From owner-canals@blacksheep.org Wed Jun 4 04:38:59 1997 id AA04682; Wed, 4 Jun 97 04:38:41 EDT id JAA00912; Wed, 4 Jun 1997 09:21:10 +0100 From: "Mark Wickett" To: "Canals Newsletter" Subject: To Llangollen and Back (part 1) (9K) Date: Wed, 4 Jun 1997 09:36:09 +0100 The week before Spring Bank Holiday, we went out on our boat in some of the best weather we've seen whilst boating. We enjoyed it so much, we thought others might be interested in our experiences (apologies if you're not...) Late Wednesday afternoon, I began the long, slow journey from a customer in Worthing to our boat at Barbridge. It was hot and sunny - and not the day to be stuck in traffic jams for hours, but at last, I reached Walsall and a well-earned break at my parents' house for something to eat and to pick up my brother Barry. It was late when we left Walsall and so had an easy journey up the M6 and eventually to Barbridge. Smiling as I remembered packing the essentials into a single bag, we trudged up the dark towpath and onto the boat. An alarming list to starboard and the thump of the disco at the Jolly Tar was not enough to keep us awake more than a few minutes longer. The hazy morning skies of Thursday greeted me as I prepared the boat for the week ahead. The list was now considerably more than the night before and the bilges at the stern were dry, but before I could rip up the floor to inspect the remainder of the boat, Barry pointed out that the boat did not rock and was in fact, resting on a bank of silt. We set off eastwards to the winding hole and I succeeded in impressing my brother in my turning skills. Back to the water point for a fill up and a long walk round to the shop for the all-important pint of milk for our first drink of the day. Soon, we were lining the boat up and entered our first lock of the holiday at Hurleston. Assisted by a couple of friendly BW men, we made quick work of the four locks and after a quick chat at the top of the locks with a couple selling their boat and bits (I nearly bought a generator but decided against it) we continued to Wrenbury. We stopped briefly to drool over the books and I was very restrained in buying only one - The Leeds & Liverpool Canal by the Mike Clarke (and very good it is too Mike!). We ended the day amidst drizzle ascending Grindley Brook. A Severn Valley hireboat came up behind us and stood and watched me run around the staircase, lifting and lowering paddles singled-handedly (Barry being at the tiller) and only decided to help at the wrong point before the various chambers were at their required positions. No harm was done and no harsh words spoken... The two of us sat alone in the Horse & Jockey's lounge, the barman chatting to us before putting on a CD of Cajun music!! We reflected on how busy the Llangollen was: we had seen a handful of boats all day and never had to queue at a lock. Friday started grey and on our departure at 8.30ish, I noticed nb Tam Lin on the permanent moorings... now if I'd known you were there last night! Making a mental note to stop off on the way back, we chugged along to Whitchurch for some well-needed supplies (Barry only had time to dash off the boat for a loaf of bread at the shop at the bottom of Grindley Brook the evening before). Leaving our Nicholson's and Pearson's behind, we walked up the short arm beneath a warming sun, stopping to watch some very fluffy cygnets on the bank, and then into the town. Between us, we failed to find a single greengrocers shop but a good cake shop made up for it - of course, when we got back to the Pearson's guide, it told us where Tesco was... however, getting back to the boat was a bit of a problem. We had moored on the towpath side of the main line, which means you have to cross a lift bridge to get into Whitchurch. When we came back from the town, the bridge was open. There were no boats to be seen so we assumed that the bridge had been left open by some forgetful person (though that was not the description we offered at the time). I wandered along the opposite bank and came across a cruiser tying up on the opposite bank - he was pointing in the direction of the bridge, so I didn't think it was him but when I asked him if he would mind risking a windlass across the cut so we could lower the bridge, it turned out that he had opened the bridge, got back on his boat as he pushed it out and then the engine died and he had to tie up on the other side. A few minutes later (and grateful I hadn't said "some idiot has left the bridge open" to him) we set off once more. We were aiming for Maestermyn Marine where Catherine was to join us for the bank holiday weekend, but the towpath was non-existent and the moorings at the marine were not the most attractive, so taking advantage of the now excellent evening sun, we continued to Hindford. And we were glad we did - I rang Catherine to tell her where we were and then rang my parents (who were meeting us on the boat the following day). Then Barry and I spent the next hour stood on the