Celebrations, challenges and meeting Winston

We made it up to Langley Mill and through the first lock on the Cromford Canal, gaining our 10th IWA Silver Propellor Challenge location on my birthday to acquire the delightful present of a rather unique location plaque!


Getting here up the Erewash was a challenge itself, to be honest, but one worth undertaking. It hasn’t been an easy canal to navigate, and one that ends up in a vicious cycle. Because it so little used, repairs and basic maintenance it would appear are low on the CRT list of priorities, and thus things deteriorate more, and then the state of the infrastructure means boaters are less inclined to head this way. We never saw another moving boat all day.


To detail our findings; there are 11 locks between Sandiacre where we set off and this final one onto the mooring basin on the Cromford. Each normally has 4 gates (2 top and two bottom, 2 ground paddles and 4 gate paddles).

  • The first, Pasture Lock had both ground paddles not working, and the top lock gate paddles were stuck part open
  • A burnt out cruiser was sunk under the M1 bridge between this and the next lock (we had seen a warning about it)
  • Stanton Lock worked but was hard
  • Hallam Fields worked
  • Gallows Inn lock the ground paddle and top gate paddle on the towpath side were jammed and wouldn’t open fully
  • Between there and Greens Lock a sunk cruiser was floating about
  • Greens Lock one ground paddle inoperable, the other won’t open fully, offside gate paddle jammed at 25% open and neither of the top gates would open so I squeezed the boat out through the middle gap
  • We were beginning to feel grumpy at this point, but the autumn colours and whizzing kingfishers raised spirits, and Potters Lock came with a bonus.  Local youngsters on half term were happy to help and learn how a lock worked. They said they’d never seen a boat going through so glad we could enlighten them
  • The next 4 locks worked but were heavy and hard but worked, so that was Barkers, Stenson, Shipley and Eastwood
  • Then we arrived at the end. Langley Mill Lock is looked after by the volunteers of the ECP and DA…Erewash Canal Preservation and Development Association. That lock into the final basin works smoothly, easily and everything moves like clockwork, a mechanical testament to the advantages of regular maintenance.

I look forward to the day when they extend the Cromford Canal and we can go further into Derbyshire along its length.

It’s been handy being up here for shops and pubs. We managed to celebrate both our birthdays this week and contributed our bit clearing up rubbish and scrubbing signage en route.

We also managed a walk from Derbyshire to Nottinghamshire and back along the Iron Giant, the towering Bennerley Viaduct strides quarter of a mile 20m high across the Erewash Valley just a stone’s throw from the canal. It is well worth a visit and is a remarkable tribute to the power of volunteers, are are the Erewash and Cromford Canals. The Iron Giant is going to get a visitor centre and new paths in the coming months so will offer even more on a visit, although the highlight for visitors old and young when we went was the responding toot from freight engines below to a hopeful wave from high above.

We gained an excellent view of Winston the Wind Turbine. He appears on Google maps as such – I love the unusual on a map. He’s apparently located at the Newthorpe and Giltbrook Sewage Farm and was actually named Windy Winston by the pupils of Awsworth Primary School nearby. He is said to be the tallest wind turbine in the country. Anyone know any different?


Waste disposal demands we return south again (back through those 11 locks plus another 3) even though we can’t yet cross the Trent to the Soar. The only CRT waste disposal on the canal that we’ve found is at Trent Lock, so we need to return there to get rid of our rubbish some ours, some picked up en route.

The river updates over the past week have been in flood and out of flood and the Ratcliffe Lock is now scheduled to reopen on 15 November so we won’t get onto our winter mooring for 1 November but with a long day and no more flooding we could, should, might make it on 16 November. Everything crossed!

Fraud, dripping and fraught navigation

Ey up mi duck – we made it! If you read last week’s update we’ve completed the first part of Plan C. We’ve donned our life jackets (all 3 of us) and hurtled down the Trent before Storm Ashley sends it back into flood, and executed a sharp left turn from the river onto the Erewash Canal.

Gongoozlers gather at Trent Lock for good reason – it’s a great place to watch dramas unfurl as skippers of narrowboats, widebeam and cruisers navigate their way on a five-way watery junction overlooked by the massive and now redundant cooling towers Ratcliffe Power Station. The Cranfleet Cut, the River Trent which goes right through, the River Soar and the Erewash Canal all meet at this point, and the two tricky turns are from the Cranfleet or the Trent onto the Erewash. You need to get cut across the flow of the Trent which is barrelling towards a non-navigable weir at this point to navigate between the abutments of the bridge onto the lock landing for Trent Lock (the bridge over the Erewash mouth bears the scars of innumerable collisions).

The junction (the white sign unser the left tower is the route to the Soar where we want to end up for the winter if we can.

