Lupin Returns

28 January 2004

 

Lupin is a Josher motor, powered by a JP2 engine, built in 1914, seventy feet long, and often full of coal. With her boatman's cabin and 'engine 'ole' and a long open hold for cargo carrying, she is an eye-catcher, especially amongst the canal boat aficionados.

 

Consequently, her current owner, Dave Wright, decided she was worthy of display at The London Boat Show held recently in Docklands at the Excel Centre.

With the show over, Dave phoned me yesterday to see if I could give him a hand to return Lupin to her domicile at Springwell on The Grand Union. I enthusiastically agreed. Lupin had currently got back as far as Bull's Bridge, outside Mr Jack Cohen's Shopping Emporium, so it was to there that Dave and I made our way, having met at Springwell where I left my car for getting home later. Ah! The car shuffling game! We've all done it--admittedly though--this one was a doddle. 

   Dave unlocking "Lupin" at Bulls Bridge

 

Bearing in mind that the weather forecasters had promised doom and gloom for the last week re today's conditions, it was fairly pleasant, with bright sunny intervals interspersed with occasional cloud. The wind was biting though as Dave wound the JP2 up in a frenzy whilst I, in disbelief, turned over various compression levers on Dave's commands, convinced that she hadn't 'caught.'  Dave of course knew better and sure enough the huge flywheel continued to turn laconically until he turned the speed rod whereupon the rhythmic beat picked up instantly and declared to all who were prepared to listen that Lupin was getting under way. Before that, however, the range had to be lit and the kettle had to be boiled! A few minutes of chopping reduced a lump of wood to kindling and whilst I filled various containers with water from the adjacent tap, Dave got the range going, the smoke from the chimney stark evidence of the fire below.

 

We moved off, yours truly at the helm. The first thing I noticed was this was a powerful beast! With the revs set barely above tickover we were flying!  Given this heaven-sent opportunity, Dave got on with all the 'little jobs' he'd been meaning to do--blackleading the range, installing a couple of lights, giving the engine 'ole and indeed engine itself a thorough wash down as we made our way past Stockley Park and the wonderful environs of West Drayton and Horton (sic!) Still the weather held  and a giant welcome mug of tea emerged on to the counter where I gratefully lined the inner man. Dave joined me on the counter to demonstrate a little wrinkle when passing through a bridge hole where there's a likliehood of rubbish beneath. Winding up the speed just prior to making the gap, speed is dramatically taken off as the bows pass under the bridge, the resultant surge of water, if one times it correctly, lifts the stern as it passes under, thereby giving the 3ft-3ft 9" of draught a clear passage! This is something that only comes with practice but when it's carried out to perfection, it's very satisfying.

 

At Cowley we'd mentally prepared ourselves for a big breakfast at Shirley's little snack bar/cafe situated within the cluster of canal buildings there. As Robertson Hare (look it up) was wont to say, "Oh Calamity!" an apologetic note from Shirley in the window declared that she'd be shut until 30th January!  So, we carried on until the Horse and Barge at Widewater, visions of Director's Bitter for me and a non-alcoholic drink for Dave, currently on the wagon. We tied up after a boater kindly pulled back six feet or so to accomodate our 70 foot length. In the pub, the Directors was off (Time for Robertson Hare) and so was the other real ale! (Robertson Hare on overtime!) Dave fared little better as he asked for a non-alcoholic beer and had to settle for a fizzy orange instead! A lone gongoozler watched us through Widewater as the temperature dropped and the wind increased. 

  Dave and Barry opposite Harefield Marina

Another brief lull in the conditions gave a sense of false security because, above Coppermill, with H.N.A. hq. just fading astern the promised blizzard conditions suddenly arrived!  What had been an onset of stinging rain, in the blink of an eye became thick driven snow. Within thirty seconds I had a two-inch thick layer down my (ahem) manly chest and it was impossible to see ahead! I started to worry that I might run into something as a surreal row of lights appeared across the canal--it turned out to be a warning of scaffolding below the pipe bridge delivering its nauseous cargo to the sewage works known locally as the 'stink 'ole.'

 

 

Luckily, we had arrived at our destination and Dave made the happy discovery that he only had one mooring spike and the length of scaffolding pole he'd intended to moor to had disappeared! The day was saved by utilising an old mop he found in the hold (not easy with only a small torch and major blizzard conditions.)  I was able to knock the mop handle into the ground to an astonishing level and no time was lost in tying up and closing down Lupin. As we struggled along the towpath to Springwell Lock car park we felt like extras from 'Nanook of the North.'

                  

Making the sanctuary of my car, we moved out onto the Rickmansworth Road to join the other wretched souls trying to get home -- but that's another story!