Date: Sun, 16 Apr 2000 21:11:40 +0100 From: Kevin Maslin Reply-To: Canals To: Canals Subject: Trip Report: BCN Part 2 (long) [ The following text is in the "iso-8859-1" character set. ] [ Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set. ] [ Some characters may be displayed incorrectly. ] * Thursday 6 April * Odd - feels strangely cold this morning. I crawl out of my warm sleeping bag and realise it's probably zero temperatures outside and the galley stove has given up the ghost. The canal is iced over, all around is frosty and, apart from a nice warm shower and a cuppa, my first thought is for the perfect photographic light (sad git!). The shower turns out to be icy cold as the gas bottle needs changing. But what the hell - hot water's for wimps! We're up and about a bit earlier than yesterday (about 7:45am). We've arranged to meet Mike Pearson but need to speak to him first to let him know our location. 8:00am - right on cue - the 'phone rings. He's decided to come by car today, which he'll leave at the Royal Oak, and cycle back from wherever we end up today. I decide to make the most of the blue sky and frosty bits (which soon melt) and head off back to the junction. On finishing the first roll of film it's apparent that my camera battery is not at all keen on the cold and dies. Must've been on its way out anyway as a quick replacement sees it burst into life again. By this time Mike has arrived, Graham has got both stoves smoking well, and after another coffee the Lister ST2 is put to work again. Apparently, both galley and boatman's stoves thrive on a combined diet of coal - and this week - what Graham describes as workbench and 'ommer 'ondles (got a mate in the trade ... ). For those not familiar with our native dialect, I'll leave you to figure out the latter. I decide to stay on foot and take pictures along the way - or, if the lads are in the mood to wind me up - "snaps". Speaking of which, as Mike puzzles over the current edition of the relevant Companion book, both Graham and I point out that there's a copy of Nicholson's in the back cabin if he's lost! The canal hereabouts is flanked by some very neat housing and lined with silver birch on certain stretches, making this most definitely my favourite section of the Wyrley. The "Brownhills Cycleway" seems to be well under construction and this will be a most pleasant route when complete. Brownhills itself looms large on the horizon and Mike has jumped ship to join me near Coopers Bridge where he places himself precariously high up on an old railway bridge abutment to get a "different" angle. We both now walk very briskly towards Catshill, as we know that our next vantage point will be the junction bridge. Meanwhile Pedigree is moving extremely well without problems. On the odd occasion, in fact, I need to request our skipper keeps his revs down a touch. It's not that he's speeding, you understand, it's just that when photographing "on the hoof" one needs to stay sufficiently in advance of the boat to allow time to contemplate one's next move. Mike goes on ahead while I scale the footbridge next to Tescos to get a higher viewpoint and a sort of panoramic view of the canal and common. The sun is beating down as I reach Catshill Junction where Mike is already positioned on top of the bridge parapet ready to shoot. I line up a wideangle shot from the side of the bridge and wait for Pedigree to arrive. Photo shoot over we both rejoin the boat as Graham reaches the narrows and I shed three of the four layers I put on this morning because of the cold. It was then I remembered I hadn't been actually on the boat for a few miles to have been able to perform this task before. Graham had already started the party without us by cracking the first bottle of Bulgarian "something" (can't remember) of the day. Needing a cooler, I joined him, and Mike stuck with the alcohol-free coffee, having to drive back to Burton later on in the day. I took a walk at Clayhanger Bridge and noted a potentially good mooring and pub at Black Cock Bridge a little further down. The Daw End Branch can be a little nondescript in places, becoming more interesting towards Aldridge - a centre for brickmaking and home to Duckhams Oil, the destination of one of the last ditch attempts at serious canal carrying on the BCN in 1970. It was around here that I indulged in my weird fascination with towpath edging bricks - Pressard and Utopia to name a few. Navigationally speaking, I've known the Daw End Branch to be a lot worse than we found it. Just a touch of reverse occasionally was enough to clear any nasties from the prop and the water was so clear it was possible to confirm that the channel depth was fine just by looking. Ken Field's (Aldridge Marina) looked to be thriving and was home to many more craft than my previous visit a few years ago. I took the opportunity to photograph an artist who was painting the scene at the Marina. After Winterley Bridge, the canal takes on a very rural appearance with fields on both sides. A stop at the Manor Arms pub at Rushall was tempting (you can moor right outside the beer garden) but we needed to press on as we had one or two possibilities for tonight's mooring and wanted to be sure we could reach the furthest one in reasonable time. Again, Mike had joined me on the towpath. This time we both carried windlasses ready for the assault on the Rushall flight. I always take my trusty Dunton Double + on every boat trip - it's nice and light and the long throw handle, whilst giving more leverage, is generally no problem on BCN locks. Longwood Boat Club