We took a boat 34 years ago to our wedding not a narrowboat but a ferry boat with Jimmy the ferryman at the helm. I wore white with white wellies.
The waters were not a canal but those of Loch Linnhe. Our destination was the Cathedral Church of St Moluag on the Scottish Island of Lismore. Ours, on The Glorious Twelfth, was the first marriage that year in the register.
We should have used this name for our boat!
Since that amazing day we’ve been blessed with two amazing daughters, their delightful partners and a fantastic grandson who is now five. We’ve shared our life together living in England, France, Switzerland and now on a narrowboat crusiing GB waters. We’ve walked companionable miles with our canine companions who over the years have included working cocker and clumber spaniels , a dachshund, a Cairnish terrier, a lab cross collie and now a cockerpoo.
We’ve climbed career ladders and chosen to step off them, realising that living life to the full means much more than living to work.
We’ve learned much – about each other ourselves, formal and informal knowledge, and now know…
Compromise isn’t the end of the world and can earn you brownie points for the future.
Keep doing new things together and having adventures together
Give in sometimes
Keep separate tubes of toothpaste
Particularly living on a 50ft narrowboat 24/7 – take walks together and separately – the therapy of walking puts things in perspective and its easier, less confrontational, to have difficult conversations when you’re side by side
Ask yourself- does it really really matter to stick to whatever your point is? Will the world end if you back down?
Keep some of your own interests – relish time apart
Remind yourself regularly what you loved about your partner in the beginning and see it anew
Invest in each other- with the things that really matter- time and shared experiences
We married for better and for worse. We know we couldn’t have done better but we also know we could have done a hell of a lot worse!
We gave ourselves a real treat to celebrate our anniversary this year – a night in an historic hotel with a big bed we could exit on both sides and a BATH. Boaters will understand our delight!
It really was a wonderfulway to celebrate 34 years together.
Is it that we have created a life with less to worry about that makes living and working afloat good for our wellbeing?
Is it that we live more simply?
That we travel more slowly?
That we live amid and amongst nature?
That water, with all its beauty and calming properties, forms a permanent backdrop to our lives?
That we live in a constantly changing, stimulating landscape?
It is all of these things, and this week has brought into stark focus two additional crucial elements that add significantly to wellbeing – belonging and community.
We have been lucky this week to get hold of the car and be able to support boater friends on nb Warrior with lifts to and from hospital, and to have the support of other boaters in our time of real need – at 4.25am on Wednesday morning to be precise.
For the first time ever, we found ourselves cast adrift, almost completely and literally. It is seriously disconcerting amid the normal noises of a narrowboat in a wet and windy night to suddenly feel a huge thump. It shouldn’t be possible. Tied bow and stern, front and back by ropes to the side of the canal a boat has the capacity to rock a little in wind, to bump gently only because there is a small amount of give in rope but not enough to result in a thump. I opened an eye. Boatdog stirred in her bed as Steve was hastily dressing and heading out into the howling darkness.
Only that evening we had turned and headed our way back to find a mooring after a week of travelling which had led us to find 2 day limited moorings, followed by a longer term mooring so silted up that we ended up leaping on and off the boat to reach the towpath. (Our gangplank is currently off the boat still – a casualty of reducing the amount on the boat roof to go across the River Ribble and through Manchester). Then we went to a mooring further on but better, and then returned to where we needed to be to find a single mooring ring which needed to be supplemented by a mooring pin. The mooring ring is a steel ring fixed in this case within cement on the towpath – solid, secure, and the rope from the boat runs through it from and back to the boat.
There are two main ways such a mooring can come loose – the knots you tie on the boat can unravel if not tied securely, or the rope is cut. We knew the rope on the ring was securely tied – when we had arrived at that mooring we had swapped the rope at the centre line with that at the front to give us sufficient length to tie secure knots.
The rear or bow was a different story. It seemed from what was left behind that rings had been removed from the area, and so the bow demanded that we hammer in a mooring pin to attach our rope. We had multiple attempts to find a good place – the first few were just too loose, not gripping, but sliding into the ground like butter – never a good sign as that means they slide out as easily. We could see other areas of fractured divots, indicating where other boaters had also faced issues. Finally, we got a pin to stay firm and attached the rope. It seemed fine, and when we checked it before bed, it seemed to be holding.
During the night, the rain came down, softening the soil, and the wind built up. Eventually, the pin gave up, and as the wind pushed the boat out, the pin pulled loose, setting the boat free as it was dragged into the water complete with the rope attached to it. Our boat, our home, our office, our workshop, pivoted right across the canal. The front remained attached but struck the boat ahead of us as it was flung around by the wind.
Steve made it out into the wet, windy dark by jumping from the bow onto the towpath to find the couple from the boat ahead of us already out, woken by the thump of our boat on theirs. Our centre line was too short to reach the bank from three quarters of the way across the cut. Our neighbours lent us a rope to add to our centre line, and Steve made his way along the gunwhales to attach it and bring the extended line back to shore. Together, they tugged from the slippery wet towpath against the gusting wind to bring the boat back. I emerged on the bow, recovered the rope and pin, and found myself utterly confused about why we should be resting against another boat when we hadn’t double moored! It took a moment for me to realise the situation, and by then, with difficulty and the help of our neighbours, we were returning to safety.
We were completely across this part of the cut when we awoke
It took three pins and numerous attempts by torchlight to secure the bow to a mooring. With every thump of his mallet, Steve winced at the noise ringing out across the cut, and we were convinced waking every boat in earshot. (It turned out not everyone had been woken, as the wind took the noise away as rapidly as it had whipped away our boat). Steve then found hinself staying awake to watch the mooring anxiously until the wind died, it got fully light, and we could move the boat to a more secure spot where we could moor on chains to piling.
Still watching mooring pins as dawn breaks
Our neighbours on nb Splash were immensely generous with their time and assistance in the damp, dark and howling early hours. Whilst not able to take up our offer of a daytime thank you drink as they were moving on, I am sure we will meet them somewhere on the network at a time we can actually exchange names and thanks once more.
Such is the generosity of the boating community, and it is a valuable part of life afloat. Over our years we have lost count of the number of times we have come across boats half moored and half adrift, or completely adrift, and we have in each instance re-moored them to the best of our abilities, the most recent just a few weeks ago. Not yet have we come across a boat with people on board or at night in that situation, but I have no doubt that if we did we would come to their aid just as our neighbours did for us this week.
That’s what community and belonging is about – supporting others when they need it and hoping there will be support for you when you are in need. Living afloat is good for us – full of calm, karma, and community. It’s an excellent recipe for a satisfying, if not always easy, life.
Water has ruled the start of this week for us – too little and too much.
