Paper dashing

Croxley Mill, somewhat earlier than Chertsey's delivery there. One of my favourite photos, reproduced by kind permission of Diamond Geezer.


I have on my desk a photocopy of a faint page from a duplicate book. The original writing has been gone over to make it legible. It says:

(I haven't reduced the photo so if you click on it you can see a bigger version.)

This probably represents Chertsey's last commercial load, and almost the last canal borne coal to Croxley Mill. The traffic, which began in 1824, finally ended just a few days later.

The story, in which Chertsey plays a small part, of the attempts by the Ashby Canal Association to keep the canal open by securing carrying contracts, is told by Gerald Box in Clinging On: The Moira Cut, Coal, and the Last Days of Carrying. (Available from the IWA shop). It's not sparklingly written, as the title might betray - I believe it started life as an MA thesis - but it's fascinating reading for anyone with an interest in the last mini-rennaissance of canal carrying in the late sixties.

This was a time when the big companies had long since given up trying to make canal transport pay (as early as 1949, after the Docks and Inland Waterways Executive - later to become BW - had taken possession of the GU fleet as part of the nationalisation programme, the biggest independent carrying company, and one of the oldest, Fellows, Morton and Clayton, had voluntarily sold out to them). Smaller outfits, with what we would now call leaner operations, such as Blue Line and Willow Wren had entered the fray and taken over a number of boats from the rapidly dispersed BW fleet in the fifties and early sixties, but by the late sixties they too were feeling the pinch, as more and more cargoes were moved onto road transport. Factory arms were being closed and filled in, and canals across the country were being effectively, and often legally, abandoned.

By 1970 Blue Line was just about hanging on - their 'Jam 'ole Run', which ended in November 1970, is generally held to have been the very last regular long distance traffic - but increasingly the few remaining traffics were being carried by the new No. Ones; rather different perhaps from the traditional, proud owner-operaters of earlier years; people, often young people with no canal background who had purchased a boat in one of BW's regular disposals and dreamt of a life working the cut, 'following the trade' to use Tom Foxon's term; picking up loads as and when they could, and hoping to do no more than sustain themselves but to find their reward in the hard but attractive lifestyle of a boatman.

One such young person was Richard Barnett. In 1969 he was a newly qualified accountant, but presumably the prospect of a lifetime spent in some back office did not appeal. So he purchased Chertsey - not direct from BW, as they had disposed of the boat in 1962 or 1963, but from the subsequent owners (and who they were remains a bit of a mystery, these being Chertsey's 'missing years'). Richard Barnett's business partner at this time - unofficially, for reasons that will become apparent - was a student called Richard Pearson. It was in fact the latter Richard, who had barely steered a boat before, who was entrusted with bringing this 23 tons of coal from Gopsall Wharf on the Ashby Canal (on the Leicestershire/Warwickshire border) to John Dickinson's paper mill at Croxley on the Grand Union near Watford. Nick Hill has the steerer down as ? on the loading note; I was able to tell him that it was Richard Pearson having met Richard at Braunston last year, when he told me the story.

The continuation of this contract represented a victory for Nick Hill (he who signed the loading chit nearly forty one years ago and who was helping to fit Chertsey's new gunnels the week before last) and others on behalf of the Ashby Canal Association. Keeping traffic moving on the canal was primarily begun as a means of keeping it open, preventing it from silting up, being choked by weed, and being abandoned, after its upper reaches were closed by mining subsidence. After Willow Wren pulled out, the Ashby Canal Association formed a trading arm and took over the contract with the paper mill itself. It then subcontracted the carrying to anyone who was willing and able to take it on. The story of the chutzpah with which they achieved this, and through it their ultimate aim of keeping the canal open, is worthy of a post in its own right.

A Lidl drop of beer

Since a branch of Lidl opened in Newhaven earlier this year, our lives have been transformed. We are genuinely spending less on food and household shopping, partly because it encourages us to shop around, and partly because sometimes things are very cheap. Good things too, not the second or third class stuff that passes for most supermarkets' economy ranges.

But there are other good things about it too. Firstly, there is not masses of choice. One brand of tinned tomatoes, one brand of beans, one brand of cat food. Take it or leave it. It saves time as well as money, and is strangely liberating. There's no piped music and no pseudo TV and radio stations pumping out adverts. It's light and bright and clean and the staff are efficient, whilst not wasting their energy on pretending to be my friend.

They sell all sorts of mad stuff. Waders, diving suits, sticky backed plastic. Our first ever Lidl purchase was a shower hose costing £2.99 in the branch at Langley Mill. We despaired of getting any hose - and they were costing up to fifteen quid - to last more than a few months before springing a leak. The Lidl one is still going strong three years later.

The last thing that makes Lidl fun - and this must be their secret weapon - is that you never know what's going to be a real bargain from day to day. Prices go up and down from one day to the next. Naturally that keeps you coming through the doors; fortunately we don't live too far away. And today Jim has just been back to stock up on the current beer offer: Shepherd Neame Masterbrew (a very nice bitter) and 'Summer Sizzler', at 99p a bottle. I tried a Summer Sizzler yesterday despite the rather pathetic name and its name belies it, suggesting a light summer beer when it's actually a rather lovely (4%) IPA, so there are now a dozen bottles of it in the beer cupboard.

Movable ballast

My thoughts have been turning to Chertsey's ballast situation. At the moment we're carrying something in the region of three tons of canal water (possibly less as some has slopped out or evaporated over the past year...). This takes up an awful lot of space, being as it is kept in three large tanks sitting in the middle of the hold, necessitating squeezing through an 18" gap to get past them.

