Monday 3 January 2005

A soft puttering betrayed the fact that Barry Trimmer had pulled up outside my house, four minutes early, typical of the man, reliable as ever. I had virtually loaded the car and by 07:30 we were Harefield bound where Barry left his car after transferring his gear into mine. A steady journey up to Crick by 09:05. We unloaded the car and climbed aboard Caie Two just as Nigel appeared to open the office at 09:30-swiftly joined by Paul, the two of them manoeuvred Caie Two out of the basin, having first topped up the water tank, opened valves, and generally made her ready for sea, we glided away south at 10:30.

Crick tunnel behind us, the Watford Flight was negotiated without a hitch. 13:30 saw us having Mushroom Stroganoff in The New Inn at Long Buckby. 45 minutes later the Buckby flight was met and conquered swiftly followed by the Whilton Locks. In gathering darkness we tied up midway between Whilton and Weedon, at a place called Landing Spinney, the M1 thankfully at a distance. The night was pitch black and the next task was to get the diesel stove up and running. After several false starts which we put down to lack of use, it fired up with a vengeance and we roasted gently, watched TV and ate Cornish Pasties, only sex was needed to complete the picture-but I didn’t fancy Barry!

 

Tuesday 4 January 2005

Slept the sleep of the just after watching Sandra Bullock’s ‘While you were sleeping.’ We turned down the fire to a mere major conflagration and were amazed to find that the heat reached back to the bathroom. Consequently Barry was as warm as toast throughout the night, me, the captain and owner? Pah! I’m made of sterner stuff! Mind you—I’m leaving my doors open tonight to obtain the benefit of the warmth percolating down some 50 feet of narrowboat.

Although my bladder was knocking on the door of my consciousness, what finally convinced me to get up this morning were two geese noisily flying overhead. The damp had won the battle in my bedroom although I felt quite dry until I entered ‘Hades’ chez Trimmer!!

Ablutions were duly carried out after a cuppa and we pulled away bang on 10:00 immediately noticing the wind had picked up but that the temperature was a mild 11 degrees. Through the hills and dales of Northamptonshire we chugged for about two hours until ‘The Old Wharf’ materialised on the starboard bow---who were we to refuse her portals? A filling lunch along with a pint of ‘Nosy Rosy’ filled an hour and a quarter most agreeably. The promised rain arrived around 14:15 at first just a misting but then settled into a steady pour. My old moorings with Ampersand glided by almost unnoticed but as we passed the canal shop at Gayton I couldn’t help but notice the proliferation of moored craft. Where once was a single rusty boat on the bank of a large field, the area now boasted a long line of narrowboats—mostly residential. When the tunnel appeared it was a relief to get out of the rain, although due deference was paid to the ventilation shafts within!

On exiting the tunnel some forty minutes later, the rain had stopped and it was tempting to carry on down the Stoke Bruerne flight. Sense however prevailed and we moored lamely on the disabled bollards some twenty five yards from the Canal Museum. There was just time to look round the souvenir shop before another shower started. We were in the dry---Ner Ner , Ne Ner Ner!!!!!!!

 

 Wednesday 5 January 2005

Shaken awake from a deep sleep by my phone alarm, I realised I had slept well. Leaving the doors open throughout the boat meant that the heat had travelled to its extremities and kept me warmer than last night, although naturally there is a drop off the further one gets from the diesel stove. Our timer experiments with the Eberspacher failed miserably but manual override kicked in with a vengeance leaving the radiators impossible to touch after only a couple of minutes! Barry is not content to leave it there and will persevere ‘til he gets it right, I’m sure.

I reckoned that we should start the Stoke Bruerne flight immediately while the weather held and ablute and breakfast on the move. The top lock was entered at 09:15 and the bottom lock left at 10:45.The subsequent long lock-free pound enabled those previously mentioned tasks to be carried out.

The wind picked up noticeably and was very keen and lazy in that it went through rather than round you. We had a fry-up gratefully at Cosgrove around 13:45 then manfully faced the wind until darkness fell. Originally I had planned to stop around Great Linford but eventually, by spotlight, tied up at ‘The Plough’ at Simpson in time to watch ‘The Simpsons .’ Later a hearty, if expensive meal in the pub.

 

 Thursday 6 January 2005

Twelfth Night started for me at 08:00 this morning . I had awoken minutes before the Eberspacher cut in like a jet plane landing alongside us in the cut. The wind of the previous day had largely abated and some sunshine was in evidence. Both Barry and I showered before Ian Maclachlan phoned to say that he and Harold couldn’t find us and therefore would liaise at Fenny Stratford Lock instead. We set off without delay and barely five minutes later spotted a cycling figure on the towpath—it was Ian. We pottered on with Ian turning about to return to the lock and unload his gear from Harold’s car. The five minute tour of the boat took roughly five minutes before Harold left for Harefield and then we were three!

The day became windy and cold as we neared Stoke Hammond but was blowing a gale at ‘Soulbury Three Locks’ so much so that the water point on the towpath was only reached after much backing and filling when Barry could leap off with the centre line and secure the boat to a bollard. Ian meanwhile was in the pub getting some drinks in, which we consumed whilst rising 20 feet 3 inches towards the summit at Tring. Regretfully we passed up the chance of a pint in ‘The Globe’ at Linslade but concentrated on making ‘The Grove Lock’ pub at Grove Lock before it got too dark! This we achieved and, tied up securely, looked forward with displeasure to being buffeted all night by the incessant wind. It’s only 16:45 now—it’s going to be a long night! Perhaps several pints of London Pride anaesthetic will be the answer—I’ll keep you posted.