The Bosley and Marple flights which between them account for 28 locks on our journey, have both been subject since 5 July to restrictions due to a lack of water. Both flights were due to close on 31 July because there just wasn’t enough water in the reservoirs that feed both the Macclesfield (Bosley) and the Peak Forest (Marple). The significant rainfall that we’ve been well aware the area has been experiencing for the past few weeks has now led to Canal and River Trust extending the closure notice to 14 August. They have said they will keep reviewing it though, so there is hope that we could extend our stay in the delightful village of Bollington in what’s known as Happy Valley. Our life is after all a journey, not a sprint, it’s about savouring experiences and enjoyment.
Even water collection and waste disposal can be a healthy sporting and pleasant experience
So last Saturday saw us moored on the River Dane aqueduct at the foot of the Bosley Flight, ready with 10 others waiting for the Sunday opening of the locks at 8.30am. The flight is currently open from 8.30am on Sundays and Thursdays with the last entry up or down at 1pm.
We and others began the day clad in waterproofs from head to toe, helping those ahead of us.
I headed up to Lock 8 with Unforgettable, the first boat for its owner who had just bought it and is single-handing up aiming ultimately for York – maybe we will see them there in due course. Unforgettable was ahead of Forget-me-Knot the 94 year old power for Hazel a 108 year old wooden butty (unpowered) boat, whose original purpose was to carry salt. Through Bosley Locks the two cannot travel together, so a crew of volunteers emerged through the rain to come and act as ‘horses’ bow hauling, or towing the butty up the entire flight. Every moment I glimpsed them it was through driving rain so I don’t have any pictures of them making their way up the flight. My pictures were from later in the day as they moored up in Macclesfield, or passed us the following day.
Hazel is now working as a wellbeing boat, supporting people to improve their mental health by getting close to the water, to nature, getting people active whilst also enabling them to experience the values of a slower pace of life for a time Profile – NCBA (national-cba.co.uk). These are all advantages those of us who live afloat are well aware of and it is wonderful to see one of the old wooden working boats coming back to life providing such a vital service to communities.
We were well behind Hazel – about 4 boats behind, just behind Wojtek named after the wonderful soldier bear who lived with Polish troops until he retired from active service and found a new home in Edinburgh. Edinburgh: Soldier Bear Statue in Honor of WWII’s Wojtek the Bear Unveiled at Princes Street Gardens (warhistoryonline.com) The floating Wojtek’s crew are headed for Sheffield where they will moor their home and take up places at Sheffield University and Sheffield Hallam University next term.
With six boats coming down we were able to benefit from crossing over in the pounds at times which speeded our passage up the flight. Sandpaper weather was a feature of the day – wet ‘n’ dry, wet ‘n’ dry.
We managed the services at the summit – I dropped off the rubbish bags and an Elsan to empty whilst waiting for the final inches of the lock, and Steve dealt with those whilst I moved the boat on slowly, clearing the lock for the next boat, and reuniting at the next bridge. Boatdog and I then jumped off so she could enjoy a good walk to the first of the swing bridges, a key and button operated one. The second is a manual swing bridge just outside Macclesfield.
Whilst others were stopping in Macclesfield one of our favourite locations was calling us – Bollington.
We have little time on the boat this week as we will be heading south to bid a fond farewell to our lovely sister-in-law, Linda who died last month, and whose funeral is this week. She was amazing – suffered hearing loss as a child after contracting rubella but shd didnt let that or worse to come hold her back. Myotonic dystrophy is cruel but Linda taught us all to win with the hand you’ve been dealt, and make the most of the life you have.
We were brought together by marrying two brothers in the same year. Since then we’ve shared much together over the decades in England and in France. For many years in the UK we lived not far from each other. Christmas and particularly Boxing Days used to be great family get togethers usually involving nerve-wracking dramas of trifle transportation and ferociously competitive games.
Getting together at Thrupp
In recent years although unable to access our boat, she has been able to visit us afloat, and we were hugely grateful to be able to see her in May at her lovely home when we were working nearby.
It will be an emotional week, but we don’t have to worry about leaving the boat thanks to Bollington Wharf who found space for Preaux whilst we have to be away. Since we made it up the Bosley Flight it’s been a strange time – Steve will only be on the boat for two and a half days this week because his mum needs help with hospital appointments and other items, so we have grabbed time together with gratitude when the rain paused, to blow away the cobwebs.
The climb up the Gritstone Trail to White Nancy perched on Kerridge Hill has to be one of our favourite walks just as Bollington has to be one of our favourite locations on the canals. Shaped like a sugar loaf, White Nancy was built by the Gaskell family in 1817 to commemorate the British victory at the Battle of Waterloo. It was originally a summer house or folly but the entrance to the inside was blocked many years ago.
The views from the top are expansive – across the Cheshire Plain to the mountains of North Wales and the Pennines to the north and east.
Climbing up to see the beauty laid out beneath you is breathtaking. It was the first visit for Boatdog 2, a walk which Cola her successor made and enjoyed several times even in his old age. Walks and views like this make us hugely grateful, not just for the life that lets us discover them, but also for the health to be able to enjoy them. Linda’s sad loss makes us determine once more to make the most of every moment.
That gives us pause for thought, and pause in our travels for a while if we can. We have now got ourselves to just 22 miles and 34 locks from the Rochdale Canal. Steve is perhaps more excited at being just 38 miles and 69 locks from the Yorkshire border!
What will determine our next move will be the opening times of the Marple Flight which we need to tackle before they close. At the moment the locks are open on Tuesdays and Saturdays from 8.30am with the last entry at 12 noon because of low levels in the feeder reservoirs. We won’t make those locks this week because I don’t want to singlehand the boat down the flight while Steve is away on those days this week. We would love to be able to make it down the locks on Tuesday 15 August but that all depends on whether the rainfall means the locks really will have to close on 14 August in which case our last chance to travel up will be the Glorious Twelfth. It could be one way to spend our wedding anniversary (no. 34) although we had planned a somewhat quieter day!
Another week, another set of new experiences, new views, new challenges and new knowledge. Life afloat may be many things, but boring isn’t one of them.
Last weekend we took ourselves part way up the Middlewich Branch off the Trent and Mersey, in part because we could, and we wanted to keep moving. We went far enough up to turn, and then headed back down, making our way slowly back up the Trent and Mersey to join the boats pausing at Wheelock waiting for Lock 57 to be repaired. It was good to meet up with other boaters, some of whom we’ve known online but not in person for some time, and others who we had met on the Ashby last winter. Convivial conversations in the Cheshire Cheese passed some time, and we enjoyed walks along the canal, strolls into historic Sandbach and took a bus to Crewe, but our poor internet connection pushed us into another move.
