Sailing & Other Adventures

Category: Canal Boat Oxford

Winter 2021/2 canal boat trip from Oxford in England

Winter barging, on “The Squire”

Perhaps you remember from our last blog, we arrived in England and welcomed to the Fi and Adrian Sailing family a narrowboat called “The Squire”. This was to be our home for the 2 months over December 2022 and January 2023. Last year we spent the same time period on another narrowboat called “The Earl” and Bernie loved it so much, we wanted to give him the same experience again. Plus for us, its a nice break from sailing, but still presents lots of opportunities for adventures.

Our home for the next two months

We began our trip unpacking and settling in to the boat, getting to know the ins and outs and making friends with it. We started at a stretch of canal near Fenny Compton in the middle of England.

Good thing we brought the cold weather gear and boots for muddy tow paths

Time to push off! We have to reverse up to the winding hole (a large space dotted along the canals where these long boats can turn around) which presented its own challenges as the first maneuver of the trip. All done though and we were on our way north. Quickly reaching Napton on the Hill, we make a left turn on to the Grand Union Canal bound for Birmingham. The Grand Union links Birmingham and London and was a busy canal in its day, shipping all manner of goods and fuel between these two cities.

A beautiful winters day
We took some drone footage.
Ahhhhh winter sunsets on the canals!

We are reminded fairly quickly that this section of the Grand Union has been built to accommodate wide beam boats, and therefore have double width locks. Our skills from the previous year were quickly brought to the fore, and Adrian was navigating into the large locks with me only needing to open 1 of the gates on either side. Phew! The lock doors can be upwards of 3 tonnes so I was happy to not have to open 4 doors every time. We navigate towards Long Itchington, and enjoy the scenery, locks and the local watering holes.

Double width locks have big heavy gates

After a few days of this pattern, we find ourselves in Royal Leamington Spa. I used to have to go to work here on occasion so it was nice to see it from a different perspective, and also discover some fantastic places to provision, and enjoy a hearty English breakfast.

Lots of fun graffiti in Leamington Spa

By this time we had completed the Calcutt locks (3 locks), the Stockton lock flight (8 locks), the Bascote locks and a number of others, totaling 25. We had achieved this over the best part of a week, and were feeling prepared to tackle the famous (infamous) Hatton Lock flight. The Hatton Lock flight rises narrowboats up 45m in less than 2 miles and consists of 21 locks. Its grueling work, and was not made easy for us as we buddied up with a single handed narrowboater (so it was a little slower) and every single lock was set against us. Plus we started at about 2pm.

These double locks were some of the last built on the canals. They fill and empty quickly but lack some of the clunky charm of the earlier locks

Into the afternoon we went, setting the locks, driving the boats in, closing gates, filling up the locks, on to the next. The snow had settled on the ground and so the towpath and lock gates were slippery to walk on, the dog enjoyed running away from time to time and the night rolled on in. Granted the night time here is about 4PM. Onwards we went, up and up and up and the hours passed by. Every time we finished a lock, it seemed another came out of the gloom. It felt like it was never going to end. They call this flight the stairway to heaven as it is so arduous. Eventually, after running backwards and forwards, setting and resetting locks, grinding paddles, opening and closing closing 3 tonne gates, we reached the top at about 7:30pm. It was dark, we were exhausted, and we closed up the Squire, stoked up the fireplace and settled in for a beer, and a pre made meal heated up in the oven. We’d made in total about 2.5 miles that day and expended all our energy! We planned to explore the area the following day, rather than go and tackle another section of canal.

Lock gates can be heavy work

We weren’t disappointed! The area around the locks is gorgeous, and there is a cute cafe and a pub. Happy.

Onwards towards Birmingham however, and we find ourselves cracking through ice all of a sudden. Arriving in the area of Solihull, we find a few more wonderful English pubs, some good places to provision and stunning countryside.

