Date: Mon, 14 Apr 1997 17:11:48 -0400 (EDT) From: George Pearson To: nonews for canals-nonews@blacksheep.org (canals@blacksheep.org) To: canals@blacksheep.org Date: Mon, 14 Apr 1997 20:12:36 GMT From: mike@casswell.u-net.com (Mike Casswell) Subject: Easter Trip 1 Saturday 29/03/97 Arrived at Kate Boats, Warwick, at 1330. We had previously arranged to take over the boats at this early time due to the restrictions on the Hatton Flight. Many thanks due to KB for this and for their help throughout. Two boats: Samuel James and Peter Michael. Kate Boats overheard to be concerned about the amount of beer being loaded onto SJ. The ship's cellarman had spent several months negotiating a deal with the local branch of 'Bargain Booze' and had possibly got a little carried away. He did an excellent job of 'bottling up' every morning, too. Cast off at 1350. Uneventful first run, just good to get back into the swing of things.Breasted the boats for the Hatton flight. Moored above Hatton Top Lock. Evening in the Waterman. Large, run down roadhouse pub, beer poor, Murphy's excellent (why does it vary so much?) food and staff good. How is it possible to get so tired in such a short time? No carousing tonight. Sunday 30/03/97 Under way at 1040 BST. Brilliant sunshine encouraged a lunchtime stop for a couple at the Navigation, Lapworth. Beer garden a suntrap and the guest beer, flavoured delicately with ginger, didn't make for a fast getaway. The Navigation given an all round thumbs up and pencilled in for an overnight on the return. Set off up Lapworth locks, lots of boats about, PM immediately in front of SJ. Locking up together until round about 13 or 14, when three boats which had presumably been lunching at the pub set off between us. Last sight of PM until evening. A slow business for the rest of the locks, enlivened by the sight of what at first seemed to be a field of dinosaurs. The heads seen moving behind a hedge couldn't be anything else, but when out in the open turned out to be ostriches. Hardly less exotic in rural Warwickshire. Apparently ostrich meat is selling well in the supermarkets. Bags a drumstick. Finally caught up with PM and moored at bridge 28 for the night. Arrival later than we would have liked, nearly one and a half hours behind PM, but compensated for by a magical half hour steering by comet. The best view yet, and mostly dead ahead. The Drawbridge is now being refurbished, all I can say is that they surely cannot make it any worse. A very strong recommendation against this dreadful 'pub'. More comet watching and a few beers back at the boats restore our good spirits. -- From: mike@casswell.u-net.com (Mike Casswell) To: george@adiva.com Subject: Trip Report Part 2 Date: Tue, 22 Jul 1997 18:59:42 GMT Monday 31/03/97 Away at 0900, the sun still shining! Where are the blizzards of yesteryear? A straightforward run to Cambrian Wharf. The entry into Birmingham by this route could not contrast more with our last visit. The W&B sneaks in with it's collar turned up, whilst our previous arrival via the Farmer's Bridge locks was all high drama. Met up, as arranged, with a friend who couldn't make it this year but who was lending us a couple of extra young crew for PM overnight and also bringing us a late arrival, fresh in from Germany. Cambrian Wharf and surroundings on a sunny Easter Monday was absolutely thronged with people. Surely even those who dislike the development would have been pleased to see so many people using and enjoying the environment. On to the Titford, with a brief detour round the Soho loop, for the hell of it. Round about Spon Lane Junction the usual 'discussion' starts. 'This is a sh*thole' - 'When you have seen one field full of cows, you've seen them all' etc. I'm not taking sides, but I did plan the route. Well worth it all just to look down from the aqueduct on another boat passing below whilst a train whizzes past feet away and the traffic thunders across the motorway, all at the same time. Start up The Crow OK, but then find the last two short pounds empty. Surprised how quickly they fill. Two of the younger crew claim to have seen a hand floating past. Much searching by all finds no hand, either with or without sword. Water level about the same as our last visit (ie barely enough, in spite of reassurances from BW on the phone that morning). Not as much of a struggle as last time, though, these boats must have a very shallow draught. Moor up at the New Navigation, as promised to ourselves two years previously. A tea party aboard PM for Cath's fifteenth birthday, before repairing to the New Navigation for the first pint of Holts Entire. The same friendly welcome from the landlady (born on a boat). Unfortunately no evening food, so good Holts time wasted trekking along a dual carriageway to a Brewer's =46ayre establishment. For those not familiar with these abominations, a BF is a Little Chef with a licence. Food passable. Back to the New Navigation for the rest of a convivial evening. One of my favourite canalside pubs since, in addition to the wonderful beer and host, part of the pub is seemingly exactly as built in the 1930's. Something more rare than authentic older pubs. To: canals@blacksheep.org Date: Wed, 16 Apr 1997 18:55:37 GMT From: mike@casswell.u-net.com (Mike Casswell) Subject: Easter Trip 3 Tuesday 01/04/97 We celebrated the date by continuing the hand saga. The cellarman was persuaded from his bunk by tales of the hand's reappearance - culminating in a photograph of him fishing for it with the boathook and a big hand from the rest of