at Rushall Top Lock is always neat and tidy and a welcoming looking place. It also has many of the facilities a boater could want, including water, pump-out, Elsan and rubbish disposal. BCN house number 93, which overlooks the top lock is no exception to the air of general pleasantness and made an excellent shot as Pedigree glided past. Mike and I agreed that we'd operate a "leapfrog" system on this flight so that we could get equal opportunity to photograph it and we'd both be happy. Graham, meanwhile, was in his element, enjoying the early afternoon sun, making notes as he went along and savouring the flavour of the Bulgarian "something". Not that I didn't join him, of course, as each lock slowly emptied. It must be noted that the Rushall flight - as with many of the locks we encountered on this trip - was very well maintained. And, when you consider that you are only a stones throw from suburbia, the scenery is nothing short of superb. In fact, at one point (lock 4 I think) Mike commented that with a telephoto lens, the untrained eye would be hard-pushed to tell the difference between this flight and Tyrley Locks on the Shroppie. I'd already beaten him to it as it happened. Obviously, good weather always helps in these situations. The Rushall 9 out of the way, it was a mere formality to cruise (I walked) the half mile or so to Rushall (or Newton) junction - a totally different scene yet again, as this is the point where the M5 joins the M6, the appropriate sliproads soaring overhead. It was also here, at around 3:30pm, where Mike said his goodbyes, having had a thoroughly good time, got on his bike and headed back to Pelsall and his car. One observation to note at this particular junction: It was maybe the way Graham positioned Pedigree to get around the turn, but he needed a helping shove to free his bows from the bank (I was standing on the signpost side of the junction). Makes me wonder if a 70 footer would have any problem here. We looked at the time and realised that we could get at least half of the Perry Barr flight out of the way and still finish our day with relative ease *and* get to our planned pub. Most essential these places as we don't tend to cook onboard unless we're really desperate. Again, the surroundings of the Tame Valley were as good as you'd find anywhere. Unfortunately, the section through Hamstead provided us with our *only* "stoning" experience of the entire trip. I suspect, though, that if anyone picks up on anything in this account this will be it. The bad things are always the most memorable. However, this incident was so badly executed and predictable it was almost comical. The missiles (if you could call 'em that) came from Chimney Bridge - a high "walkway" that spans the cutting at this point. We'd seen a couple of kids messing around from several hundred yards away, so it was just a case of waiting for the inevitable, really. Graham stayed at the tiller and looked mean and I stood on the bows and looked kind of menacing. When it eventually happened we were pretty well on standby (I think one little pebble actually made contact with the boat - no harm done). I hurled some verbals whilst Graham pulled the boat in and went in search of the offenders. He won't stand any messing in these situations: he was straight up the bank to have "a word" (not physical, more psychological). His theory is that if the little sods think all boaters will stand their ground, then they won't bother with the next boat that comes along, an so on. The remainder of the length to Perry Barr Top went totally without incident. A very peaceful and almost rural stretch. In fact the only soul we saw was one bloke walking his dog - oh, and one angler. Just a few touches of reverse for prop clearance was all that was required. The top lock had already been filled by a guy in a green tee shirt we immediately recognised as Mark Rooke, son of Albert the Birmingham "harbourmaster". After exchanging pleasantries we were well on our way down the flight. I always find Perry Barr Locks totally amazing. A rural flight in an urban situation is the best way to describe them. The grass is always neatly manicured, the balance beams always look freshly painted (not always by graffiti!) and the paddle gear operation is effortless - always well greased. There were several people out walking in the fine early evening sun and we stopped and chatted to a family before mooring up in between lock 7 and the M6 - a spot we'd used about 6 years ago. >From here it was a short walk underneath the motorway, up onto Aldridge Road and down to the "Boars Head", our intended pub stop. But what a disappointment. The pub was in the process of changing hands and most of the menu items were "Sold Out". Nevertheless we enjoyed a decent pint of Tetley Bitter (can't stand the stuff usually, so it must've been good) and went in search of alternative refreshment. This was found in the "Church Tavern" just around the corner in Church Road, Perry Barr. An Ansells Big Steak house, the grill was superb and the Marstons Pedigree went down a treat. Suitably refreshed, we retired to the boat to contemplate the assault on the remainder of Perry Barr and the veritable feast of locks at Aston and Farmers Bridge next day. Maybe we rounded the night off with a couple of beers - can't remember - too tired ... zzzzzzz. Part 3 to come ... ATB -- KEVIN MASLIN Waterways Photography Great Bridge, West Midlands, England. {Remove *not* if replying by e-mail} Waterways Liaison Service website: http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~kmaslin/WLS/ ---