Locks require good balance on narrow icy gates above a long drop into icy water
The ice is beginning to form, but just round the corner is free of ice where trees overhang the water
Leaving the bank is getting more difficult

The ice seemed to be getting thicker. The day we left to head into Birmingham, we were cracking through inch thick plates of ice. It is loud and it is hard to steer as the ice pushes the boat around to wherever it has split. We manage this by having 1 person steer, and the other person at the front running from side to side getting the boat to rock to crack the ice relatively evenly. Soon we find the stunning English countryside being replaced by industrial buildings, graffiti, and a lot of litter that speaks to the nightly recreational activities in this less than salubrious area of outer Birmingham.

The lock is on the right in the colourful Birmingham suburbs
The canals passes through many of the old industrial areas that they were integral in creating

Dog safely locked inside so he didn’t accidentally get stabbed with a syringe, or eat some human poo, we navigated through the 25 locks that would get us to the centre of Birmingham. This was not without a stop in a VERY brightly lit (read safe) area next to one of the universities here for a sleep overnight one evening.

Another colourful stretch of canal
Everyone is fascinated by ice. Some throw rocks to see if breaks, others beer bottles, and even full rubbish bins

The locks into Birmingham took us under huge bridges and under buildings and certainly had the air of Peaky Blinders. We saw deals being done, smelled the local relief points, and skipped over broken glass and drug paraphernalia. Eventually, the muck and darkness made way to more gentrified buildings and a cute towpath leading to the top of the locks and the centre. Gas Street Basin is the famous centre of canals in Birmingham, and would be our stop over for a few days. And then a few more days, as the ice got thicker and thicker.

A building has been constructed over a set of locks on the canal. The yellow rails are gantries to allow the lock gates to be maintained as cranes can no longer access the locks.
The final set of locks into the Gas Street Basin. They were covered in ice in coming days.
Strange that nobody is going boating today…
Maybe this is why.
The solar panels weren’t providing much power at this time of year

After about a week, the temperatures has risen enough for the ice to again be navigable, and we said goodbye to Birmingham, keen to have some “field” time. For Christmas, we are heading for Stratford Upon Avon to explore, restock, and appreciate the countryside after so much city time.

Countryside again
Fi went mushroom foraging
These ones are supposed to resemble ears

Heading south, we find ourselves on the Stratford Upon Avon canal. A beautiful stretch of canal winding its way through the countryside, dotted with locks here and there, but nothing as massive as those Hatton Locks. We enjoy time moored in fields, and eventually end up just outside Stratford Upon Avon.

The Avon river

It is Christmas eve, so we quickly find ourselves a lovely pub for lunch, and also head to Waitrose for our turkey and Christmas trimmings. We stop off at Will’s birthplace and have a great wander around town. It would be great to spend a little more time here outside of the holiday season, however we need to get going back towards where we started as the winter closures would mean we would be stuck here, so Christmas day comes, we cast off the mooring lines and head out of Stratford.

This chap looked like a literary expert
Bernie found his house

Christmas dinner is cooked while moored up in a quiet field, and we plan how to get out and through the Hatton Locks again before the closures in a few days.

Christmas was a chance to relax and stay warm
Back to the locks on Christmas day. Not many boaters out today.

We didn’t get too far before we found the canal was empty making it hard to navigate. Some investigation showed the paddles at both ends of the lock were slightly open allowing the water to drain. It took a couple of hours to let enough water through from a large pound a few locks above and we were on our way again.

Not much water in the canal when we arrived
After redistributing some water we were on our way again
The canal to Stratford Upon Avon crosses an aqueduct. There is a fence on the tow path side
But don’t step off the boat on the other side

Retracing our steps, we find ourselves at our turn off point. Adrian navigates the Squire through a 7ft hole in someone’s garden, which leads out of the Stratford Upon Avon Canal to the Grand Union Canal and eventually, that huge Hatton Lock flight. Would I have come up the Hatton Lock flight if I knew what it was like, and that we would have to also come back down it, yes probably. Its a great workout. This time however, we mean business and start the locks at a reasonable time in the morning, and even manage to enlist the help of one of our local friends who came along and opened the last 5 or so locks for us (of 21). We felt like professionals at this point! We were done and dusted mid afternoon, and enjoyed a little wander around Warwick with our friend, and naturally had a few beers at the pub.