Moored with coalboat Halsall at Lock 59 away from the M6
We took ourselves from Wheelock up to lock 59 and walked up to see the progress at the damaged lock. The original heel post was being braced with steel by a specialist team of two by the time we got there, but impatient boaters had circumvented the locks and chains over the weekend before the scaffolding was put in place, and caused more damage in the process. Engineers determined that the second heel post needed bracing, and a balance beam needed adjustments too. The weather wasn’t kind to those repairing but they soldiered on. One of the team said he had to tumble dry his clothes twice when he got home that night.
They worked solidly for two days to complete all the repairs, the scaffolding team came from Sheffield, and by Wednesday afternoon ahead of expected schedule, the lock was able to be tested by coalboat Halsall – keen to move on and keep to their promised schedule, delivering diesel, coal and gas to boaters across the T&M, Caldon and the Macclesfield. By early afternoon we too were moving through the lock in sunshine, assisted by Canal and River Trust staff checking the lock as we went.
In the repaired Lock 57
Four hours, four miles and 12 locks later after negotiating some low pounds and blustery winds which buffeted the boat about, we were mooring for the night at Church Lawton. We were glad of Halsall’s company for much of the journey but they carried on as we stopped, keen to get to the Harecastle Tunnel for an early passage next day.
For us the next day brought sunshine and showers to join us through 7 miles and 7 locks, that took us onto the Macclesfield Canal to Congleton Wharf. The Macc is one of the most delightful canals, historic market towns and villages cluster along its route. It hosts beautifully crafted bridges and views to the Peak District never fail to lift the spirits.
My spirits needed lifting as before we turned on I was so busy concentrating on getting the boat safely into the lock through the wind and rain that I looked down not up and forgot the low bridge before Lock 41. I walloped both the internet aerial and our wonderful new chimney from The Little Chimney Company. Both are now in need of remedial work.
Still, we are now safely on the Macc where water restrictions have been lifted somewhat. Both Bosley and Marple flights of locks currently only open 2 mornings a week were due to be shut due a lack of water on 31 July but that has now been extended to 14 August which means we can take a more leisurely approach to travelling north.
We took time to moor up in Beartown aka Congleton. The story goes that the town, famed for bear baiting used money left to it to buy a town bible to buy a new bear when their previous one died just before a Wakes week in the 1660s – the holiday of the time commercially for tourists and townsfolk to flock to the town and its then ‘key attraction’.
More palatably, the town was home to Elizabeth Wolstenholme Elmy, who Emmeline Pankhurst called “the brains of the suffragist movement”. She was a determined but tiny woman if the lifesize statue to her really is lifesized.
Another of the town’s statues was created by sculptor Amy Goodman after local people raised thousands for its creation. Treo was a Labrador cross who saved countless lives sniffing out buried explosive in his work with the army in Afghanistan.
Congleton was a centre for leather work, lace making, cotton spinning and ribbon weaving. It also housed a silk mill built in 1752 that was once one of the largest textile mills in the country. When we move on we will pass through Macclesfield, Bollington and Marple, where more mills rise proudly alongside the canals reminders of the silk, corn, and cotton industries, which once thrived here.
Congleton’s Old Silk Mill
We aim to pause at Bollington, heart of Happy Valley for a time as we like the place so much and which is good for a stop as we have other demands on our time apart from travelling. Once there we will be just 31 miles and 45 locks (about 20 hours journey time) from Ducie Street Junction, our connection to the Rochdale Canal.
Our detour. Dotted line indicates route yet to complete to reach the Rochdale
Those travelling the way we originally intended, through the heart of Manchester from the Bridgewater Canal are expecting an update on August 1 about the damaged lock 87 which resulted in our lengthy 97 mile 83 lock absolutely delightful detour to access the Rochdale Canal. It’s not a race but even with our pauses we need to make along the way, will we arrive on the Rochdale waters before them?
Years ago I ran a higher education Master of Arts degree in communications. This week has brought home to me again just how vital good, clear communication is to us all.
In the mass media we’ve seen again the resulting maelstrom of rumour and speculation that takes off when hard facts are not communicated clearly. People interpret what they hear in their own ways colouted by their own knowledge and experiences. Communication isn’t just about how and what is delivered but how that is received.
Here on Narrowboat Preaux this week we’ve been both poor receivers and experienced good and poor communication.
This as you’d expect has resulted in frustration, irritation, wasted energy and mistrust as well as relief, appreciation and clarity.
We started last weekend waiting to hear news of the damaged lock that was stopping us getting through Manchester onto the Rochdale Canal, a cross-Pennine route much heralded for breathtaking scenery but one which has faced significant issues of vandalism and water shortages over the years.
Our aim in travelling the Rochdale this year en route to our eventual destination of Ripon (the northernmost end of navigable waterways) was in part, a fear that such were the Rochdale’s reported issues over past years, if Canal and River Trust had to save funds they might look at closing one of the three transPennine routes. The Rochdale could be a likely candidate. Use it or lose it they tell us, so we want to use it.
But we couldn’t even get onto the Rochdale. We subscribe to a Notices and Stoppages service delivered via email by Canal and River Trust (CRT). You select the waterways you are interested in (or towpaths if you want to walk or cycle) and any issues appear. Seems an excellent use of technology but one of the keys is that any communications system is only as good as the quality of the communications being communicated.
Stoppage notice no. 1 about Lock 87 came a week last Thursday. At the beginning it appeared to us and others, that this [and indeed on a subsequent lock stoppage which became equally important to us and was reported as the same issue] was going to be a short stoppage. In reality it then appeared that perhaps CRT were falling into the quagmire of telling people what they thought they wanted to hear, and diluting the pill rather than delivering the full bad news. Or perhaps we had been interpreting the communication with what we wanted to hear, or maybe those on site were telling the comms team what they thought they wanted to hear, or indeed maybe the comms team weren’t asking all the right questions. The possibilities for a shortfall in communication are legion – as anyone in any business knows.
Lock 87 which would be part of our route through Manchester onto the Rochdale Canal had, we were told last week, been investigated by a team including engineers so they knew what the problem was (a heel post becoming disconnected from a gate). Email 1 reported it in such a way it sounded manageable and repairable and set a date for the next update – a good thing to do.
The arrow marks the position of a pivotal heel post
Five days later the update arrived finally at 5pm in the evening on the day promised. It said that they needed more specialist contractors to explore the issue and so they’d be on site later in the week. That didn’t seem in line with what we had first heard via email but much closer to what people from boats close to the site who had spoken to CRT staff at the damaged lock had initially been told. It seemed that the initial message had been watered down.
The second email made clear the issue was sounding like far from a quick fix, and we, along with many others were moored on the Bridgewater Canal, were now vainly waiting to head up the Rochdale.
