Page 6 of 12

Flying Away and stopping cars and trains. And cheese.

May 6, 2022 / fiandadrian

The next day after our unexpected stop at the lifting bridge near Willemstad, the bridge was fixed and we were able to go through into the lock, under the bridge and make a right turn into Willemstad.

These vessels were waiting on the opposite side overnight too to get through the lock and bridge. They went through first, and we went in after they had exited the lock.

Here we are safely in the lock. Finally!

I had phoned ahead and so the wonderful harbour master was there ready to greet us. She checked our dimensions, and then directed us to our berth. This is one of those places where we wonder how in the world we are going to fit, but teamwork always trumps our fears, and we dock successfully, not damaging other peoples boats, our boat or ourselves.

Looks like a lot of space, but to get out we have to reverse out to another area to turn around. It was tight and shallow. We love our lifting centreboard almost every single day.

First stop, despite the rain, is to take Bernie for a walk and explore around town. Willemstad is another town shaped like a star (you may remember Gravelines was similar) and is designed to be a fortress. There are a number of these types of towns dotted throughout the area. The Germans during the war noted the fortifications, and when the took over the town, they added various bunkers which are still here today. We walked the entire circumference of the town in about an hour.

Looks like a gun emplacement. Behind us is the waterway.

Gorgeous path that goes the whole way around the town. Brilliant for dog walking and exploring.

I wondered why when I went to the shops for supplies everyone was treating me so suspiciously… It was cold!

But we couldn’t stay. The next day we were lifting out Away, and checking anodes and cleaning the bottom. So after the required morning coffee, we reversed out of our spot, turned around, again didn’t hurt anyone or anything, and exited the harbour. They had managed to park a large ‘hotel’ boat in the harbour entrance reducing the channel to a single boat width just for fun. We only had to go across the waterway to another town called Numansdorp where they had a 50 tonne lift ready for us. And up we went!

The ghosts of adventures past – also commonly known as “its too shallow – quick bring up the centreboard!!!”

The team at the yard were excellent, and we had the whole job done in less than an hour, and were tucked up at the marina outside the yard before we even knew it. The following day was “Kings Day” here in the Netherlands, and so rather than go out sailing with crowds, we thought we would spend the day completing some outstanding jobs on Away, and have a nice meal in town for dinner and check out the celebrations. It felt so good to tick off some outstanding tasks (there are ALWAYS jobs to do) and it was nice to have a day of not moving as we had been moving a lot.

BUT – we want to get north soon. Cognisant of the Schengen visa restrictions we have, we do need to keep moving and we would like to continue on the Standing Mast Route through the Dutch canal system.

The following day, we had planned to get as far north as Gouda. We left early (ok maybe at like 9AM), and headed out in to the waterways. Soon, we turn left and the canal starts to pinch in a little. We feel very small with the massive container barges that traverse these waterways everywhere, transporting masses of gravel, gas, petroleum, containers – you name it.

This is an example of the barges we are making friends with. Often there are multiple around, and we need to give way of course. There is a lifting bridge we are heading towards on the right of the picture.

At one point we were four abreast with 3 barges approaching a T junction with a large barge and hotel boat from one direction and a ferry from the other. There is lots of Dutch on the radio and then they all seem to miss each other as they round the blind corner. We keep out of the way and scuttle across beside them.

We also need to convince the authorities that they should lift bridges and stop busy freeways and trainlines for us. We manage to do this successfully, if appearing a bit amateurish at times (my Dutch is not proficient).

We have successfully convinced the people running this railway bridge to lift it up for us.

Yes, someone decided to literally build the “Arc” from the bible. Apparently even with the specifications as mentioned in the bible (insert shrug emoji…). Whatever makes you happy dude.

Oligarchs? I think every one of these must be owned by them.

Eventually, we make it to Gouda, but not without helping some passing Grey Nomads from Florida who had NOT been given correct direction by their charter company on the use of locks, and decided to go and park in front of the closed lock doors, just as a tanker was due to exit. We shouted at them, helped them pull over in the proper waiting area, and told them to simply follow us to their marina in Gouda. The relief from them was palpable. They are pretty brave people to be taking this on with no knowledge…

We have an equine welcome to Gouda, park up in our marina, sort out the Floridians, and cook some dinner. The day started at 8AM with boat prep, and finished at about 6PM. I forgot to count how many bridges and locks, but we were in bed early, exhausted and realising we would have to do it all again tomorrow, if we were to get to Leiden – a university town just south of Amsterdam, and definitely off the beaten track for 20m tall, lumps of slick aluminium – so naturally we were going to go.