BUT – we are still not past the closures. We are on track though, and the next day after a bit of a sleep in, we head on through the next dozen or so locks towards Royal Leamington Spa and past the closures. Phew! We have avoided making the same mistake that we made last year where we got stuck behind the winter closures and had to organise to have the boat trucked over to another canal. Oops.

It is just outside Leamington that we have organised to have guests! Friends from the US have organised to join us and experience what is means to live the canal boat life. And we have some fun plans to show them what it is all about! First stop, 8 locks! Followed by a pub meal. It was so much easier having 4 people on the boat with 3 people able to work the locks. A lot quicker too, and so we found ourselves quite quickly at our designated pub for dinner, and predinner drinks.

Our friends were keen to experience more, and we wanted to take them on a journey through the countryside to Braunston, a cute town that includes a haunted tunnel. We spend New Years quietly, in a field of course, and plan to complete the tunnel on New Years day.

The tunnel is interesting as it is a little wobbly. The construction teams started at each end, then realised they were off by a few feet and had to put some bends in it. When we are a kilometre underground we hope their construction is more solid than their direction finding. No ghosts this time.

Is that a bend in the tunnel?

Once through the tunnel, we enjoy catching up over cards and boat cooked meals (there is only so many pubs one can visit before you can literally predict every menu), and travel along the canal towards the Watford lock flight. This is a flight that is so steep it has permanent volunteers on hand to assist boats up and down the flight. We pull up at the bottom, and I ran up the hill to the lock keepers hut to register our intention to navigate the locks. Registration complete, we were advised to begin the flight. “Red before white, and you’ll be right” the lock keeper said to me, and following his instructions, we let the boat in the lock, wound the red paddles, then wound the white paddles, and we were indeed, “right” making it to the top of the flight quickly. The flight consists of 7 locks, 4 of which are in a staircase configuration. This means you go up one lock, straight into another, and so ensuring you do the paddles in the correct order is important as to not get stuck.

Heading uphill

A further way along the canal, and our friends said thank you and good bye, and again, we were just the 3 of us. In a field.

Unfortunately, the UK flu hit us at this point. We found out later that this has been the worst flu season in the UK for 65 years. The country is basically out of cough medicine and paracetamol, so I raided my handbag stash for paracetamol and we learned quickly how to make cough medicine at home.

Good pour of whiskey in a mug

A squeeze of honey

Good squeeze of lemon juice

Boiling water to the top

Slice of lemon floating around

Sip…

Repeat.

Thank you google

So we take it easy. The boating stops for a few days, we rest, drink our cough medicine, try to placate the neurotic spaniel who is getting increasingly more neurotic the longer we need to recover. Eventually we both feel okay to get our boating again, and decide we will slowly boat up to a small town called Welford.

We manage a lovely walk through the countryside in Welford. I am still coughing a lot, and unfortunately in my frustration with this I decide to cough purposely really hard. “CLICK” something goes in my ribs, and the next day I wake up with very very very sore ribs.

The winter light means its hard to take a bad photo. At least we think so.
Bernie as always wanting to make new friends.

By the time we get to Market Harborough, I need to go to the urgent care at the hospital to get some proper pain killers. Opioids in hand, I do start to get a lot better. PHEW! So most of January at this point has been a little – in the wars to put it mildly. But its okay, as we have our lovely fire, and our fields.

Market Harborough featured the usual muddy towpath, until it froze.
We went for a walk to the shops and it proper snowed

After some exploring around Market Harborough, we fill up with water and leave to head south towards our drop off point in about 10 days. The forecast indicates a couple of sub zero nights and it looks there might be some light ice. By the time we re climbing the Foxton locks the ice was becoming harder to navigate.

We found a parking spot with a view and enjoyed an end of day stout on the roof. The next morning a canal trust boat had come the opposite direction breaking the ice by the time The Squire ventured out for the day.

Boat with a view
Not a bad view to end the day.

