Sunday 3rd September 2006
We had a comparatively late start today. I woke up about seven and we were off and away by about twenty to eight. I’d woken up several times during the night. I’d found the bed a bit hard for my liking, though by no means uncomfortable. There was a considerable creaking, though, whenever I turned over in bed — and I wondered whether this was what had woken me up during the night. The main thing from my point of view that I hadn’t had any difficulty in getting back to sleep whenever this had occurred.
As we set off, the weather was bright & sunny. It stayed that way for most of the day, though there was a little rain at times during the afternoon. The wind increased steadily during the day. By the late afternoon it was blowing so strongly that we had to take in the pot of flowers that Penny had put on the roof. We’d often talked about taking a tub of flowers, but we’d never actually got around to it before. We’d noticed that many of the privately-owned boats had such floral arrangements and thought we’d like to imitate them in some small way.
We got to Ashted Locks by about a quarter to eight and were through them ten minutes later. We got to Salford Junction just after nine o’clock and arrived at the bottom lock of the Perry Barr flight ten minutes later. I distinguished myself by making a complete pig’s ear of using the anti-tamper key. I’d strained and strained to turn it anti-clockwise and then, after about five minutes, a quick click to the right opened the thing immediately.
As we went up the locks we noticed noises of some public-address system to our left. Apparently this was coming from the Birmingham athletics stadium, though we didn’t know what the particular event was.
We ran into considerable trouble with lack of water on this flight. The water level very low in pound above lock seven and we have to let some water in from the lock above, before our lock would even start filling. We were quite uncertain whether the boat would float in the pound — and there was quite a lot of large debris (planks and such-like) — but it floated through all right in the end. There was a notice on lock above (number six) saying to leave the lock empty. I wasn’t sure if there’s a connection between this and the lack of water. Perhaps it’s merely that the bottom gates are weak. By the time we’d gone through lock six, the pound looked almost normal. This is the first time I can remember that we’ve had this sort of problem with water shortage.
After a sight hesitation, wondering if the situation was serious enough,
Alan rang the BWB. There wasn’t anyone in the office and it seemed a bit of an over-reaction to ring their emergency number, so Alan rang the boatyard. They’d be able to pass on the information about the water shortage if necessary. They said they thought the problem might have been due to vandals having emptied one of the pounds overnight. I suppose the system of anti-tamper keys can never be totally effective.
As it happened, the boat had trouble getting through the next pound — as we’d thought it might, since we’d had to take some out to fill lock seven. We also had some difficulty closing one of the gates of the lock above (number five). There just wasn’t quite enough water in the lock to ‘float’ the gate. We were just lucky enough. Letting a little water through the upper sluice was barely enough to swing the balance, so to speak. We were through top lock by a quarter to twelve. The last couple of locks were straightforward.
We stopped to weed at twenty past twelve. It took quite a long time to clear the propellor: nearly twenty minutes. Alan found not only weed but also the remains of a pair of trousers, a long piece of rope and a length of thick wire.
We had an even more difficult time a little later. As we were going under a bridge, some local youths dropped stones on us. Whether or not this was connected, we got totally snarled up as we were just emerging from under the same bridge. The prop just totally seized up and the engine stalled immediately. When we got the cover off the weed hatch, we found that, in addition to the usual weeds and rope, there was also some great big piece of metal jammed amongst the blades of the propellor. Alan, Nick and I took it in turns to struggle within the weed hatch. We were rather anxious about two things. The blockage was enough to stall the engine completely and the things actually caught up in the propellor were so substantial. Because of this, Alan decided to phone the boatyard. They were rather non-committal — not surprisingly, I suppose. There probably wasn’t a lot more that the engineer could do than we could. It was mainly a matter of hacking away at the obstruction and hoping for the best. The only other suggestion was that we use the bread-knife rather than the hacksaw. We did eventually free up the propellor. The main blockage turned out to be a large chunk of metal attached to a long piece of rope. In the end it took us nearly an hour to free it.
We came to the Thame Valley Locks just after three o’clock. We had hoped to get to the Waggon and Horses before closing time at half past three, but the weeding had delayed us so much that we just failed to get there in time.
We went through Gyners Green Locks, taking almost exactly an hour. Then we stopped immediately to weed. I wondered whether this was the first time we’ve ever stopped three times in a day, to free the prop from weed.
About five o’clock we joined the BCN New Main Line. Just after half past five we came to the Netherton Tunnel, which we went through in thirty five minutes. I had a doze as we went through the tunnel, though I did hear Nick crying out ‘Whahaay!’ every time we went under an air-hole.
At ten past six we got to Windmill End Junction. We were entertained by some kids putting some liquid fuel into canal and setting fire to it. A bit worrying. I wonder when they’ll get hold of some napalm?
Shortly afterwards we passed the curiously-named Bumble Hole Nature Reserve. We moored as near as possible to Netherton, where there was a pub recommended by Nick, which does very good home-brew beer. This is the Old Swan, which featured a fascinating assortment of beers. I particularly liked the Old Original, a bitter with a very pleasant caramelly aftertaste. There was also a fascinating assortment of rooms, vaguely Edwardian in style. I spent about ten minutes taking a photo of a huge tile in the ceiling, representing a swan. There was an old weighing machine, with the caption,
‘To weigh oneself often
Is to know oneself well.
To know oneself well
Is to be well’.
We enjoyed both the beer and the conversation we had with a group of locals at the next table. All very friendly and welcoming. Back to the boat, where June cooked an excellent vegetable-based pasta dish. For the first time this trip, we used the CD machine, listening to a recording of Debussy piano music.
+Addenda
Could hear PA early at Alan’s & June’s.
Semi-trad stern
Avenue Road. Saw on way to pub yesterday. Went under it today. Boring name.