At Huddlesford, just before August Bank Holiday and in order
to position Legend closer to the car park, there was a very short move from one
end of the moorings to the other. This meant that when the Keys turned up - that’s Andrew, Karen, James and Emily - getting them aboard was simplicity
itself. In our little boat, accommodating six people, while possible, is
pushing it a bit. Accommodating six people and a beagle is clearly impossible so,
after a perfect evening with a towpath barbecue, music and lots of laughter,
In the morning we pulled the pins and set forth up the
Coventry canal towards Polesworth.
The first thing we passed was Whittington Wharf
where, the day before, the Lichfield Canal Society had held an open day and had
various baked goods and cake left over. In true boater style, we pulled
alongside their vessel and there followed a spot of banter, after which we came
to an accord and took on provisions. In discussions later it turned out that
with one of us at either end of our boat, we’d managed to hand over the agreed
price twice, which negated the pirate simile we had going there but it was all in a good cause.
Over the previous couple of weeks we’d been aware of a fair
number of historic boats going past us in the same direction. We eventually
heard that their destination was Alvecote Marina where, it just so happened, we
were heading. We got there right in the middle of the boat handling competition
and spent a memorable hour and a half surrounded by the sight and sound of some
of the most beautiful boats on the waterways as they queued up. It was
fabulous. When we finally got out of the other side we had to run the gauntlet
of the commentator taking the micky out of our roof garden and hanging basket and asking if Andrew was ballast! How rude.
At Polesworth we moored up on the 48s, put the tent up again
and then Andrew and Karen treated us to a meal in the Indian next door. The
perfect end to a perfect boating day.
The following day, before the Keys left for home, Chloe came
to see us so there were seven people and a dog on board for a while, and it was
raining. In the afternoon Chloe chose to tip a bucket of cold water over
herself in the name of charity. She did it in the pouring rain which somewhat defeated the object, but
it was funny enough. If you were on Facebook in 2014 you’ll understand. It was
lovely to see her and it won’t be long before she’s living and working
permanently in Ireland so every moment we get to spend with her is precious.
Our ascent of Atherstone locks was not done in our usual
solitary slick style; instead we found ourselves queueing up with lots of other
boats and subject to the varying abilities and questionable techniques of lots
of other people. And of course, as is usually the case, after helping several
of the crews ahead of us up the locks, Ann-Marie found herself on her own,
while the people behind us stood around their boats yacking to each other.
Smile and wave guys, smile and wave.
Turning onto the Ashby canal was like entering a different
world. A shallower world with frillier edges, but lovely all the same and a lot
quieter than the Coventry. After Hinkley it got quieter still and by the time
we got to Stoke Golding, where we stopped for the night, boat spotting had
become a rare and exciting event. The next day we carried on to Shackerstone.
We wouldn’t normally make progress in such a speedy way but events had
conspired against us. We’d volunteered to help with the set up for the Shackerstone
Festival, and booked Legend in for the duration. While we were at Polesworth we
got a phone call from the organisers advising us to get up there as soon as
possible in order to get moored near the site. This was because there were a
lot of rumours circulating on the towpath telegraph resulting from an agreement
between Nature England and CRT to restrict double mooring during the festival to
try to limit damage to plant life. After
a nasty case of Chinese whispers with, we suspect, a fair smattering of
personal axe-grinding thrown in, this was turned into local fishermen trying to permanently ban boats from the canal. Numerous flyers, demanding a call to arms, were posted
on lock gates and bridges pleading for as many boats as possible to join the
cause and come along to “Save the Ashby Canal from Closure”. The last thing the
event organisers wanted was their volunteer workforce turning up to find
nowhere to put their boat, hence the phone call and hence the rush. When we
arrived the moorings alongside the festival field were all full and we tied up
two bridges away, but that turned out to be a better place to be anyway, and it meant we were perfectly placed to see all this lot arrive.
The
protest, for what it was worth, amounted to a lot of tutting and mumbling, a
few floating sheds moored in the reeds and not much else really.
For three days before kick-off, as part of Cath & Glyn’s
festival set up team, we were employed shifting chairs, tables, traffic cones
and gazebos wherever they required, and during the event we manned one of the
main gates each day for two hours. It was good to feel useful and we felt we’d
earned our free tickets.
The festival was, as usual, fabulous. Each year it gets
bigger with more exhibits and traders and covers more fields. The weather on
the Sunday was amazing and there were record crowds. When we weren’t trying to
stop people wandering in without paying we had a wonderful time. Kim and Luke
joined us for the day on the Saturday afternoon, which was lovely. Ann-Marie
got lots of George cuddles and Dave got a buddy to go round the junk stalls
with.
In an amazing set of coincidences, the chap on the boat
moored next to us looked familiar and it turned out he used to be our local
coal merchant when we lived in a house. Over a period of three years, while we
were still trying to figure out how we could get out of the rat race, we
jealously watched as he built a narrowboat in a big shed in the coal yard. One
day it disappeared, then low and behold, five years later it was moored next to
us. Alan and Joy were the nicest neighbours we could have hoped for; they have
a permanent mooring at Bill Fen marina on the Middle Level and made us promise
to get in touch when we’re over there. Which we will. In a final twist it
turned out that Ann-Marie used to work with Allan’s brother. This boating world
is positively tiny at times.
After the festival was over we had one day helping with the
clear up, then waited a couple more while everyone else left before moving the
boat on to the head of navigation just beyond Snarestone tunnel. The Ashby Canal
used to go on for another eight miles to a terminus above Moira, the top mile
and a half have been restored and re-watered and it is possible to follow some
of the original line between the two parts.
Of course there is an ambitious
plan for the missing five miles, some of it along the original line, some new
cut, and a bit through Measham that follows a disused railway line and goes
through the station. Using a map provided by the very friendly Ashby Canal
Association, we had a lovely day walking as close to the original line as
possible up to the restored blast furnace at Moira, then on to Conkers, the National
Forest activity centre, where eventually the restored canal will terminate.
While
we were moored at the present navigation limit the contractors were re-watering
the next quarter of a mile or so and there was a lot of activity beyond there.
No comments:
Post a Comment