Heron, walkers and us on the Bridgewater
The Bridgewater Canal is a private canal, and the reciprocal agreement with CRT is that a CRT licence holder can notify the Bridgewater that they wish to navigate their waters and do so for 7 days without incurring additional charge. Then they must wait 30 days before returning for another 7 day period, or start paying a charge which we understood to be £40 a week. So, if Lock 87 was going to take some weeks as now looked likely. Between email 1 and email 2 several boaters had outstayed their 7 days on the Bridgewater Canal but there had been no recognition at that stage from CRT that as the problem was due to a failure of their system, they had reached some agreement with the private canal company to mitigate the problem for boaters.
An email to the interim Director of CRT’s North West region on behalf of ourselves and other boaters in this situation resulted in an impressively rapid and unambiguous response, both from him explaining he had asked someone to come back to us asap, and an equally rapid email from that someone tasked with resolving the issue. The latter email was able to be posted on relevant boater social media sites to support those facing overstay charges to be part of a negotiated solution. CRT also came up with a suggestion to move waiting boats through one locked lock into a space between locks (a pound) in the centre of Manchester. We could all sit there together until repairs were complete.
It’s a fine line between the two canals!
That would move us off the Bridgewater by a matter of a foot or so, but living cheek by jowl with other boaters in such close proximity in the centre of a city, unable to move forwards or backwards or have hot water for showers (generated by moving the boat in our case) and waiting for however long it took to complete repairs sounded nothing short of a nightmare scenario to us. We knew some boats were already locked in but believed they might not be permanently occupied. We declined the offer of imprisonment and decided that as we were unable to make the 8 mile, 6 lock journey from our then Bridgewater mooring onto the Rochdale, we would move the long way round – 98 miles and 85 locks.
We made it off the Bridgewater just in time to meet our 7 day access limit.
We knew there was a lock (No 57) which had a problem en route on the Trent and Mersey, and we knew of lock flight restriction times of use because of a lack of water on the Macclesfield and Peak Forest Canals, but we thought it was doable, particularly as we’d heard boaters near the Lock 57 issue had been told – wait for it…. “That a straightforward fix had been manufactured and would be installed within days.” Guess what? Communications were a little out. A business boat owner who spoke to those on site reported a different situation as he had hire boats and holiday makers stuck beyond the lock. The minor repair originally suggested was apparently a more major repair which could take some weeks. Boaters were still heading towards the lock from both sides in the belief that it would be fixed by the time they got there.
More route planning underway…
This miscommunication or misinterpretation of communication is causing problems, yes there’s the delay and the hassle of trying to find a route which is open and navigable, but if not more serious is the lack of trust created in the communications. Each message now needs to be interrogated – we can’t take anything at face value.
It isn’t just us, continuous cruisers who, to be honest, could shuttle between locations sorting out waste and water en route, but there are the businesses that depend on it. Holiday boat hire companies who are having to spend time and money shuttling holiday makers to boats in locations they didn’t want them to be, shuttling staff to boats away from base to clean and prepare them for new customers. Boat sharers have to get back to base to hand over to the next occupants. Work boats conducting repairs and maintenance or commercial working boats ferrying diesel, coal and gas – all are impacted by not only stoppages but the communications around them.
For all of us, it is better to know the potential extent of a problem from the beginning. Give us the worst scenario and then we’ll be ecstatic when it isn’t as bad as thought rather than be too optimistic first off. Some CRT staff, those allegedly undertaking the first evaluations, are also losing face because it appears from the communications that they aren’t able or properly qualified to initially assess situations properly.
Lock 57’s latest update was due on Thursday 13. We bet the updated notice would come out at 5pm – just as everyone is leaving the office. Just what happened with the last one! Cynical? Yes. It pinged in at 17.03.
It sent us into a fever of interrogating what was set, and planning once more. It’s a challenge we’ve set ourselves up the Rochdale to Yorkshire for the winter. Perhaps it will take us until winter to get there!
The tiny green blob is us- the red blobs are current stoppages
Currently all 3 routes over the Pennines are blocked. Middlewich was our last chance to turn away from the blockages, turning down the Middlewich Branch towards the Shropshire Union which we did. Many boaters, private or holiday, we met this week have decided to go down the Middlewich Branch to the Shroppie and then off to either the Llangollen or Chester. All are fluent on the woes of Lock 57!
We are still determined to head for the Rochdale, the question is how? Despite everything I’ve said about CRT communications, we have to believe them, to keep the faith. We feel we should get through this stoppage on the Trent and Mersey in the next two weeks (accepting there may well be another stoppage, another lock broken somewhere else in that time). We also know (thanks social media) that another boat we met up with on the Ashby in winter is waiting at the damaged lock, and they say there’s a good pub not far away so the delay won’t be too much of hardship.
Our next considering is will we then be able to get through the Macclesfield and Peak Forest flights before water shortages stop the limited flight usage all together? CRT were saying 31 July was when they would close the flights completely and to be honest if I had to be trapped somewhere, the Macclesfield is quite lovely. We need to travel to a family birthday and very sadly a family funeral in the coming weeks, so we have to factor in safe places to stay and days with no travelling.
At the minute we think we can manage it all – it’s going to be a few slow short days followed by some long days of long distances with many locks in whatever the weather brings, but we will coddywomple on.
It’s not all sunshine and roses out here!
Our goal remains to get up to the Great Wall of Tod by the end of the first week in August. Will we? Who knows? Having got there will we ever get back? We’ll let you know – concisely, clearly and accurately we hope!
Making tough decisions that result in backtracking on plans, goals and going against peer pressure are always tough, even when the vociferous peers in question are total idiots. That’s what we encountered this week, the oddest week we’ve had in our years afloat to date.
We sat at Tarleton on the Lancashire coast last Saturday nervously watching rising winds and waiting for a decision at 9am on Sunday morning about whether the lock would be unlocked to allow us to make the tidal crossing to the Lancaster Canal. Around us others were gathering, and the 4 boats booked for the crossing were all like us checking and rechecking anchors and lifejackets. Nerves were evident among most, although it was also apparent there were one or two (male) boaters loudly dismissive of others’ fears and concerns.
Sunday morning came after a sleepless night. Lying awake and hearing the winds drop suddenly my stomach lurched – excitement or dread I wasn’t sure, but the howling winds would pick up once more. Dawn brought a clear decision – the winds were too strong to allow narrowboats to cross the Ribble Link.
We accepted the experts’ advice but then had to listen to some of the boaters berating the knowledgeable CRT staff who had taken time to bring the decision to us in person. We gathered that although the next day’s crossing was fully booked, we would be allowed to tag along if conditions allowed. Most if not all should get through, if the tide turned those at the back would have to go to a marina om Preston and wait there.