The Skipper executed a perfect turn disappointing the onlookers, and we made it up Trent Lock to moor by the facilities and head immediately to celebrate our successful achievement of the first part of Plan C – not into one of the two hostelries that flank the lock, but to the unsurpassable Trent Lock tea rooms. 

Where else would you discover Rabbit Stew and Pork Dripping on Toast with Scratchings? I tucked into one with nostalgia but lacked courage for the other… maybe on the return journey?

But should I try pork dripping on my return?

The Erewash is another world, unlike waterways we’ve already encountered. It isn’t an ‘easy’ canal, but it began by repaying the effort of actually getting onto it. (Our last visit here was cut short and passed in delirium with Covid). Back to this trip and we could be forgiven for thinking we were hallucinating again – within minutes we were passing houseboats with ornate balconies like exotic Mississippi Steamboats, boatyards redolent with authenticity rather than modernity and then we faced our next pretty daunting challenge. We are in a constant state of flux at the moment, still renovating the boat around us, updating things and making changes for the way we want to live aboard. This entails a very major and rather expensive investment in terms of batteries (more on this when we get near to that point I promise). The first stage requires welding in the engine bay to safely hold the new battery installation. Quite how we manage our existing batteries in the meantime we haven’t quite established but Heath Robinson is assisting with that issue. 

To get to the recommended welder we headed to the boatyard at Sheet Stores Basin where once they made the massive ‘sheets’ or tarpaulins that covered cargo on rail wagons and barges. We were told to back into their working yard under a bridge presumably without hitting the widebeam moored opposite. The the Skipper did it perfectly, mooring under a bridge to a tree for the first time as instructed! Examination of the job over, and our requirements written in chalk on a piece of angle iron, we set off and will manoeuvre our way back in there from a different angle on our journey back down the Erewash for the new battery tray to be welded into place. 

From Sheet Stores we made our way up to Long Eaton and moored up on the edge of town by a beautiful park, the formidable architecture of former lace mills now populated by furniture makers and small industrial units, past greedy squirrels, kingfishers that dart by in a flash of turquoise and always lift the spirits en route (no, I still haven’t got a decent picture but I keep trying), squawking moorhens and a solitary heron. 

Long Eaton houses an exquisite library building – small but highly popular when I called in to work there for a change. Moving on up through Long Eaton Lock we came to Dock Holme Lock and promptly ground to a halt. An elderly cyclist adorned with a trilby sagely watched me setting the lock for the boat to enter and declared, “You won’t be *** going any further duck,” before accelerating away on his electric machine. I soon realised what he meant – looking ahead the pound (the section between two locks) was looking low. Not knowing to what it’s normally like, I managed to get us into the lock and as it was filling wandered up a little way, to see to my horror a boat completely out of the water, hull exposed, a narrow channel of water in the centre of the canal and nothing but reeds and mud at the sides. Certainly not enough for navigation. Explaining briefly to Steve and abandoning him with the boat in the lock I set off up to the next lock to see if I could resolve the situation by letting water down from above (hopefully without creating more problems).

A few faces of the Erewash – glorious, drained and artistic

It is a long half-mile pound between Dock Holme and Sandiacre and on the way I saw other boats, cruisers and narrowboats at horrendous angles because of the drained pound. Shouted conversations across the cut told me that it was the result of vandalism and had happened several times recently. I made it to Sandiacre Lock and began the slow process with a pound that long of letting water down whilst contacting Canal and River Trust to tell them of the problem and explain what I was doing. They promised to send someone but in the meantime I managed to get enough water down to refloat the stranded boats in the pound, and for Steve to limp our boat over the cill (step) of Dock Holme Lock and out into the centre channel. Just as he appeared at Sandiacre Lock a rather irate boater brandishing a windlass appeared to berate me for leaving all the paddles open and draining the pound above, causing her boat to list! I hastily explained and she was immediately understanding but told us just how often the issue had happened in recent weeks, and then she kindly helped us through. Most boaters are supportive of each other in this community we pull together. 

Coming through Sandiacre Lock brought us into another world – one of bustle and history. Sandiacre itself was once renowned for starch works, brickfields and lace. The Padmore Moorings were once coal wharves and overlooked now by 21st century cctv cameras but also by 19th century gas lights – donated by Terah Hooley (wonderful name) who built the impressive Springfield Mill on the other side of the canal. The mill complete with its four beautifully semi circular staircase turrets is now apartments but in its day it had its own gas works, and Hooley donated 50 lamps to the village on the understanding the gas to power them was bought by the council from his works! 

Gas lamps, beautiful mill buildings, signs of the times and a bobbin milestone

Incidentally Hooley’s son, Ernest Terah Hooley was mill manager for its first five years of operation. He though is ‘credited’ with being one of the most prolific financial fraudsters, cooking up schemes worldwide which resulted in him being declared bankrupt four times, sent to prison three times and en route getting nearly made a peer. He floated the companies that were behind names we know today like Singer, Raleigh, Dunlop, Bovril and Schweppes. But he overstretched himself, attracting investment into many of his floatation schemes when they were little but smoke and mirrors, and that was the downfall of “The Splendid Bankrupt” as he became known. 