The day was spent ice breaking until we arrived at Kilworth marina the site of our lorry ride 12 months earlier. With coal and fuel on board we were prepared just in case the ice returned with vengeance and we couldn’t move.

The next morning arrived with the welcome sight of the The Duke and The Duchess, our sister ships, breaking the ice as they passed us. The Duchess in particular had great ice breaking capabilities that we appreciated over the coming days. It’s quite easy to follow another boat that is breaking the ice, but the lead boat works very hard.

We tried breaking ice ouselves but The Squire doesn’t do it that well at all.

Whilst many boaters thanked us for breaking the ice so they could move to get water and coal, this day we encountered the nutty fringe who were convinced the ice was damaging their boats, and probably crop circles are created by aliens and chemtrails are poisoning them. They shouted, swore, threatened and threw things. Who knew narrow boaters could get so excited?

This guy threated our friends with a boat hook, and threw stuff, and threw a bunch of colourful language our way. We’ve scoured social media to find his photos, but nothing. Nutters.

Over the next few days the canal defied the forecast and the ice thickened. The Duke and The Duchess did most of the ice breaking, placating the shouty boaters and getting cheered on by those short of supplies. We enjoyed a delightful dinner at Crick with the American couples aboard the Duke and Duchess and got used to people telling us tails of those determined Americans breaking the ice ahead of us.

Ice breaking, Note how much harder the lead boat is working.

Despite our best efforts the ice was slowing our progress enough that we were not going to reach The Squires home at Heyford. We agreed to take it as far as Fenny Compton where our first canal trip had begun a year earlier. It seemed to fitting to end our trip in the same pub it had started.

With bags packed we left The Squire and started the long trip home to Away. Please enjoy these little snaps from the trip.

Sculpture?
You can turn anything into a canal home. This is an old lifeboat
Christmas decorations.
Bernie’s favourite pub
Can you have too many steak and ale pies? Yes, yes you can…
What do we do if we meet another boat coming the other way?
Entering the Bosworth tunnel it suggests keeping to the right. Surely boats can’t pass in the tunnel?
Yes they can!
At least there is no ice in the tunnels
Bridge 37
Approaching more locks
Many bridges just carry pedestrians and farm traffic
And others were constructed to frame a beautiful canal scene
Leaving Welford the sun brought out the colour
Just like summer without the crowds
Parked in a field again
We encountered lots of wildlife. This robin was particularly friendly.
We often saw this bird fishing along the canal
Look carefully. Yes its a fox sunning itself.
Bernie enjoying his wild life

Following The Canals South

Now past the canal closure we took a slower pace. We found a great pub (The Malt) at Aston-on-Trent and stayed for a few days. Bernie enjoyed the walks and chasing squirrels. After enjoying this idyllic spot, we meandered a few miles east to a town called Shardlow.

Historic Shardlow was once a thriving canal port and many of the original buildings are still there. Most are Grade 2 listed and the town has an other worldly feel about it, They still cover it in mist to give it that genuine industrial age feel (think Peaky Blinders without all the gangsters).

We stayed one evening in Shardlow as we had some plans to meet up with friends in a few days.

Large lively lock

After a few large locks (the locks in this part of the country are designed for 2 narrowboats or 1 wide narrowboat), the canal soon turned into the River Trent and we were rushing along at 15 knots (?) propelled by a vigorous current and pondering the return trip against the current. Just before Nottingham a barrier across the river appeared out of the mist. Its designed to catch stray canal boats that miss the ‘All routes turn left’ sign, before they plunge headlong over the weir. We pulled hard on the handbrake and spun to the left just in time.

Nottingham was our first big city for a while and we planned to meet friends and have a quick look around. A friendly local boater said it was safe enough in the city center if you didn’t mind people banging on the boat or jumping aboard at night. He was heading to the River Trent where there was a more peaceful mooring and better pubs. A quick discussion together ensued, and we agreed to awkwardly stalk the nice old mate with the good advice. The Trent turned out to be an enjoyable stop for us too.

