Post 18 - Harecastle tunnel

Having made our slow meandering way along the Trent and Mersey canal through Stoke we came to the 2926 yards long Harecastle tunnel, built to transport coal to the pottery kilns. This is the last of three that used to exist, built by Telford and now only allowing one way traffic at a time for safety. So, each end of the tunnel is looked after by a tunnel keeper to whom one introduces oneself upon arrival. The keeper gives clear instructions for safe use of the tunnel and what to do in an emergency.

We had to wait as three boats were coming through from the north end so to fill our time in a useful manner we filled up the water tank using the tap on the right side of the entrance. 

As there are no air shafts in the tunnel, the entrance at the south end is closed and a fan is turned on to extract the fumes from the engine's exhausts after the boats have begun there voyage through the dark. There is a quarter circle hanging over the right hand side of the entrance held by the three chains you can see in the picture. If your boat and all that is on the roof can pass under this without touching it you will be able to pass safely through the tunnel.

South tunnel entrance with 3 chains without the quarter circle to check boats height. Pic from bing.com

Post 17 - Stone to Stoke

Leaving Stone on a pleasantly warm morning we left rising gently through Meaford's four locks. We hadn't worked any locks for a few days as we had been moored. When we had it just highlights the difference between living on land and living on water. Having found a mooring I realised it would be a while till we could get water and diesel again, so I decided to do this whilst in Stone. The water point and the chandlery were two locks behind us. So we sailed up the canal to a winding hole and turned around.

To return to our mooring it would mean then going down Stone's four locks turning at the bottom lock, getting water and diesel and back through the same four locks. This little plaque was situated between the first and second lock, which I photographed whilst waiting to go through. It has a very dreadful story of the death of Christina Collins who was murdered on the canal.

Altogether a two mile round trip. We got back to our mooring just under four hours later and ready for lunch. Don't get me wrong it was enjoyable and the day was lovely but it shows that nothing is fast on the cut. I keep thinking how hard the canal folk of old must have worked to make a living on their narrowboats! It couldn't have been an easy life.

We moored overnight at Etruria just after the entrance to the Caldon canal passing by a very cheerful family having a party at the end of their garden by the waterside. There is a pub near the mooring called the Holy Inadequate. What a lovely name for a hostelry I thought so we decided to have a walk to it. Needless to say my sense of direction was awry and I set us off in the wrong direction. Nice pub though and a good range of ales.

The next morning we travelled through the potteries area on a windy day and a forbidding sky heralding rain to come. It is a really winding and at times difficult piece of canal to sail. Blind bends and channels in part narrowed by vegetation or other moored boats didn't make it my favourite stretch. At one bridge that I couldn't see oncoming boats I gave the horn two long loud blasts. just as I went through another boat was nearly upon me. Fortunately we both stopped and passed safely. The chap said he hadn't heard the horn. You really do have to keep your wits about you and be ready for the unexpected especially on difficult stretches of the canal.

I met a volunteer on part of the canal and he said the route was so meandering because various companies paid a share in the creation of the canal  and thus each expected it to pass their works and take their goods for distribution.

Post 16 - A poor sense of direction

As I sit and write this current post Marian and I have decided to moor for the day. We arrived in Nantwich yesterday in the rain in the afternoon but the weather is worse today. Outside the wind is whooshing through the trees and they are bending and flailing their leaves and branches as if in an autumn gale. The rain hasn't stopped and runs between drizzling to hard, hammering with persistence its presence on the top of the boat. As if there wasn't enough water she has gone swimming at the local pool. I did suggest the canal as it was cheaper but it only raised a disdainful look.

Before leaving Stone we decided to go for a walk as we often do. One of the things that we agreed when buying a boat was that not only was it a gentle way of life, generally, but we could use the lifestyle to explore the land we live in. Much of which we are  ignorant of. Finding footpaths and visiting villages and towns to discover something about our country is something that gives us great pleasure. It also enables us to get some physical exercise on a regular basis.

I looked on line to see if there were any suggestions for walks locally and found this little map. There was a three mile walk suggested and it meant us just walking to Meaford locks and turning right.

My sense of direction has never been very good and there are four locks. The map doesn't say which lock we turn off so I assumed it was the last one. Needless to say it wasn't and not being able to find the turning we carried on up the towpath. The short story was that we ended up walking a further five miles before we came to the original path we were initially searching for.

