We are no strangers to 24hr challenges – our boat is named after the village where we lived in France that lies some 70km from Le Mans, site of the prestigious 24hr endurance races. I used to be involved in the car 24hr there, the Skipper and I actually met at the 24hr motorbike race there, our children were both both at the maternity hospital in Le Mans city and I drove (if that’s the word for it) in a 24hr kart race there.
But a 24hr narrowboat challenge is our latest achievement and probably one of the slowest we have ever done at a maximum of 4mph and regular pauses for delving into the depths via the weed hatch to clear the propellor of things fouling it.
A major issue with a 24hr car, motorbike or kart race is monotony. The scenery stays the same and concentration is vital although not easy. As we discovered this weekend the changing scenery, variety and dramatic differences in the Birmingham Canal Navigations is exceptional.
We travelled from faded and jaded industrial landscapes, past vast modern warehousing, alongside congested motorways where we were travelling faster than four wheels, under huge concrete spans of bridges and under old low brick ones, out among rural fields edged with dog rose pink tinged hedges and cattle grazing, alongside sandy pine woods peppered with bright yellow gorse, through weed strewn waters hiding dangers of shopping trollies and plastic bags, and into large clear expanses with water lillies, bright turquoise damselflies and rapidly darting fish clearly visible. The BCN has everything and variety is without doubt one of its many highlights, as is the variety of boats competing.
For the 24hr marathon each crew is responsible for choosing their own start point, aiming to finish at the same point and deciding whether they intend to score points for mileage, locks, correctly answering questions, taking required photos on the way round, collecting litter en route, decorating their boat and themselves, or whatever combination of all of these they choose. The winners are those with the highest number of points in a complex scoring system that is altered by the number of of crew, size of boat or boats (some historic motors tow a butty for fun), and various other factors.
The night before changed everything for us when a previously closed lock flight opened. We altered our plans because it was somewhere we hadn’t been before, and exploration and discovery were two of our aims for the challenge. We decided the bulk of the locks we were to tackle would be in the first 12 hours with the second predominately for mileage with only the final necessary lock flights to reach the finish. In the main we stuck to that, despite the unexpected temperatures which rose in Birmingham to 34 degrees, leaving us sweating and slathered with sun cream. Wet tea towels became essential fashion accessories for 2 and 4 legged crew.
We set off early (we thought) on Saturday from a Bumble Hole (I kid you not. Its signs are indeed regular targets for amendment) to get us through the Netherton Tunnel and Arm, and along the New Main Line two junctions to be at our designated start point of Pudding Green Junction for 8am.
After going up the 8 locks at Ryders Green a few weeks ago and finding two low pounds, a plethora of shopping trolleys and a lot of rubbish we decided it would be shrewd to tackle them first, and descend (so coming down into any leaking water). With the boat in the top lock we took the chance to secure the final upcycled tasselled decorations to the boat, and were caught up in the process by historic boat Starling celebrating her 90th birthday this year.
Starling had a BCN experienced, well versed, slick, numerous crew who were a LOT younger than us. They decided their strategy demanded helping us down out of their way and they did just that with generosity of windlass wielding and encouragement. Normally we make headway of 3-4 locks at miles an hour when it’s just the two of us. With Starling behind us and some of their crew taking responsibility for getting us out of their way, we came down the entire Ryders Green flight at a pace of 11 lock miles an hour!
Needing after that to lie down in a darkened boat with a stiff drink and grateful for their Herculean efforts, we were keen to let them pass us but they were heading to Walsall and we had decided to turn right at Tame Valley Junction to explore a section we had not travelled before.
It took us alongside a crawling M5 and M6, on aqueducts and down the weed hatch for the first time that morning. Rushall’s flight of 9 locks had been closed for a while and they put up a flight to keep that tranquility. Low pounds, stiff paddles and 2 goslings stuck in lock 7 where I spent 20 minutes trying to get them out before resorting to our grandson Tommy’s fishing net to reunite them safely with their parents all meant we made slow progress as we headed up the eastern side of the BCN. We were passed by a crew of happy nifty Norbots on another contesting boat, and at the end found ourselves ahead of the CRT entry Sister Dora whose crew were armed with rakes and nets collecting massive amounts of rubbish in a giant floating hopper which did give them a pretty big advantage in the litter-amassing stakes!
CRT staff were also in attendance trying to let water down to balance the lock flight for use but it was a long slow job for them. We were glad to be the first of the day through and heard later contestants had multiple issues on this flight that delayed them significantly.
We met some lovely people who gave us a hand – a lady in her 30s who grew up on a narrowboat as one of a family of 5, a couple who walk the canal every morning to get fit and feed the birds, and a man with his young children who had found a newt in their garden and had brought it to the canal after looking online to discover where would be a better environment for it as they had no pond at home.
