ROGER'S WEB SITE | NARROWBOAT
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CHESTERFIELD CANAL MAP
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This year we are planning to travel the River Trent
to West Stockwith, then up the Chesterfield Canal to
Norwood Tunnel and back. This will be our second
attempt to reach the Chesterfield as we failed to get
there in 2012.
There is a good description of the canal on the Canal
Junction site. You can see a detailed route plan
on the Canal
Planner site. When the route comes up, click
'Calculate Route' to see the details.
We are going earlier than usual this year in order to
attend the society wedding of my nephew (and godson)
Jon and his beauteous betrothed, Katie Bonnell, in
deepest Hampshire on May 23rd. We will leave Phoenix
on May 15th and arrive in London on the 16th. Up
to Derby next day to get the boat fettled up and
provisioned then off to the wedding! I probably won't
have time to do a journal entry until after that.
Mon 18th May
We arrived at Heathrow after a bumpy but otherwise
uneventful 9 hour flight. Heathrow was unusually empty
when we arrived - a posse of immigration officers were
lined up with no customers except us. I left the
airport without picking up my garment bag with my
expensive wedding suit inside. I am getting so ditzy
lately, expect more Rogerisms of this type. After an
hour or so at the Premier Inn it dawned on me that we
were one case short, so I trogged back to the airport
by bus to collect it. The security check to
get back into the baggage hall was intense - I was
scanned, probed, wanded and strip searched (well,
almost). I recovered the case OK.
Now we are in Derby and the weather, which has been
fine up until now, has descended into gray, gloomy
dampness. The boat electrics are working fine. The
solar panels kept the batteries fully charged all
winter, so we used no shore power. Have not had time
to check out anything else yet, but the spider
population seems to have dwindled.
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RIVER TRENT MAP
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Thu, May 28th
The wedding was a blast, marred only (for me) by an
upset stomach which lasted the whole weekend. The location was
perfect; a huge barn constructed of pinned beams in the old
style but actually quite new and purpose-built for weddings. The
civil ceremony took place in an adjacent chapel. Here are a few
photos of the hundreds taken that day:
Now we are back on Mercia Marina, prepping
the boat for a big cruise. The usual crop of minor ailments,
most of which I have fixed. Basil was filthy outside, of
course, as he has been sitting here all winter. It took me three
days to scrub him up. A Boat Safety Surveyor comes tomorrow to
check Basil out for another five year certificate.
Fingers crossed. We have settled into Mercia as if it really is
our second home. The place is humming. There are new shops and a
gourmet pub/restaurant on the new Boardwalk. Most of
the berths are taken and there are new holiday homes on the east
side of the marina.
Swan Family Negotiating the Difficult
Entrance to Mercia Marina
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As usual, wildlife abounds here. The
resident swans have produced five cygnets who visit us
regularly. They are cute little fluffy things - much
younger than we usually see them as we are here a month
and a half earlier than usual. As a result, the weather is
pretty cold and very changeable. Storms march across the
Atlantic and deluge us often. They are interspersed with
sunshine and showers, the usual mix that keeps the
meteorologists up at nights. They often get it wrong and
are rarely accurate for more than 48 hours ahead. Still,
we have managed a few hours sun on the deck and several
walks in the surrounding countryside.
We have been to our favorite restaurant, Nadee, to the Boardwalk and
to the Green
Man in Willington, the nearest village, a ten-minute
walk away. Of the three, the Green Man was a little
disappointing. The Willington Co-Op (grocery store) has
relocated and doubled in size, much to our relief. We can
get most of our supplies there now instead of getting a
bus to Derby or Burton.
Tonight we are going to the Boardwalk with our friend
Robert Neff, the Marina manager and Bali fan.
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Tiny Cygnet
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June 5th
Undoubtedly, the highlight of our few days
in London was a visit to Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium.
Barb has been trying to score a reservation here for two
years and she finally succeeded. It was hard to tell who
was enjoying themselves more, the cats or the humans. Cats
may not be trainable but they sure know how to show off!