One vociferous boater maintained he’d crossed the Atlantic in far worse conditions (obviously not in a flat hulled narrowboat a fact he seemed to forget!). It reminded us that in every community, sadly, there will be those aggressively voicing their views, totally ignoring opinions of experts and unpleasantly dismissing the views of others. As their posturing got noisier, we moved away from boats to a bus, to Preston. Our day was well spent watching an otter play in the River Ribble and learning much of this cotton town’s hard history from a fascinating sculpture trail.
This week there were only 3 days when tides allowed outward passage if the weather was right – Sunday (when we were originally booked was cancelled because of high winds) Monday and Tuesday. Then at the end of the month there are a couple of days, again all fully pre-booked.
Sunday night was another anxious one with little sleep, listening to the winds, now hearing the rain thundering on the metal roof above us and regularly checking the forecast on our phones.
By Monday daybreak we’d been up for hours, gloomily squinting through the murk at the geese alongside us who seemed the only ones enjoying the torrential conditions. The winds were still strong, and we made the tough decision that even if the crossing could be made, it wouldn’t be made in those conditions by this crew and our old boat. Safety first, so we could have other years, other times to make this crossing.
When the knock came on the side of the boat the decision was that though winds were strong a crossing was doable. We relayed our decision that we would not be one of the 8 going, and went along in the torrential rain to wish the others well. Some said they respected the courage required to make our decision in the face of vocal opposition, and some (easy to guess who) were openly dismissive of our decision.
We waved them off, returned dripping and turned our boat in the torrential rain, very glad not to be heading out into tidal waters when we could hardly see ahead. We began a subdued trip back down the Rufford Arm, hugely disappointed that the tidal adventure we had planned and prepared for over the past year was at an end… for now.
We felt utterly deflated but knew it was the right decision for us. We are a team. Our boat is both our home and our office, so putting that at risk as well as putting both of us and Boatdog at risk is just not an option. The miserable weather echoed our feelings as we ploughed through winds, reeds, and weeds back the way we had come with such optimism and excitement just days before.
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same thing, and that was what we felt as we headed back. We knew the high winds would put an unknown added strain on our engine and its quirky cooling system. We genuinely believed they could cope with the crossing in easier conditions. We weren’t prepared to literally throw caution to the winds, but we haven’t dismissed the Lancaster Canal forever – just for this year as crossings close in October and they are fully booked until then.
So as 7 newer boats headed across the Ribble Link we headed south, through rain, sun, and always with the winds buffeting us around. Through 7 quirky and often problematic locks and their time-consuming anti vandal locks we went, turning back finally onto the Leeds and Liverpool Canal feeling exhausted and emotionally drained.
We limped our exhausted way through a swing bridge and sought out a quiet, calm, rural spot away from roads and railways where we could recoup and regroup. As soon as we found one, we moored up, ate our evening meal subdued by disappointment, and took ourselves off for an early night to catch up on much needed sleep.
At 3.15am loud male voices outside accompanied by hugely powerful torches woke us with a start. They were apparently splitting up and going in opposite directions, which they did. Fishermen? Boat thieves? Then they came back, and suddenly they were hammering on the side of our boat. Believe me – that’s heart-stoppingly alarming in the dead of the night. Their explanation was a little more reassuring: “Hello, hello, anyone in there? It’s the Fire Service.” Sure enough, a peek through the curtains showed yellow uniformed firemen bathing the towpath and canal in lights as bright as day.
They’d had a call about someone in the canal – did we know anything? Our somewhat befuddled reply that we’d been asleep was of little use to them, and they carried on searching for another 45 minutes before disappearing as suddenly as they’d arrived. They didn’t appear to find anyone, so was it a terrible timewasting hoax? We will probably never know.
It was difficult to get back to sleep after that, and we were somewhat slow to start the next morning but we did take time to formulate a new plan. We will now tackle the only cross Pennine route we haven’t faced, and currently the only one actually open, the Rochdale Canal. It felt good to have made a decision, and helped dispel both the weirdness of the night and the disappointment of the past days.
So we set off, back through Parbold, calling at Reynolds the Butchers, which was handy because it gave time for another boat, Phoenix, to catch up with us. Travelling together, we made light work of the 15 miles and 8 broad locks back to and through Wigan.
In Wigan someone was having a real crisis and passers by had called the North West Air Ambulance. The pilot landed with extreme skill by the canal’s dry dock lock on what seemed the tiniest patch of grass by the Rose Bruford College at Trencherfield Mill. He then came across to learn from us about lock mechanisms whilst he waited for updates from his paramedics and asked if he could push the gates for us when they were ready. Boaters never turn such an offer down!
Apparently the spare Air Ambulance – no. 1 was having a windscreen replaced An amazing pilot delivering assistance
We set off from there slightly stunned – fire and ambulance in one day, please please please, don’t let us need the police!
Just as we left the final lock of the day, Poolstock bottom Lock our engine cut out, and we lost steering. We alarmed the multiple geese by drifting to the side of the canal alongside Scotsmans’ Flash, and headed down the weed hatch to see what had fouled the prop.
Steve was aghast to see a huge black mass jamming the propeller. His first horrified thought was “Oh Lord – have we picked up a body and carried it for miles to here?” Fortunately, more investiagion revealed not a coat with someone inside, but a tarpaulin which he easily removed, and we transported it off to the next bin to prevent it causing someone else issues.
As we moored up we made a donation to the North West Air Ambulance – the least we could do on such an odd day as a thanks for the help we’d been given, and the fact we’re still OK.
Now we’re heading for the Rochdale Canal – all 91 broad locks of it spanning 32 miles into and through the Pennines. Boasters who have completed the Rochdale recently have given us a Marmite impression of it.
“It almost broke us. Lack of water and general maintenance. We’ve never struggled so much.”
“Absolutely loved the Rochdale.”
To get there though we have to make it through Manchester. The issue with canals, as other communities, and as we found with the tidal crossing is that so many boaters have opinions to voice about every route, and all are often conflicting. Listening to the chatter, much on social media can give you pause for thought. In terms of the journey through Manchester, many of whose locks are underground, in the past 24 hours I’ve seen these comments:
“Underground was amazing and the locks were somewhat different but worked well.”
“Dirty, poorly maintained, strewn with needles and capsules, urine infested and down right dangerous. Homeless vagrants in sleeping bags and a young man who jumped on our boat and threatened us.”
“It’s never been an easy passage, in common with many urban canals it can be challenging.”
What I wonder will we find? Hopefully another boat to share the locks and journey with but either way, another experience, another adventure.
Waiting in Worsley – no hardship!
One thing we’ve already experienced is the need to be ready for delays – and it could be a while before we can even get onto the Rochdale now.