We parked outside the council chambers, and again, pub life called, as well as some provisioning, and some bike riding. After a couple of quiet evenings, we retraced our steps through Nottingham stopping in the city centre to visit the limestone caves that are under much of the city. They have been used for everything from shelter, fresh water, cellars, toilets, tanneries and secret meeting places, although not usually at the same time.

The return trip up the river was somewhat slower, but we made way against the rushing torrent and avoided being sucked back over the weir. The countryside changed from industrial megaliths to impossibly charming country manors in the time it takes to fill a lock.

Swans visited the boat looking for handouts. Bernie soon realized these big hissing beasts were not scared by his big dog bark. One in particular notified us of his presence by tapping on the boat, to which Fi responded with the requisite amount of swan treats out the window.

As we headed south the days turned colder. The fields took on a white morning tinge, the canals iced over and knots in the ropes barely unraveled. Its surprisingly hard to open the lock doors even with a thin sheet of ice on the water.

But by now we had acclimatised and the cold still conditions often led to beautiful sunsets on the sun deck. When people warned us about English winters, we knew it would be like this.

We found a few tunnels, which, not as exciting as the Harecastle experience still made interesting navigation. These are apparently big enough for two vessels to pass , although we didn’t have the opportunity to prove this rather optimistic proposition.

At Foxton the canal headed up a hill in a series of locks all joined to each other. They even have friendly volunteers to ensure you empty and fill the locks in the right order…red first and then white, or was it white then red? Next to the locks are the remains of a hill side lift that reduced the lock time of 45 minutes to 8 minutes in an effort to compete with the pressures from the developing rail network. There are plans, but not funds, to restore it to its former glory.

Unexpectedly we ran out of canal. The locks ahead were closed for maintenance so we took to the road for a quick jump to another canal. There are no tides, currents, shipping lanes or channel markers, but perhaps canal navigation was more complex than we had given it credit for.

We were soon safely landed in a new and more open canal. A few miles further on we reached our final destination and after two enjoyable months we left The Earl for new adventures.

What did we learn?

  • Bernie loves loves loves canal boating.
  • Locks are hard work and lightweight coats would have been better than offshore gear.
  • The user interface on the canal app could use some work to make stoppages clearer – oops.
  • Mud is okay.
  • Winter is okay.
  • We think we prefer a “reverse layout” style of canal boat with the bedroom at the front. The Earl was traditional layout.
  • We need to go further north for snow.
  • That the people that treat lock goings on as a spectator sport are called “Gongoozlers”.
  • That Bernie is the best behaved Springer Spaniel in the land. He got just so many compliments on his nature.

Peak District for Christmas

South of the Harecastle tunnel was industrial Stoke-on-Trent, but to the north we turned on to the Macclesfield Canal and the buildings gave way to fields and little towns and eventually the Peak District hills. Our first climb was the Bosley Locks, a series of 12 locks. There were so few boats travelling at this time of year that we found a boat stopped for lunch in one of the locks which saves the need to tie up.

With Christmas approaching we decided stock up with plenty of coal and Christmas goodies for a quiet Christmas on the boat.

Alas there was no snow on Christmas day. On boxing day we enjoyed a quick walk up to the Lyme estate, the 1300 acre estate and deer park that is Pemberley in Pride and Prejudice. It didn’t snow but felt like it could have done.

At Marple we made a sharp right hand turn and headed into the Peaks and for the first time ran out of canal at historic Bugsworth Basin. Much of the infrastructure where lime and gritstone were loaded onto canal boats can still be seen.

With no more canal, we continued on foot into the hills, although many of the tracks were wet enough to take a canal boat. We came across old mine workings in the side of the hill and even the remains of the crane for lowering material to the valley floor.

New Year was fast approaching so we climbed another hill. We decided to stay in Bugsworth and share the midnight revelry with other boaters. Although we misjudged the profile of your average canal boater most of whom were off to bed at 8pm with a cuppa.

Now half way through our trip we reluctantly turned south and retraced our steps toward the Harecastle tunnel, considering whether to turn right and go through Birmingham or left and head towards Nottingham.