They ran, jumped, played with their toys, sprinted inside
a huge wheel, and climbed on to shelves high above us.
They posed cutely for photos with that feline "Aint I
beautiful?" look on their faces. Occasionally, they
deigned to let us pet them. They had a captive and
captivated audience.
Dinah's is in Shoreditch, a 20 minute walk from Liverpool
Street station. It is an 'up-and-coming' area of London
with dowdy streets of small shops and houses and a
decidedly arty looking populace. It needs some shoring up
to get out of the ditch, we decided. Dinah's is
also a respectable tea shop and people enjoyed sandwiches,
bagels, scones, cakes and tea while watching the cavorting
cats.
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CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
(except signs)
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The first night in London we met up with
Colin and Sue, old friends, in an unusual Indian restaurant, Chettinad,
on Tottenham Court Road. It specializes in Dosas, large crepes
with spicy fillings. We stayed in the Hub,
a new micro Premier Inn close to Leicester Square. This was a
big mistake on my part - I hit the "Pay" button before I
realized it was not a normal Premier Inn, a chain we usually
like. In addition to the size, the room was controlled by a
crazed computer which I christened Hub Hal after the
recalcitrant computer in '2001'. I won't bore you with a full
review but you can read it on TripAdvisor.
On the 2nd evening we went
to the Harold Pinter Theatre to see "Sunny Afternoon",
a musical based on the early life of Ray Davies, his brother
Dave and the other two members of the Kinks. In their heyday
they lived in the shadow of the other famous bands of
the era like the Beatles, the Stones and the Mersey Beat
bands, but they were the authentic voice of working-class
London at the time. In a delicious twist of irony,
the self-proclaimed 'Socialist Band' were banned by the
Unions in the USA. Only now are Ray Davies'
satirical lyrics on songs like Dedicated
Follower of Fashion, A Well-Respected Man, etc.,
fully appreciated. He was also capable of writing great sentimental
songs like Waterloo Sunset and Lola.
While the backbeat was familiar blues-rock, The Kinks had a
radically different sound from their peers, with Dave's
crashing guitar riffs and Ray's tenor voice rising
clearly above the mayhem with his witty lyrics. The band at
the theatre did a creditable job of recreating the
Kinks sound, while also acting the crazy drama of their lives
on and off stage. It was fun.
With Liza in Maxwells, Covent Garden
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While in London, we also met up with Liza,
another old friend who traveled all the way from
Bury St. Edmunds to meet us in Covent Garden. We
spent a pleasant few hours hanging out with her before
going to the Apollo Theatre to see "The
Audience" starring Kristin Scott Thomas, the
bilingual actress, as the Queen. The role was
previously played by Helen Mirren who is now reprising it
on Broadway. The play, by Peter Morgan, is a wry look at
what may have happened at the weekly confidential
audiences enjoyed (or not) by eight of the twelve Prime
Ministers who have served during the Queen's long reign.
Winston Churchill was the first and David Cameron
the last. Morgan wrote a new scene for this production
last month after Cameron unexpectedly won re-election
outright with a slim majority. The Scottish National Party
cleaned up in Scotland at the expense of the Labour Party,
and the Nationalist anti-Europe and anti-immigrant party
UKIP won 12% of the votes but few seats in Parliament because
of Britain's 'first past the post' electoral system. It's
going to be an interesting time in British politics.
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Typical London Pub
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Now we are back in rural
Derbyshire, on the marina, far from the madding crowds of old
London town. Summer is here, at least for a while, and we are
basking in sunshine. Robert took us to The Winery in
Burton-on-Trent last night, something of a radical departure from
the mores of this town of famous old breweries. It's all in the
water, dontcha know? We are walking the ancient footpaths
and towpaths, gazing at the canal upon which we will soon depart
for distant vistas. (Geez, I can wax so lyrical after two glasses
of vino). Next, my old schoolfriend Peter and his wife Jane, whom
we barely know, will be joining us as we depart on Tuesday, 9th
for what may be a long voyage to the Chesterfield Canal. Wish
us luck. More soon....