Maybe Monday will bring news – can we? If not where should we go because we only have a licence to be here on the privately owned Bridgewater Canal for 7 day? Who knows where we may end up!
Some weeks are just packed with “things” that bear no relation to each other but create a very satisfying sum of their independent parts. This week proved to be one of those weeks.
We crossed into Lancashire – stalwartly flying our Yorkshire Rose flag… and I am no longer complaining about the heat. Now I am wondering if I am about to get rust whilst being grateful I don’t have to water the roof garden.
Parbold in Lancashire was a real delight as other boaters had promised – excellent coffee shop, good and plentiful pubs, amazing butcher (Reynolds) and a pet shop which thrilled the boatdog. The walks were varied and at last involved HILLS!
We moored by what was once the village windmill, milling the imported American grain transported from Liverpool on the canal barges that then took the finished flour to multiple destinations.
Such was the success of the business a steam powered corn milling factory was also built –opposite the windmill. Ironically the steam-powered version ultimately put the windmill out of business but it has now disappeared under housing whilst the five-storey windmill with its castellated top remains and is now an art gallery. The village also boasts a railway station which allowed Steve to escape the boat last weekend!
From Parbold the canal wends its way to Burscough. A fascinating little town, and one which offers much to the boater. For us there were the delights of services (water, waste etc) plus many pubs, The Wool Boat (more about this anon), new walks to explore and access to yet more trains.
We took advantage of proximity to the seaside and spent a day at the beach this week – a long time since we walked on the sands, and for the Boatdog a joyful opportunity to run, and run and run.
We went to Crosby where she was somewhat confused by Anthony Gormley’s wonderfully weathered statues – 100 lifesized naked men spread across the beach. She didn’t bother about them being naked but couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t stroke her when she nudged their hands! Apparently the internet is awash with pictures of dogs dropping balls at their feet and waiting patiently for the statues to throw them!
The statues, all made of cast-iron stretch three kilometres along the beach and almost a kilometer out to sea. They are identical, modelled on casts of the artist’s own middle-aged body (I have to say he was pretty slender at the time. I wouldn’t dare take a cast of my naked body – which will be a huge relief to the world!). All 100 face out to sea, affected by the tides and I have yet to discover why they are entitled “Another Place” unless they are looking towards another place, or imagining another place or creating another place of the place they are in, by being. Answers please!
From Crosby we returned via Southport and its eccentricity of the British Lawnmower Museum (I kid you not), before finding our way back to Burscough and a fascinating lesson from The Wharf. Local blue plaques accompanied by information are invaluable in providing insights into the people who shaped the places we travel through. In this instance two caught my eye – plaques about two women, each remarkable in her own way.
Harriet Emma Mahood and Emma Vickers. Hattie Mahood was a suffragette, a strong supporter of the Temperance Movement and the first female deacon of the Baptist Church.
Emma Vickers was born to a family of canal workers, and famed for her commitment to maintain local dialect, dances and songs – many related to the history of the canals. Recordings of her appear in numerous places including the British Library, and she was an accomplished musician as well as a prodigious fundraiser. Many people outside of Lancashire will not have heard of her, but her impact was significant on our knowledge of her home county, and of the culture of the waterways.
Burscough is also home to the famous Martin Mere Wetland Centre – one we’re saving for another day as we got sidetracked by other delights on this visit.
Firstly we found The Wool Boat, its knit and natter in the pub afternoon (which resulted in me knitting and nattering and then having to unpick everything I’d messed up in a most enjoyable fashion!). Our cushion covers are again all stuffed as a result of me smuggling yet more wool on board for projects.
And then we were diverted by an evening supporting the local community. A lady came by the boat to say her dog was missing. It had escaped from her house whilst she wasn’t looking, and so we set off for hours of walking the towpaths and local lanes in search of Timmy. Her family, neighbours, cyclists and other boaters also volunteered in the hunt for this diminutive Yorkshire terrier who was finally tracked down to – Southport! He had been picked up on a road by a lady and when she couldn’t get a reply from any of the cottages near where she found him, she took him home. He was finally reunited with his family at 7.30 the next morning. Immense relief all round.
Timmy’s safely home!
We then felt we could set off to tackle the Rufford Arm (which demands a future blog to itself believe me) heading for the Ribble Link, the River Douglas and our tidal crossing to the Lancaster Canal. We are booked for Sunday morning, but whether we will be able to go is another matter – winds and waves may dictate otherwise.
65 kmh gusts would put paid to our crossing…
We are readying our anchor and getting prepared but wait and see whether we will get to cross or not… Reading the safety briefing is already proving alarming 😱
If we had £1 for every time someone says “Is it cold on there? Or “ don’t live on your boat in winter do you?” – we’d be rich!
No one ever seems to ask “Is it boiling in there at this time of the year ?” though and the answer is a resounding YES! Our home and office is effectively a metal box…getting more insulated by the year as we retro-fit to help develop temperature stability, but it is still a steel box. Steel is a conductor of heat – not the best perhaps but it gets VERY hot. At times over the past weeks it’s been almost impossible to hold the handrail whilst walking on the gunwhales at the height of the day.
The windows on our boat are a bit of a problem for us – the bulk of each window is static glass with a tiny section at the top, which tilts inwards (a hopper). Theoretically, these hoppers should be removable, but in our boat, only the tiny one in the bathroom will lift out.
Heat has a stultifying effect on the brain and the body. Researchers like Chloe Brimicombe specialise in studying its impact and are succinct about its dangers: “Being too hot makes you unwell and can even kill you.” The Conversation, July 8, 2022.
lnterestingly the HSE (Health and Safety Executive) says “There is no maximum temperature for workplaces. However, all workers are entitled to an environment where risks to their health and safety are properly controlled. Heat is classed as a hazard and comes with legal obligations like any other hazard.” Not for nothing do we talk of being “hot tempered”. Continuous heat (to which we aren’t accustomed) has a debilitating impact on us and our work.
When working outside as we have to when moving the boat, being too hot can lead to stupid mistakes, careless moments that can also cause injury, or worse, when managing locks and swing bridges particularly. Mind you being on the tiller down in dark dank locks brings welcome respite at this time of year even if you are standing over the engine!
Last year, and this as we sweltered and sweated, we thought about ways we could improve living conditions in the heat – and came up with a variety of options.
Continuing to add insulation – we’ve been doing this steadily.
Improving the flow of air in the boat. This is more complicated than it sounds and we’ve now used up all the less expensive options like using fans either usb driven or 12volt socket type (thanks Jonny – we particularly like the instructions!)
Additionally opening doors that will open (front, back and one side hatch; and keeping the blackout curtains drawn on the sunny side. We open the side hatch (on the one side we have one) and open the cratch cover too as well as the stable door at the front of the boat.