So I am thinking of using a combination of steel, under the floors, augmented by smaller drums of water. This will give greater flexibility as they can be moved about depending on circumstances. Also of course there are the freshwater tanks in the back end, which when full add another ton. These can be emptied in emergencies (we started to do so when we were stuck on the northern Shroppie on the way back from Ellesmere Port, but then BW magicked up some water and we were floating again without needing to empty the tanks). There is also the possibility of having a ton or so of coal, although that would of course diminish over the course of the winter...

I have got my movable ballast for Braunston sorted out though. It comprises:
Bill and Michelle (Shilling)
Tony and Patti (WotEver)
Casper Ghost + daughter + brother
Bones + Bones's friend's dad
Adrian and Linda (Warrior purchasers)

Any more and I'll be needing a Boatmaster ticket!

I hope I haven't forgotten anyone. You're all very welcome, and there are two parades, so I'm sure there'll be room for everyone.

Collectibles

Since Easter I've collected a few more townie photos for the album. Pleased with this most recent one - last seen when I was on its home turf. I was also very pleased to have identified it from the first sight of big Northwich stempost and those louvred windows.

It's Tyseley, home of the Mikron Theatre Company, who are currently touring down south, and will be putting on a show at Braunston.

Warrior sails into the sunset

It's been a bittersweet weekend, with a few tears, as we've cleared our goods and chattels from Warrior ready for its new owners. One thing we can't be accused of however, is taking the lightbulbs with us - in fact we are leaving what must be a lifetime's supply of spare bulbs.

As the Moomins were at Bill Fen as well, we decided to take a valedictory trip to the George at Ramsey Forty Foot. This pub has changed hands so many times since we started visiting (and this visitors' book has been lost and found again) but I think last night saw it at its best ever. Friendly service, excellently kept beer and decent food at very reasonable prices. It was empty when we arrived but shortly after we ordered, a family group sat at the next table. There was soemthing so familiar about the man I could see, I thought he must be a boater I'd previously encountered, but I couldn't for the life of me think of where. Then one of his party asked him 'When do you start rehearsals' and I realsied that if he was an actor, I'd most likely seen him on the TV (which I haven't watched for ten years now), and for some reason my first thought was The Bill (perhaps because every actor in Britain has been in it at least once). Over the course of the evening I becam certain this was where he was familiar from, and indeed, when I got home and looked at some pictures, confirmed that he was indeed Tony O'Callaghan, who played Sgt Matthew Boyden. Further research solved the mystery of what he was doing there of all places - he grew up in Ramsey. I think however that David Trimble remains the most important, if perhaps not actually the most famous, person I've encountered in a pub while boating - and I actually spoke to him.

We left around ten and navigated after dusk in brazen contravention of the Middle Level byelaws. Despite a heavy coating of weed, Warrior cut through the water as smoothly and as beautifully (and as fast) as ever. Moominpapa and I both captured the occasion - me on my ancient Canon PowerShot A700, and Moomin on his HTC Desire. His is sharper, but bluer.

Superstition

I'm not a superstitious person. I'll happily walk under a ladder (as long as it's secure and there isn't a precariously balanced tin of paint at the top) but there are a couple of superstitions I'll respect, either because they represent a nice idea or a kernel of good sense, or because of a link with tradition.

I was reminded of this by an interview in the Guardian today with Tea Obreht, the winner of the Orange prize. Among other superstitions that she grew up with in Belgrade, she mentioned one I'd not come across before:

"I learned that if you cross a threshold to go on a journey," she says, "even just to buy flowers down the street, you are not allowed to turn around and cross again until the journey's done – so if you forget your money, you're crap out of luck! You can be like, 'Please give me the money,'" she waves her arms wildly over an invisible threshold, "but my grandmother would physically hold me back."

That appeals to me; the idea that if you start a journey, whether a physical or a more metaphorical one, you should not return until you've completed it.

Other little superstitions I adhere to are that you should never give anyone a purse or wallet as a gift unless it has a token amount of money in it (also mentioned by Obreht), and also regarding gifts that if you give - or are given - a knife or scissors, or anything similar, you should always accept or give a token amount of money in return - things that can cut should not be given as gifts.

One superstition I grew up with, that I never came across anywhere else, is that if you bang your elbow, you should always bang the other one. It took me a while to grow out of that. I suspect it was a ploy on my mother's part to distract us from the pain.

Finally, a boaters' superstition mentioned in Tim Wilkinson's Hold on a Minute. His wife brushes her hair and on pulling the loose hairs out of the brush, goes to throw them in the canal. The young boy from a boating family who's crewing for them is aghast at this, and tells 'missus' that she'll go bald if she does that. As Wilkinson explains, the sense behind this is not to throw anything in the cut that could get caught round someone's blades. Instead, she is told, she should put her hair in the hedge for the birds to take for their nests. Ever since reading that, I've propitiated the fates by never throwing so much as a single hair into the canal, because I like having that link with that advice from the past.

Off to Warrior now, to start to clear our stuff out ready for its wonderful new owners.

Going backwards

Lately I've started - partly of necessity - to enjoy getting some practice at going backwards. Whether it's possible to steer a narrow boat in reverse is a matter of some debate, but what it comes down to is, it depends on the boat. With its big, balanced rudder and superior underwater shape, I would guess that a boat like Chertsey steers as well as any in reverse. Which is to say, of course, not really all that well. To steer at all in reverse is an achievement.

As I say, I've been having some practice lately. Winding round the turn at Braunston is a treat - done it twice now so that bit of the parade holds no fear for me now. And the week after next there'll be a bigger challenge. We couldn't leave Chertsey on the 14 day mooring on the North Oxford any longer, so we've gone up the GU, up one lock, and left it in the pound there. Now, it would be another four locks to the winding hole, IF the winding hole was operational, but it isn't, so come the rally we're going to have to go backwards back down the lock and as far as the marina, and wind there. That'll be exciting.