<< Quiet Reach of the Trent and Mersey Canal near the Marina
June 14th
Floating Tea Room on the Trent and Mersey
Finally we are off up the cut (to use the
vernacular) with Peter and Jane aboard on our way to the Trent
and, maybe even unto the Chesterfield canal if we are lucky.
Jane and Peter had a harrowing journey up the M5/M42/A38 from
Devon but soon relaxed once ensconced aboard Basil
boat. They brought gifts of fresh eggs from their farm and
home-made quiche. We took them to Nadee the first evening for
the usual sumptuous Indian feast before setting off next day
down the Trent and Mersey canal towards Nottingham. Peter has
extensive sailing experience so he adapted readily to steering
a narrowboat, though he was spooked by the tight gaps,
proximity to other boats, and how the stern swings out more
than the bow when leaning on the tiller. He was very
self-deprecating about his abilities but actually did very
well. Barb and Jane got on like a house on fire, and Peter and
I caught up with some very old times at school in the early
60's.
George, Owner of Nadee (in black, back
to camera) Entertaining his Friends.
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Tight Squeeze through Shardlow
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Peter Guides Basil through Derwent Mouth Lock
CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
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The first night we moored in the country above Shardlow. The
village is normally packed with boats but next morning there
were not many, so we could probably have fit in. In any case,
the mooring was beautiful and we had an invigorating walk to
the Clock Warehouse for dinner. Next day we motored on to the
River Trent at Derwent Mouth and had lunch at Trent Lock, one
of my favourite spots on the whole waterways system. I have
covered it extensively in other journals, so I won't blather
on about it here.
We went on to Beeston in perfect weather and stayed for
the night. In fact, it was so nice that we stayed there all
next day after saying goodbye to Peter and Jane and went for
long walks in the adjacent Attenborough Nature Reserve and up
the Trent Valley Way in the other direction. The Reserve was
opened in 1966 by David
Attenborough, presenter of BBC nature programmes for
decades and brother of the late film director Richard
Attenborough. The Reserve is not named for him, however, but
for the adjacent village of Attenborough.
On the walk up the Trent we witnessed a lady who jumped
fully-clothed into the fast flowing river to grab a football
for her son. The things Mums will do for their kids!
Jane and Peter at Cranfleet Lock
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Working Cranfleet Lock
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Teatime at Beeston
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Next day it was on to Nottingham. We moored in the town
center and went to French Living, an excellent French bistro
near the Market Square that Robert recommended. By now the
weather had deteriorated and we took a taxi back to the boat
in pouring rain. Next day was even worse and we hunkered down
in the boat. Barb suffers from Seasonal Affective Disorder
(SAD) and does not suffer wet, cold weather gladly so we were
not in the best of tempers as we finally cast off at 2:30 and
escaped Nottingham in the dreary drizzle past pubs full of
drunken yobs, decaying buildings and rusting bridges and out,
once again, on to the big wide Trent. I stood upon Basil's
deck in the pelting rain, pointing northwards in the gloom. We
were unable to find moorings at Holme lock, the first big lock
on the river, but the lock keeper said there were plenty at
the next lock. So here we are in a beautiful remote setting on
a pontoon all by ourselves among huge trees flanking both
sides of the river, and the sound of birdsong all around. In
spite of her depression ("this may be the last year I will do
this"), Barb produced a really excellent dinner. A cornucopia
of various salads, cheeses, smoked salmon, quiche a la Jane
and Rosemary bread. Food always tastes so much better out in
the wilderness.
June 21st
After Stoke, we continued on down the River Trent to
Hazleford, a beautiful lock situated on an island in the
river. The closely manicured grass paths on the island are
still teeming with bunnies, but the weather continues to be
bad to abysmal, so we could not enjoy it in the sun as we have
in the past. On downriver to Newark, one of the most
picturesque towns on this, or any other, river. The castle
dates from medieval times and the town prospered as a port
from the 16th century onwards so it sports a collection of
fine architecture from half-timbered to Victorian.