The journey round the fields and outskirts was delightful but Marian did mention my poor navigational skills again. Three miles became eight and when we arrived back in the town centre in the mid afternoon we were a trifle weary. Now the day before Exeter Chiefs had won the rugby premiership title and I thought I would get a paper to read and relish the team we support's victory. Not one shop had a paper that we could get to read about them. Stone must have some avid newspaper readers living there!

But what an outstanding performance from the team who only arrived in the premiership seven years ago. We were there at Bristol watching them when they beat Bristol to gain status in the top flight and although we couldn't be at Twickenham this time to see how far they've ascended we listened on the radio. I was peeling some vegetables for dinner and showed my shaking hands to Marian when the match was in extra time . Crazy that I was so anxious and caught up in the sporting moment. But sport can get you like that!

Post 15 - Tragedy in Stone

Sailing in the spring and summer is so different from the winter months as so many more boats are on the Cut. So timing in finding a mooring can be everything if you're not spending the night in a little used secluded spot. Entering Stone - a pleasant little town in Cheshire - we decided on stopping just before the locks which take you through the town. But being on the cusp of June there was no place for us to moor. So we were forced to continue blindly on hoping we'd find a place for a few days.

We went up through the first lock which is outside the Star Inn and as it was a very sunny day, there was a good audience watching. No mooring in front of us in the pound so through the second lock. We saw a possible mooring in a nice position but when Marian asked it was permit holder only. Continuing onwards past Joules' brewery with some of the workers taking a break on the balcony overlooking the canal to the third lock.

Rising up through the lock, both of us tired I decided that we would spend the night in the short pound before the last lock. The last thing we wanted was to go up it and then find nowhere to moor. We moored the boat on pins. I really don't like them because you have to hammer them in the ground and hope that they are not pulled out by passing boats. No matter that everybody knows that one should pass moored boats at a slow speed but too many don't!

When I was sitting in the boat moored last autumn at Leighton Buzzard two boats went by together too fast. The first pulled my pin out at the bow causing me to run out and grab the rope and the second boat's skipper said I ought to get longer pins passing by at the same speed. Now that's irony. I think it is one of the few things that has become a plague on the Cut and has the propensity to irritate people more than anything else, sadly.

However we moored about a hundred yards from the lock in front of us and could see two men fishing to the right of the lock as we looked at it. We locked up and went for a wander around the town and called for a pint at the Swan Inn. A great real ale pub and then returned home to cook dinner. In the morning I said to Marian how well we'd slept not waking once.

As it was about 8'o'clock and before I ate breakfast I decided to walk up over the last lock and see if there was a mooring, passing a fisherman on the bank. He asked me if I'd heard all the commotion with the police and ambulances that morning. I was really shocked to hear that one of the fishermen had fell in the canal and drowned in the night. He had been drinking and I heard a few days later that the poor chap Ricky. who was only 30, was believed to have fell asleep and rolled in the water. To think I was within a few yards from him but knowing nothing disturbed me for a good few days. Such a terrible tragedy for him and his family.

Post 14 - Moving on to Rugeley

As we travelled up the Trent and Mersey to Rugeley the weather was ideal for sailing at a sedate pace. The baby birds all in evidence. We saw Canada Geese chicks for the first time. One pair had twenty and another two. Talk about being productive!

Rugeley was a very busy mooring destination for boaters and entering the town via canal it was boat to boat on the towpath. I was a little bit concerned about meeting a boat coming the other way with the channel so narrow and at some points little room to pass. Lady luck smiled upon us and we managed to find a mooring for a few days there.

The only thing about our position was that the bank had deteriorated and deposited its gravel into the canal. Every time a boat went past the base plate ground on them making uncomfortable noises. I couldn't stand it and after a couple of nights we carried on.

Rugeley was pleasant enough. I'm not a great fan regarding the behaviour of supermarkets in relation to the way they treat farmers and other producers; let alone building stores in areas that don't want them and then seeing little established businesses unable to compete and disappearing from the High Street. But what struck me about the Rugeley store was its concourse from the canal. It is charming and seems to exude a peacefulness that relates to its waterside neighbour.

I was struck by it not only because it was a nice space to come on to but that it wasn't built on.
After attending the very nice church on Sunday we set off again towards Stone. Just as we were mooring up opposite Shugborough Hall, Great Haywood, we met the priest from the morning service with some parishioners on a sponsored walk. So we donated a tenner for their efforts and pot for good measure.