I have gathered some reversing hints from various people. Obvioulsy (well, fairly obviously) steering in reverse entails moving the tiller in the opposite direction to when going forwards. It can be very disorientating though trying to work out which way this is (for me anyway) so thank to Mike for the simple mnemonic of pointing the angle of the swan's neck in the direction you want the back of the boat to go. Thanks to Andy for two further sage pieces of advice: when reversing, watch the FRONT of the boat, not where you're going (except for occasional glances), and always go back further than you think you need to.

And finally, my own recent observation - don't be afraid to wind the revs up, because the great thing about going backwards, is that you can always stop.

Putting up shelves

One accusation that can't be levelled at Jim is a failure to get around to putting shelves up. No sooner had I said that I thought that a small shelf over the bed would be a nice addition to Chertsey's cabin (and provided him with the measurements) than a suitable piece of wood was found, cut to shape and varnished ready for installation.

Meanwhile I had found a suitable piece of lace and a length of net curtain wire, the primary purpose of which is not to look decorative (although it does) but to stop things falling off. My collection of coronation mugs is additionally Blu-Tacked in place for added security. I couldn't wait to get these out - two from 1937 (including one, the little Edward VIII one, which was owned by my father from that date) which is of course also the year that Chertsey went into service - and one from 1953. They've had to earn their keep as repositories for pencils, toothbrush etc - there's little space for anything purely decorative - but I think the whole corner looks lovely now. I've repositioned the brass rail underneath for hanging neclaces and suchlike on.

In situ

They need to come home again for a good clean (they've been lacquered at some point) but I couldn't resist posting a photo of my new hanging rails. Could have been made to measure! Imagine them all Brassoed and the ancient worn iron links blacked with stove polish. Now, I can no longer get the kettle on top of the Primus on top of the stove (well, not without a bit of a wriggle) but that's a price worth paying.

Please ignore the removable light fitting that I somehow failed to remove - brilliant they are, from B&Q; I've got four of them, they take AA batteries which last a good long while, have 27 LEDs each, and a hook to dangle from and a magnet to attach to the iron frames in the cabin. Best of all they can be moved about, carried in a handbag for use as a torch, and removed entirely for that traditional look in photos. When I remember.

More horsey bits

You will recall the I got my chimney chain (in Ely) from an old piece of decorative horse harness kit, plus of course various horse brasses. Well, today we were mooching about in Lewes and my eye fell upon these items, which I am hoping might serve as a hanging rail or two over the cabin stove. They're gorgeous and obviously old (from the wear on the links); brass wrapped around (presumably) wrought iron. I'm not quite sure what part of the harness they constitute, but they are stamped 'patent', 'solid brass', 'double cased' and 'No. 4'. I just hope they'll fit somehow into the space between the ticket drawer and the table cupboard.

Talking of which, just browsing in the Aladdin's cave that is Lidl, I came across rolls of sticky backed plastic, so I have purchesed two rolls in a red gingham pattern to give that authentic fifties look to the shelves inside.

Woodwork latest

I did that last quick update when I went into work on Friday evening; with five minutes to spare before rushing off to a class, it was somehow easier to write like a breathless four year old. (The inspiration was in fact Sebastian's first composition, which I can recall verbatim to this day: 'Today we went to Beachy Head and I saw a dead badger and I enjoyed myself except for the dead badger').

Now back at home and the woodwork nearly complete, so I will now try to do it justice. The planks in the foreground of the photo in the last post are Chertsey's. The narrower ones each became two sections of gunnel, and the wider ones were destined to become a front cant, and the wider gunnel sections towards the front of the boat. The gunnel pieces were sawn to shape and finished, then clamped in place so that the bolt holes could be marked. These were then drilled and recessed - a slight communications slip up here, as there were initially three options - to leave the bolt heads proud; to recess them and cover with oak plugs, which would add a lot to the cost, or to recess them more shallowly and fill with epoxy resin. I'd initially intended to go for option one, with option two as second choice; by the time the recesses were drilled, I was committed to option three. However, it will probably be for the best from a practical point of view; I am just not so sure how it will look.

Once each section of oak was cut and drilled, we painted its underside and ends with bitumen. Then Jim spread a layer of bitumen mastic on the gunnel iron, and over the top of that, laid a strip of impermeable membrane. This is to provide a barrier between the oak, which will leach tannic acid, and the steel. The bolt holes were then punched through this, and the gunnel fixed in place with stainless steel bolts (and nuts and washers) - a total of 134 for the gunnels alone. At the front, where the gunnel rises and widens, the rise is achieved through laying shaped pieces under the main gunnel, which is cut and shaped from wider planks. These are yet to go on.

However, the handrails are all now in place, and the back end beam has finally - after a lot of struggling - assumed the curve of the cabin top. The front cants too are in place - one of the old ones was in perfect condition and has been reused - the only alteration has been to round off the end so that a rope is less likely to catch on it. This one is made of some sort of hard wood - probably mahogany - and we think is a replacement fitted in Richard Barnett's time. The other one, which was oak and quite rotten, was probably considerably older. A new one was cut to match and a new triangular piece for the middle to complete the shape. These were all bolted on into a bed of mastic, and the T-stud replaced. The deck beam is fundamentally sound and the damage around the bolt holes is going to be repaired.

My visit to the sawmill

Today we went to a sawmill and I saw a big machine cut up trees into planks all on its own, only there was a man with a computer telling it what to do and we got the wood for Chertsey's gunnels and cants and on the way back we saw a great big hare and it was awesome.

With apologies to Sebastian, aged three and a half.