We ate a decent meal in the restaurant by the lock, and
witnessed the transit of a huge piece of power station
equipment, probably the largest load that has traveled the
Trent in many a moon. The river was once a thriving artery of
waterborne transport but that has sadly dwindled to nothing.
On the pontoons at Newark we were able to hook up to
electricity and we met new friends, Henke and Coby from
Holland on their boat "Double Dutch". We arranged to venture
out on to the tideway with them next day.
Margaret, the Lock Keeper at Hazleford
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Lonely Mooring at Hazleford Lock
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Henk and Coby aboard Double Dutch
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Newark Church, Bridge and Castle.
One of the most photographed scenes in England.
(but that didn't deter me :-)
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Unusual Huge Load Entering Newark Lock
CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
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Navigation
Note:
The Trent tideway is pretty scary to me and most
narrowboaters. Many will not venture on to it, and
those who do, like us, are very careful to be
properly
equipped with life-jackets, an anchor, a marine
radio,
and up-to-date charts showing the channel. Flares
and navigation lights are recommended. The river
is wide and deep and the current is fast,
particularly
on the flood tide. Large cruisers and working barges
(much fewer now) kick up a big wake, and wind and
weather add drama.
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Down through Newark Nether and Cromwell locks the next day
for an easy passage on the ebb tide to Torksey. We were a
little faster than Double Dutch but we kept them in
sight and checked on each
other by radio. Torksey is a remote but lovely place on the
river and we both moored on pontoons below the lock to await
the tide next day to take us down to West Stockwith and the
entrance to the Chesterfield canal. We liked Torksey so much
that we broke away from Henke and Coby and stayed an extra
night, riding up and down on the tides. We walked up the
arrow-straight Fossdyke a mile or so and ate an excellent meal
in the Wheel House Restaurant by the lock. Torksey lock, at
the entrance to the Fossdyke, predates (1672?) almost
every other lock on the system and is a classic of early
engineering. The Foss Dyke was either dug by the Romans in
120AD or improved by Henry I about 1121. Historians disagree.
The remains of Torksey Castle (left), built in the 16th
Century are just down the Trent a little, though somewhat
removed from its course, which has wandered away.
Dusk, Waiting for the Tide at Torksey
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Ancient Torksey Lock. Note the Unusual
'Capstan' Gear to Open and Close the Gates
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The Roman (maybe) Foss Dyke Carries
Boats to Lincoln and Beyond
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The next day we swam out on to the Trent again, just before
high tide. Progress was slow at first but we soon gathered
speed as the tide ebbed. The gale force wind was so
strong that, at times, Basil heeled over so far with
the wind and tide pressure on his side that I feared he might
capsize. Meanwhile, Barb read her book in the cabin
unconcerned by the drama enfolding above her. By the
time we reached Gainsborough we were ripping through town at a
speed unheard of in a narrow boat. I tried several times
to reach West Stockwith lock by radio. Finally, I got in touch
by mobile phone and breathed a sigh of relief as the lock
keeper told me he was expecting us with the lock open. As we
sped past the lock I executed a U-turn and beat up against the
tide, crabbing across to the lock. I was amazed how much power
was needed just to make headway against the current. The Lock
Keeper stood upon the bull nose and guided me in. I approached
the lock slowly and then swung in on full power. There was
another boat in the lock and I somehow avoided hitting it or
the lock wall. "Well done!" the Keeper said. "Thank you", I
said calmly, though the ancient heart was beating hard in my
chest.
And so, back to the tranquility of Stockwith Basin and the
Chesterfield Canal. This canal is weed infested and shallow
and we are making less that 3 mph. We have gone from a water
freeway to a dirt road. Basil limps along,
requiring frequent prop clearance, and much patience is
required. The journey is alleviated by the moorhens and swans
with their new offspring. So-oo cute, though one swan saw us
off his territory by flying at the back of the boat in high
dudgeon. We looked to eat in restaurants or pubs, in vain, so
Barb is conjuring up spaghetti with our few remaining
ingredients. She is totally off this boating life so some
miracle, in the shape of sunny weather and narrow locks, must
come along to save me!