The mooring  was very pleasant and we stayed till Tuesday morning so we could do some walking and visit the Hall's grounds. Six miles in lovely sunshine and back for 2 p.m. to have some lunch.

Sandiacre church from the cut

A lovely view

A pool of dead trees a mile from Willington

What's in the water???

A novel piece of art in Burton town centrre

A Malt shovel and a pint

Post 13 - Moving on in every sense

The day after Sandra's funeral we sailed to Trent Lock for the night, to empty the loo and fill up with water. We were absolutely jiggered when we got there. I think everything caught up with us. I know we had to be extra vigilant as Marian was preoccupied, obviously, but locks are dangerous places if one doesn't keep one's focus.

When we began life on the cut we quickly decided to moor on a Friday and not sail again till the following Monday. The months between April and October see a huge increase of boats on the water but the weekends bring out the occasional boaters. It is just too busy so we find it more peaceful being moored. Plus of course it allows us to catch up with little jobs.

But we had to break our golden rule and sail on the Saturday as we had arranged to meet some people for a meal on the Sunday evening. It was bad enough sailing on the Saturday but it was the Bank Holiday weekend. Everywhere was so busy. Most of the locks we had to queue at and Willington was full of boats, we were fortunate to moor there. One local asked me if there was a regatta as he'd never seen so many boats.

We sailed on the Tuesday to Shobnall which is a mile from the town centre of Burton on Trent and moored there for a while. Marian went back to Somerset to see the children and meet some old friends for a meal and just do something different after all the months of pain and distress. I stayed with the boat to get a few things done. I visited the Marina there and asked if they could look at an issue I had with a little leaking diesel.

Shobnall mooring. A boat turning in a winding hole in front. Under the bridge to the right is the Marina and Marston Pedigree's museum

Steve who owns the Marina came a couple of days later to look at the issue and gave me a price which was extremely fair. The job not only took a bit longer than expected but he also identified a couple of things that given time would need swift attention. So he kindly fixed those and wouldn't take a penny more than his original quote, even though I offered more. Honesty, kindness and integrity are values still practised by some. I cannot recommend Shobnall Marina highly enough. Their work is excellent.

It's 25 years since we last visited Burton and the changes to the town centre are obvious and very well done. What surprised me, however, was the loss of so many pubs in the heart of the brewing industry. Now that is a real sign of the times. Sadly as many of us know a pub is more than a place to have a drink, it is a place where come together as a community and establish friendships. For some of the elderly it is perhaps one of the few places they can go and have some human contact. The demise of the English pub can only encourage further isolation in neighbourhoods. A community is not a community if everyone lives in isolation to others and is either not aware of others' needs or doesn't want to be involved.

Moored at Langley Mill basin. Sadly again for reasons RIP

The first baby Coot's we have ever seen

Part 12 - The reality of how brief our lives can be

Marian's twin sister Dee was found to have cancer in late October 2016 and was awaiting an appointment to discuss her results with an oncologist. Two days before she was due to meet him she took ill and was rushed to hospital as she had fluid round the heart, slowly squeezing it and which would have killed her if left unchecked.

We were over at Leighton Buzzard at the time, so Marian got a train to be at her bedside. The next four weeks were awful and we prayed that she might recover but things just kept getting worse. It was dreadful and we made effort to move and be at her side in the Derby hospital.

We got the boat to Weedon and I moored there whilst Marian went to spend time with her. Sadly she was able to be at her side when she died. Dee didn't die alone. A terrible time is always had when you lose someone you love, but this was her twin and I can't describe or truly understand the close bond they felt and shared. I'd known them both for 38 years. Marian was truly lost in her grief and although the immediacy of Dee's death was hard to both of us, it was magnified many times more for Marian.

We had tired to reach the Erewash canal as Dee lived 4 miles from Ilkeston but only managed Loughborough. We sailed 55 miles and encountered 36 locks in four and a half days to try and reach there, sailing as dawn rose and until the night closed but the strong winds over the Trent thwarted us from going further. The physical aspect of this helped to focus our minds away a little from the raw grief.

Dee was head of pastoral care at a school in the town and two former pupils said of how she had helped them when they had been feeling suicidal. She did much with her life to help others. It still doesn't seem real.

Dee's funeral was on the 29th December and the church was full.

