn Mill lock. How shall I paint you, asked one lady, but all I had on my mind was how many old ladies would I knock over if I had to jump on the bank with my ropes.

Had another go at washing the boat and managed to do one whole side this time. Slapped on the baby oil to keep away the wrinkles and got it to shine like a new pin.

Thursday took us to Newbury and my obligatory walk around town. There was a small market which could have been the same one we’d seen in Hungerford in April, just books, bird food and jewellery.

Bought a Willie Nelson CD for two-fifty and discovered I already had most of the songs on the other CD back at the boat, dooohhh. At least it wasn’t a con – like being full of Russ Conway.
If you have a spare minute in Newbury then visit the museum because that’s all you’ll need. There’s more floor space given to the reception area than the exhibits. Perhaps there’s a proper museum somewhere in town but I didn’t see any directions.

Mike and Jo invited us round for evening drinky-poos. Got the Rummikub game out and most of us won a game before the stars rose in the sky and we all began nodding off.
The trick is to be discrete about picking up ‘dropped’ tiles at the end of the game otherwise some players take your winning very badly.

Friday saw us sneak out of town before curtains were drawn. It felt naughty going through the lock and under the bridges with no one looking.

Apart from one old lady feeding the ducks and an office worker in a smart suit no one saw us go.

We pulled in at Greenham Canal Service for diesel (77p, self declared split) and I would have taken a bag of coal but it cost over £11 a bag. When I declined I was warned that prices will rise 30% in July. What? 30% on top of £11 something? Then we shall mostly be burning wood or go cold next winter.

Progress was slow after Newbury, two Dutch barges clogged the way, one still sat firmly on the mud under the railway bridge while blue shirts tugged ropes and shouted. Seeing a gap appear on one side of the boat we dashed past before she swung back across the canal.

We later heard that the owners were most unimpressed with the Kennet & Avon and wouldn’t be returning. I wouldn’t be here with a boat that big either, as long as it stayed a ‘remainder’ waterway.

We were the first boats at Thatcham so we tucked ourselves tidily at one end of the moorings, as far from the level crossing lights and klaxon as we could get. But they soon started piling in and by 4pm we were full with boats. One came in lashed to another and was dumped on the side for repairs. I’m afraid I got involved because I just happened to have an adjustable spanner but it was a case of the blind leading the blind as three of us tried to find the diesel blockage on a Shanks engine.
It got dark and it rained so we threw in the towel and disappeared into the dry, muttering something about returning tomorrow if anyone had any good ideas.

Saturday morning, early, we were creeping away from the mooring when heads appeared on the broken boat. Darn it, we’ve been spotted. Using vague sign language and silently mouthing words to convey our apologies we were quickly swept along by the river and disappeared out of sight under the bridge. Thinking that was it we relaxed believing we’d never see them again but they caught us up and we were relieved to see smiles and a thumbs up. Passing each other again and again as you do, we found we had become good friends as we hurled greetings back and forth, always sorry that the river carried us away so quickly.
Woolhampton was our destination and both boats managed to fit the last stretch of empty moorings above the lock.
Visitors came, in the shape of Roger and Babs, and after talking boats for an hour we joined Mike and Jo where we talked boats some more. It’s amazing how much there is to say about boats. I guess it’s like women visiting antenatal classes, babies, babies and more babies. Boats and babies have similarities too, they both need washing, they demand attention, and they both ruin your finances.
Because we’d been travelling every day we decided to have an early night and a lie-in. I drifted off to sleep thinking about a cup of tea in bed, a cooked breakfast and a lazy day catching up on boat jobs.

Sunday 7th June 2009
There was a knock knock on the boat at 7.20am. Who could that be, we’ve paid our licence haven’t we?
It’s Mike from Sarah-Kate – “Didn’t know whether to wake you or not but the water level is so low we might not be able to move, there might be a breach”.

I can tell you I was out like a shot, engine started and ropes cut, pushing Balmaha off the sticky mud into the narrow channel of water left in the centre of the canal. Someone had reported they’d seen water flowing back towards the lock above so we could soon be dry and stuck for who knows how long. Heads popped up from one or two other boats as we slithered down to the lock and shut the gates behind us. One guy with his boat pointing the wrong way looked distinctly worried about his fate but being third in line all he could do was reverse to the lock and wait his turn. We were out and free, pulses returning to normal as we joined the river below and swerved past the open swing bridge next to the pub. Unnerved, unwashed and unfed we were terribly relieved to be back in deep water.

At Aldermaston we passed on the bad news to a hire boat instructor taking his clients through their first lock but he didn’t seem the slightest perturbed, it’s a regular thing, said he, anglers fill their fishing lakes twice a month from the canal and BW come out to ‘rescue’ the stranded boaters by filling the pound from the lock above. It’s a nuisance but no one seems to have worked out a simple cure, like let water in as it’s going out. I suppose the anglers are desperate to keep fishing during the close season and if their gravel pits lose water they must fill them, never mind what it does to boats.