If Ernest had ever sought penitence (which seems pretty unlikely) he could have made his way up Starch Lane to the ancient church of St Giles. Parts of it date back to the 12th century, its broach spire is 13th century,  and within the original Norman Arch are carved the “Sandiacre Imp” and apparently a dragon (looks more like an attempt at an ox to me!). 

Looks like there’s going to be plenty to keep us occupied here on the Erewash as we wait for the expected floods to abate and work to be completed on Ratcliffe Lock to let us cross the Trent onto the Soar – hopefully next month. We still have another 7.5 miles and 10 locks to travel before we reach the navigable end of the Erewash and the Langley Mill basin on what was once the Cromford Canal. 

Building resistance while getting scuppered

Our coddiwompling is coming to an end for a while as winter draws near. It is possibly my favourite season living afloat and we’ve decided to try something new this year.

For the first time, we’ve determined to try staying in one place for the winter months near our family. A couple of weeks ago we sat outside a pub at 8am (not desperate for anything stronger than a decent internet connection), to ensure we could log onto the Canal and River Trust website to book a place on the winter mooring of our choice. Some winter moorings are very popular apparently and being winter mooring virgins we have no idea if the one we want would be one of those.



We managed to get on and have booked for four whole months from November 1! Four whole months in one place will allow us to be close to family and friends for the winter, a chance to help out, to be involved parents and grandparents for a time, and to enjoy being part again of local clubs and groups. It should be a sociable winter and hopefully also allow us to attract lots of additional paid work.

Plan A – al panning with canalplan.uk

So our plan is to return to Leicestershire for the winter. We didn’t make that last year because of flooding, so we knew it could be a risk, but the long-range forecast looked hopeful. However, getting there now isn’t actually going to be as straightforward as we or you might think. On the day we decided and paid (a LOT of money), we saw some horrendous pictures from the canalised River Soar, and yes, that’s the river where we intend to be mooring.

So going straight there from the Caldon was out. Plan A involved 72 miles, 6 furlongs and 51 locks. It would have taken us down onto the Trent and Mersey Canal, travelling its length to Shardlow, where we would join the River Trent at Derwent Mouth. From the Trent we would then turn onto the River Soar. At the time we planned this both the Trent and the Soar were in flood so closed to navigation. Plan A catered for this climate change weather situation because over the years we’ve come to expect this. There was some planned work expected to be finished on the Soar on 25 October so we had time to sit and wait for both rivers to come out of flood and that work to finish for us to do a dash (such as you can in a narrowboat) to our mooring location. That section of the journey, particularly with a fast flowing Trent, could be done in one very long day.

Plan A was scuppered by Canal and River Trust and the weather. They had begun replacing both sets of lock gates at Ratcliffe Lock on the Soar before the flooding began, but as the water levels rose, they had to abandon the work. This was a repair that was due last year in the winter stoppages programme, which operates from November to April annually. Guess what? Flooding then meant they couldn’t do the work then, so they started it this autumn.

Thanks Simon and gulp that’s a narrowboat sunk beyond Kegworth lock!

So we then started to look at Plan B. That involved a detour, a serious detour. It was 144 miles, 2 3/4 furlongs, 97 locks, 2 moveable bridges and 5 tunnels resulting in over 3 miles travelling underground.

It would take us to Fradley Junction on the Trent and Mersey, onto the Coventry and  ultimately via a series of waterways onto the Leicester Line starting in Northamptonshire. We would then work our way down to Foxton Lock Flight, and right through Leicester before arriving on our planned River Soar mooring.

But Plan B was also scuppered by Canal and River Trust and circumstance. In order to get there, we would need to wait until the river Spar section was out of flood, and that could take us into another problem. One lock at the Leicester end of the Soar is already out, and work to resolve structural damage and a hole in the bottom gate there is awaiting flooding to abate so that won’t even be started until the waters go down. At that point it’s highly likely that a planned stoppage at Whetstone Lock south of Leicester will have started if the river has dropped out of flood. That work to replace lock gates and repair brickwork of the lock chamber is expected to take until 19 December to resolve assuming it starts on time on 28 October. So, no way through and highly unlikely that we could get through both hurdles given time scales and flood levels.

Fradley – our last chance to get onto the Coventry…

On then to Plan C…this involved Plan A but at the River Trent junction with the Soar there’s also a junction with the Erewash Canal and we haven’t yet made it up the full length of the Erewash.  Covid scuppered that plan during our initial foray there in June 2022. So Plan C involves the Plan A route plus a voyage up and down the Erewash by which time we will hope to see the river Soar out of flood and Ratcliffe Lock mended so we can do our mad dash to our winter mooring better late than never. That’s a 96 mile, 6 furlongs and 81 lock plan.