A sure fire cheap way to cool the boat down is to keep moving which effectively forces air through the boat and cruising on a sunny day is a delight. But there are days as we’ve had in past weeks and obviously at night when we’ve had to be static.
Big plus – washing dries in the blink of an eye!
Keeping the boat as cool as possible – mooring in the shade although as the sun moves round it rarely works 24/7 and it is sadly frowned upon as well as unwise to moor in cool damp tunnels As I write this we have found the last mooring spot in a village in Lancashire and sure enough – it’s the one in full sunlight!
Keeping ourselves cooler. Wearing cool clothes. Drinking lots of water and cool drinks from the fridge – bliss. Encouraging use of the dog’s cool mat – no room for us all though! Wearing damp clothing…Boatdog modelled a particularly fetching damp teatowel look most of the daytime which she carried off with indomitable style!
This is not a hot dog!
Seeking shade off the boat. The last few weeks were extreme as thunderstorms moved round and around us, only arriving on Tuesday evening to break the interminable heat for a short while so we took refuge away from our metal box.
The major issue for Steve this month has been horrendous pollen counts rendering him almost insensible at times. I’ve never known his hayfever to be this bad in our 30+ years together, but apparently the pollen counts haven’t been this bad since 2018 in places either.
Night time is hard. We leave whatever we can open and reduce covers to a minimum. Boatdog is choosing where she sleeps and she generally moves about a bit, selecting the coolest places she can find as the night wears stiflingly on. Now we have a fridge with a freezerbox we could chill our socks (it’s a thing believe me)…if we had space in there for them! Frozen peas (in the bag) bring blissful relief when placed on the back of the neck.
In the days when we are working manually out in the sun, operating locks, it feels authentic to be dripping in the heat, sweat stinging our eyes and clothes plastered to us, returning to the boat and feeling the pressure of the suffocating heat the moment we step back on board. It seems worse when we are working in a cerebral way on the boat at the computer and still wiping our brows and necks. Every moment, even every thought takes time, effort and is exhausting. To all the friends and family I said I’d contact this past week and haven’t- apologies. Just making it through what has to be done has been a struggle in the heat. Normal life will be resumed when things cool down!
Decided to forgo a pie in a barmcake but pie alone was tasty
We managed to explore Wigan this week and whilst there was much to see in terms of culinary delights (Uncle Joes Mint Balls and Galloways Pies for starters), cultural highlights (Wigan Pier; Andy Hazell’s three heads automata on Trencherfield Mill – Carton Head (top), Jar Head and Tin Head (bottom) spun and lifted in their day; and the newly unveiled Wigan Flight plaque), the clear winner for us in terms of changing our floating life and emptying our bank balance was a visit to Caldwells Windows!
Wigan Pier
We marvelled at the demonstration of boat windows you can open, tilt and completely lift out to maximise ventilation. Windows with aluminium frames that don’t need painting, windows with thermal break double glazing that will keep us warm in winter reducing heating costs and cool in summer reducing the need to run fans and stick our socks in the freezer.
All we need to do now is save lots of pennies to buy them and install them before too many more summers melt us or drive us from the boat back to a static tethered life in bricks and mortar. Without opening windows, it will be hot summers and not cold winters that drive us out of our floating home. We met up with someone who had all their windows replaced a few years ago, and they were waxing lyrical with enthusiasm about the difference it had made to living in pleasant conditions aboard, the increased ventilation and double glazed units leading to not only more pleasant temperatures all year round but reduced condensation too.
So for now I’m trying an economical new way to keep cool – visualisation of opening windows and looking back at the winter … I’ll let you know how it goes if I don’t melt in the meantime!
Inspiration comes in many forms as we discover in our lives, and what chimes with or inspires each of us at different times in our lives varies as much as we do ourselves as individuals. For me this week, this hot week has brought starkly the awareness of how much we are inspired by one individual, an individual who isn’t famous, who hasn’t graced an Honours list but one who inspires by her life, her actions and often what she doesn’t say more than what she does.
There are many remarkable women in my life, of many ages, including my two daughters, myriad friends, and magnificent colleagues, but this one is a true matriarch, an exemplar for us all.
Mum – more on the cup in hand later!
As the years go by, she acquires new identities, from Mary to Mum, Granny, and Great-Granny. This week we’ve had the good fortune to be able to spend time with her sharing our world afloat, seeing its wonder through her eyes, and looking afresh, thanks to her, at things we have perhaps begun to take for granted.
My mother-in-law is quite simply a REMARKABLE woman. She underestimates herself hugely and probably always has and always will.
She is strong – astonishingly so – and has had to be throughout her adult life. She is now 92 – doesn’t look it and certainly doesn’t act like many 92 year olds.
Thanks to my sister-in-law for the photo
Things haven’t always been easy for her, but she doesn’t complain. She just gets on with what needs to be done. She retrained for a new career when polio took her young husband, leaving her a pregnant widow with two boys aged two and four to bring up. Six weeks after his death, she gave birth to their daughter. They all remember a happy childhood, and that is a tribute to her determination. She remarried, her children all married, two divorced, grandchildren, and great grandchildren arrived, and eventually, she was widowed for a second time. She soldiered on once more, drawing on her inner strength and faith.
The most remarkable things about her are things we can all learn from.
1. She only ever gives advice if it is asked for. Not for her barbed casual asides or comments about spouses, jobs, colleagues children. The comments she does make are positive. No matter how opinionated the individuals involved, she remains positive or tightlipped. If only we could all adopt this approach, wouldn’t life be better in our families and workplaces?
2. She is fiercely independent. She rails against the fact that her mind is clearly as active as it ever was but her body is not, but continues to do whatever she can for herself before asking grudgingly for help.
3. Nothing stops her having a go in whatever way she can manage if she wants to do something. She longs for new legs particularly but that doesn’t stop her pushing her limits, and that’s a maxim we can all adopt whatever age, whatever our circumstances. This week one of her new experiences was coffee in a takeaway cup! [See first picture!]
I’m pretty sure she thought we are totally bonkers moving to live and work on a narrowboat, but now we’ve been able to share time cruising with her, she is appreciative of the calm, quiet and beauty we are fortunate to experience every day. Our first trip together was at the top of the Wigan Flight in May 2021.
This week, we cruised part of the Leigh Branch together aboard nb Preaux. She generously sat inside at the start, leaving the bow seating for her daughter and son-in-law over from New Zealand, saying she’d been out in the cratch on a previous visit, and they should enjoy it as she had, but once one of them moved to the tiller, she was out there, seated in the sunshine. Ducks, ducklings, geese and goslings, two lone cygnets, hundreds of dragonflies and banded demoiselles – vivid turquoise flashes above the water, all entertained us. Like us, she was horrified by the amount of litter floating around, and I began the slow task of netting rubbish whilst she was with us and will continue that again this week.