Worse was to come when our sister in law Sandra, who lived in the same village announced her cancer had returned. just before the funeral. Sandra became ill quickly and like Dee never seemed to get over one thing before another developed. For us as well as the family's involved it was difficult to grieve for Dee when at the same time there were such worries for another young woman.

Sandra's funeral was on the 27th April and again the church was full. She too was a lovely woman and we had known her almost as long as we've been together.

Dee was just 59 and Sandra was but 54. Taken to early.  RIP

But a mention for the CRT officer whose area the Erewash is. Stuart was most supportive and helped us enormously by allowing us to stay on the stretch of water much longer than we'd originally intended. It was an act of kindness well received.

The tranquility of the evening.

Oddly the boat on the right was called tranquility!!

The colours of dusk

A glorious sunset after leaving Warwick

The first black swan I have seen

Part 11 - Nature on the Cut

One of the sights Marian was most looking forward to seeing in the avian world was the Kingfisher; So was I to be honest. I'd only ever seen one in my life and that was at a distance whilst sailing along the river from the Cumberland basin in Bristol on the way to Hanham.

Our first few weeks went without a sighting but Marian got more enthusiastic about the possibility of spying the speedy little fisherman after a chat with some boaters at Foxton. They said that there were many to be sighted on the Market Harborough arm. Our first sighting proved to be on that arm. Sailing to the delightful town we saw a blue flash thirty yards away leaving us feeling eager for a closer view, but sharing some disappointment at the stern of our boat because IT wasn't closer.

A few minutes later we saw it flying back towards us and perch on a wooden construction on the bank. As we neared it, we expected it to take flight but it remained unintimidated and perched looking directly at us. Head height and six feet from the boat we passed it and just stood in awe observing the beautiful iridescent hue of its plumage. A magical moment.

We've seen a few since then, one landing opposite us on a blackberry tendril at Marsworth. I didn't see the tendril move as it perched which leads me to wonder as to how much they weigh.. I can't count the amount of times since Marian has said "did you see that kingfisher?" Of course I haven't, I always seem to be looking at something else.

Sailing along the river at Leicester towards Castle Gardens and the city moorings are always dozens of swans. For some reason they have a habit of spreading their wings and flying a few hundred yards slapping their feet on the surface of the water. Not just in Leicester, I hasten to add. Three were doing this and approaching my bow when they must have realised they were too close. Lifting off in unison they flew over me no more than eight feet above my head. The sound of their wings and the downdraft from their flight was exhilarating. Natures own Red Arrows I thought.

I've seen large rats under bridges, a squirrel swimming in a lock and squirrels running over locks, a swan in its own nest, dragonflies with their colourful diaphanous wings. A field of buffalo, Llamas, buzzards, Red Kites over the Aylesbury arm, two muntjac deer a few miles from Minworth locks.

We saw a male and female Bullfinch for the first time. We now know that mallard ducks have a summer and winter plumage. A black swan was spotted near Burton, the first I've seen in my life. So much to see on the canals, a truly vibrant natural habitat.

Part 10 - Sailing along the Soar

It was a beautiful morning as we rose from our slumber and looked forward to the day ahead; Little realising what a long day it would turn out be. The sky was clear, the sun's warming rays lifting our spirits and whilst we enjoyed breakfast we filled the boat up with water. For now it was farewell to the Erewash canal and first stop Sawley marina to fill our diesel tank. So down the lock and onto the Trent turning right to go through Sawley locks, fill up, turn the boat around near the weir and back again to enter onto the Soar. that was the better part of ninety minutes plus.

Meandering along new waters we enjoyed the views, sailing past the huge cooling towers at Ratcliffe on Soar. I always thought they look rather spectacular. We joined another boat and family for a few locks before stopping for a bite to eat after Kegworth deep lock. It seemed cavernous but oddly enough Pearson' canal guide says that it 7'9" deep. I thought at the time it was twice that depth. We could only open one set of paddles to fill it as it was too violent to do anything else. The central rope was tied round some safety cables in the lock and I had to keep the boat stationary by holding it in forward gear. I still can't believe it's less than eight feet.

But as all things canal there is no rush and the afternoon was drawing on. Some of the locks took longer as we waited for other boaters to pass through and we both said we would find a place to moor for the night, Easier said than done. Plenty of space along the river but every time we tried we were unable to moor due to the shallowness of the banks. On we went and then it was all reeds and we'd been sailing for about eight hours now.

