Tuesday 30th May
Up a little after half past seven, we moved to a nearby watering point straight away and began filling up the tank. We were also keeping an eye on another boat we'd been trying to avoid. It had come down the Worcester and Birmingham Canal about the same time as we did, but was quite slow going through the locks, so we were anxious not to get stuck behind it. Unfortunately they started moving before we had filled the water tank, so we cast off immediately and got under way to avoid getting stuck behind them.
By now it was five past eight. I took the steering as the laptop batteries were very low and I wanted to have the generator on to recharge them. It makes quite a racket when it's running, but it is only noticeable in the rear of the boat and therefore mainly affects the person who's steering. As the main user of the generator, I thought it was only fair that I should have it on only when I'm steering.
We were back at Wordesly Junction again at 8.35 — and then straight into Stourbridge Locks: a mere (!) sixteen of them. These are quite deep and the water comes in with quite a rush when you're going up, so you have to keep the engine on almost full forward to hold the boat firmly against the top gate and to stop it bouncing around. We're getting into quite a good rhythm with these locks, though I have to admit they were all set in our favour. We've seen very few boats today, though we did pass three coming down as we approached the top of the flight.
Stourbridge Flight
We came out of the top lock at a quarter past ten — that's sixteen locks in 100 minutes, or 6 minutes 40 seconds per lock. Pretty good going I'd say. In the last two locks of the flight, the propeller started making some rattling noises, so we moored up at the top and checked for weed — of which Alan managed to find quite a lot.
The next section of canal wound about quite a lot. A pleasant enough stretch though not particularly remarkable. We hit the Delph Flight at five past eleven and reached the top at five past twelve.
Delph Flight
An hour for eight locks: not quite so good. We tied up a little past the top lock and took a walk to the Bull and Bladder, a pub well known to Nick and Penny, and deservedly popular. They do an excellent dark mild, which was good news for June, who has been disappointed in the search for decent mild up till now.
The atmosphere in the pub was very good. Apparently it is particularly good on Friday evenings, when Nick and Penny have been known to call in on the way to visit Nick's sister in Stoke. There was much friendly banter, including one overheard phrase: 'Oh, it was really great while you were away!' I think the reference might have been to the weather, but it's difficult to be sure. One thing which was particularly good: as visitors we didn't feel in any way left out, when all this chat was going on amongst the regulars. It just felt really friendly and welcoming.
The food was also very good — and remarkably cheap. I had a steak and kidney pie, with chips and gravy — and I can only describe it as 'stonking'. Under way again at half past one.
From there it was a steady run till Park Head Junction, which we reached by twenty past two. We had to stop there to remove weeds and other debris from the propeller — and since there was a watering point handy we took the opportunity of finishing the re-watering that we had been obliged to interrupt this morning. While the tank was filling up, Nick went to see the nearby entrance of the Dudley Tunnel. This is the one where the craft have to go through unpowered, hauled by a cable. It's too small for narrowboats, apparently, so I don't know how often it is used. There is a horizontal bar hanging down in front of the entrance, showing the maximum allowed height. I gather that one of the reasons for the height limitation is to avoid disturbing the colonies of bats in the tunnel.
We moved on again at twenty to three. From here the canal passed through landscapes presenting considerable contrasts: factories and industrial estates on the right, undulating meadows covered with wild flowers on the left; loud, melodious tunes from the song-birds calling out from their perches on electricity supply pylons. The weather has changed for the worse: it was starting to rain when we set off after lunch; now it has settled down to a steady drizzle. This morning it was warm and sunny, though I didn't write that down for fear of tempting fate!
I started reading a new book today (I always bring too many books when I go on the canals). I had started reading Graham Greene's The End of the Affair and had got well into it. I've read a few of his books, and I was prompted to read this one by seeing a very good recent film adaptation of it. What prompted me to switch for the time being was that I'd noticed that Alan had copies of the Pat O'Brien naval stories, set in the Napoleonic period. I'd read the first of these a while ago and was interested to read the second, so I asked if I could borrow it. As we're now getting on for halfway through the holiday, I wanted to start it now so as to have a good chance of finishing it before we go home. It's called The Post Captain, and first impressions of it are quite promising.
At five to four we arrived at the start of the Netherton Tunnel, the longest we're going to be encountering this holiday. Unusually, there are footpaths right through the tunnel on each side of the channel, guarded by railings. Nick and Maddie chose to walk through. They drew ahead of the boat quite quickly, since Maddie was straining at the leash, anxious to get out as soon as possible! It was very wet underfoot, Nick said. There were a few youngsters going along the path as the same time, the noise of their chattering detracting from the silence and the atmosphere of the place, which was rather a disappointment to Nick.
We emerged at twenty to five and then turned right into the main line of the Birmingham Canal Network. Then it was left into the Wednesbury Old Canal at twenty past five. Then there are the Rydter's Green locks, as the canal changes its name to the Walsall Canal. We reached the bottom of the flight at half past six. We tied up a little beyond the locks in an area of rather down-market suburbia. There is a mixture of working factories and abandoned ones, decorated with plentiful graffiti. We moored at a set of bollards by the entrance to a new housing estate.
Graffiti by Rydter's Green Locks
Once we'd had time to settle, we became conscious that this was not an ideal place from the security point of view. A passer-by warned us that he had parked a boat here and it got vandalised. He said his brother's boat got burnt out. Whether he was having us on or not, we weren't at all comfortable about the place, so we decided to go back to the Birmingham Main Line. We cast off at five past seven, but it took another fifteen minutes to find a winding hole and to turn round. We went back through the flight we'd just come down. June took charge of the cooking and I did the steering. Maddie supervised the bank-side operations. We reached the top lock about ten past eight and stopped to de-weed (again). Nick, Alan and I — in turns — managed to extract considerable quantities of rope, fishing line and plastic bags from the propeller. No wonder it wasn't working very well. We were under way again by twenty to nine and moored on the Main Line by nine o'clock.
By this time, June's tuna and pasta bake was just about ready — and a hungry crew did full justice to an excellent meal. Shortly after ten we were all ready to turn in, for a comparatively early night.