bridge over the canal with a glass of Rioja, watching the boats go by. By the time Catherine arrived, we were starving so we decided to try the adjacent pub/restaurant Jack Myttons. Excellent place, friendly staff and superb food. They were happy for us to leave our car in their car park for a few days and didn't even turn their noses up when I asked for chips with my Chicken Anglais. We thoroughly enjoyed our main course, accompanied by a good house wine (South African Cape Red). We'd saved ourselves for a dessert too and were certainly not disappointed with those either. I was impressed with Dusty Miller's at Wrenbury, but Jack Myttons will get my vote now. We returned to the boat replete and ready for the early(ish) start the next day. Saturday started bright and we were on the move by 8am. Our first (and last) locks of the day were reached at New Marton, where we spent a few minutes talking to the ex-lock keeper out walking his dog and trying to dislodge something stuck in the lock that stopped the paddle going down all the way. Soon, we arrived at Chirk Aqueduct - an impressive sight in the morning sun and having crossed it, plunged into the tunnel. Much bad guitar playing later, we emerged into the wooded cutting to the smells of chocolate and timber from the nearby factories. It was here that we met up with my parents who had parked at Llangollen and got a bus down to meet us. We quickly found ourselves under a hot sun approaching Pontcysyllte Aqueduct. Last time I had crossed here it was eight years ago and early in the morning and I had taken a photograph of the shadows of the arches on the hockey field below. This time it was the middle of the day, the shadows were almost non-existent and the hockey field was now a grassy meadow decorated with circles of mushrooms. The trip across was exhilarating: my mum refused to look over the edge at all; I came over all traditional and stood in front of the tiller rather than my usual slobby port side slouch; and Catherine lay on the roof commenting that from where she was, she couldn't see the side of the boat nor the four inches of iron separating us from the river a hundred feet below. It was a breathtaking few minutes, travelling across a piece of history that adorns every canal calendar and hire boat brochure - who needs Realspace through Windows 95 when you can have Realthing through your own Window? The aqueduct had got to us, so we took a quick left turn and found the first available spot that we could moor and still allow other boats to get past! We had lunch on the towpath and it was only when we set off once more that I remembered the story of L.T.C. Rolt and his iron ball. I can't remember the precise location, but when you enter the narrow section from Trevor, there are a handful of big boring box houses on the left (which were not there eight years ago) and no towpath until the first footbridge. Then there is steepsided woodland on the left and a field on the right for a few hundred yards - the Offas Dyke path flirts with the towpath for a few yards before crossing over another footbridge and into the field. I seemed to remember it was in woodland within a few minutes of Trevor basin, so it could be at that point, or it might have been further back into Trevor and is now lost beneath a chintzy bay window. The remainder of our journey into Llangollen was tranquil - the sound of the engine our only disturbance as we experienced the sights of the valley. Morse code sunlight from car bonnets attracted our attention and we discovered that the roads were moving slower than we were. We arrived in Llangollen mid afternoon and took the last (legal) mooring spot not too far from the water points. I like cutting the engine at the end of a cruise - to transform the sound from our unattractive diesel chug into the quiet chirps and breezed trees of the country around us is very satisfying - but stopping where we did that day beneath the dappled sunlight and exposing the silence of the canal above the bustle of the town left me with a desire to remain here for a very long time. We wandered aimlessly around Llangollen and stocked up on a few essential supplies: fresh vegetables, bread, ice cream, etc. before taking a hot walk along the remainder of the canal to the Horseshoe Falls at the top. Our family took a few minutes to admire the recent work of the aqueduct along this section as our other brother had been responsible for drawing up some plans for the work (he did his university placement with BW), but it was too hot to stand around for long, so we returned to the boat for a short rest before finding a fish & chip shop for supper alongside the river. We said goodbye to our parents and returned to the boat where we attempted to repair some of our recent scrapes on the rubbing strake with some old bitumen paint. The paint was too thick to be of much use so we soon abandoned that and opened the beer instead... Anyone for more? I'm certainly enjoying reminiscing but I don't want to be