So another lesson was about to be learned. Be even more vigilant if you're weary. Our last lock was Zouch lock and we were hoping that as it was nearly seven in the evening there might be space outside the Rose and Crown at Zouch which has its own moorings. I helped Marian with the lock and as she went to open a gate I walked back down the gunwale opposite to her to steer. Unfortunately I forgot in my tired state that I'd put a rubber fender on the gunwale. Suddenly I found my footing gone and I'm still not sure how I managed to throw my right hand onto the grab rail falling like sack of spuds.

Holding on half in and half out of the water a voice carried over from the other side "Pedro where are you?" I pulled my feet on to the gunwale, hauled myself back on the boat and said feebly "I fell in." Marian who says she loves me burst out laughing. I said that it was a near death experience and she should be more sympathetic which rather than stemming her mirth only served to increase it. To compound my slip I had to sail past a line of moored boats dripping from my waist down trying to look as if this style was normal saying hello to fellow boaters enjoying their summer evening.

We were fortunate to find a place for our seventy feet boat outside the pub. The very pleasant landlady was happy for us to stay there for a couple of nights but did say she kept the space clear for diners as they liked to look out at the view. Well their last diner had left and we were moored. Tired but moored. Oh and wet!

Part 9 - Leaving the Erewash and reflections

Our time for now on the Erewash was coming to its close and we needed to begin exploring other parts of the network. We returned to moor for a few days at Trent Lock and one of our daughters, her husband and our lovely granddaughter stayed with us over the weekend that we moored there. Jake sorted out my problems with the horn and front light, he's a good electrician and when we readied to leave after the weekend we were all set for tunnels and troubles if encountered. The weather remained idyllic, blue skies, a pleasant temperature and a very peaceful spot.

To be honest we needed the peace was because Marian and I were both feeling a bit stressed after clearing out our five bedroomed, three reception roomed home for the previous three months before sailing onwards. How does one collect that much? It was such a mammoth task and we had to be utterly ruthless in what we were keeping and throwing away. I remember we had completed one room but feeling no further forward. I insisted on taking some items to the local tip as I needed to see some space. I failed, more items appeared out of cupboards and drawers.

It was really difficult and Marian who took the lead role in the clearance was brilliant. The last month was manic with getting items ready for storage, innumerable visits to take things to the charity shop and the refuse site. Then organising storage and I was so very grateful to my friend Andrew who helped me when I needed it most.

You realise that one doesn't need all that clutter and extras to live and certainly not on a boat with limited space. It is looking back emancipating;  having what you need to live and not having things which seemed like a great purchase at the time but was rarely used after it was removed from its packaging. Which reminds me I still haven't found my olive stone removing tool!

A week or so before we were to set off, I realised we had to get the things we needed to the boat. that's how I knew it was stressful. How on earth could we forget? So it took five or six journeys of  three hundred mile round trips to bring all the items from Somerset to Shardlow where the boat was waiting.

Yes indeed, the peace and tranquillity was much appreciated. Our intention was to sail back along the Trent and Mersey canal and visit some friends and family along the way, but a lock was out of commission for a week at Shardlow so when the sun was up on Monday we were ready to cross that wide confluence and sail onto the river Soar and beyond.

Part 8 - Lowering of the pound

Having safely avoided the madness of Stenson lock we managed to find a mooring near Millership way, a stone's throw from Tesco and Dunelm. That of course depends on how big the stone is and how strong ones arm is, but I digress!, Actually maybe one might need a catapult!! But looking at it in more detail we were moored a trebuchet's distance away. That's cleared that up.

It gave us the opportunity to get some supplies from both shops without having to walk and carry goods over a long distance. In the late afternoon another boat moored in front of us in the direction of Langley Mill, the first boat we'd seen moving all day apart from ourselves. I mention this not because it is particularly exciting or dramatic but we realised in the morning he knew something we did not.

Although I think the Erewash is a lovely canal there isn't a great deal of activity and I can't help wonderingwhere people would moor if there was a lot more boats along the stretch? We found many a place looking possible but getting to the bank was nigh impossible because of silt or concrete ledges to high to allow the hull to move close.

Equally we met a couple who said that they were frequent walkers along the canal and we were the first boat they had ever seen going through a lock in two years. Surprising really.

