Date: Mon, 17 Apr 2000 23:44:59 +0100 From: Kevin Maslin Reply-To: Canals To: Canals Subject: Trip Report: BCN Part 3 (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. ] * Friday 7 April * Awoke with the faint recollection of being disturbed at some ungodly hour by a very yappy dog, to which I would have gladly demonstrated the power of a large boot. Wouldn't have minded so much, but what the hell was this creature doing out alone at a reasonably inaccessible spot in the dark? However, I digress. The main task in hand today is to ensure that we at least reach the Birmingham plateau in one piece for a well-deserved pint or two in one of the many such establishments the City has to offer. The prospect of the thirty locks ahead (remaining Perry Barr 6, Aston 11, Farmers Bridge 13) would have been fairly daunting - it needed one of us to steer the boat (Graham) leaving yours truly to do "the business" - were it not for the fact that the sun shone brilliantly once more and the sky was full of that blue stuff with the odd white fluffy bit. So having done the necessary, we set off into the blue yonder with only the slowly awakening Birmingham industry for company. Locks 8 and 9 are fairly close together, with just a short walk to 10 and College Road. Always trying to keep one ahead I leave Graham to sort himself out with shutting gates, etc. and head off into the distance. Below lock 11 is an interesting brick built structure with its original cast iron nameplate "No.1 Reflux Valve". Just north of our mooring the previous night was a similar structure bearing the legend "No.2 Reflux Valve". Both were part of the erstwhile recirculating pumping system on this flight. I must confess a distinct liking for such objects as bit by bit, the original elements of the BCN network are removed or prettified they retain a true sense of what has gone before. It's a fairly long stretch to the remaining two locks of the "New Thirteen" so I rejoin the boat having rattled off a swift roll or so. Early morning anglers very much in evidence here and we exchange pleasantries. The relationship between anglers and boaters is a totally different ballgame on the BCN backwaters. In a world where an angler could feasibly sit for weeks on end without even a sniff of an oncoming boat, they appreciate the silt being stirred up just once in a while. Once again I jump ship on the approach to the penultimate lock of this particular flight. As I crank the gate paddle, Graham is wrestling to free Pedigree from the mud as he's drifted over to the offside whilst waiting for the lock to fill. Unfazed by the experience he eventually forces a passage, to the amusement of a gaggle of gongoozlers. The area below the bottom lock has changed beyond all recognition. If you've ever seen the cover of Tom Foxon's "No.1" then this is what it looked like until just a few years ago as the huge Witton works of the General Electric Company. Another interesting building "The Grid House" - the intake for the recirculating system - catches my eye and I wonder how long this will survive in amongst the modern industrial units which now occupy the site. It's now time to press on to pastures different as we near Salford Junction with its seemingly intertwined concrete road network ("Spaghetti Junction") soaring overhead. We reflect on the usefulness of the graffiti artists' creations as, even on a bright day, their work is barely discernable in the gloomy canyon. I take to the towpath once again at the stop island narrows and mentally attempt to reconcile the combination of Fujichrome and a high degree of contrast as Pedigree negotiates the junction. It doesn't really add up so I settle for a wideangle view of Tame Aqueduct and motorway as the boat emerges from the gloom. Guess what? We've now officially left "bandit country"! We should be heaving a sigh of relief, but it's rather sad to be back on the "tourist route". We congratulate ourselves heartily and move swiftly on to Aston Bottom Lock, where Graham recalls a bunch of Rastas having a Ganja party last time he passed this way. It's not much further on when I come across an old adversary - the Canada Goose. These arrogant looking creatures strut around as if they own the place, blocking the path, hissing and honking and generally being the vermin they undoubtedly are. I'm not afraid to admit that I loathe and detest them on sight. Graham, by now in mid-channel noticed my plight, but announced that I was on my own with this one, unfortunately. Cheers mate! In the absence of an alternative, camera bag in one hand, wieldy windlass in t'other I screamed past like a wailing banshee with utterances that wouldn't have looked out of place in a Viz comic speech bubble. Poor sod just looked on in utter amazement. The Aston landscape is a mix of old factories and several new developments in the shape of Aston Cross, Waterlinks and Cuckoo Wharf, but still retains a high brick wall for much of the towpath length. Nearing the top of the flight I chance upon the strange sight of a guy in green apparently mowing the towpath. I compliment Anthony or "Aitch", as he's known in BW, on the top notch state of the lock flight and we chat about life, lawn mowers, canals and that lumpy bit on the approach to Perry Barr lock 12 in particular. "Oh that" he says. "Yeah, we know about it - been trying to get it dredged for ages. Do us a favour and report it to the office will you?" He then proceeds to set the rest of the flight for us and promises to 'phone Albert to do the same on Farmers Bridge. It's getting dangerously close to lunchtime and we consider the possibilty of finding something like a chippy hereabouts. So we temporarily tie up just above the Snow Hill arches and I go in search of suitable refreshment. In the absence of what we'd intended I chance upon an Indian butty bar on Livery Street that does very tasty chicken tandoori baguettes. Only trouble is, the canal is so hemmed in around here that it's difficult to find a suitable towpath access route and I end up walking back to Constitution Hill. The rest of the flight seems to take no time at all, despite the non-appearance of Albert. I get a chance to steer, the camera gets a rest and we crack a beer for good measure. By 4:30pm Graham is enthusiastically cleaning the brasses as we rise in Farmers Bridge Top Lock. I s'pose it's the easiest way to reach both lots of portholes when you think about it! 4:45pm sees us mooring up outside Symphony Court on the 48 hour stretch. I decide that the film I've got left won't last for the rest of the trip so I head into town to stock up. Jessops now has no less than 4 branches in Brum City Centre alone apparently. The sun is still very hot and as I trudge through the city streets I long for a cold beer and to rest my weary feet. The bars and restaurants around Brindleyplace are already buzzing. I return to the boat, mission accomplished, and call home as I have done every night since leaving Great Bridge, whilst simultaneously observing a near-to-overflowing Malthouse pub. Graham finishes his brasswork and we relax with some liquid refreshment whilst chatting to a fellow boater who's heard the horror stories about "bandit country" and can't believe where we've just been. We put him straight, of course. A quick wash and brush-up and we check out the "Tap and Spile". It's packed to the rafters but does a very good line in Batemans XB. Broad Street is really jumping by about 9:00pm and since we haven't brought our dancing trousers on this occasion we settle for a simple meal from the Greek chippy opposite the Novotel, consumed al fresco on deck and washed down with a large bottle of something I was unable to pronounce. Part 4 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/ ---