Plan C

Will it work? We can but hope it will, remembering from past experience that the unexpected is often invaluable. As I write, both the Soar and the Trent have dropped out of flood, which makes me optimistic . If Plan C doesn’t work, then we’ll just have to magic up Plan D whatever that might be, find a new winter mooring, lose all out money for the original mooring and pray that nothing en route will literally scupper us!

Poo from Peru and centuries of waste recycling

Industrial discoveries are remarkable. Recycling and world trade are nothing new. We were reminded of these this week. Poo from Peru was just one of a Staffordshire mill’s stock in trade until the 1970s. 

The gloriously named Shirley’s Etruscan Bone and Flint Mill has been in operation since 1857, and remains the last steam powered potters’ mill operating in the world. It ground flint, bone and guano (bird poo) from Peru to support the pottery and agricultural industries. The guano was ground down for fertilisers.

Peru became for a time the largest global supplier of bird excrement thanks to anchovies which thrived in the waters off the Chincha Islands located on its southern Pacific coast. These fishy morsels attracted cormorants, pelicans and boobies who lived and then thrived on the islands. The dry climate preserved their droppings and from the Inca on, these droppings were recognised as a powerful fertiliser. While the Incas sought to preserve the birds that ‘laid’ the crop, those who came after them were not as astute and their decimation of millions of tonnes of guano was done at the detriment of the birds and the islands. Man’s greed ultimately destroyed them all. 

It seemed astonishing that an aged industrial site in the Potteries heartland of Stoke-on-Trent was the global centre of this business. Bringing in materials from across the world and initially using canals to send them back out to customers globally. The ground powders of bone, stone, and flint were used to make pottery base materials and glazes. They still are to this day. Powdered flint is added to clay to create earthenware, powdered bone ash, and stone makes bone china and porcelain, while guano is ground down as fertiliser. 

Situated at the junction of the Trent and Mersey Canal which plied its commercial way from Nottingham towards the international port of Liverpool and the Caldon Canal which brought limestone from the Staffordshire Moorlands, this factory now forms the Etruria Industrial Museum. 

This was an industry and a business empire built on making use of items that would be discarded or overlooked – animal bones and poo, stones, and flint. It is a business that continues today in a modern factory, making use of waste that demands disposal and turning it into valuable commodities. 

Generally, the bones used were animal bones, contacts with slaughter houses, and farmers being the main source, but just occasionally, the bone china of our great grandparents may have contained rarer, more exotic ingredients. There are tales of two elephants from travelling circuses, one named Jimona and one more prosaically called Nick, whose skeletons ended up creating elegant tableware after their untimely demises in Stoke-on-Trent. Circus owners were apparently grateful for a quick and easy way of disposing of their corpses. Allegedly some of Jimona’s giant bones (or models of them) adorn the walls of the Mill’s Pan Room where burnt, crushed bones (rarely elephant) combined with Cornish stone and flint, from Nothern France and Eastern England, were ground to slop with water from the canal. The slop was dried, and the resulting powder sold to the pottery and agricultural industries for blending with clay and using as fertiliser. We still use bonemeal in horticulture and agriculture today, as well as it being a fundamental element in bone china production. 

I cannot believe how many times over the years we have travelled this stretch of the Trent and Mersey, passing the Etruscan Bone and Flint Mill but never finding it open for us to call in an discover more. This week, we found out when it was open and retraced our steps to ensure we could visit. Now, this incredible place, run by volunteers, is trying to open every Friday, and this month, they will fire and operate the huge steam beam engine Princess for visitors on both October 19 and 20. Do visit if you can. The massive 1903 steam boiler (which was itself recycled as it used to heat the nearby Tunstall Swimming Baths) takes 5 days to warm up gradually to operating temperature, requiring hand-stoking all the way. 

The story this unique museum expounds of recycling, waste into wealth, discovery, manufacturing, engineering and now history and the passion of volunteers committed to keeping it working and available for us all to visit is nothing short of remarkable. So often we pass by places like this, missing what they have to tell and teach us. I never knew until this week that bones, stones, and poo made Stoke-on-Trent invaluable. It’s a lesson to never pass by, never ignore history, and never miss a chance of discovery.

Wonder what we’ll find next week as we continue a route we’ve travelled many, many times?

If you think it’s worth it – give it a go!

Well we made it – we scraped the profile gauge that was supposed to be the indicator of whether we would get through the lowest openly navigable tunnel on the inland waterway network, but thought it was worth a try.

Let’s try, there’s only our home and office to lose, and the chance to get to the end is too enticing

If you think it’s worth it – give it a go – seems a worthy mantra for most things.