Perfect Mooring - Outside a Friendly Pub
in Stockwith Basin
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The Safety of Stockworth Lock
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Swan Family and Visiting Goose
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Outside the Gate Inn, Clarborough.
Tonight's Mooring but NO FOOD Grrr!
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June 26th
This canal would be a pig, except that's a slur on pigs
which are nice friendly animals. The Chesterfield is mile upon
mile of shallow water and choking weed, fringed by farmland,
windswept and rainy. One day I stood on deck encased in three
layers of clothes and a rain jacket and I was still cold. The
temperature never rose above 13C (56F) all day. This is more
like February than June. One day we worked locks in a
hailstorm. The countryside creeps past at 2 mph and Basil
labors along with his prop permanently tangled in weed. There
are a few cute villages but the main towns of Retford and
Worksop are blighted post-industrial relics with boarded-up
buildings and poverty-stricken populations. I wouldn't like to
moor in the center of either of them. The natives, however,
are generally friendly now that we are 'oop North' and are
always ready for a chat, sometimes for hours. The youths are
unemployed, boisterous and look dangerous with their shaved
heads, tattoos and piercings but they are probably not as
scary as they look.
Entering Worksop
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Working Locks in a Rainstorm...
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...or Why Barb is Sick of Boating
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The general conditions have humbled me and I join Barb in
insidious boating gloom. It will be some time before I want to
start another odyssey like this one, if ever. The weather is
the main depressing factor. After 30 miles and three days we
had yet to arrive at the scenic part of the Chesterfield that
we saw by train in 2009.
Finally, after Worksop,
conditions began to improve. The weather was better, if not
great, and the locks became prettier and more frequent. We
found a good mooring below Deep Lock (left) which had a pub
with a nice restaurant right next to it and a Sainsbury's
supermarket not far away. Now we are moored up at Shireoaks on
a pleasantly quiet mooring. There's a set of three little
locks in the middle distance and a marina adjacent with
toilet, shower and rubbish facilities. Shireoaks is named
after an old oak that stood at the intersection of three
counties: Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire. The canal
winds through all three.
Chief Lock Shifter Takes a Break
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Pastoral Scene
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Thorpe Treble Locks
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This morning the engine electrics suddenly failed while I was
running the engine to charge batteries. The engine would not
stop. I stopped it manually but then it would not start and
all the instruments were dead. I was unable to trouble-shoot
the cause so I called River and Canal Rescue and an engineer
came to our aid within two hours. He quickly found a blown
fuse and an intermittent connection in the wiring loom behind
the engine. A multi-way plug had parted. A common occurrence
on Beta 43 engines, apparently. The rain descended as we were
working on the engine so we are holed up for the day watching
TV, reading and writing this Journal. The forecast for
tomorrow is better so we may get a train to Sheffield to
sample life in a big city.
July 5th
We DID go to Sheffield for the day on June 27th and the
city (England's fourth largest) was a pleasant surprise.
Instead of the gritty, grotty post-industrial Northern town we
were expecting it was a vibrant modern metropolis full of
young people enjoying an outdoor life. The terrain was
surprisingly hilly - serrated rows of buildings marching over
hill and dale. There is an impressive array of art museums,
theatres and other cultural venues. We visited the Winter
Garden, Millenium Museum and the Graves Gallery. We never
strayed far from the city centre, so I am sure grittier areas
still exist elsewhere. We walked down to the canal basin where
an attempt has been made to restore the old warehouses but the
basin was full of boats in bad shape and there were no other
people to enliven the scene.
The Approach to Sheffield from the Station
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Artwork Outside the Winter Garden
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The Famous Crucible Theatre
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Victoria Quays, the Canal Basin
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Back on the boat, we turned
around and began the slow descent of the weedy ditch back to
the River Trent. We took our time and the weather continued to
be spectacular. What a difference from the outward journey!