The next day, we would exit the marina and run straight into a massive railway bridge that would have to open for us. It would only open at 10:27 exactly, so we had a little sleep in and took Bernie for a walk into the Gouda township.

Gouda is beautiful. Typical Dutch canals, bikes and cute architecture.

I wonder how many cars like, just fall in. There is no gutter to stop you or anything.

I buy 6kgs of cheese, and soon enough, 10AM is here, and we are leaving the dock, ready for our first bridge opening. This would be a trip of 5 hours and 17 lifting bridges. Glad we slept well!

This is Jannette. We followed this vessel for ages. They called up the bridges for us and told them that there was a crazy yacht with Australian’s on it who needed bridges opened to over 20m. Thank you Jannette!

Jannette’s backside that we stared at most of the day. The canals here were very narrow and so we were all escorted by the man in the dingy.

Adrian happy to have navigated through another bridge.

These bridges usually only open to 12m, but because we were here, they had to open it to 24 so we could get through. Note the yacht in front of us have their mast removed.

Eventually, after about 15 bridges, we were close to Leiden. We could almost taste the beer. Calling up the town marina, they told us just to come in to slip 10. Slip 10 is a 4.5m (ok maybe 5m) wide slip apparently. Away is 4.4m wide. Crikey.

Again, teamwork prevailed and with some help from our new neighbours, we were in, without hurting anyone, without hurting ourselves, and only touching the separating post with our aluminium rub rail, which is precisely what it is designed for. Winning.

You can see the post in the water to the right of our logo here. It is touching the metal rub rail just above the top of the black wrap. We are happy we chose the rub rail for Away. We only just fit in here.

Given the past few days as documented here, we have decided that some relax time is in order. It is a high stress trip on these canals for us, as all day we are essentially doing close quarter manoeuvring in waterways that our boat isn’t specifically designed for, plus trying to get massive infrastructure out of our way so we can enjoy our lives. So we will have some chill time now, and soon get this show back on the road – or on the canal as the case may be.

The Netherlands: Into the canals

May 3, 2022 / fiandadrian

The Belgium coast is built with flats and beach bars along the shoreline. Whilst there is no obvious line in the sea when you cross into the Netherlands, the change in the coastline is dramatic as flats give way to smaller houses and even gaps in the buildings. We replaced our Belgian courtesy flag with our Dutch courtesy flag.

As the shipping got more frequent we had our fenders at the ready in case they got too close.

The approach to Vlissingen was straight forward if you ignored the 300m container ships, local freighters, barges, pilot vessels, fishing vessels, ferries and strong currents.

We saw a large container ship on the horizon, about 15 minutes away, and darted across the first shipping channel. We considered crossing the second channel but noticed that the channel was effectively on the beach. We waited for a barge and a tanker and then scampered across the channel into the Vlissingen entrance, a tiny area where pilot boats enter and exit at 40 knots every few minutes whilst you try to line up the ‘barely as wide as the boat’ entrance to the harbour (you can spot the entrance in the photo). If you are lucky, wait staff at the local restaurant notice your plight, raise the bridge and shout your berth number as you thread the needle into the marina. We were, in this case, lucky.

There was a restaurant in an old gaol tower on the sea front, where we could watch the big ships passing and pilot boats rushing around without the stress of having to avoid them.

Next day was a short sprint up the river and into the canals. Fi spoke to the sea lock master on the radio and he opened the lock, let us in and told us the starting time for the ‘Blue Wave’. In this area they group boats into waves so that the bridges only open for a group of boats. Its still early in the year and our wave was only us and a medium size barge that we followed.

It was a gorgeous day and it felt great to be on canals again! Bernie was loving his life.

After a couple of hours, and a few bridges that lifted for us we were safely tied to the wharf at Middelburg. Later in the day, when all the berths had a gone, a training yacht appeared and we had our first experience of rafting up with another boat. There was a lot of shouting and throwing lines. And then, once they were in, we learned that 5 out of the 6 people on the boat had just completed their very first day of sail boat training.