We booked to go through the tunnel at 8am, shortly after dawn, although this still required a pre dawn departure from our overnight stop. We were, perhaps unsurprisingly, the only boat going through the tunnel at this time of day. Maybe we would be visited by the tunnel ghost!

We entered the tunnel in drizzle and half light, but came out to bright sunshine. It amazing how the climate changes from one end to the other. To our amusement there was only one boat waiting to head north through the tunnel and they were a Tasmanian crew. Its mostly mad aussies on the canals this time of year.

With the worsening covid resurgence we decided to head towards Nottingham and the more rural route south, leaving Birmingham for another trip. A planned closure on the canal meant we needed to ‘rush’ as much as one can on a canal. We disappeared into deep locks and passed the old pottery kilns in Stoke, fed the swans in Rugely, and braved the snow in Stone.

Bernie going flat out!

After a week of rushing we made it passed the railway bridge that was being worked on, with only hours to spare.

After a month we think we have settled into canal boat life, drinking stout and reading the Tillergraph at the end of a hard day on the cut.

Going Underground

We awoke one morning ready for a big travel day north on the canal, but as Fi surveyed the days route she discovered we had to book to go through a tunnel that was only an hour away. So far it had been a turn-up-and-go system.

We quickly got on the phone and tried to book a passage, but soon discovered the boat was too deep to fit through the tunnel. Surely an administrative oversight in the boats registration as it didn’t seem any bigger than any other boats. A quick cycle to the tunnel entrance and we were assured that if we turned up at 8:30am in two days time the tunnel master would sort us out (or send us back). Boats go through the tunnel in convoy in one direction at a prescribed time and when they all emerge a convey enters from the opposite direction.

The tunnel entrance looked sort of small, but doable.

With a day to kill in the Stoke-on-Trent we went in search of a booster. We walked for four hours but were rewarded with sore shoulders and the knowledge that we were once again as safe as we could be from the raging pandemic. We celebrated with one of the finest stouts we’ve tasted made at the local Titanic brewery.

A little research revealed that the tunnel entrance was indeed the largest part of the tunnel and as you progress it keeps getting smaller and smaller until you can only just peer over the top of the deck. How are you supposed to steer if you can’t see forward we wondered? And was the boat really too big and might it get stuck in the narrow section miles underground in an unlit tunnel?

But before we could answer these questions we discovered some poor chap a few years ago had not seen one of the tunnel narrowings and was knocked off the back of the boat. There were others on the boat but they didn’t notice. Was his helming so bad that no-one noticed that he had gone? Should we tie ourselves on? The poor fellow was found eight hours later and unfortunately did not survive the experience.

These days safety has improved and they check the number of people on each boat that goes into the tunnel and then count the boats and people that come out the other end. One might wonder if you had fallen into the almost freezing water, been run over by all the boats behind you, and then waited 20 minutes for your boat to emerge and another 20 for the rescue boat to come searching, that perhaps this was merely a measure to avoid the build up lost souls in the tunnel.

At 8:30am after a sleepless night pondering how a claustrophobic helmsman would manage 40 minutes 1600m under ground in an ever narrowing unlit tunnel, we arrived for our safety briefing. Horn, check, headlight, check, 2.5 people onboard, check. We lined up the second vessel to enter, but exuded such a quiet confidence that we were soon promoted to tunnel leader with some excuse about the other boat having a smelly engine.

The vessel coming south squeezed out of the tunnel entrance and we were on! The tunnel master counted both boats as we entered the tunnel. Trying hard to appear semi competent to onlookers we managed to negotiate the entrance without hitting the wall. As the boat behind us entered, they shut the door behind us and started the large and noisy exhaust fans. Here we go.

The black and white arch shows the tunnel dimensions at its smallest…looks like we will fit!

The tunnel is brick lined with the occasional drip of water dribbling onto the boat. There is no tow path so there is no where to escape the water if you were unfortunate enough to take a dip. They say the air is cold inside, but at this time of year it actually warms up as you progress deeper into the tunnel.