The canal shimmers in the sun, surrounded by bucolic vistas of
farmland stretching to the horizon on the Lincolnshire side
and rolling hills on the Nottinghamshire side. The water is
clear, undisturbed by boats, and it teems with fish. I saw
some quite large chub and aggressive looking pike in addition
to swarms of roach and tench. Huge tentacles of weed erupted
from the bottom threatening to ensnare Basil's
propeller. I had to clear the prop of the foul stuff each day,
but we never actually got stopped by the weed or the dreadful
collection of rubbish through Worksop. Progress was slow,
however, about 2 mph most of the way. We saw only about one
boat a day on the move, what a difference from the relatively
crowded Midlands canals!
We found nice country moorings and decent pubs and restaurants
to eat in, notably the Gate at Clarborough with moorings
outside, and the Blacksmiths Arms in Clayworth, where we
rented a mooring with electricity from the local boat club.
The Blacksmiths is a stylish gourmet restaurant with good, but
not stellar, food at a high price. My hake on black pudding
mash was marred because it was lukewarm on arrival. The canal
is a bit of a food desert so endeavours like the Blacksmiths
should be applauded even if the execution is not perfect.
Now we are moored in the deep basin at West Stockwith once
again, outside the Waterfront Inn, awaiting the arrival of my
brother Michael and his wife Angela who will accompany us back
up the Trent Tideway to Newark. Barring accidents or
breakdowns, the trip up the tideway should be much less
dramatic than the trip down. We will run with the flood tide
up to Torksey on Monday and again with another tide the next
day to Cromwell Lock. The weather is predicted to be mainly
fair with occasional showers or thunderstorms.
The news on TV and in the papers is full of the ISIS attack on
holidaymakers in Tunisia, the depression in Greece and
Wimbledon tennis (to which we are glued most afternoons). We
were heartened by the gay marriage and Obamacare wins in the
US Supreme Court which were well covered here.
Blue Sky at LAST!
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The area used to be a mecca for brickworks,
this is probably one of the old brick factories.
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Alone on a Quiet Country Mooring
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Ranby - not much here, the Chequers pub
is now closed and up for sale.
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The Life Aquatic
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The Gate, Clarborough
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Sharing the Last of the Chesterfield Wide Locks
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Automatic Flood Gate at the Mouth of the River Idle
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West Stockwith Basin
CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
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July 11th
We made our way up the tideway with Mick and Ange aboard.
As we exited West Stockwith lock Basil rolled so far
when we hit the tide roaring up the river that I feared we
were going to capsize. The galley drawers flew open and Barb
was clinging to my video camera tripod lest it slide off the
hatch. Should make for some good footage. It would not be very
dramatic for a sailor, but unnerving in a narrowboat. The tide
was carrying tons of dead trees and other junk but we managed
to avoid all of it. Things calmed down after Gainsborough and
Mick steered most of the way to Torksey. We had a good meal in
the White Hart pub nearby. We hovered on the pontoon that
night and waited for the noon tide next day to take us up to
Cromwell lock and the relative safety of the non-tidal Trent.
Gorgeous Piper Dutch Barge in Torksey Lock
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Ange, Mick & Barb Walking the Fossdyke
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On the Tidal Trent
CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
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Next day found us in Newark again, carting huge bags of
washing to the cleaners and sampling the local restaurants. We
could not get TV on the boat so we watched the Wimbledon
semifinals in a pub. On Thursday 9th, Mick and Ange left us by
train and we stayed in Newark for a second night. We ate in
the Danube -
a cafe where all the food and wine comes from countries on the
Danube. It was excellent - best meal so far on this trip.
Now we are plodding slowly up the river. Fiskerton last night,
a posh village protected by a huge flood wall. Very popular
mooring, we were breasted up with another Piper boat on the
outside of us. Their boat is 23 years old and still in great
shape.