Well, we slept and decided that morning to get up early and shop at nine because some of Marian's family who live close by wanted to sail to the Gallow's Inn after meeting us at the bridge in front of us. The bridge that if climbed and you walk past Argos and Halfords etc takes you to the Dewdrop Inn. Great local and really well kept ales. Always about six to choose from.

When we left the boat all was well but returning an hour later we both remarked that there was a significant list towards the canal from the bank. It looked to my mind, trying to make sense of it, that something had sailed by really fast. I couldn't make sense of it.

But at 7.15 before we'd left for the shops the other boat started up his engine and left. Now I thought at the time that it was early to be on the move but clearly he knew that work was being undertaken by the Canal and River Trust. A pound in canal terms is the stretch between locks. Unbeknown to us the workers had started draining the water in which we were moored.

We got up to the bridge to meet the family but couldn't tie up there either and now the draining of the pound was obvious. Marian rang the family and asked them to meet us at Potter's lock and we sailed towards it. Round a bend and there were the workers who were as surprised to see us as we were them. They told us to go through the lock and asking if there any other boats following me. No was the answer.

Another chap was at the lock to make sure no one entered and he was quite understanding and helped us out and down into the next pound. As we left, there were two boats waiting and one of the boaters asked how I'd got through seeing as they couldn't go through till the next day. I mischievously said I had a special pass. But seeing the look on his face I told him the truth. We didn't know they were draining the pound. But one thinks they might have checked the stretch first and before our boat began to keel over.

It's definitely not always quiet on the Cut!

Part 7 - Criminal activity on the Cut

Having left Langley Mill basin we began to wend our way back towards Ilkeston Arriving at Stenson lock at Cotmanhay we were greeted to a most surreal sight. Marian had opened the gate and I was slowly entering the lock when at least twelve to fifteen men appeared from our left in a state of agitation, ran over the bridge in front of us and the lock gates.

I don't think one had to be a genius to recognise nefarious activity occurring. They all shot off in to the bushes across the towpath. One came back clambering over the lock gate behind me with his bike. I'm not sure he would have taken any time to reflect the divine intervention that prevented him from falling in when he tripped. My heart was in my mouth.

Their activity was feverish reminding me of ants excited at having found some crumbs on the floor. Well just as most had disappeared into the bushes two others, clearly the ones they wished to find and dressed in smart attire, ran over the bridge and up the towpath. Then back out of the bushes they came gesticulating, shouting some on foot some on bikes. Honestly it seemed all quite mad.

 A couple of minutes later two policemen walked over the bridge, asking us if we'd seen these two men and pointing out the direction they went the policemen thanked us and followed them at a leisurely pace. When I say leisurely I would have overtaken them on the boat. If I was going in their direction of course!

They say crime doesn't pay but I'm not sure the pair whom they were looking for were going to have to cash out that day! Now who says it is quiet on the canals?

Part 6 - The Langley Mill jewel

And leaving Ilkeston after nine or ten days we sailed gracefully to Langley Mill. Doesn't that sound grand?! The weather remained warm and pleasant for us but the biggest problem we faced was the plethora of weeds the nearer we approached Langley Mill basin. A couple of times I had to put the propeller into reverse to clear it of unwanted flora, before making our slow and gentle way forward.

Today was another example of learning. Not that it ever stops in life or on a boat! The lesson was always keep your concentration when using the locks. As we came to our last lock which leads into the basin, a grandfather with his grandson wanted to chat about life on the canals. I had the boat on the central rope to keep it stable whilst the water and boat rose. Only I was distracted with joy at the fact they wanted to share their interest. But when the boat was in a position to leave the lock it was tilted starboard side and the central rope was as tight as a drum. I forgot in chatting to the gongoozlers to slacken the rope. Attempting to look like a consummate boater I signalled to Marian as discretely as I could to open the paddles again on the back gates so I could get the rope untied.

Thus loosened we filled the lock again and managed to wind (Pronounced wind as in the wind in the trees, not wind like a watch) and moor in a very tight area for a full length boat. I kept them talking hoping that my error was invisible. If they missed it Marian didn't.

But it's about learning new skills.  The constant lesson over the previous weeks was balance when the boat moved and not bang you knees or toes into something hard and unforgiving,  like steel or wood. Oh the bruises on my body were like a mosaic. A knee banged, bruised. A toe caught and left painful, and the head cracked against the bulkhead and left with a lump. I began to learn but my spatial awareness seemed to be slower than I would have wished.