Northwich test :-)

Having shamefully abandoned them for months (many, many months) I lent my labours once again to CCNA yesterday and took Tarporley out for a trip. I was particularly interested to see whether it steered as heavily as I remembered. In fact, it didn't. This may be because I've got tougher; it may be because they've straightened the rudder out (have they?); but most likely because I insisted on using the new long tiller bar which, since they had the swans neck straightened (not completely, obviously, just enough), clears the cabin top with ease. It does not however so easily clear the bums of more generously proportioned steerers, hence its under-use. I also admired the new fridge, gasped at the new toilet, and bemoaned the fact that they'd got a new kettle and not given me the old one. Then I went to polish the brass trim on the ornamental water can and made a disastrous discovery - there was NO BRASSO. The shame of it.

We were taking a hen party to Little Venice and then back to Camden where we dropped them off in the lock (no, not literally). I steered all the way back, and it did seem a lot easier - no doubt largely because I've had a lot more practice in the intervening months. Following Mike on Prince Regent I got round Cumberland Turn with no problem, and didn't bang or scrape anything all day.

When we got back to Kings Place, I made the rather gruesome discovery that the shiny new toilet was blocked. I reported it to the skipper of the day (thankfully not me), who recorded it in the log book for the next day's skipper, who is by default, Toilet Officer (I was on the Toilet Subcommittee, but don't recall making any meaningful contribution). Later that evening he rang me to say that this is what comes of taking 'parties like that'. What, I said, women? Apparently, yes. Clearly my Toilet Talk requires refinement.

All a board (groan)

Chertsey's new deck board is finished! Well, all bar the priming, rubbing and painting. A super job; thanks Jim. Unlike the old one, this one has a hardwood strip along the bottom, and it is finished with an angle to it, to take account of the fact that in position, the deck board tilts forwards. Unfortunately, we couldn't remember exactly how much - not that we'd actually measured the angle anyway. This is also taken account of in the cutting of the slots for the side pieces - which Blossom tells me are the bits rightly referred to as cratch boards, which I like.

Jim has also completed the new false cratch, but my photo of it has come out so dreadfully that I can't show it to you. The false cratch is the A-shaped frame which is linked to the deck board by the cratch boards. The whole assembly is then the cratch.

But where does the word come from? In horse boating days, the cratch was where the horse's fodder was kept. I've seen it suggested that 'cratch' is a corruption of the French 'creche', meaning crib or manger (originally of course, like its French counterpart, a place for putting hay etc. rather than a baby). Sounds plausible, except why would a French word have been used when there was a perfectly good English one? Maybe the word was already established as the name for part of a boat in France before somehow being transferred to English. On the Harland and Wolff drawing I've got, it's shown as 'crutch'; this I suspect is the draughtsman taking an unfamiliar word and hearing or reading it as a more familiar one. Lots of things on the drawings have different labels from what they were called by boatmen.

Chertsey's deck board is 22" from top to bottom; originally they were specified as 27", but (George on Sandbach tells me) lower ones were introduced for boats working on the northwestern waterways because of the lower bridges. It's interesting that Chertsey's deck board (and false cratch) are stamped with its GU fleet number, 130, if as this suggests they're not the original ones. I wonder if they might date from as late as BW days, as they kept the same fleet numbers. I know it's been well looked after but reckon it's unlikely to be 75 years old! Ultimately though, I really have no idea.

I've gone for keeping the lower profile - it will be helpful of course having that extra bit of clearance, but my main reason is that I just prefer the look of it; to me the big boats look better proportioned like that.

Another one tempted over to the dark side

An eloquent account, here, of the fatally corrupting influence of dabbling in old boats.

It might seem like a harmless day out, sunshine, beer, morris dancers, and ooh, a lovely backdrop of old boats. That's how we lure you in. Once you've taken that first whiff of old engine; that glimpse of fore end, before you know it the heady atmosphere has got you and you'll never be the same.

But like some other addictions, as long as you can fund it, you can continue to live a relatively normal life. Sometimes you can even put on clean clothes and go to work, and for brief periods string together semi-coherent sentences that aren't about original GU vs. north-western deckboards, hot rivetting or sources of canvas fire hose. For a while, anyway.

More wood

Sadly, the deckboard (which I think may be original or nearly so; it certainly has Chertsey's GU fleet number stamped on it), as well as being somewhat battered around the edges, also proves to have at least one rotten plank. The fact that it has survived this long is probably due to its having been stored off the boat in a shed for a few decades. Rather than keep using it until it falls apart completely, I've decided to have a new one made - and Jim has volunteered to make it!

So we brought it home (again, along with the false cratch) on Sunday and this morning measured it up in order to get the wood to make a new one. These things are never simple are they. It's built from planks of tongue and groove, about seven inches wide, and 7/8" thick. The width doesn't really matter, as the planks are sliced off top and bottom as it it; more, narrower ones will probably look better. But the thickness is a bit of a problem; modern standard thicknesses seem to be either too thin (20mm) or too thick (38mm). These thicknesses, as I have enjoyed learning (not today; I did already know) are not the actual thickness of the wood you buy, oh no; they are the nominal thickness of what it was before it was planed. A bit like Whitworth bolts, I suppose. So the 20mm is something less that 3/4" and the 38mm is about an inch or a little bit more. The overall thickness of the deckboard is actually formed of three pieces of wood, so using the thinner T&G but the thicker wood for the framing, overall it should come out about right.

We went to Wenban Smith in Lewes for the wood, and not only was the service excellent - very helpful and friendly - the wood is very good quality as well.
The new one won't feature the hole carefully drilled out for, presumably, the headlight.

Woodentop

We had a short but very productive weekend in Braunston. I chronicled every stage in photographs - and then left the camera on the boat. So instead we have a grand total of the three photos which I took with my phone.