A short cruise downstream we pulled over at the field above Tyle Mill Lock.
More visitors in the shape of daughters for both boats. Cows came along and frightened the girls, which was fun, but otherwise it was a calm sunny day.

We fed Kass and caught up on her news, some of it very interesting, and released her when she looked like she’d stopped talking.

I slept with one eye open, focussed on the water level outside but nothing went wrong this time.

Almost three quarters of our way back to the start of the K&A this is beginning to feel like the end of the adventure. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed it, apart from a few breakages, and we’ve been blessed with brilliant company in Mike and Jo on Sarah-Kate. Two boats together have made things easier but I can’t say the water or the locks have been at all off-putting. Sure, there are many broken bits, more than you’d see on non-remainder waterways, but the towpath along the whole length is the best I’ve ever seen. I have been surprised at how few boats there are, not counting Bradford on Avon to Bath, but that could be due to the time of year. The scenery is as others have told us, stunning, well worth the journey from Leicester.
Now all that lies ahead is a couple of mornings cruising into the sun and to find the way out.

Would I do it again? You bet. But next time I might start at Sharpness and travel one way, from west to east.

Monday 25th to Sunday 31st May 2009.

Monday has slipped my mind, apart from blog prep and uploading, so we’ll start with Tuesday.
The weather is noticeably warmer and there are signs of temperatures settling down to a gradual rise instead of the customary ups and downs that call for the occasional fire at night. We’re down to the remains of our last bag of coal but there are a couple of logs on the roof if I can be bothered to get them down and hit them with the axe.

The chimney cleaning that was done several weeks ago is all undone and you wouldn’t know we had brass bands on the sticky-up bit on the roof. I knew it at the time but felt obliged to scrape off the winter’s corrosion, now it all needs doing again. I can see why some people chuck the thing away after three years and buy new.

Today‘s a moving day and we’re off to Bradford on Avon. This is our final cruise of the K&A as we say goodbye to the West Country and hello again to the River Thames and a return to the north. It will be good to see the edge of the glacier again as we head up country with the sun on our backs. All this greenery is getting too much for me, the wide open spaces of the Kennet & Avon have shrunk terribly as the trees on the offside reach over to the reeds of the towpath. They appear to be racing each other to see who can reach the middle of the navigation first.

It’s also goodbye to those little pockets of permies that line the towpaths, the ‘interesting’ wooden boats with plywood extensions, some draped in tarpaulins and stacked high with cane furniture, twisted tree branches and aluminium poles that once served to support TV aerials.

Here’s something you don’t see in town very often, a ferret out for a walk.

The oil change is overdue but rain put a stop to that so I busied myself with scanning photos while V wandered off to the shop.

Wednesday started early for Mike and Jo on Sarah-Kate because they had an early appointment at the hospital for physio’ on Jo’s mended arm. Their early return meant we could get going while the weather behaved itself. Hilperton Marina came in useful for boaty bits, though I felt miffed when I was told that the Rock mineral oil I’d bought was actually a synthetic oil. On our previous visit I’d been told it was an all singing all dancing mineral oil that fitted every category of viscosity.

But I was still smiling, not because of this purchase but because of the antics of a few lads living inside a nearby road bridge over the canal. Mike was first to pass underneath it and gesticulated to us that something was going on at the bridge. “Hello mate” said voices as we passed underneath, “how are you today?”
Up between the concrete beams were lads lying on the horizontal sections, peering down and greeting boaters who were completely unaware of them until they spoke. Asking them to show themselves they dropped their heads and laughed. I’m afraid I laughed too and couldn’t bring myself to tell them off. As a part of the entertainment they dropped their legs below the bridge and waggled them to make us laugh even more.

Further on it was our turn to entertain others. A family followed us between the locks and while we negotiated the chambers the mother gave the two boys a thorough explanation of the workings. Just as I was following Sarah-Kate into the next lock our prop snagged on rubbish and I lost control of the boat. Letting her drift I dived into the weedhatch and pulled on a tangle of carpet, rope and polythene to the accompaniment of mum’s commentary to her lads along with gasp and oooohhhs as bits came up through the hole in the stern. I think the prop job was more interesting to them than the locks and I can imagine bath time at home won’t be the same again with string and polythene wrapped around toy boat propellers.

It being half-term there were hoards of families walking or riding bikes beside the canal. The children of one family on a B&B cycling holiday were so fascinated by boats and locks that the father was heard to remark “I guess I know what sort of holiday we’ll be having next year”.

