Setting a goal and being thwarted can be a challenge. We’ve been thwarted many times in our aim to reach our first ever winter mooring, but last Saturday was the first chance for us to try and make the trip across and up a river to reach our spot – and we went for it.
We started later than intended on Saturday morning, being unsure if the first lock that had been shut since September was actually open or not. Canal and River Trust had said it should have been opened at 4pm on the Friday, but no update appeared electronically to give the green light. Our aim was to go and see if it was open, and if it was, to keep going on through that and the next few locks until we reached the one which Canal and River Trust categorically said was shut because it wouldn’t equalise. That meant we would have to sit on the river somewhere near Zouch (pron. Zotch) or on the lock landing until the lock was fixed and available for use – never idea.
So we bid farewell to the Erewash, and did a slalom round Saturday morning rowers enjoying the Trent as we crossed to the River Soar. Canada geese, who’ve had the river much to themselves for the past two months seemed startled by our presence, taking off in flurries and landing just ahead of us time and time again. As we got alongside the residential boats at Red Hill Marina, people were leaning out to ask ‘Is it open?’ We gave the only reply we could – that if it wasn’t we’d see them again very soon!
Approaching Ratcliffe Lock we could see workboats still alongside the landing area and catch fencing still in place. I felt deflated as I stepped off onto a workboat and made my way towards the fencing, but then suddenly I saw another boater operating the lock. Despite me yelling for her to save her efforts and leave the gate for us, she carefully closed it behind her boat before turning and ruefully pulling a face as she spotted me. At least it meant the lock was open for businesd do I really didn’t care that I then had to battle the heavy gate to get it open for Preaux.
We were in, up and though – our progress noisily monitored by the vocal security cameras on site. And then we were heading towards Kegworth, through the flood lock, and approaching the deep New Lock. Suddenly, we were seeing boats coming the other way. Like travellers of old, we shouted between each other to find out the lie of the land ahead, to discover they had all come through the apparently unusable Zouch Lock that morning. In an instant, our journey took on a new perspective. Instead of sitting on a river for an undeterminate amount of time until a repair was carried out with rain in the immediate future forecast raising the levels, it looked like we might be able to get to our mooring that very day.
We pressed on, going slow, though, as we encountered rowers from Loughborough Boat Club. We know very well what rowers in our family used to say about narrowboats on that stretch…
As the rowers pulled ahead towards their landing stage, we turned sharp left to the lock at Zouch. It was empty, so I opened the gate, let the boat in, and began the test of whether it would actually equalise enough to let us rise and get out of the lock. There was leakage, one paddle was inoperable, but the boat rose, and with two of us shoving, we got a top gate open, and the boat was through.
On past the weirs and stilted chalets, past the emergency flood dolphins giving home to terns and rafts of invasive pennywort but luckily not needed by us or any other boats. I’m struggling to find the definitive etymology of a dolphin as a mooring point, so if anyone knows, please put me out of my misery.
On through the picturesque village of Normanton on Soar with its 12th century Church of St James and over the route of the chain ferry. It’s one of the few remaining chain ferries still operating in the UK and the last in Nottinghamshire. It was first mentioned on a map in 1771 and is still operated by volunteers every weekend afternoon between April and September. Popular with walkers, the fees used to be and probably still are £1 per person and 50p for a dog or a bicycle – a bargain for a unique experience. It also means you can walk across the fields on the far side and be ferried over to a rather good pub!
Next, we cruised alongside Dishley a bit late in the day for the parkrun we helped set up there, but now we’re back in the area forna bit we look forward to getting involved in parkruns again here. On then to Bishop Meadow Lock via an apparent boating graveyard. A very sorry sight, two boats half sunk, and yet sadly, they weren’t to be the last we saw that day. Whether the result of earlier floods, I don’t know, but the problem of boats that have sunk or partly sunk is very real on inland waterways. They aren’t cheap to raise – often in difficult to access places, requiring costly cranes to lift them out. Not every boat is insured. It’s something CRT are well aware of, and a problem they cannot afford to resolve.
They tell boaters clearly “Should your boat unfortunately sink, it’s your responsibility to salvage it, not ours.” They will check the site of the sinking for pollution containment and ensure the boat isn’t in the way of navigation, and they can put owners in touch with specialist recovery contractors but the boat owner has to foot the bill, and some just refuse to do so leaving a wreck in the water.
On then for us past the wrecks, past another sunk boat on the moorings after the lock, through Loughborough where the water was high, and through Pillings Flood Lock which was still open, to the impressive arches of Barrow Road Bridge. The last time I saw it, there was a sunk narrowboat rammed against the arches by the weight of floodwater, which had swept it and its mooring pontoon and slammed them against the brickwork.
Up then to Barrow Deep Lock, the last before our winter mooring. We couldn’t keep the grins from our faces. We had made it. We hadn’t expected to, but we had. We moored up with glee and headed in the gathering drizzle to one of the nearby pubs for a celebratory very late lunch (the light was beginning to fade).
A quick look at the weather forecast as we ate determined that we really couldn’t spend too many days settling in before we moved to get essential diesel and coal. Our supplies were running very low, and because our batteries are beginning to fail (reaching the end of their lives after an impressive innings), we need to be running the engine to repower the batteries and give us power to live with. Such are the delights of living off grid and at the moment there isn’t much solar most days although we still have occasional glorious bright and power-full November days. The other day I put all the washing in and no sooner had everything I the machine got wet than I had to cut the power to the machine as the battery levels plummeted alarmingly. Eventually we got enough power to get the clothes washed which was a relief. But we are nursing the batteries to keep going as the new battery installation has been delayed, and while we hope it will be sorted before Christmas, that’s a hope rather than a certainty.
Our first night on the mooring was peaceful and we were exhausted so we slept well. The next morning was a small footballer’s Sunday league match and his delight at unexpectedly seeing us join the rest of the family support team was everything we could have hoped for. He waved with glee, hurtled towards us with his arms , dropped to the ground to hug Boatdog tightly! A perfect welcome!
Since then, we have now made it up river to our former mooring at Sileby Mill for diesel and coal, so we are fully stocked for another few months and can relax. It seems we moved just in time as we’ve also had rain, snow, the river was shut to navigation when it went into flood for 48 hours, and now there’s more snow forecast. It’s been a busy week on the water!
Pickingupducks 