After about 10 minutes the roof gets a little lower. And then a little lower again. This keeps going until you don’t think it can get any lower, and then it gets lower again. The boat does self steer to some extent with the wake reflecting off the tunnel wall and keeping it straight. There are some big chips out of the top and lower edges of the tunnel where it narrows, confirming that it is possible to miss the tunnel. We imagine that hitting the tunnel wall would be followed by a period of quiet consideration of the older parallel tunnel that was closed due to subsidence.

Lower and lower

After about 30 minutes the tunnel expands and the light of the exit door comes into view. Its still 10 minutes away but its presence is somewhat reassuring. The exit is quite difficult to negotiate as you are blinded by the semi daylight of an overcast English winters day and need to avoid a strategically placed work boat right in the tunnel entrance. But the overwhelming pressure to exude calm confidence to tunnel master busy doing his addition, helped us negotiate the tight entrance with a jolly wave and all infrastructure intact.

The final test. Water in this area is orange due to iron rich springs in the area.

All in all it was a unique and fascinating experience. Would we do it again? Well as it happens its our only route south so we will be in for a repeat experience which, we are rather looking forward to…

Visiting the unpronounceable place

By Adrian

After a big night at the Anchor Inn at Hartshill the canal served up the Atherstone locks as a welcome distraction. Bernie was getting the hang of the locks by now. He’s working up to opening and closing gates, but he’s feeling part of the team. Eleven locks lowered us back to level water and we headed for Tamworth.

Tamworth was where some of Fi’s family had lived in the castle. It was nice spot overlooking the river so we dropped by for a cuppa, but alas the relos had left sometime earlier.

Tamworth Castle where we went to visit the family

The canal veered west tantalizingly close to Litchfield which had a cathedral and a Waitrose. We meandered into the city center paying appropriate homage to the cathedral where we brought a magnet and headed for Waitrose in search of chestnuts. A long walk only for our Christmas dreams to be cruelly dashed with the discovery Waitrose had run out of Chestnuts.

We left Litchfield and completed the last couple of locks before joining the mighty Trent and Mersey canal. A short distance along the canal is the place called one of two names: ‘Alrewas’ or ‘The hardest place name to pronounce in England’. We never did work out the correct pronunciation and suspect no-one really knows. Cute town and we found a friendly pub to meet with some potential Garcia buyers who had made contact with us.

Its a beautiful place even if you can’t tell anyone you have been there

Next day we ventured out to the memorial arboretum a short walk away. For once the English foot path system failed us and we had and exciting dash across a 6 lane road. I suspect not many people make it by foot as they tried to charge us for car parking and seemed quite surprised that we had arrived by canal and foot. Plenty of memorials and stories here as you meander through the woodlands.

After a U turn we were heading North again on the Trent and Mersey. The locks at Fradley junction have lowest bridges at the end of each lock. Canal boating is not a tall persons activity…

Lots of canals are closed for maintenance at this time of year and indeed one of these closures at Great Harwood would stop us going north until December 17th. Close to the closure was Shrugborough Estate and an area of outstanding national beauty.

Nice cottage mum, can we live here?
Lets not be here after dark when these trees come alive.
English sense of humour?
All this walking is soo tiring

With the canal works completed the path north was open and Stoke-on-Trent was beckoning.

Could it be anywhere else?
The English sure know how to dress up a garden. There are some fantastic examples all along the canal. This one had an unusual twist on the Christmas theme.

Whilst we filled up with water in Stone, Fi and Bernie discovered a shop selling the best meat pies, scones, quiches and vegies in the UK. We stayed the night in a quiet field and awoke to a misty morning.

Morning
Beautiful iron bridges in this area
Bernie opens another lock

At last the countryside subsided and Stoke-on-Trent revealed itself.

Lets find another spot to stay the night

Next time we try to fit the boat through a tunnel that’s too small for it…

Pubs visited:

  • The Plough – Huddlesford
  • William IV – Alrewas
  • The Lamb and Flag – Little Haywood
  • The Bulls Head – Burslem
  • The Gate Inn – Amington

Winter fun

By Fi

We had various ideas for what to do in the winter. Firstly we were planning very seriously to be in Scotland on Away, enjoying some highland winter walking and the occasional sail around, but that has been postponed until next year for a number of reasons (visas, timing etc).

