We left West Stockwith this morning at 9.30, reckoning that five and ahalf hours was a generous allowance for a trip of nine miles and four locks. At quarter past five, we arrived. There were no particular hold ups, barring a brief chat with Steve, our friend from Newark, as we passed. It was just very, very, slow, because very, very, shallow. The Chesterfield is a beautiful canal though; you can watch the fish as if in an aquarium. If you have to travel slowly, there's no nicer scenery to travel through. Apart from Steve, we met only one other boat - ok, two, as one was towing another, with a JP2 with its big end gone. Fortunately we met them at one of the places where it is just possible to pass.
Earlier, I think between the second and third locks, we saw on the towpath a tree laden with russets, and another with plums - I guess they must have been the remnants of the orchard or garden of some long gone house. So we stopped in the bridgehole and picked some. The russets are lovely, and the plums will go into a crumble tomorrow. Getting supplies he means getting a bus into Retford - the shop mentioned in Nicholsones is gone three years since - but apparently it isn't too difficult.
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