We are in Braunston to get some woodwork done. Gunnels, handrails, front cants, and back end beam, I think the total will be. We arrived on Friday and set about removing the old wood from the foredeck - there were already cants in place, plus the breast piece that had bees nesting in it, and handrails which were so rotten the rain was running through them; the back end beam we removed last year as it was totally rotten, and the gunnels have always been conspicuous by their absence. Naturally we (especially Jim; que sera sera being my middle name, ha) were concerned as to what lacework, rust etc we might find beneath - the answer was none; all the steel was very sound. Hurrah!

Jim had come armed to lever ('horse' in his terminology) off the wood but with the exception of the breastpiece even that proved too sound and I was afraid of damaging the steel if we were too violent. So we got the ladder and lowered it through the foredeck hatch, and Jim lowered himself down it. I wish I had that photo. He set about the nuts holding the wood on without much hope, but found them to have been greased on installation forty-odd years ago, and with the exception of one, whose bolt was turning in a rotten bit of wood, they all undid. Better still, one of the cants is made of some sort of hardwood that was still in excellent condition, and with a little reshaping, will be reused.

On Saturday morning we set about swapping places with Betelgeuse, and I did a lovely bit of winding round the turn, which no one saw, and then cocked up getting onto the mooring, which everyone saw. Thenceforth the weekend was one of quiet industry in which thinbgs happened without you actually seeing anything move. By lunchtime on Sunday, when rain stopped play, the new block for the deck lid hinges was not only made but in place; the back end beam was made and temporarily bolted down to try to get it into the habit of bending before being taken off again for a bit of a helping hand;

the handrails, complete with a drip at last over the starboard engine room doors, were made, and on Jims part, all the old wood was removed and the steel beneath cleaned and painted.

Today the oak for the gunnels is being ordered; the handrails might have been fitted in our absence if the rain eased off, and a nice piece being selected for the new cant. We return a week on Thursday to continue the job. Very very impressed so far.

Oiling up

Here we are topping up the diesel from Liam in Middlewich. We'd passed him that morning, but hadn't had enough cash on us, so he said he'd catch us up in Middlewich. He arrived about an hour after us - having left an hour after us, served three customers and made a detour along the way. When he arrived, I was washing my hair, again - last time Ariel passed when I was doing that at Kings Bromley, Liam videoing the whole thing. It's nice now knowing a few fuel boats and buying from them - a couple of bags of coal from Alton at the Port too. I used to be too shy to ask and too nervous to seek them out, but now I actually know the people it's great. So far Chertsey has had diesel from Towcester, and Turners at Wheaton Aston as well as from Ariel. We've not got a properly calibrated dipstick (and didn't think to make one when we were starting from an empty tank, d'oh) but Jim has calculated usage at between one and one and a quarter litres an hour. We've never filled the tanks right up and I don't think are ever likely to! I've forgotten what the capacity is, but 'massive' just about covers it.

This was one of those posts which I started without having any idea what I was goinmg to say - does it show?

Tomorrow we are driving up to Braunston where hopefully work will soon commence on the gunnels, fore end cants and other bits of woodwork, so there will be some restoration blog stuff to read again soon!

Chain reaction

An extravaganza of chimney chains and chimneys for your delectation.

Food

The dedicated blogger never fails to photograph a meal if there's the slightest chance it might be of interest. Here is the Indian takeaway we had from the Goa restaurant in Ellesmere Port, when we were entertaining John-from-our-mooring. It was very nice, and not at all expensive.

Des Res

I remember the first time I went into a preserved cottage, at a mining museum in Wales - also the first time I saw a rag rug - and I've loved them ever since. I never go to the Ellesmere Port museum without spending some time in the 'Porters Row' cottages, and over the Easter weekend it was lovely to be able to wander in and out at times when there weren't too many other people around. What is it with me, that I really, really, want to move in?

A weight off my mind

Along with Chertsey, I acquired two gauging weights. One is from the Grand Junction Canal, a catroon weight shape with a ring in the top, and I fully intend to hang onto it. The other was from the Leeds and Liverpool Canal, and I wondered whether the L&L society might like it back. So ages ago, I emailed Mike Clarke of that organisation, and he said yes please, it would be good to put it on Kennet. How could we arrange to transfer it... He mentioned that he would be at Ellesmere Port and I guess I thought that he was thinking of transferring it to a motor vehicle. However, when we tracked him down, he had other ideas. If we could get it out of the hold, he suggested, perhaps we could put it on one of the narrowboats that was planning to make the Mersey crossing to the Liverpool Waterfront Festival, and they could pick it up from there.

I knew though that Severn, another Leeds and Liverpool short boat was also going to Liverpool, and it seemed much more appropriate for the weight to travel that way. Furthermore, I knew that Severn was possessed of a young, robust and sufficiently mad crew to undertake the project of transferring the weight - which we took a wild guess at being about 2 cwt - from the 4'8" depths of Chertsey's hold, down to the lower basin, and on to Severn. So I sought out Rick, Barny et al, and threw down the challenge, which they immediately picked up and leapt into action.
Barny and Sam got it out of the hold; another chap whose name I never got found a rather unothodox way of lowering it down the slope, and when we left, it was sitting on the bank next to Severn.

Now you didn't leave it behind, did you boys?

Now in pictures

Some choice cuts from the Port, from April 22nd.

Meanwhile, we have arrived home and Jim is emitting the traditional cries of anguish as he goes through his 700 emails and sees what he's missed on Freecycle - this time, a wringer, just like he promised me for my birthday!