accused of self-indulgence! And what is that area of the boat called where you are "supposed" to stand to steer a traditional narrowboat? From owner-canals@blacksheep.org Thu Jun 5 06:47:03 1997 id AA15353; Thu, 5 Jun 97 06:45:18 EDT id LAA16317; Thu, 5 Jun 1997 11:27:12 +0100 From: "Mark Wickett" To: "Canals Newsletter" Subject: To Llangollen and back (part 2 - 10K) Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 11:06:03 +0100 To Llangollen and Back (part 2) Sunday We awoke to a hot sun and by 9am, we were turning at the top of Llangollen to begin our journey home. The morning was quiet, and besides a pair of hotel boats behind us, we saw nothing else until we got to the aqueduct again. Then, we saw boats pulling away in front of us for some considerable time and by the time we got to Chirk tunnel, we were moving in "convoy". We had spent odd minutes and hours this holiday (and several before) rubbing down some of the minor surface rust on the cabins and after numerous coats of red oxide and undercoat (with the washing, drying, degreasing, etc. before each coat) we attempted our first top coat on the gas locker hatch. It was far too hot under the morning sun and the paint dried too quickly - our decision to experiment on a simple square was a good one. Our first lock at New Marton was the first real bottleneck - we queued for around half an hour to go down and when we did, we were unable to get out of the lock! There was some obstruction behind the lower gate and despite our best efforts the gate would not open enough to let us through (it seemed that our decision to defer our attempts at touching up the rubbing strake was right!) People from the boats behind us - we were far from being last in the queue - came to help and eventually, hearty pokes with poles dislodged something and with a final push of force, we managed to open the gate enough for us to squeeze through. We like narrow locks as you don't have to pay so much attention to the movement of the boat, but we wished this one was wide... We reached Hindford soon afterwards and I left Catherine and Barry as I had volunteered to move the car to our new destination. It took me approximately half an hour to get to Blakemere and amazingly, to a car parking space on top of Ellesmere Tunnel where I left the car and began the long walk back to meet up with the boat. The afternoon was extremely hot and there were a lot of people out for walks or just sitting around the short Ellesmere arm. I must have walked a good few miles - in fact, I walked as far as I could because I got to one bridge and the towpath stopped! BW were in the process of repiling the towpath side but the towpath was not yet there! I waited by this bridge and talked to some sheep in the adjacent field. It was a quiet afternoon and it seemed that because I was standing still making no threatening movements, the entire lamb population came over to investigate. Then the ewe would come over and stare at me - as soon as I broke eye contact, the ewe would walk away and her lambs would follow. Finally, our red and blue boat came round the corner and I joined the other two. We stopped briefly at Ellesmere to use the facilities and witness a Black Prince hire boat turn sharply into the path of a private boat and come away with a broken window... We found a prime spot at Blakemere to stop and once more, the quietness of a summer evening transfixed us in this beautiful spot. We've stopped at some nice places in our time, but Blakemere must be one of the best. At this point, the canal emerges from Ellesmere tunnel in a wooded cutting. This cutting opens out and on the northern bank of the canal is one of the many meres that border the town of Ellesmere. The meres had been formed by the retreat of glaciers thousands of years ago leaving lakes with no inflow or outflow - but crystal clear, still water. From our boat, it was no more than a few yards down to the shore of the mere - we walked through the woods that punctuated the land between canal and mere and stood on a wooden jetty. From where we stood, we could see every available gap in the trees filled by a brightly coloured narrowboat, but for most of the time, you could see no-one but yourself. There was only one thing to do in a place like this: sit down with a glass of wine and admire the view. And so we did - apart from an hour or so rubbing down yet more paintwork and putting the first undercoat on the stern (behind where the button fender would sit) - and we watched the sun disappear behind the trees and darkness descend on the water. We had a lie-in on Monday - we sat up in bed and watched a handful of boats pass us on one side and the fishermen casting off into the mere on the other. We ate breakfast on a thoughtfully provided bench by the mere and whilst Catherine applied a second undercoat to the stern, Barry and I took the car into Ellesmere for some essential supplies. When we returned, the three of us managed to attach some lino to the walls of our newly