Froghall Tunnel has a reputation for leaving boats (and their crews) battered and dejected, scraped and defeated. It’s only 75m long but what a breath-holding, knuckle-scraping length that is. It is also approached and exited on irritating bends which make it difficult to line up to get a straight entry and easy exit.

It has loomed over (if a tunnel can do that) us for the past few years, acquiring as the unknown tends to do, a fearsome hold on our minds. Every boat we hear that hasn’t made it is another alarm (is that boat similar to ours? will we? Won’t we? Should we? will we get in and get stuck?)

Then there are the boating colleague we hear who have made it through (often with a few scrapes) and delighted in the calm of Uttoxeter Basin beyond. We recalled their boats, studied photos of them on social media and tried in vain to compare with our own but it honestly was a fool’s game.

Turning from the Leek branch to mainline

We originally thought to leave the Leek Branch of the Caldon Canal and make it to the tunnel on the ‘main line’ in two gentle days but once underway it seemed to get increasingly urgent to get there and see if we would fit through. We left the Leek dead end through the Leek Tunnel, helped an Anglo Welsh hire boat which had been trying to get past a fallen tree and got stuck in silt, then got stuck ourselves for a bit, before chugging on and turning at Hazlehurst Junction onto the ‘main line’ (which is just another branch now).

From there we dropped down onto the River Churnet for about a mile (this time whilst doing the lock onto the river I sent a photo of the river flow indicator board to the Skipper to ask if he was happy it was in the green. That’s after I mistook weed on the a river Aire board for a green indicator and we ended up accidentally travelling rather rapidly up it in flood…). I was surprised it wasn’t in flood after the weekend’s horrendous downpours but it wasn’t.





The only way to really know if we could get our boat through this tunnel was to try it. We began planning (stupid not to really) at the last waterpoint before the tunnel, at Consall. We filled the water tank in the bow with as much water as it would take, to weigh the boat down and sit her as low in the water as possible. Then we took everything off the roof, the plants, the boxes, the gangplanks, the rake and brushes, the boat scraper winter step that gets us through the winter (and autumn) mud, and we lowered the solar panels flat to the roof. We also took off our canvas cratch cover and folded it inside the boat. The highest part of the boat by the time we’d done all of this was the tiller pin… so Jemima was carefully removed, to be replaced with a totally flat cable tie to ensure the tiller doesn’t slide or get bashed off the swan neck that connects to the rudder which gives us direction.



After that started the Tetris-like game of trying to find spaces somewhere inside for everything we had just removed from the roof. Eventually everything was fitted somewhere, albeit a bit chaotically, and we set off again just as the drizzle started.



The section between Consall and Froghall Tunnel has some highlights – firstly the platform and waiting room for the Churnet Valley Steam Railway overhangs the canal because the two are so close together, and then the canal is incredible narrow and shallow in places, meaning going is slow and heaven help you if you meet another boat! So there were a few distractions, but the tunnel was looming large (actually small and narrow) in our thoughts as it approached.


You come at it from a bend and through the brambles and greenery at the entrance it is actually difficult to see it clearly, and to line up effectively for it but suddenly, there it was and there we were, edging towards this low dark space.



OK so it is short this tunnel and you can see the end from the beginning which helps but it is INCREDIBLY low. So low that I filmed going through from below the roof with my phone just peeking up and the highest part of the boat turned out uncomfortably to be the Skipper’s knuckles resting on the tiller. We edged in and bent double – steering and filming from the most contorted positions.

Not much room in here…

It wasn’t until we emerged blinking that we realised we’d probably been holding our breath for most of the journey through.

Once out in the sunlight, and straightening ourselves as well as the boat out, we cruised on to Lock 1 of the Uttoxeter Canal that now leads down just into the Uttoxeter Basin. It offered a totally deserted choice of mooring pontoons alongside what the Canal and River Trust online map assured us was a full set of services – Elsan, rubbish and water points.



We’d already been to a marked rubbish point at Consall when we were sorting the boat, only to find the bins marked as pub only, no boater waste, so we’d had to wedge the rubbish bag back in with everything else. I was thrilled to get to Froghall and begin clearing out but no – more bins marked as not for boater waste. A lovely lady cleaning toilets which turned out to be council provided pointed us to a waste bin beside the road, so thank goodness we’re pretty sustainable in terms of waste!



It was clear there was a CRT rubbish bin sign by the bins we weren’t supposed to use, so I photographed it and contacted CRT to ask just where we were supposed to put our waste, and if they knew boaters were unable to dispose of rubbish at either Consall or Froghall as marked. The reply was astonishing – these facilities closed in 2020! You’d have thought they might have updated the map in the ensuing FOUR YEARS! It literally stinks though because as continuous cruisers our the licence we pay to CRT for using the canals, facilities and being able to trade from the boat has doubled for us over the past 4 years. It appears the facilities are shrinking and this could have alarming environmental consequences for the environment we value so much  around our canals.