She stayed in the bow as we made our way up 2 locks to the Wigan Junction before turning and coming back down these big heavy locks. I’ve never sat in the bow through a lock being either on the paddles and gates or the tiller, but I imagine it’s a daunting place to be, right at the front of the boat as you descend into the dank depths with water cascading in front of you or rise from them. She continued to smile as I peered nervously over at her to see that she was OK.
She recognises her limits – she doesn’t like having limits – but she recognises them and in that there is wisdom. She doesn’t cook from scratch any more but still extends hospitality and still pushes her own trolley round the supermarkets buying in provisions for “feeding the five thousand” when we descend on her as we also did this week following her visit to us.
She quietly supports – our fledgling floating craft business is just getting underway, and she generously insisted on seeing our stock and buying items I really don’t imagine she needs or wants. Her generosity and encouragement are, as always, hugely appreciated. We can all reflect on when we last extended unequivocal, generous encouragement to others.
She also saves our marriage – is that uncommon for a mother-in-law? Steve visits her regularly to work through “the list” giving him time away from me 24/7, and me time alone (now with a Boatdog again). It is an absence from each other which is invaluable!
Steve has been lucky to know her all of his life since she gave birth to him (and he wasn’t a tiny little baby). Those who call her Granny and Great-Granny have also known her all their lives.
At the centre of Christmas family festivities
I have only known her for 35 years but that’s enabled me to learn a lot from her. She made it to France when both my daughters were born to be there and support me. She was quietly supportive – no drama, no saga, no objection to having to cope with innumerable animals inside the house and out when I know she really isn’t an animal person. She didn’t make a fuss, just got on with it, and the animals treated her with the respect she commanded.
Who is the quiet inspiration for you and your life? Are you fortunate to be someone else’s quiet inspiration? (Ah, if only I was – but quiet is something I have yet to master!)
Enjoying china and a saucer at Bents Garden Emporium
I know she prefers cups and saucers – and I know enough to know she is going to be somewhat annoyed with me for this blog post! (Yes, bless her, shes a subscriber too!)
I only hope her hugely generous offer of a long soak in a bath this week isn’t going to be withdrawn as a result – as many boaters with just showers aboard know, that really would be a tragedy!
Sometimes I wonder how I manage to get up in the mornings, and other times I marvel we manage to get anything done at all, such are the myriad distractions on offer but to be able to wonder, to marvel at something created by man or nature can be truly breath-taking and inspirational.
We’ve encountered two manmade wonders in this past week alone – and another that combines the wonder of nature with the ingenuity and skill of man.
Over 50 years ago, the Seven Wonders of the Waterways were compiled. Robert Aickman, supernatural fiction author and active conservationist, was responsible for the original list. Together with LTC Rolt, he co-founded the Inland Waterways Association, and his list was one way of encouraging people to explore the waterways to keep them alive.
This week along we’ve travelled two of them – the remarkable Anderton Boat Lift and the Barton Swing Aqueduct.
The Anderton Boat Lift is something we’ve visited in the past but never been able to travel on until now. It towers on huge metal legs astride the edge of the River Weaver. In huge watertight tanks, each moved by a massive single piston, it transports boats vertically up and down the 50-foot drop between the Trent and Mersey Canal and the River Weaver.
Now transporting leisure boats and a trip boat for the delight of those without a boat of their own, the massive Meccano-like structure was built in 1875 to lift cargo boats carrying salt, pottery and coal to the international port of Liverpool and returning laden with foreign goods.
It is surprisingly slow – and at the moment of departure, it is currently quite jerky when it starts. This is apparently due to the tightness of the seals that were replaced last year.
Two narrowboats can be transported a time. One at a time they move into the entrance to the available entry tank when a guillotine gate is opened to let them through. Once both are in and positioned side by side, the gate is closed behind them, and the next water tight gate pulled up to enable them both to move through together at a signal from the operator. This positions both boats in the moveable caisson, they tie to the side, switch off engines and begin their journey. We turned from the Trent and Mersey into the entrance of the lift at 10.18am and at 10.49 we restarted our engine, cast off the rope and headed out onto the River Weaver. It is a remarkable feat of engineering, and certainly wonderous, not least to be still operating today.
We just voyaged to Northwich along the river to buy milk and supplies before heading back the same day, another lift journey up above the Weaver. The journey back was infinitely noisier than the descent courtesy of the boatowner who came up alongside us and insisted on playing his music at volume the entire time. Being British we said not a word – but he couldn’t have heard if we’d tried! Thankfully, we had experienced how remarkably silent the mechanism is on the descent in the company of a delightful couple from South Africa enjoying the waterways.
From our return we had just 6 miles 5¼ furlongs remaining on the Trent and Mersey before joining the waters of the Bridgewater Canal, a 39-mile private waterway operated not by Canal and River Trust nor the Environment Agency, but by The Bridgewater Canal Company, an arm of The Peel Group. It stretches from Runcorn to Leigh in Greater Manchester, and features one of the Seven Wonders of the Waterways, the Barton Swing Aqueduct.
This swinging aqueduct enables the canal to cross the Manchester Ship Canal which carries large commercial vessels. It opens to allow these big boats through, and is the first and only swing aqueduct in the world, and still operating today. It was originally opened in 1894 and was designed by Edward Leader Williams, the same engineer responsible for the Anderton Boat Lift.
We have on our travels to date been remarkably fortunate to have experienced and marvelled at four of the other original Seven Wonders of the Waterways –
The Pontcysyllte Aqueduct over the River Dee on the Llangollen Canal
Standedge Tunnel – the deepest, longest at nearly 3.5miles, and highest canal tunnel in the country burrowing under the Pennines
Bingley Five-Rise Locks – a staircase flight of 5 locks completed in 1774 since when they have continued transporting boats 60ft to and from the Yorkshire Dales.
Burnley Embankment – a mile-long embankment through the heart of the Lancashire industrial town carrying boats above the rooftops of terraced houses some 60ft below.
So the one original wonder that we’re keeping as a treat for the future is the Caen Hill Flight of 16 locks which rises across the Wiltshire countryside near Devizes.
Over the years people have added other wonders they’ve found, and we can add many, but on this trip we also discovered the delights and wonders of RHS Bridgewater, a manmade wonder of nature. When we’ve passed before it was a building site and now it is a developing, glorious riot of colour and form, shape and a seemingly effortless blend of formal and informal spaces. Definitely wonderful!
In other news we’re on tenterhooks, trying our first bit of trading this weekend having finally sorted the insurance. GULP! More wonder – will we sell anything????
Pickingupducks 