Lumpy bottom

Monday, Fazeley Junction to Hawkesbury Junction (10 1/2 hours)
Tuesday, Hawkesbury Junction to Braunston

Not much to say about this epic day really, we just got down and got on with it. Nothing terrible happened but we got stuck on the bottom -or, more accurately, on lumps of stuff on the bottom - a few times. This was the worst I've known for actually feeling the lumps beneath the boat and hearing the shopping trolleys, bikes etc. dinging and scraping along underneath. Along one stretch a couple of boys with a home made grappling hook had hauled out loads of bikes and stuff. Good entertainment for them and certainly better than sitting in front of the computer, but no doubt it will be someone else's entertainment to throw it all back in again before long. This is one of the few stretched we have previously done in Chertsey, and I'm sure it's worse than last year even though there seems to be more water. I really begin to understand the expression 'the bottom's too near the top' - the top after all is the same all along the pound; it's the bottom that varies. Anyway, we made it to the Greyhound and hopefully tonight should see us in Braunston.

First love

Saturday: Stone to Rugeley
Sunday: Rugeley to Fazeley

Once again I was too busy enjoying myself, and then (not entirely unconnected) too tired to post yesterday. We thought Stone to Rugeley would be a fairly easy day's boating, so we didn't leave until late, first strolling around the town, checking out the charity shops, and breakfasting on Staffordshire oatcakes with bacon (and bacon and cheese for Jim) from the market, which was a nice treat. The oatcake itself, with all respect to a local delicacy, is not a lot to write home about, being rather like eating hot wet cardboard, but when wrapped around a bit of decent bacon does make an excellent breakfast. I forgot to mention too that we had some very nice chips from the shop in Stone on Friday night too - and I say that as someone who's very fussy about chips. They were fresh and not at all greasy or soggy. I also bought a fridge thermometer to test the various milk storage options, and I am very happy to report that the sidebed is the perfect temperature for storing beer and will henceforth be known as the cellar. Still working on the milk, but at least the important things are right.

The easy run turned out to be a bit of an effort in the end as we were constantly batttling the wind (likewise today) which does make it all rather harder work, but we did eventually make it to Rugeley as planned to meet up with Blossom and Dawn at the Ash Tree - never been there before but having been to the Boat (?) at Braunston was immediately familiar with the concept - a Marstons family eatery, and not at all bad for all that. I had three pints of Pedigree (and you wonder why I wasn't blogging at midnight) and salmon hollandaise, but best was my starter of goats cheese and black pudding which I would definitely have again.

What made the day though happened as I was walking down towards Haywood Lock. Suddenly I stopped and did a double take: Pendorric. (Search the Warrior blog if you don't know the story...) I thought I should explain the fact that I was standing there with my mouth hanging open, so I told the owners 'this was the first boat I ever fell in love with'... and he replied, 'Have you got the Warrior blog?' (Not as spooky as it seemed at first, as he'd found it when Googling for information about Pendorric.). They were lovely people, who'd bought the boat only a week ago and brought it back from the Ashby where it spent the last six years to their mooring at Armitage, and they insisted on me coming inside and having a look. It was as beautiful as ever and in much better shape than when we looked at it at Whilton in 2005 or 2006.

And so on to today - again, we didn't exactly get off to an early start, and, again, the wind didn't make things easy for us, but we coped; we must be getting a lot better at this boatting lark. Nothing really exciting happened today, except the Nicholsons Book 3 blew into the Coventry Canal, so we are now on a Mystery Tour. It was zipped in a plastic folder, so might actually survive its immersion and drift up on some foreign shore... I wonder if someone will find it and read that it is inscribed 'Chertsey 2010' and it will find its way back to us... Stranger things have happened (v.s.). In the meantime we are going by memory. The ziplock folders by the way are jolly good for putting your Nicholsons in; not only do they keep the rain and the smuts off, but they keep it flat and stop the pages blowing about, and it takes a really strong gust to blow the whole thing away! It is possible too to turn the pages without taking it out.

Tonight we are not oing to the pub and tomorrow we really will have an early start. Hoping to be in Braunston by Wednesday at the latest as I need to be at work on Thursday. All good things must come to an end I guess.

Lockwheeling from Wheelock and avoiding a royal wedding

Two days' posts crammed into one as I couldn't keep my eyes open last night. First, the summary that I've forgotten so far:
Tuesday - Ellesmere Port to somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Wednesday - SITMON to Middlewich, about ten hours.
Thursday - Middlewich to Kidsgrove, about ten hours, and definitely thirty one locks.
Friday - Kidsgrove to Stone, only about eight hours and twelve-ish locks.

So, Thursday was a good day for getting the bike out, and some lucky person (who actually happened not to be me!) got to cycle six miles and fit in twenty six locks along the way. We were aiming for the Blue Bell, but because we desperately needed to eat, settled for the Red Bull, which we were tied up opposite. The food was fine, the beer was too cold, and there was super music from a regular last Thursday night of the month bluegrass outfit with a great many members who played very casually in the corner. I was falling asleep as I sat there but it was very pleasant.

This morning began with a shower at Kidsgrove - and very good it was too, not to say overdue, and then it was off, with perfect timing, to spend the exact period of the royal wedding ceremony safely hidden in the Harecastle Tunnel. It may not be much of a boast, being as it's very straight, but I was very pleased with myself for getting through without so much as touching the sides, no, not even once. The weekends taking Tarporley back and forth through the Islington Tunnel have clearly stood me in good stead. A gentle run today has brought us to Stone, where we have tied up opposite the Star, where we spent a very pleasant evening in 2006 with a couple called Tony and Sheila, but which appears to have attracted a younger clientele since then. So once again taking the advice of beer guru Mike, we repaired to the Swan, and enjoyed a very nice pint of Church End Bad Rabbit and some pork scratchings (not the best I've ever had) in an absolutely packed pub. Once again quite tired (I've done my washing too, more of that anon) and mindful of my blogging duties, we tore ourselves away. Aiming for Rugeley tomorrow.