So it is a lovely place here in this basin at Froghall, worthwhile getting to particularly with the excitement of the tunnel, but without facilities, we can’t stay for too long.



The one major excitement we have discovered, which we weren’t expecting, is The Railway Inn. If you’re in the area don’t miss it. A family run pub with excellent local ales, home-cooked food, and a warm welcome for all of us, including unlimited dog treats! One of the family even refused to hear of us getting a bus to fetch our car and drove us back to Leek! Such kindness keeps us afloat and makes us want to pass it on in any way we can.


So next week, we’ll have another go at that tunnel – we just need to recover from our first attempt and play Tetris with everything before trying again! Then it’s back down the Caldon, along the Trent & Mersey, hopefully over the River Trent (flooding permitting) and an attempt to complete our voyage along the Erewash Canal which Covid so dramatically stopped some years ago. After that, I’m really really hoping for a winter cruising schedule unlike any other we’ve ever tried – more on this anon.

New waters and nerve-wracking decisions

A change of scene does us all good, as boaters know only too well.

James Brindley welcoming us at the start of the Caldon

This week we’ve begun exploring the Caldon, somewhere we’ve wanted to travel for the past five years. Problems with locks and water levels have stopped us until now, but now we are here. The Canal takes off from the Trent & Mersey Canal in the heart of the Potteries at Stoke-on-Trent. From there it wends its way through industry, housing, Edwardian parks with 21st century mugas (multi use games areas), through deeply wooden glades to the foot of the sweeping hills that crown the Staffordshire Moorlands.


The skipper has classed it “Llangollen without all the boats” as the ‘Golly’ attracts boaters in their hoardes. I have no idea why the Caldon doesn’t do the same. It is beautiful, peaceful, and offers its own breathtaking challenges, even if not a world-class towering aqueduct.

Winding through the Churnet Valley, the canal becomes two-pronged. One branch winding its way to the creative market town of Leek known  well by William Morris; the other, mainline, working its way to Froghall. The Leek branch was built to bring water to the rest of the canal, and the entire waterway was built to transport ironstone and limestone. Both were used in making ceramics.

This is a waterway which like so many in Britain today, we can only navigate and enjoy because of the incredible, unstinting work of thousands of volunteers. These are people with vision, with passion and determination.

The Leek Arm or Branch, which we are currently enjoying, was abandoned in 1944. In 1957, Leek Urban District Council bought it and filled in the section between the Churnet Aqueduct and Leek Basin. That land now houses part of an industrial estate.

In 1961, a formal notice of closure of the Canal was posted, and two years later, the Caldon Canal Committee was formed to campaign to keep it open. The individuals involved fought and worked hard, and in 1974, the waterway was officially reopened to navigation (although without the length that sits under the industrial estate).


So this year marks 50 years since the Caldon Canal reopened due to the efforts of so many people, and today  there is a major celebration event which we will be attending at the Stoke-on-Trent boat club at Endon on the canal itself. It is due to them that we along with kingfishers, green woodpeckers, moorhens, ducks, walkers, fishermen, runners, cyclists, and other boaters can enjoy this beautiful waterway. We want to support and salute their efforts by using the waterway, and joining in the celebrations.

That’s before we dash off, not by boat, to another great celebration of heritage boats, traders, and traditional music at Tipton on the BCN – the Birmingham Canal Navigation The Tipton Canal and Community Festival is another example of boaters and supporters of the network coming together to meet up and celebrate the privilege of living, workin,  and supporting the inland waterways. It promises to be a chance to meet up with great friends and enjoy some fun together.



As a drect result of the efforts of Staffordshire volunteers, there are now 20 navigable miles of the Caldon, 17 locks (one a staircase), 3 lift bridges, and 2 tunnels. The Leek Tunnel often puts people off because they’re unsure if they can turn after it, but there is a winding hole before the final end of the navigation, where we turned happily in and then we reversed up towards the end.

Next week, we will make it along the second arm of the canal towards Froghall, and that is going to be a heart-stopping experience. Heaven knows if we will be as fortunate to have such an easy passage.  Froghall Tunnel is LOW… very low.

Will we make it without wrecking our home or getting stuck?

Before it, there is a gauge that is supposed to tell you if you can make it through the tunnel or not. People say (alarming phrase really…) that it’s pessimistic by several inches so the advice is if you look close, give it a go as there’s a beautiful wharf with great mooring beyond, close to a wonderful tearoom. Some hire boat companies refuse to allow their boats to try Froghall in an attempt to reduce damage – to the boats and the tunnel.