The sun was shinning so we walked through cobble stone lanes, squares and canals. We enjoyed lunch in the sun.

Fi’s getting some much needed provisions while I have Bernie duty.

Our Brompton folding bikes seemed all at home in London where many of their relatives are to be found. But here in the Netherlands they seem out of place where the average bike has disk brakes, onboard computer, automatic transmission, integrated security and 200hp assisted peddling.

We had read a blog of another yacht that had anchored for a few days in the Veerse Meer, a lake that we would pass through the next day. Keen to have a night away from marinas we headed to the area they described and found small islands with pontoons. As there is no tide here its not a good idea to go aground. We approached slowly with the center-board half down. We touched down a few meters from the pontoon and decided it was safe enough to continue with the center-board raised.

Alone! But again we love our lifting centreboard – 1.9m here.

We were the only people on the island and enjoyed an idyllic afternoon eating cheese, sipping wine and sniffing duck poo. Fi enjoyed a little nap on the picnic blanket.

The boat on the left is a barge very full of scrap metal that decided to take the shallow channel around the islands. They spend much of the afternoon engine revving but not moving until the boat on the right appeared to help. At dusk the helping boat abandoned the stranded barge and the next morning we met various tugs heading down the channel towards the scene. I considered calling him on the radio and suggesting he raise his centre-board, but decided it might not be helpful.

Is there anywhere in the Netherlands where you can’t see at least one windmill?

The next day we headed through some locks and into a marina (Kats) for our haul out. It was a tight cross wind approach to the slings of the lift. And after a Dutch/English discussion about boat sizes, we decided to leave and find another larger lift rather than risk rigging adjustments.

We stopped for a night, that ended up being two, at Bruinisse. Strong winds made the idea of negotiating lots of locks unappealing.

But we found a giant mussel… with windmills in the background of course.

The next day we felt that the winds had dropped enough to leave little Brunisse. Firstly we would have to navigate the Krammer lock. At the lock, we were too high with our mast to fit into the ‘Sport’ (read: “pleasure boat”) boat lock and had to join the big boys and girls in the commercial lock. There was a little confusion when they told us to go into the port lock as the sport boat lock is on the port side, but they soon corrected us over the radio when they saw our AIS track going the wrong way.

They put the big boats in first and then we squeeze in behind them. Surely the little boats will leave first so we don’t get crushed or churned up in the wash…

Nope…they just tell the big boats to leave gently so they don’t inadvertently crush a number of expensive yachts.

At our final lock of the day just before Willemstad, we called the ‘Sports’ lock who advised us to go to the commercial lock. We know the routine now and called the commercial lock who said ‘No problem with the bridge’. Great, no problems, but why did he need to tell us? They loaded a barge into the lock and closed the gates. We called again. This time we understood ‘No. Problem with the bridge’, but we could stay at the sports lock pontoon for the night and they might, maybe, possibly have it fixed tomorrow.

We were met at the pontoon by a who’s who of blue water cruising yachts, all too tall to fit through the sports lock. Would we be stranded on this pontoon for weeks waiting for the bridge to open?

Into Belgium: Gravelines – Dunkirk – Blankenberge

April 30, 2022 / fiandadrian

We love France, and so we contrived another stop before leaving France, and arrived at Dunkirk, a few miles away, where we wanted to see the 1940 evacuation museum.

We left Gravelines for Dunkirk near to high tide. A small fishing boat, seemingly unused to 17 tons of post industrial aluminium elegance lurching down the channel, reversed out of its mooring into our path causing an quick change to full reverse for us and an apologetic wave from them. It was a short drift with the tide round to Dunkirk. The coastline was largely industrial until the old town revealed itself as we headed down the harbour.

We missed the famous Dunkirk Siren marker buoy at the entrance to Dunkirk, but latter spotted her reclining on the dock awaiting redeployment.

The 1940 museum told the story of the evacuation of Dunkirk. The speed of the German advance in 1940 made us wonder if Putin had been expecting a similarly quick advance in Ukraine. We walked out to the beach where it all took place afterwards.

The next day we headed out along the coast to Belgium. We chose the smaller port of Blankenberge rather than the big ferry port of Zeebrugge. The big red sail came out and with the assistance of tide we kept up 6 knots most of the day in 5-9 knots of wind.