Branching out to Middlewich

Yesterday it has to be said was not a good one. Frayed tempers and lowered pounds and a cold wind did not add up to happy cruising. It looked as if today was going to start where yesterday left off, but then, lo, the sun came out and all was cheerfulness again. We'd set off at seven (and put in ten hours before stopping in time for tea), negotiated a few more big locks and Bunbury (where no one got confused this time and we two boats going up executed rather a nice shuffle with one coming down), and buy the time I was making sandwiches for an early lunch, having made tea and porridge on the move, hard captain that I am, we were turning onto the Middlewich Branch.

We've not been here before, and it was lovely - so glad we didn't change our minds about coming this way. The fields full of dandelions that we saw on the way down are now fields of perfect dandelion puffs, the air thick with a snow of their seeds. We passed beautiful bluebell woods, a haze of blue. The view through the trees over the fields and flashes was breathtaking. I don't understand Cheshire; the more you descend, the wider the vistas and the bigger the views.

We tied up on the towpath just short of bridge 29 (or possibly 30). All along here there are (small, floppy) signs saying the towpath is closed for improvement works, and I wasn't sure whether we were meant to moor there, but the signs weren't very big or insistent, and there isn't anywhere else as there is alot of improvement going on. I chap on a little roller or something similar came rolling along and I thought he was going to tell us to bugger off, but he just wanted to ask about the boat. The towpath along here is lovely, covered in wild flowers and with lots of moorings with picnic tables and barbecue stands, thanks to the Shropshire Union Canal Society, who seem to be really active and to do good stuff. They also managed to keep sending us their rathr lush newsletter for years after we stopped sending them a membership subscription.

Jim used our newly acquired First Mate guide to go and find the shops and most importantly a cashpoint while I waited for Liam on Ariel to catch up and sell us some diesel, and sought expert advice on the pubs of Middlewich. So many, and yet not a mention in the Good Beer Guide. Well, apparently there's a reason for that, so we stayed on the boat (well, the towpath) and enjoyed the lentils I started cooking at lunchtime. Here is a brief recipe interlude: Impromptu Lentil Curry. Take half a small pack of lentils. Add two tins of tomatoes and chop them up. Add a good dollop of HP sauce that you found in the back of the table cupboard and a sprinkling of black pepper. Cook slowly on the stove top for an afternoon, then go to Tescos and buy some curry powder. Add two teaspoons of this and serve with naan bread. It was jolly good and some much needed healthiness. Now all I need is some fruit.

Tired out

Oh dear, even though there was a good signal at Ellesmere Port, I was too busy enjoying myself to blog. In the bar every night, boaters' entertainment and quiz (in which we did not come last) on Sunday, dinner with Annie and Colin on Eli on Monday, learning to handle ropes, and re-learning how to splice courtesy of Nick Wolfe, and of course, best of all, sharing Blossom's wonderful news. More of all of this anon on a quiet news day.

We reluctantly left the museum at 8.30 this morning, and it has been a rather trying day, as apparently a pound up here on the Shroppie was drained last night and BW had, they claimed, been running water down all day to refill it. Must have been coincidence that after I rang them it suddenlt started filling up a lot faster. In the meantime we had pointlessly, as it tured out, jettisoned a good proportion of our fresh water. Still, it's good to know we can lose a ton or so from the back end when we need to.

Can't say what a lovely time I had at the Port; in some, indefinable, ways, a better event than Braunston - more compact, very informal (to the extent that half the time we had no idea what was going on) and in such a lovely setting. Add to that, atypically sunny weather (although it has been sunny every one of the three Easters I've visited, which when I've gone elsewhere, it's snowed) and it was a fantastic holiday.

Best campsite in the world

Yesterday was a wonderful sunny day, and it felt great to be properly on holiday. Wandering around the site, meeting new people, buying hippy skirts... Amy and James Duck arrived at lunchtime and set up camp in the hold, and other than that, really, nothing happened. The solar shower on the cabin top produced satisfactorily hot water for washing up, and I reckon thet it is more effective on the cabin top where the steel is conducting heat underneath it, than lying on the reflective bubble wrap on top of the water tank - although I own that the latter may have got slightly less sun. This is such a nice place to be, especially in the evening after the crowds have gone, and first thing in the morning.

Watching the ships go by...

Last night we were sitting outside drinking and chatting when behind the boats and the buildings a ship came slipping down the Ship Canal, dwarfing us all. Shortly after that the steel grey clouds were split with the first shaft of lightening, and as the rain began to fall we took shelter in the bar, where we spent a very pleasant evening. This morning is cooler, and breezy, but still pleasant.

Back at the Port

Not like me I know to do two posts in a day - I like to eke them out - but here we are back at Ellesmere Port, a week after we left. We arrived at about four (so that's a six hour journey this time, but an uneventful one). Clair on Plover had phoned just before we left the house to ask if we wanted them to start moving Chertsey up to the top basin, so we said yes please, and when we arrived it was waiting by the floating bridge and half an hour after arriving we were taking Chertsey through, the first boat into the top basin and right at the end next to the wooden boats - the pumps can lull us to sleep all night. It's a lovely spot with a great view over the lower basin, where there was much frolocking earlier, but we up here, with Laura and Peter on Stanton have been very staid.
We both have solar water heating systems to test, and they are all filled up and ready. And we have done our brass, of course, and eaten our tinned curry, and hopefully are all set for tomorrow.