We’ve seen 4 different dimensions of clearance for Froghall… and we’ve had friends who have made it and friends who have not. We aim to check in at the gauge, fill with water to get us as low as we can be, remove our cratch cover, and hope we can inch our way through the tunnel. I think this will be one for the skipper to take the tiller on!



Will we make it? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. We will try, and next week, you can find out how we did (unless, of course, we are still wedged in there without an internet connection)!

Never take life for granted

Like the English weather, we were reminded this week that life can turn on its head in a split second or even be extinguished as fast. 

Four years ago this week, we sold up, moved life and work onto a 50ft narrowboat saying: “We’ll try this for two years and see how it goes.” We’re still going, and since that initial moment of casting off our mooring ropes, we’ve travelled a total of 3,530 miles on our boat through 2,328 locks. (I can feel the effort of every one!!!)

Preaux entering another lock!

This past year has been hard for us. Caring responsibilities have meant for a good portion of the year we’ve lived apart, and the boat has been stationary, but still, we’ve explored 613 miles of waterways and worked 359 locks.

This year, we have new windows in the boat; I broke my nose when a step gave way; we’ve been to Liverpool and finally made it along the length of the beautiful Rochdale Canal. We launched a new business, Moving Crafts, and are hugely grateful to everyone who’s bought craftwork from us. We’ve also experienced one of the most glorious,  joyous family weddings ever! 

We’ve just finished lockwheeling 48 locks over 3 days for the steam narrowboat Tixall, helping get her and her owner Matt to a steam rally in Cheshire on the Macclesfield Canal.

Tixall steaming up the Bosley Flight



The bulk of the locks were Heartbreak Hill or the Cheshire Flight which includes 31 locks taking boats and boaters from the Middlewich plain up to Stoke-on-Trent (or the other way round if you’re leaving Staffordshire for Cheshire). To speed the passage of commercial boats, many of the locks were doubled, but now most are sadly reduced to single passage again through dereliction and disrepair.

The 1987 steam narrowboat Tixall is now in place at Bosley to delight visitors at the North Rode Transport Show this weekend, 14-15th September. Moving a steam narrowboat is a unique opportunity, unlike moving our own boat. We don’t have to keep disappearing to shovel coal into the boiler for one thing, keep an eye on our psi continuously, have to rapidly lower a towering funnel at bridges or delight those we pass with the unmistakable sound of a Gresley steam whistle.

So we set off mid afternoon, the first day and somehow a gentle jaunt was in our minds…we should have factored in the boundless energy of our much younger and hugely enthusiastic skipper. After 15 miles and our 9th lock, we were definitely night boating. At this point, just after 11.30pm, I was VERY HUNGRY, happily weary and grateful we’d stopped for a drink and loo break before closing time!

The final paddle closed, the last top gate swung behind Tixall as she headed off to moor for the night,  and Boatdog and I crossed back over the lock to start walking home. Boatdog crossed fine onto the lock landing but in the dark (no headtorches because we hadn’t expected to be night boating but we couldn’t abandon ship!), I stepped from the walkway into thin air and then into deep water, walloping my left thigh on the concrete side of the lock on the way down into the canal beyond the lock.

This is what the end of a walkway looks like in the daylight – and they aren’t all uniform sized gaps by any means!


What followed involved lots of struggling, tugging and expletives but finally, caked in green slime with a liberal hand covering of collar grease and shivering from head to toe, I emerged from the deep thanks to the determined efforts of Steve and the bemused if silent encouragement of Boatdog.

It’s a lesson in never taking anything or anyone for granted. This life can be idyllic, but it can also be dangerous and sometimes deadly. Reminders are always chastening and valuable. Being cautious, more careful, and remembering the risks of being tired or ill equipped is essential for us all – whatever we do or however we live.

I have dried out now. The car key remarkably still works. I’m immensely grateful that there was a positive ending to that night, even if it was costly. I am sporting bruises from my waist to my knee, a new phone (gulp), and I’ve had to buy a new windlass for Tixall.



So I start our 5th year living and working  afloat (our 7th owning our narrowboat) a bit battered, but hopefully wiser.

We’re treating ourselves by heading into a waterway new to us this week, one we’ve been longing to travel – the Caldon. It moves through the beautiful Staffordshire Moorlands with some breathtaking moments and seems a good place to be glad to be alive.

New beginnings, a new challenge and a reboot

I feel like I’ve returned home to a parallel universe after my time away. I left just about 10 days ago in periodic warm summer days, but I’ve returned to what is clearly autumn.

Uniforms and backpacks are taking over the early towpath from habitual dog walkers; leaves fluttering from hedgerows and trees like confetti dot the water green, yellow and red; evenings cool rapidly bringing heavy dew; while hire boats carry more grey hair and less young pirates.

The water has changed too. I’ve been away, revelling in the ever changing movements of estuaries, meres, and crashing waves instead of experiencing gentle ripples from winds, boats and birds, or expected cascades in locks.

