Showing posts from August, 2012

Lancaster Canal. Glasson Dock to Galgate

Wednesday. Completely at odds with the ‘Listless’ theme, we spent three days franticly writing down everything we could possibly need for Frankie & Harry’s Wedding Weekend, then drove away from Glasson with the car full of an eclectic mix of posh clothes, camping gear and baking equipment, trying to ignore the inevitable nagging feeling that we’d forgotten something.

We stopped off at the top of the Ribble Link staircase to say goodbye to Dave & Kate on Bosley who were doing their crossing back down to Tarleton and the main system that day.
They were moored at Cadley, so we walked down and cadged a lift back. Bosley is a Braidbar Boat; less than two years old and absolutely gorgeous.
At 62’ Bosley has to go backwards, not only into the staircase, but under the bridge and into the top basin as well. Not an easy manoeuvre at the best of times and even trickier with a cross wind. With about 20 years boating under his belt Dave made it look easy.

After wishing them good luck on th…

Lancaster Canal. Garstang to Glasson Dock.

The next stop on our tour of the North was St Andrews. We stayed with Dave’s Mum’s Cousin Mary in her beautiful house and were treated like royalty.
We looked at lots of old photos and poured over family tree stuff till late in the evening, then in the morning, Mary took us for a walk around the town, the ruined cathedral and the lovely beaches.
We started off gently strolling along so as not to tire our aging relative Tbut ended up having to get a shifty on just to keep up. Among the family records that Mary has were some photos that we hadn’t seen before, including this one.
We think it’s 1960, just before John & Felicia went back to Australia after getting married in Sheffield.

Back row from left: John & Felicia, Chris (holding Richard) & Margot, Mary (holding Kate) & Bill, (Daves Mum & Dad) & Michael.
Middle row: Grandma & Grampa Wood
Front row: Phillip, Dave, Judith & John.
Only two of the adults in that picture are still alive. Dear reader, if th…

Lancaster Canal. Catforth to Garstang.

What a lovely little town Garstang is! It’s got that great community feeling that you only get in busy, well supported small market towns. There are flowers everywhere and it comes as no surprise to find it’s won Britain in Bloom gold awards. The Lancaster canal runs along the southern end of the town and is nearly all seven day visitor moorings with lots of boats coming and going all day. It’s the perfect place to leave Legend while we go to Edinburgh.

The Squirrel is back together again; the collar and reducing ring are in place and sealed,
There’s a new rope seal on the door, a new grate holder, the chimney is all rubbed down and a there’s a lovely coat of stove blacking over the whole thing. It looks as good as new and certainly a lot better than we’ve ever seen it.
The only other repair that it needed was where one of the little screws that hold the glass clips in the door had sheared off and had to be drilled out and tapped to the next size up. As a preventative measure, Dave …

Lancaster canal. Preston to Catforth.

Ok, who spotted the deliberate mistake? Well done John, you are correct; the Lancaster canal is 41¼ miles long (44 if you include the Glasson Branch, which we will), not 24 as reported in the last post. God knows where we got that number from, but it means there’s almost twice as much of it as we thought! As expected we’re now back to our “Not very far, not very often” method of travel so at the moment Legend is moored at Catforth,
still on page one.

Although we don’t have a television we managed to watch the Olympics opening ceremony. The Vue cinema chain was showing the whole BBC broadcast for free so we spent six hours in a pair of comfy leather VIP seats in Preston. We normally watch films on a 10” portable DVD player. Having to turn your head to see the edge of the screen while the whole building vibrates with the sound was a bit of a culture shock and we spent most of the drive home saying “Pardon?” It was good though. Watching the Industrial Revolution take place in a sports st…