Solar power

No, we won't be covering Chertsey with photovoltaic panels, but are hoping to harness the sun's energy more directly, and thus hopefully more efficiently, for heating water. When the stove's lit, it's easy to keep the big kettle and the teapot topped up and pretty much always have hot water available for washing up, hair washing and so on. I tend to keep the kettle on the hot part ready for making tea, when a shift of a couple of inches will bring it to the boil, and the big teapot full over the oven, where over the course of the day it gets hot enough for the washing up (albeit in slightly tea-tinged water). But when the sun's blazing and it's too hot to light the stove, you still need hot water for washing up and I'm not quite rugged enough for washing myself in cold water yet, despite my impromptu shower in the Northgate locks last week.

The other year we were impressed when Izzy on Bath had some spare water left over in her 'solar shower' - it was warm enough to wash my hair with very comfortably, and with all the flat surfaces available on your average boat (slightly more than on Chertsey, in fact), and very cheap technology it had to be worth a try. So of course I did nothing about it for nearly two years, like you do(n't). We popped into Millets in Chester last week to see if they had any, but they said they ware in short supply, owing to strong demand from the military(!), so as soon as we got home I got on line to see what I could find; loads, but while prices were low, p&p was not; this would have been OK, but no one could deliver before we left (today. OK, maybe I didn't get on line immediately we got home).

So this obviously now became a vital mission to track down what are essentially big black plastic bags. Jim rang around the outdoor shops in Brighton; Millets didn't have any, Blacks had one; Cotswold had four. So he got them to put two aside and off we set. Driving into Brighton on a sunny spring Sunday is, of course, the first circle of hell, but we'd forgotten that (bit like childbirth). Likewise, probably better to draw a veil over the game of hunt the carpark with a space, find and compete for the space (20 minutes), pay for the space... Fight your way through the shopping mall; I lied, this is the fourth circle).

By the time we got to the shop, we decided to take all four to make the journey worthwhile; at a higher price thanb the online ones including postage, plus car parking and petrol, plus hair tearing, so they'd better work. Of course, now when the sun goes in for the next three weeks, you can blame me.

A new sticker at last!

It's been a long time since I had a new photo to put in my Town Class Sticker Album (my attempt to spot and photograph as many Grand Union large motor boats as I possibly can), but haring down the towpath last week I spotted a familiar shape, being painted in familiar colours, which a brief exchange revealed to be Ladybank - one I've not even seen before. Having glanced over the album again, I must make sure to get a photo of Alton at the Port, and also to find one of Nuneaton, which god knows I've seen often enough.

Apples and pears

Staircase locks still make me furrow my brow a bit. They're OK when I'm on the bank - no problem on the Chesterfield - but we've had some fun with the big ones on the Shroppie. Bunbury was the site of an early mishap on Warrior, and the reason I think anyone who cruises with side fenders down doesn't know what they're doing. On our return there we met what looked like a pair of seasoned boaters - overalls, beards - who turned out to be anything but. The chap with the biggest beard had just bought his own boat, and the other guy, his mate, was a supposedly experienced boater who'd come to help him and show him how it was done. All I could do was warn Bigger Beard that his friend was in danger of wearing his bowthruster out for him before he even needed to use it. By the time they gone we were so discombobulated that Jim forgot to empty the bottom lock before the top one. Prior to that a couple has been going down and had offered to share but at that point I was less confident about the width of the locks (I now realise it's only Beeston Iron Lock that's problematic) so declined. I don't know if it would have been good or not to have them with us for the rest of the way, as they insisted on emptying the lock at no more than a trickle. Now I can understand some people being cautious about filling a lock slowly, but going down?

The middle lock of Northgate Staircase, where I thought I might have to take up permanent residence

Then there's the Northgate Staircase of three locks going into Chester, which we had never traversed before. No problem here remembering to do them in the right order, but lots of grief with a stuck paddle and getting a level between the second and bottom locks, and then more fun getting out of what are rather short locks, which finally entailed me taking an impromptu shower in order to hoick up the button fender to enable me to finally get Chertsey's nose past the gate of the bottom lock. And thus I made my triumphal and dripping entrance into Chester.
Here's Chertsey in the basin


And two gratuitous pictures of our approach into Chester

A lot can happen in five years

I almost hate to admit it, it makes me feel like such a parvenue, but it was five years ago about now I first recall encountering old working boats. Close encounters in some cases, as we had rather unwisely (or innocently) chosen the week before Easter to bring the recently purchased Warrior from its old mooring at Golden Nook up (that doesn't sound right in a map sense, but in a canal sense it is) to Stretton.

One of the things that needed attention was Warrior's engine, which was on average firing on one of its three clyinders; the other was the gearbox, which was very chary about engaging reverse. (A third urgent requirement was to get rid of the horrible paint job, of course.) Just what you need when you're still a bit of a nervous newbie and there's all these big beautiful beasts coming the other way. If I'd known then what I know now... but of course I didn't, and we had quite a few hairy moments, and spent a lot of time running down the towpath warning people of our approach. I think the best bit was with Bernard Hales's tug and at least two day boats, including one which was being bowhauled all the way. He was very nice about the ensuing melee.

Could I have imagined back then that a mere five years later I would not only own one of these beauties, but would be confidently steering it towards Ellesmere Port for the Easter Gathering...

Down to the Dee

If I was a real boater (TM) of course, I'd have taken the boat down the Dee branch of the Shropshire Union, (and up again, backwards) and have got the plaque to prove it, but it didn't really seem such a good idea so I walked it instead. Though short, it was a bit further than we expected, and sufficiently interesting to make it worthwhile.
Above is the final, disused lock out onto the river. On the left, out of shot, were some relatively new flats, of which a 'penthouse' was still being offered for sale, which were already showing cracks and other signs of having been thrown up in a great hurry and at little expense.


Little more pleasing to the eye are these deadening developments that line the canal both here and on the main line in Chester.

I did like these S-shaped brackets on the lock handrails though.