Boatdog has gleefully tackled the challenges of slippery dune sand and spiky marram grass. She’s charged over shore and shingle, celebrating with utter delight her successful archaeological forays that uncovered exciting  remains from decaying dogfish to crunchy crabs.

It’s been a gloriously different setting –  walking in the wind and rain, sun and showers, surrounded by new natural glories. She and I have sat on sandy mounds watching egret and curlew, oystercatchers and ringed plover foraging on the shore before turning to forage ourselves, and bringing back delicious, crunchy, salty samphire from the estuary edge.

It is good to be home, cocooned once more close to nature surrounding the boat, and crucially for me, to have felt needed, wanted, and useful. That was more vital than a break and a reset. Sometimes, we all need to feel we have a value as well as to get away, even from paradise, and it is hard when you lose your inner compass. I’ve returned, ready to reset mine slowly, but I hope, surely, over the coming months. I recognise the importance of purpose in my life and how devastating it can be to feel rudderless and worthless. So I’m back reinvigorated, better educated aware that the only one who can resolve this is me – and I’m armed with a new challenge.

Setting up my wonderful Inkle Loom with the help of YouTube!

I came back bearing a beautiful Inkle Loom astonishingly handcrafted by my ‘patient’ when I tried to distract him from boredom by showing a picture and speculating how hard he thought it would be to construct. I was asronished when he actually took the mental challenge to reality. This longed-for treat is something to enjoy learning and eventually maybe even mastering. I shall look forward to help from weavers in face-to-face meetings when we moor near them and from shared wisdom on social media.

My time away and a deliberate reduction in social media use have had a positive effect. Doom scrolling was depressing and taking way too much time with no discernable benefits, and I found better things to do! I’ve been sleeping, eating wonderful fresh fish, drinking gallons of water, and walking whilst I’ve been away, although oddly, I eschewed the bath on constant offer in favour of unlimited hot showers!

The better things to do with my time aside from weaving, have included (within hours of returning) unexpectedly meeting up with boat friends, admiring the work completed on board by the Skipper in my absence, as we revamp the interior of our tiny home (retro fitting a small space is always easier when there are fewer living there), and moving before we outstayed our allotted time. 

Above us, as the weather changes, the swallows are busily swooping low over the water and fields, feeding frantically to build their strength for the massive journey to come as most of them head to the warmth of Africa, and they are massing ready for the off.

Unlike the swallows, our onward trajectory is not set in our psyche. We are actively thinking of where to go next. We’ve enjoyed time back in the familiar black and white setting of Nantwich, with its convivial dog cafe and indoor market, sandstone church, and seen the sculpture trail appears to be ageing along with us!

The Nantwich Aqueduct sculpture trail dog is  sporting a debonair new look!

We fancy waters new to us and even slower travel, so as the swallows fly south, we are without haste, pointing our bow north-east.

Huge thanks to all who have contacted me with messages of blog enjoyment and best wishes – I really appreciated each and every one. I hope you’ll join us on our foray into unknown waters as we move next week into our fifth year living and working afloat (an experiment we said we’d try for two years to see how it went!). While we’re looking ahead to the autumn – I found this week that at least one supermarket’s looking further ahead!

Taking a break

These are the weeks of the year I find hardest.

This year, they seem harder than ever after so many joyous moments that have been missed by those I’ve lost. Moments they would have loved to have been part of. We lost them all in different years but all in August.

My father, mother and brother ❤️

I find myself thinking back, and it’s now decades in fact to conversations we had or those I wish we had had. To things I wish I’d said or never said.

I know that, as a result, I need to take time out away from social media for me to take a break to get myself back, and that’s what I aim to do. I need space away to focus on reality and let nature around the boat bring its healing to bear.

I’ll be back hopefully mended and back stronger and positive with our blogs in a few weeks – in early September when we start our 5th year permanently afloat.

Memories are made of this

Narrowboats; tents; wildlife and wildflowers; days without agendas; windswept sandy beaches crammed with rock pools not people; ice-creams; wellies full of water;

beachcombing treasures; leisurely chatty meals with all generations together; no-tech-games from garden quoits to i-spy and inventing imaginary concept vehicles – the more outlandish the better; more ice-creams

long walks; wet walks; leisurely walks; learning from each other; revelling in each others’ company and viewpoints; making new friends and catching up with old; chatting about everything from Pokemon to sheep dog trials; travelling on different kinds of boats;

Waves on Coniston Water experienced from the steam-powered Gondola

finding new places and sharing old familiar ones; learning about the past and making lasting memories for the future.

Paddington Bear looming over Cheshire in aid of charity

I absolutely treasure those special times when we get to whisk our grandson away and explore the greatness of our island together. We all gain so very much – and we’ve returned with loads of wet and ripped clothes somehow! 💙