                

                            

 Friday 7 January 2005

The constant wind last night kept us some 6 inches from the bank and thus no knocking to keep us awake, only the snores from one Ian Maclachlan! Incredibly, although force nine it was mild as Ian and I battled to get the boat into the lock only twenty yards ahead of us. Barry was doing sterling service on kitchen jankers as the wind howled and swirled. Breakfast was ready by the time we negotiated Slapton Lock so we had it whilst tied to the bollards outside.  It was a veritable feast with Barry excelling himself.

With the inner man fed Ian and I set to with a vengeance as the wind grew to epic proportions. The first of the Seabrook locks saw me almost blown in!  We got ridiculously stuck broadside during the ascent of the Marsworth flight and it was with some relief that we entered the sheltered bowers of the Tring Summit for a relaxed poddle lasting 30 minutes or so. Liaison had been made for Ian to be picked up at Cowroast and we'd been there only five minutes before John Boswell appeared to whisk Ian off to Harefield and beyond.

                   

    

Barry and I played Scrabble to while away the time until 'Corrie' , although several gymnastic manoeuvres were necessary in order to get a watchable picture involving mains leads, wastepaper bins, open windows, dislocated shoulders and roof positioning. This poor reception being on the summit level atop the Chiltern Hills when we're closest to God let alone the TV transmitter--ridiculous!

Low points of the day included Barry's scratching of the paintwork courtesy of a protruding metal sign and me ripping off two fenders but only recovering one!

High points were the successful firing up of the Eberspacher and the brilliant pub just across the road, food, service, beer, the lot. Also I made a score for a single word in Scrabble of 185!

 

Saturday 8 January 2005

Amazingly we survived the night--unbelievable winds, producing eerie and unearthly screaming noises. Rain that I was convinced was going to drill through the six millimetres of steel that forms the upright section of the boat's shell and twisting motions that left a feeling of sea-sickness! First task of the day was to fill the water tank following  our two showers and boy, was it cold water!  Just after 09:00 we began our Chiltern descent and it was whilst in the Dudswell Two that a vicious hailstorm broke over our heads causing me to change into boots and leggings for the first time on the trip.  God was obviously in a playful mood as immediately the sky cleared and blazing sunshine replaced heavy black cloud of moments before. We then had squinting opportunities galore as the sun reflected painfully off of the watery highway. The wind didn't let up and when I tried to moor near Waitrose in Berko to get a paper, I found it impossible to reach the bank so we pressed on through the flight and met Debbie and Simon on their boat 'Tiami.' They were my first guests after Ian and were mightily impressed--a shame they weren't buyers!

After a beer or two Debbie and Simon were left to continue cleaning operations on Tiami and we pressed on southwards and downwards.  Feelings of power at the electric swingbridge at Winkwell as the traffic was forced to wait until we had glided by. The temperature dropped rapidly with the sun going down and we were grateful to tie up outside Sainsbury's in Apsley by 17:00. Barry forayed into the store for a paper and his own caddy of Yorkshire tea. No pub of note was within walking distance so it was a good old-fashioned fry-up for an evening meal and Jerry Springer on the telly. I might learn some new swear words!

 

Sunday 9 January 2005

The quietest night yet once the yobs had got fed up and gone off the nearby bridge. Bang on 08:30 a boat generator started up so a lie-in was out of the question. A relaxed start to the day--showering done I nipped over to Sainsbury's and got some milk, dumping rubbish on the way. at11:00 we puttered away from shore only to have a lock to deal with within five minutes. It was overcast and mild, we were aware of a forecast of rain and hoped we might avoid it but it arrived twenty minutes before we pulled up at Hunton Bridge for an excellent roast dinner at The King's Head. The rain had set in to a regular drizzle by the time we returned to the boat and I felt like calling it a day there and then but of course we had to get through Albert's Two, locks 75-76, as these will shut tomorrow morning for eleven days whilst maintenance is carried out. 

The rain actually eased off as darkness fell, so mooring up in the dark wasn't as painful as it could have been, even though we were unable to get right into the bank. The pressure is now off and it leaves a couple of hours cruising tomorrow to get us back to Coppermill.

 

Monday 10 January 2005

The wind last night was howling almost as much as me when I had a nightmare! I assured Barry that I wasn't being murdered in my bed and promptly fell asleep again until the alarm sounded at 08:00. I showered and dressed while Barry went back to the locks just astern to film whatever was happening as an epilogue to the trip. I'm pleased to say that there was some activity--mainly draining the pound so work could begin. We set off at 09:50 in steady drizzle that didn't really abate throughout the short distance back to Harefield.  Sandwiches were cooked and consumed on the move as the sky loured and lowered. Harold phoned me as we entered Stocker's Lock to see what progress we were making and we finally, bedraggledly, pulled up and winded at H.N.A by 13:00. The toilet was pumped out and the boat pulled into position upstream of the moorings. Then a short run home by 14:15. 

In the week we covered some 70 miles and 78 locks. Tomorrow I'll cover that distance slightly more quickly as Harold has kindly offered to take me up to Crick to collect my car!