the crew. A very pleasant hour or two lazing in the sunshine whilst waiting for the transport to arrive to pick up the temporary crew. Set off back down the Crow and along the Old Main Line. On realising that we were in need of water, remembered that there was a point at the small recreation ground in Tipton coincidentally near to the Fountain, a Holts pub. Found that the water point was dry, but not the pub. By coincidence, two water company engineers turned up to check it (the point) whilst we were there. They found that it had never been connected to the main. The Fountain is famous as the home of the Tipton Slasher. Excellent Entire again, in a wonderful authentic Black Country pub. Give it a try if you ever have the chance. A good time being had by all, until we are brought the dreadful news that one of the adult crew of the PM had tripped whilst boarding the boat and had split his head in a serious manner. I shall not tell of all that followed, suffice to say that he required a number of stitches in two layers, was able to rejoin us later in the day, is making a good recovery and will bear a sardonic scar for some considerable time. He gave us a tremendous fright, blood everywhere, and made us more careful. And no, he hadn't been drinking. His appearance over the next few days, complete with stitches and two prize black eyes, was useful in deterring the occasional potential problem with local kids! After the departure for hospital, resumed our voyage less the stretcher party. Our first experience of the Wyreley & Essington. I cannot say that we were thrilled, a fairly nondescript run past the backs of houses of various vintages. The mud here most uninviting, jet black (presumably from coal dust) and giving off Hydrogen Sulphide when disturbed. Wouldn't fancy falling in here. Made a rendezvous at Wards Bridge, Wednesfield, with the casualty and companions. Much sympathy shown, including several close up photographs of the wound, ribald remarks etc. A sign of the relief we all felt at seeing him mobile and in one piece. The plan had been to moor at Walsall locks, but it soon became apparent that the delays had made this impossible, so set our heads down for the oasis of Sneyd Junction. PM was stoned in a half hearted way by the kids at the traveller site, as if they felt obliged rather than enthusiastic. When we passed, a few minutes earlier, I smiled and waved at an exceedingly cute three year old who was running along in an attempt to keep up with two men discussing their lurchers. He returned the salute with a single upturned finger. Just made it to Sneyd as dark fell. Thanks again for the weather and for BST. The casualty and companion were staying aboard for a quiet evening (as it turned out, filling both water tanks was a very useful quiet evening) and the rest of the two crews quickly gathered for a walk into Bloxwich for food and refreshment. A quick tour of the perimeter of the yard revealed a continuous high wall, topped with razor wire and broken only by two heavy iron gates with stout padlocks. Consternation. I knocked at the residential boat occupied by the caretaker, explained our predicament and asked his advice. His reply was that he was not allowed to let anyone in or out after eight o'clock, a pretence he kept up just long enough for me to envision being keelhauled by the hungry and thirsty crew. We set off for Bloxwich (half an hour's walk) armed with a padlock key loaned to us by the very helpful, as well as humourous, caretaker. An average town pub, where some of the crew made a big hit with the Spice Girls' grannies, followed by a decent Balti and a return, replete, in a fleet of cabs. An eventful day. -- To: canals@blacksheep.org Date: Thu, 17 Apr 1997 20:26:35 GMT From: mike@casswell.u-net.com (Mike Casswell) Subject: Easter Trip 4 Wednesday 02/04/97 Short run to Walsall Locks, where we found the custodian of the museum (small, charming, worth a visit) who informed us that the lock keeper was ahead, refilling pounds emptied overnight by the locals. OK to use the locks as soon as levels allowed, but to leave one of each top and bottom paddles slightly open on the first lock. I asked him if he saw many boats, since we had not seen (nor would) any boats moving on the W&E or Walsall. He told us the good news that they were seeing increasing numbers, and that over the Easter weekend there were so many that they thought there must be a stoppage somewhere, and that people were being forced to make a detour. The Yard at Sneyd Junction and this point are currently still oases on these canals, but to my judgement it looks very much as if the critical point is close - more usage, more facilities, less hassle etc. I certainly hope so. Wish we had been able to see the more northern reaches. A mile or so further on, much hilarity from both crews as self and helper do a passable impersonation of Laurel and Hardy boarding, capturing and remooring an adrift BW tug. I haven't bothered mentioning the usual three or four dumb workboats we had previously retied, this now seems to be an everyday part of canal life. We have now sworn, however, that the next tug we find will be towed back to the hire base and salvage claimed. A little further on we find several kids aboard yet another loose workboat across the cut, no aggression, they were just playing with the boat someone had left for them. And who wouldn't at that age. We remember that one of the crew, now a pillar of the community with a responsible job, has admitted to being involved as a child in the draining of pounds