In Blankenberge, Bernie had a good run on the beach and we sampled Belgium beer at one of the many beach bars, until we got too hot in the sun and we went in search of Belgium chocolates.

The next day Bernie stayed at home whilst we took the 15 minute train ride into Bruges. This beautiful town was a mixture of quiet streets and just around the corner, thronging tourists. Not a mask in sight – it was great to see the pandemic is finally over.

Our next stop would cross over the border into the Netherlands, so whilst we waited for the tide to turn in our favour we headed into town to make sure we an adequate chocolate supply for the trip.

Boulogne to Gravelines

April 19, 2022 / fiandadrian

Boulogne was an active fishing port with more bustle and less tourists than some places we had been along the coast.

Bernie was super excited about a French smelling town again, and especially one with lots of fishy smells. He started demanding a walk around the town as soon as daylight appeared. He wasn’t disappointed and pulled us up the hill to the old town in search of cafes and fallen chips. We returned in time for the nice gendarmes from Calais to visit the boat and stamp our passports.

We went straight out for bread and wine – and I enjoyed this for dinner.

Something more substantial for lunch the next day, 3 course meal with wine – happy to be back!

The forecast for the second day after we arrived was originally ‘a spicy day out’, then increased to ‘you won’t need extra chilli with this’ and finally ‘this is going to spoil your whole day’. We headed out to the harbour entry channel on foot and thanked the clever weather forecasting people for telling us the best day to sail. When all the fishing boats stay in port, its a good day to stay on land.

When calm conditions returned the fishing boats on the wharf opposite us left in the middle of the night (ok, maybe dawn) and returned to sell their fish on the quay opposite us in time for our morning(ish) walk. The fish shops are a famous tourist haunt for the town and sell everything off the boats fresh.

We bought fresh fish fillets, oysters and these whelks from the market. Beautiful with some garlic butter.

We thought we might head to Dunkirk next, but found this little town (Gravelines) accessed by a drying canal that was reported to be super friendly but a little tricky to get to. Red flag to a bull… we were going. They can fit 15m boats and we are no more than 14.5 (ish). We snuck out of Boulogne just after lunch to ensure arrival at the canal entrance at high tide.

The coast was surprisingly rural as we approached Calais. I did an extensive rigging check from the front deck.

As we approached Calais the wind picked up to over 20 knots and the choppy waves from behind made it too rolly for sunning oneself on the foredeck. The ferries on the Calais-Dover run kept coming to say hello and look at our boat. I was later informed we were crossing a ferry lane.

We arrived at the entry channel which was distractingly narrow and had 2 knots of tide crossing it. It seemed like we were approaching at 45 degrees to the channel. I steered a course so we safely crabbed our way into the channel, with Fi watching the chart plotter and the seas closely, and shouting “more to starboard!” to ensure we wouldn’t hit the port side wall. After a few km of channel we squeezed through a lock gate and pulled up at pontoon 2 in the marina. Curiously all the other boats seemed much smaller than us.

Gravelines used to be a vibrant port on the coast, but silting led to its decline as a trading port. These days its more sedate with rotund older gentlemen snoozing on their boats in the emerging spring sunshine trying to recall the boat jobs they were doing today.

The town still has a moat and walled defenses. Fi jumped the moat in a single bound.

This is another example of the architecture of the Marquis de Vauban a French engineer, who was responsible for a number of fortifications along the coast, some of which we saw when we cruised in Brittany. He is thought to be one of the greatest engineers of his time. The town centre is shaped as a star with the moat around the outside.

Beautiful moat with the fortifications for the town.

Taking a bike ride through town and around the moat. Bernie was having some mandatory rest at home.

Having completed her ride through the fountain, Fi wondered about the type of water it might be….

Looking towards the sea. To the left of this picture, the canal continues to the marina. This is not quite low tide yet.

Low tide at the marina gave both of us a shock when we left one morning. We could clearly see the bottom, and boats on the inside pontoons would sink into the soft mud. We remained floating, as we were placed on the outer pontoon. This boat looked like it had been settling in the mud now for a few years.

We are keen to see a little more of this coast line, and on our next trip we visit Dunkirk in France, and also plan our next country change into Belgium, leaving behind cheese and baguettes, for chocolate and beer.

Eastbourne to Boulogne

April 7, 2022 / fiandadrian

It was finally time to shake off our winter inertia and venture out into a world beyond Eastbourne.