constructed shower with some hideous-smelling glue that had you retching in the confined space of the boat's bathroom - it was a good job that we could rush out to get some fresh air. The mess of our bathroom was slowly coming together and by the end of the day, we had reattached all the wooden edging and pipe brackets and the room looked almost professionally done. We were very proud of our work - our previous visit to the boat in the rain had three of us doing woodwork and plumbing with only hand tools and some complex rewiring when we realised we had run out of fuses in our fusebox for the shower pump! As soon as we have taken our sealant round all the edges, we have a working shower - and all our own work! Lunch time came around too soon, and Catherine had to say goodbye to return to work the following morning. Barry and I continued our journey suffering the loss of our chimney on a particular windy stretch (we had left it loose on the roof to red oxide the collar) - it seemed like no sooner had Catherine left, when the clouds began to gather and by the time we arrived back at Grindley Brook, it was drizzling with rain. nb Tam Lin was deserted (probably at Braunston?) and our final stop just below the railway bridge was the end of our day. The last couple of locks below the staircase were made more interesting by the Alvechurch boats up from Wrenbury - it must have been their first day and thus these were their first locks. One boat came up all experienced looking but were puzzled when we motioned them into the lock set for them: "But weren't you here first?" they asked. The second boat spent its entire time watching us going down the locks and you could almost see them trying to remember all the different things we were doing so they would get it right. I'm not sure our methods of descending a lock would help them that much going up, but I hope we didn't do anything wrong!! Another night in the Horse & Jockey - this time, we were not alone in the lounge: a handful of what I took to be hire-boaters sat around in their waterproofs (seems like stereotyping, is it really that obvious?) Tuesday morning was an earlyish start but the other hire boats around were already gone. Three locks lay ahead of us and just as each lock came into sight, a boat would start up its engine, untie its ropes and pull out before we got there. It was difficult not to get frustrated when it happened the third time... Some cows had escaped from a field and were munching their way along the towpath. They appeared to be a little scared of the boat so they ran on up the towpath - in the direction we were heading! Two locks down and they were still ahead of us... At one lock, I was waiting for the chamber to fill and noticed two swallows stood on the lock side. Swallows don't normally land on the ground as I don't think they can launch themselves into the air rather they have to drop and then start flying (someone will correct me if I'm wrong) but these two seemed remarkably friendly just a few feet away from me. It was interesting to see them this close up - seeing their blue upper parts and red face that you can't normally see when they flit above you. We stopped for a short walk at Wrenbury, buying a Gordon Miles aquatint print of Bunbury rather than a library of books, and then made the final stretch to Barbridge in good time. We lost a windlass in the deep water at the top of Hurleston (an unfortunate bounce on the towpath) and promised ourselves to buy a magnet for future trips... We arrived in Barbridge before 4pm and after a quick refreshment stop to the Barbridge Inn, we bought some new bitumen paint. I painted the starboard side rubbing strake and other areas that had suffered impact whilst Barry completed the top coat of the stern. The latter will have to be touched up once the insects have been sanded off, but we were well pleased with our work. Our reward was a meal at the Barbridge Inn which didn't even begin to compare with that at Jack Myttons... Wednesday was bright and sunny once more as we took the boat back to its moorings via the turning point - Barry impressed me by turning the boat without using the reverse gear once: the advantage of being only 36 feet long (the boat, not me). We shut off gas, water and electricity and locked the windows and doors. We bade farewell to our home for the last seven days and after seeing Barry off onto his train back to Cardiff, I returned home refreshed and filled with good memories of our holiday. We can't wait to get back to our boat - next trips: Caldon canal and then the trip home to Apperley Bridge via the Macclesfield and Peak Forest. Here ends my pleasant memories - I hope you've enjoyed them! Mark & Catherine P.S. If anyone finds our windlass (flaky blue paint one outside the amenity block at the top of Hurleston) or our chimney (outside corner of the downstream end of the stretch with the Barn Shop on it - I think around bridge 42 or so without my Nicholsons to correct me) then please let us know!