There didn't seem to be much in Langley Mill but as we looked around, only a few hundred yards from the basin was a coffee shop/deli. What an oasis in a place which we didn't expect (not disparaging the town). Lovely coffee, lovely food to eat in or takeaway and the staff chatty in a manner that one doesn't see in many pubs these days. If you're in the area pay them a visit, it's worth it.

Part 5 - Noises and biting in the dark

I remember in 1981 when Marian and I bought our first house, a little terraced house in a Derbyshire village. We were happy and excited but it never occurred to me that whilst living at my parent's home I had to worry about house things. Now we were responsible for the home and I'd get up to check the gas thinking it might be on, check the doors were locked, again, and hear every creak of the floorboards. Had someone got in? Oh the joys of nervousness and adulthood.

It was a bit like that starting out life on the boat. Sudden awareness of sounds not usual to our ears. So early in the morning, darkness wrapping its arms still around the canal, came this tapping-banging noise. That got me awake. I worried in case someone was on the boat. The tapping moved along the hull and I quickly grabbed my dressing gown and approached the galley. Light on and nothing out of place. It was definitely outside.

Grabbing a torch I opened a side window and there were a pair of swans tapping for food. I shooed them off, unsuccessfully, but did have words with them over the next couple of days when I saw them. Marian looked at me with a sad expression. After 38 years I knew that look. It was he's a little bit bonkers look.

Now I can't offer scientific evidence that shows the swans and I understood each other but they only did it twice more. Marian said it was because we hadn't fed them. But I knew she just wanted to keep me grounded.

Whilst we moored at the Gallows Inn area another boat moored for a day or two. We were sitting in the bow on a warm summer evening enjoying a glass of wine. The other owner, a friendly chap came over to chat. I soon started to scratch and realised that I had become attractive to a band of merciless mosquitoes which were happily helping themselves to my blood without permission.

The conversation was curtailed and we bid him goodnight to scratch and put some fluid on to reduce the itching. But the wretched insects were on board the boat. We were paranoid for a few days and nights particularly when you could hear them flying past your ears. For three consecutive mornings we awoke and Marian said "there's one," pointing to the panelling on her side of the bed. I had my slipper in hand and whacked it. Perfect shot. Only to find age plays cruel tricks on this poor soul.

The vision is not as acute these days and when I found and put on my spectacles it emerged from being a squashed insect to a mere blemish on the wood. On the third morning we decided that this blemish didn't need to highlighted again in conversation.

Interestingly after those few days word had got around in the mosquito community that they were not invited and we weren't visited again in 2016.

Part 4 - Still on the Learning curve

I didn't expect to feel trepidation or a sense of anxiety when we decided to take the leap of faith, but I did. We had sailed on hire boats but there was never the need to worry about one of the vital components of the boat. That is the engine. It was someone else's, namely, the hire company.

Now it was mine and I knew nothing about engines but I realised I would have to do something about my ignorance. The engine provides propulsion but also importantly it charges up ones batteries for much needed electricity. Plus they need servicing on a regular basis if you want to preserve their life span and reduce wear and tear.

I was looking on line in relation to boat maintenance before we set off and came across a weekend course run by the RCR (river canal rescue). so I booked to attend it in mid July 2016. £120 and was it worth it. Most certainly. It was the best £120 I've spent in many a day. The course is some talk and then practical. Why was it worth it? Well I moved from total ignorance of engine maintenance to partial ignorance.

I came out with knowledge, intellectual and practical. for servicing the engine. for knowing things to look out for and when issues were arising. Brilliant!

Later on our journey we met a lovely couple who had started out on their time living on the canal. In conversation Andrew said that him and his wife had had their new boat serviced professionally before they embarked on their venture. The cost £300. My cost £120 for the course. £80 for the oil and filters. Total cost £100 less than they had paid. And I've saved money ever since and look after the longevity of my best friend- apart from Marian- Beta Marine 50.

Don't get me wrong I was anxious the first time I serviced the engine and in truth the second time (another story) but I am more competent now and grateful to Jay and Trevor at the RCR who guided me and instructed me on boat engine maintenance.

tbc

Near Tesco Ilkeston

Trent Lock and ready to go.