A frosty and slippery Away – winter is here.

Once we realised that our dreams of finding Bernie the perfect snow covered Scottish peak were on hold for this winter, we decided that perhaps the best thing we could do would be to go and find snow in England via the beautiful British canal system – so we have hired a 60ft narrowboat for 2 months, and we have put Away to bed in Eastbourne.

Away all packed up for a few weeks.

We started in Fenny Compton, northwest of London, southeast of Birmingham, on a chilly afternoon on the 1st of December. Sufficiently introduced to “The Earl” (our new floating home) by late afternoon, we put our things away, prepared to leave and naturally went to the pub. A friend told us that canal boating is just travelling from pub to pub – so we figured, when in Rome, and began our new adventure with a pint.

We are in this general area in England.
Our temporary home – 60ft, 7ft wide.

Our first day, we awoke to the most beautiful dusting of snow. It seems a good omen that our little trip will hopefully be fruitful in our quest to get Bernie neck deep in some powder.

The lines were frozen solid when we went to take them off to get going, but we had plenty of coal for the fire

We had previously been on the canals and so we had a fair idea of what to expect. Walking pace travelling, interspersed with lock loading/unloading exercise, and chasing the dog back on the boat (this was new…).

We meandered north over the coming days, stopping next to fields with cows for company in the evenings. Sitting next to the fire at night listening to the rain, working on some crochet, cosy and warm with an exhausted spaniel at my feet and a glass of French Bordeaux in my hand, is my current idea of heaven.

Yes its cold, and its so beautiful.
Coal fire
Absolutely INSISTED that he needed to come up…
Clearly has no concept of his size.
I thought this was hilarious, which naturally has encouraged this behaviour.
I don’t care.

We took the opportunity to catch up with some ex workmates at – you guessed it – a pub on the Saturday (namely the Admiral Nelson at Braunston). They were lovely enough to share some wonderful photos – please give @red72mini a follow on Instagram if you are keen to see some amazing car pictures.

Go check out @red72mini on insta!
Adrian being ever the strong serious type, and me being a dufuss. A happy one though!
I snapped this pic as we turned right into Braunston. Absolutely gorgeous.

Bernie is taking to canal life like a duck to water. He’s desperately wanting to understand swans, but they just hiss in his face and confuse him more, and he’s loving running around in the mud – not so much the inevitable wash off afterwards.

Trying to talk sense to a spaniel…

And I am finally fulfilling my desire to put cute jackets on him, as standing still in the cold and damp while we motor along is very cold and he is getting cold. The top temperatures don’t go over 5 degrees C, and are mostly around 1-3 degrees C. Combine that with some drizzle, and we’re all very grateful for the heating on the boat!

These are his pyjamas…
This is his waterproof and warm jumpsuit raincoat.
This is his dry-za-bone.
And this is his “puffy jacket”.

As its winter, the canals have many closures for maintenance, and we have only 1 route north open to the Peak district where we hope to find some really great walking. We have already woken to ice on the canal and a cold snap will make progress difficult. Will we get iced in or will Bernie reach the snow covered peaks before Christmas?

A beautiful winters morning
I took the opportunity for a good dog walk in the sun while Adrian drove the boat. Pretty convenient.

Pubs Bernie visited in our first week:

  • The Wharf Inn – Fenny Compton (dogs met: 2 chihuahua cross malteze wrapped in blankets)
  • The Admiral Nelson – Braunston (dogs met: another chihuahua wrapped in a blanket)
  • The Rose Inn – Willoughby (dogs met: Maltese, also wrapped in a blanket)
  • The Raven – Brinklow (dogs met: none)
  • The Anchor Inn – Hartshill (dogs met: 2 full size poodles and Bentley – the fluffiest puppy there ever was – Bernie was told he was so calm and relaxed – very proud)

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