in the infamous Manchester Ashton Flight. A delightful, lazy, sunny afternoon's cruise through Ryders Green Locks and on back via the Main Line to Cambrian Wharf. The original plan had been to take the Tame Valley, but continued closure of Lock 10 prevented this. We moor below the Indoor Arena, where we discover that the group Eternal are due to play that night. A scout is sent to the box office, and much hailing and shouting up and down three levels of balcony later, it is established that yes, there are tickets available, and yes, the three younger crew would very much like to go. Much changing of clothes ensues. The remainder set off into downtown Birmingham, for a good Thai meal and several pints of Guinness in an O'Neals Irish theme pub. The cellarman excels himself, leaving the restaurant in advance to secure the first round. We find him in a totally packed pub, with little standing room, sitting in state at an empty table with a full, fresh pint of Guinness in each place. He can come again. -- From: mike@casswell.u-net.com (Mike Casswell) Subject: Part 5 Thursday 03/04/97 A fairly long day ahead, with plenty of potential for delay. Cambrian Wharf to the Navigation, Lapworth, via Grand Union is the plan. So an eight o'clock start is made, with breakfast under way. Farmers Bridge Locks entertaining, but without the excitement in this direction. The cook manages to melt a carpet tile when a disagreement with a lock transfers the frying pan from the stove to the floor. The breakfast survives, so no real problem. Surprise when the cook attempts to blame the steerer for the accident. Interesting to see the dredging works and particularly the sorting of the debris, at the Digbeth Branch. The workers quick to move their boats and make passage for us. A few trophies hanging on the fence, bottles etc. so asked whether they had found any treasure. Second World War shells, came the reply. Must be careful where we poke that pole in future. About now, right on cue, someone stuck their head out and told us about the motorways being shut through bomb threats. As the story unfolded over the next two days we wondered what would have happened had the bombs been the day before, when we were in the area. Would we have been stopped and evacuated, or forgotten and wondering where everyone had gone? The next section was the nadir of the trip. The state of the canal from Camp Hill Locks through almost to Catherine de Barnes was disgusting. Low in water and totally full of filth and debris of every imaginable kind, from a noticeboard to half a tree via a dead dog. We had been used to frequent clearing of the prop on the Titford and W&E, but this was far worse. We collected our all time best, an entire stair carpet, along with miscellaneous clothing and all the usual plastic, rope etc. I had the unpleasant experience of cutting myself on a piece of wire whilst clearing. Much application of antiseptics, the whole atmosphere of the pound being so unhealthy and neglected. And this is the Grand Trunk, not some remainder backwater. Mystified by a sign at the bottom of someone's garden saying 'please do not kill our birds and squirrels'. I should think it would be a kindness, if not possible to ship them somewhere more healthy. A good early arrival at the Navigation, where we enjoy good food, good beer and a few games of cards. From: mike@casswell.u-net.com (Mike Casswell) Subject: Trip Part 6 Friday 04/04/97 A lazy morning in the sun, reading the paper and doing nothing much at all. A short run to the Tom o' the Wood for a couple of pints and a game of pool. Pool soon abandoned, the table swaying more than the boat. A good run through Hatton Locks, breasted again, two hours ten minutes. Even two set for us, a great rarity on this trip. Self on land for the whole flight. Even after all these trips together, the attitude to locking amongst the crews varies so much. Some of us really enjoy getting into a fast, efficient rhythm, the rest either don't care or don't understand. But everyone pulls their weight and enjoys it in their own way. Moor immediately above Cape Locks and go on an expedition to top up with cash before the last night in the Cape. A competition amongst four of us to finish an entire mixed grill, a meal which fills a plate the size of a normal serving platter. I had been eating for twenty minutes without any apparent change in the pile before me, kept moving things and finding another piece of meat. Failed dismally. Two claimed to have finished, but one was disqualified after it was discovered that he had given away an onion ring. A very enjoyable evening, and full marks to the Cape. Not only excellent beer and food, but never a raised eyebrow at a full boat v. boat game of World Cup Cricket. (And now, bowling from the toilet end...) We lost, but not only were we outnumbered, I feel that our principal mistake was in allowing one of the PM crew to be umpire. A poster reminds us that our timing has been unfortunate, Jeff would be here with his show the next day, as had been the case at the Navigation. A classic last night, all piled onto SJ with guitars and song and a brave (but failed) attempt to finish the cellarman's stock. And so, eventually, to bed. Sat 05/04/97 Two locks and ten minutes run back to the yard. Frantic packing and clearing, confession of the carpet tiles, and then back to the 'real' world for another year. Discussion well under way as to where we should go next time. | | Mike Casswell Leek, Staffordshire, England | | mike@casswell.u-net.com and often @ The Wellington Inn