Thursday we arrived in Devizes and took the last two places on the 72s. We nearly had Paul and Christine again to help us through the Caen Hill flight but other commitments and our early start meant it wouldn’t have been worth the journey from home. But we thought of them and we were grateful for their offer.

There are some funny people about aren’t there. Some come for miles to stand next to the locks and all they do is watch. They don’t talk, they just watch and watch and watch. Mike and I did our bit to bring smiles to faces by playing loud music and miming on air guitars but it had limited appeal and we didn’t raise a penny when the hat was passed round. In his final bid to get a laugh Mike did his Botox impression next to one of the signs on the flight.

Why do frogs leave the side ponds and dive into the locks? Mike pointed out one heading for the propeller so I did my bit for nature and scooped him out before the water went red.

After 29 locks we were understandable tired and under an almost cloudless sky we flopped onto the towpath and ate out a-la-BBQ.

In the cool of the day we were joined by blog readers Tony and Pam. It was three against one that she was Pam and not Pat but apologies if we have that wrong. T&P are just a couple of weeks away from taking on a new narrowboat and were understandably excited about the details of boats and canals.
Remembering our first experiences I have to say I am jolly glad we took Balmaha off the builder’s hands in the middle of winter. We had the place to ourselves and no one to see our (my) worst steering blunders. We wish T&P a quiet few weeks to get the hang of it and many years of problem free cruising.

If you’re up there in the west Midlands look out for ‘Time will Tell’ and give them a wave.

Friday was hot. Everyone had things to do and it was my turn to crawl into the engine hole to swap oil and filter. Funny how you notice a dozen other jobs to do when you lift the stern boards and my half hour’s job turned into two before I was back on deck. It didn’t stop there because the paint brushes hit the dinks on the boat’s side and the chimney was consigned to a poly bag in the cratch. I got told off for working out in the sun without a hat and had my comeuppance at bedtime when my head started throbbing.

Grandmother’s words came to mind when she first learned I was joining the navy. Don’t forget to wear your pith helmet in the tropics, she said. You might think you look stupid but it will stop you getting sun stroke.

Saturday was an epic cruising day. The sun shone like mad but we didn’t stop for 7 hours, including a water and icecream stop.
Rounding a bend we saw the usual “Slow down for moored boats” sign but seeing no boats I only half complied with the request. A bit further on I saw the outline of boats and this time a different sign, one that made me laugh and put the engine into tick-over.

We reached Wootton Rivers by 4.30pm and found space on a short stretch of steel piling above the first two locks.
Having missed two sets of cygnets with the camera I managed to get half a picture of the Canada geese family before they fled to the security of the bushes.

So much has changed since we were here mid April, the reeds have gone wild, bushes and trees have sprouted branches and there’s just so little room for boats. Wide beam hire boats and trip boats mess things up when you want to get on, they completely fill some stretches of canal and how two of them manage to pass without lots of reversing I’ll never know. I’m glad we came down here early enough to appreciate an ‘empty’ canal.

Having said that there are some lovely bits to see when there’s no one coming the other way. Huge oak trees touch tops across the canal to compete with any cathedral for beauty and the bird music from the branches above more than match little boys singing in the choir stalls.

Talking of little boys, a call from number one son on his last birthday in his twenties revealed a holiday in progress down Cornwall way. Bet the sun is hot and the water freezing cold. Many years spent down there when the children were small taught us not to expect warm seas on the north coast until much later in the year.
Narrowboats don’t do the Bristol Channel or we’d be down there, wouldn’t we V?

Jo cooked a smashing skewered curry and rice that we ate outside under the trees after our cruise.
Mike’s a dab hand at birds so we made him name the sounds above us and for the first time in my life I think I can tell you what a willow warbler sounds like and identify a wren’s warning ‘click’. But for butterflies we turned to Jo for identification and I can describe a Painted Lady but still haven’t a clue what they sound like.

Sunday 31st May 2009.
It’s been declared a day off from cruising so I was looking forward to playing with transmitters and aerials. No joy with that so I turned to the Blog, and to follow that we might go looking for Elderflowers to make cordial. Mike’s doing one of his progresses. I liken it to QE1 on her travels around the country except Mike does it all on his own, no horse, no servants, no nothing, just him and nature. I guess he takes a map because he always finds his way back again. No, I've been told he does it all from memory, looks at map, puts map away and starts walking. Mike used to be a scout for the Brits when they invaded Africa centuries ago.
I’d do progresses too but the hayfever season has just started and there’s no horse that could carry my stack of handkerchiefs, eye drops, nose spray and tablets.

Apologies in advance for late posting, there’s no T-Mobile signal here and the prospects are poor for the next couple of days. But as soon as the little lights appear on the modem I shall upload the current drivel.