The passage to Boulogne is 50 miles in a straight line. But the tide goes from 0 up to 3 knots sideways so a straight line is a curved line. And then there are shipping channels that you must cross at 90 degrees. But you must point across at 90 degrees so with the tide it might be 75 degrees or 105 degrees. And the shipping channels change direction so 90 degrees might point you East and a few miles away 90 degrees might point you East North East. But at least we are sure about our boat speed because it is dependent on the wind and the forecasted direction and strength is always right.

So we started with a plan, and then we changed it, and changed it again as the conditions changed.

Eastbourne marina had been a friendly sheltered harbour for Away over winter. Dinner at the Grand Hotel and catching up with friends were highlights. But Bernie never quite fell in love with pebble beaches and the local Harvester never felt like our local. It was time to return to the land of baguettes and fine wine. At 5 am the alarm reminded us sailing in tidal areas is not always on our preferred timetable.

The Eastbourne lock dropped us a disconcerting distance into the exit channel.

We slowly made our way out with the center board raised for extra clearance.

The wind was behind us and our recent practice with the pole was put to good use. This used to be one of our favorite ways to sail on Addictive and Away seems equally happy with this configuration.

We managed to get further along the coast than we expected before picking our moment to dodge the big ships in the shipping channel. Our path successfully avoided 5 of them but the last looked a little close.

A couple of minutes later Fi appeared on deck looking suitably chuffed and announced she had chatted to the ship and it was changing direction for us!

The wind and waves built to 20 knots and 1-2 meters as we scooted across the no-mans-land between the east and west shipping channel. We experimented with some reefs and different sail configurations. It was looking as if we might sail a straight line to Boulogne if the wind continued and we hit the shipping channel far enough north.

Bernie was flat out helping with everything.

There was one ship that was on a collision course with us, but Fi jumped on the radio and soon had him sorted out.

I was just commenting that we had 30 minutes till the edge of the shipping channel and then we would need a close look out for crab pots, when a crab pot whistled past a few meters to starboard. We were back in French waters.

Approaching the French coast the waves started reflecting off the shore and it became more and more confused. Away handled it with ease but we were extra careful when going forward on deck.

We had made the crossing faster than expected, and once safely docked we did perform arrival formalities: wee on the dock (Bernie), buy baguettes and red wine (Fi & Adrian).

We also did the other more boring arrival formalities, such as filling in forms, and getting a visit from the lovely police officers from Calais who drove down to visit us especially and give us the much coveted stamp in our passports.

The next day the entrance to the harbour looked slightly different with gusts into the 50s! We might stay here a few days till it calms down. Boulogne is the biggest fishing port in France, so there is plenty of food to keep us interested.

Winter Boat Jobs

April 6, 2022 / fiandadrian

Being in Eastbourne we have not had too many distractions from the long list of boat jobs we wanted to get done before heading to the Baltic. Here are some of the jobs we got done.

We secured some storage boxes in the cavernous unused spaces under the floor.

Installed an retractable clothes line in the tech room.

Modified the bimini cover so it can be put away without detaching the front frame which simplifies set up and put away.

Organised the sail locker with some boat hook holders, shelves for paddle boards, storage boxes, and electric outboard mount point.

Installed a gas strut under the bed so we can get to the storage without holding up 753kg with one hand whilst accessing storage with the other.

Crocheted an orchid hanger (first indoor plant…its a slippery slope)

Installed an offshore safe fruit bowl

Improved the bike storage (yes it was worse before)

Found a good spot for Bernie’s folded carriage

Fixed some issues and learnt lots about our distributed power system. You CAN read the stories here.

There are always more boat jobs to be done, but for now this represents for us a good start and it means we can head off. Its sometimes hard to break the inertia, especially when boat jobs are always there, but we are committed to continuing our journey. The last big job is to haul out and hose off the bottom of the boat from a winter of sitting still (its looking pretty green), plus check our anodes, however the Sovereign Harbour boat lift is fully booked for months, so we have to find another port in which to do this – so off we will go!

Following The Canals South

February 3, 2022 / fiandadrian

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.

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

January 10, 2022 / fiandadrian

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.

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

January 3, 2022 / fiandadrian

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

December 27, 2021 / fiandadrian

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.

Lets not be here after dark when these trees come alive.

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

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.