Once out of the locks the remainder of the Daw End branch was low water and slow travel. We limped along in the increasing heat and finally got to deeper water, and a change of scenery which took us to the glorious expanse of water that is Anglesey Basin. We turned there and began to head back down passing a few other contestants en route, and at a point the dog and I prepared to jump off for a walk but were forced back on board by a build up of silt and rubbish that stopped the boat pulling in. We finally got off when yet another trip down the weed hatch was required to remove a dog lead, multiple plastic bags and a lot of weed that were clogging the prop. By this point we had also found the answers to two required questions – 93 and no swimming.
All back on board and flagging by now in the low late afternoon sun, we chugged along the Curly Wurly as the Wyrley and Essington Canal is known. It is apparently just over 16 miles long. We believe from our experience it is probably nearer 3,000. We had travelled for nearly 10 hours in heat and were feeling it.
As we were edging our way along the wiggles and weed, avoiding the odd shopping trolley and hearing our hull rumbling over lots of debris we came to the village of Pelsall, and houses with gardens alongside the cut, and people enjoying the evening sunshine with a few beers. They waved, we waved and then suddenly one man shouted “I know you!” pointing at me. Astonished I glanced at their boat we were passing and realised we had all met in Leicester during the winter flooding. Not the easiest time for them to have bought their first boat but they had managed to get it back eventually to their home mooring. That cheered us, but as we moved over to enable another of the competitors coming the other way we got stuck. The prop was wedged in the silt but judicious hanging out over the water side to try and free the boat eventually worked and we limped on, tiredness setting in. Finally the boat made the decision for us and ground to a halt near a canalside pub where lots of children wanted to hear if we really lived aboard, to say hello to Boatdog, to ask what we do if we want to go the toilet and where a dad who obviously worked out was only too happy to put his muscles to good use on the end of our mooring ropes. Once moored with a gangplank because we couldn’t get into the side for silt, we headed into the pub to fill in our travel log over a cool pint and send it in to the challenge organisers before a simple supper and an early night.
The alarm sounded at 4am on Sunday and our usual routine was finished in time for us to be underway by 4.30am. It normally consists of me walking the dog while the Skipper does the engine checks but he had the addition of fishing part of a tangled tent complete with metal poles out of the weed hatch. Once underway we can vouch bacon butties really do taste better at daybreak.
The interminable Curly Wurly wends through fields and farmland, reclaimed mining areas and suburban housing where after 10am we began finding dog walkers and gardeners waving and commenting favourably on the tassels all the way along the boat which were remarkably still holding up.
We met Dora fishing out chairs and directed them to more plus a yoga ball, so doing our good deed for the day. Unfortunately we passed another competitor nb Dotterell who was stranded and waiting for help. As his boat passed over two sunken shopping trolleys thrown into the water under a bridge one of them caught the rudder so hard it knocked it out of the cup it sits in (a bit like a bone in a socket).
They said they were waiting for rescue help so we carried on cautiously and they gave us a cheery wave as we did. The invaluable competition WhatsApp group told us later that their skipper decided to try one more time after we passed them to restore his rudder and astonishingly managed it.
That was the last fellow competitor we saw until we turned once more onto the Dudley No. 2 canal. At that point we were worrying. We were getting close to the finish time of 2pm by now. The Curly Wurly and another trip down the weed hatch had taken its toll on our slender margin of time. The chances of making the finish which involved working the final flight up 6 locks was looking less likely. Still we kept going, narrowly avoiding a hire boat which suddenly reversed out of a junction in front of us, avoiding another competitor seized by debris and stopped in mid channel to fish down their weed hatch, and listening to two young men under a bridge who navigated us past yet another trolley in the water. I did wonder how many trolleys remain at supermarkets in the Black Country and Birmingham! A CRT rubbish boat removed 42 from the cut the previous week too!
As the finish drew in sight after we had travelled 17 and 2 part sections of the BCN’s 21 waterways, it was looking unbelievably tight on time – we were both surprised at how tense the finish was. Then both our phones sounded – with the amazing news our first granddaughter had been safely born a little earlier than expected. The finish and the challenge faded into insignificance in sheer joy and relief at hearing all was well with h her and her mum.
Turning the corner to the final flight we hastily went into reverse as we joined a queue and groups of people at the bottom of the flight. Heritage boat Scorpio had been unable to get into the bottom lock as the gate was sticking part way open so backed out and let nb Caroline, the next in line go ahead to see if they could move the gate. After a lot of hard hot work Caroline and her crew began heading up the flight but still the gate wouldn’t open far enough for Scorpio and butty Leo to edge through. As next in line we were waved through and eventually they were able to come through behind us. When we made it to the top weary but elated at our exciting family news, we discovered we had been registered as finishing on time as we had been reported as being on the final furlong by 2pm.
We didn’t disgrace ourselves coming 11th out of 2. We enjoyed the experience and have a unique new plaque in situ to remind us always of a unique challenge. We learned speed and large crews on board aren’t everything. It was a challenge of both stamina and strategy and we really did enjoy it.
Would we do it again? We really need to up our game in terms of what we wear judging by what we saw this year!
Little Poppy will ensure we will never forget what we were doing when she arrived in the world.
Pickingupducks 