Part 3 Providence and Harmony at Trent Lock

The sun rose slowly over the Cut and we climbed slowly from our bed to the breakfast table. The lithe supple bodies have gradually diminished and become a series of minor groans related to the knees or back. We were nearer to breaking our fast but no nearer to resolving our difficulty to get a key that would operate the lock. We noticed movement through our window on the starboard side. It was a boat reversing from a dry dock sited on the opposite bank.

Named Harmony, which didn't reflect the feeling we were sharing the owner then moved the boat in front of ours to moor and to take on water. The perfect time for me to discard some unwanted items in the boat, deposit it in the waste bins provided for boaters and talk to the other boats skipper. You never know he might be able to offer me a useful suggestion.

Climbing out from the cratch (the canopy over the bow) I learnt another thing. The skipper was topping up his diesel tank from a jerry can. Brilliant I thought because one wouldn't wish to run short particularly in the winter and encounter all the problems with bleeding the fuel feed for the engine. So Halfords in Ilkeston was paid a visit a few days later when we reached it.

Chatting with Harmony's owner he said that we wouldn't be able to go along the canal without what is euphemistically called a handcuff key. But then he said he had a spare which cost him £5 and he would be happy to help us by selling it back at the same price. The first of many random pieces of kindness, providence or good fortune.

We were able now to sail along the Erewash and Harmony had restored our harmony. A reminder to all of us that help freely given can be found at the most unlikely times and places and there is more goodness than we think.

It was our first time on this stretch of canal and I think it is lovely. A mix of the rural and urban, friendly people on the towpath and a mother in law waiting for our arrival in Ilkeston.

Part 2 The Erewash canal

Learning quickly that boat life needs a different approach

Now we are below the first lock waiting to enter the Erewash proper at Trent Lock and we have another problem. Marian seems to be taking ages to empty the lock chamber and when I ask why she says that she can't turn the windlass because there is a lock on the gate paddle.

Now we'd been on hire boats over the years so weren't complete novices, in fact spent a fortnight on one in April 2016 on the Llangollen. But some things were new, such as licencing the boat, insurance etc.

Part of me thinks that if you buy a licence for the first time from the Canal and River Trust they might send you an email with helpful reminders. I did get one but it was mainly about how they monitor your sailing and whether they deem you to be in breach of the continuous cruising licence and how they will respond. Welcome indeed to the cut.

One thing they might have told us was the need for a type of key if we came across this type of anti vandal lock. Well we were now both wondering what on earth we were going to do to get through the lock when good fortune once again favoured us. A boat was approaching the lock (the only movement we saw that day)  and they explained the need for a key and helped us by coming down then waiting for us to rise and replace the locking device before they continued on their cruise. We were very grateful but as soon as we were moored I realised that now we had another problem. We would need a key to continue along the canal. We were stuck!

Where did you find them? How would we get one? Nothing for it but have a pint and see what morning brought.

THE ORGANIC ASHTRAY

Making use of available materials!!

Part 1 STARTING OUT

                                      

                                                  Independence day 2016 

The day began with the knowledge that the domestic battery alternator was not charging the batteries, and we needed to leave the marina our new home was moored in. The RCR (incidentally a truly great company)  they came to the boat but said they couldn't look into the cause as their service was not domestic related. But a fellow boater who was having a few problems himself suggested the man helping him maybe able to assist us.

To be honest we were desperate to sail and the whole scenario was looking like we scuppered before untying the mooring ropes. The RCR mechanic got someone to help but it wasn't going to be for a week. However Gary came across from the other boat, looked at our problem, diagnosed the fault and with the aid of an electrical spare corrected it. With enormous relief and the batteries charging we set forth from Shardlow and on to the rather wide current of the mighty Trent river.

Our Leap of Faith had begun with just one of many random acts of kindness we have so far encountered. It wasn't to be long before the next one. Now how is that for creating suspense?

Sailing over the river it was a short trip to the Erewash canal. Easy enough but then the turn onto the canal is made more difficult because as you turn it is at a 45 degree angle behind you and the current wants to push the boat away. We made this big turn and realising much to my wife's horror that greater power was required, I revved the engine up and aimed for the canal bank. Marian waved madly for me to slow down convinced that I was not only now running at ramming speed but I was most definitely going to ram the concrete bank. Boat half in sedate canal waters, wide arc on the tiller, hard reverse and who would have thought any panic was registered in the bow section.

tbc

Another beautiful start to the day.

Waking up at Yardley Gobion summer 2016