Moored Beneath the Flood Wall at Fiskerton
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Several Grand Houses Flank the River
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Friendly Horses and Riders at Fiskerton
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Now we are moored on the low wall at Hazleford lock. The
beautiful setting is marred somewhat by a bunch of loud,
hard-drinking, smoking, music-playing rowdy rednecks in front
of us. Went for a walk around the lock island and watched
Serena win Wimbledon for the nth time. Entertained Jack,
the cuddly Yorkie with the nice, quiet well-behaved people
behind us who are really glad to have us as a buffer!
The Impressive Weir at Cromwell
CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
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Walking Hazelford Island
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Visitor Aboard - Jack the Yorkie
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July 23rd
The rednecks left next morning, so we had Hazelford
to ourselves for the next day. A routine daily engine check
showed coolant overflowing from the engine header tank, cause
unknown. Another sleepless night going over and over the
possible problems in my head! Might be a ruptured calorifier
coil, etc., etc.
Next day (July 13th) we motored up the Trent in truly horrible
weather. I got soaked in spite of all my rain gear, so we gave
up at Gunthorpe and stopped there for the night. There was an
emergency in the lock as we entered. A woman got her finger
caught in the loop of a snagged rope while her husband drove
on unwittingly. Her finger was severed before she could free
herself. We moored on the pontoon at Gunthorpe just as she was
being escorted to hospital by paramedics. Her husband told me
they were on the scene two minutes after the lock keeper
dialed 999. We saw him several times over the next few days
and he reported she was doing fine and back aboard. I asked
him if it had put her off boating forever and he said "Not so
far, but we still have to go back via that lock".
Next day was much nicer and we went up to Barb's favourite
Trent mooring at Holme Lock. Here is the National Watersports
Centre with its white water course, race 'track', slalom
course and water-skiing lake. The skiers are pulled round the
course by overhead cables running through pulleys. There are
miles of walking trails and we set of for the nearby village
of Holme Pierpoint with its old church and hall. We moored at
Holme for two nights.
Toad Hall, Holme Pierpoint
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Toad of Toad Hall
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Barb Steers us Up the Trent
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Finally, we dragged ourselves off the gorgeous Trent and into
the grotty end of Nottingham and what a contrast! I was sad
but Barb was glad as she has been bored on the river. No locks
to operate, as they are all operated for us, and little
opportunity for walking or other exercise. We pumped out our
toilet tank at the very friendly Castle
Marina and did a mammoth restocking in Sainsburys, the
first supermarket since Newark. Had a good meal in the Cumin Indian Restaurant on
Maid Marion Way near the Castle.
On July 17th we went on to Beeston, just outside Nottingham.
We had stopped here at the beginning of the trip on June 10th
with Peter and Jane. We stayed 2 nights this time.There is not
much in town; a couple of pubs and a small shop but it is
nicely situated on the Trent and next to the huge expanse of
the Attenborough Nature Reserve, a series of old gravel pits
that is now home to thousands of migratory birds and other
animals. The pub on
the Marina by the river is very cozy and serves good
food at a reasonable price. The lock landing on the river side
was completely full of boats mooring for the night - in
contravention of a notice which clearly states "Mooring for
Lock Landing Only". This is very dangerous as it forces boats
to unload their crew on the difficult offside of the lock near
the weir. We noticed a lot of this antisocial and ignorant
behaviour this year.
Deepest Nottingham
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Boats Illegally Crowding the Lock Approach
at Beeston
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Cricket Match in Progress at Attenborough
CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
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Back on the Trent again for the final river sections before
entering the Trent and Mersey canal at Derwent Mouth lock and
staying there the night. From here it is a bit of a slog
through four really brutal locks - Aston, Weston, Swarkestone
and Stenson. I had a bad day and made rookie errors at
Shardlow, where I opened the gate paddles before the ground
paddles, and at Weston, where Basil got soaked and
banged up a bit as I opened a ground paddle much too fast. No
damage done, though, except to my ego. We stopped for a last
night at Weston and trudged up the hill to the Coopers Arms in
the village where I dined on fish & chips (3 stars on the
Raven scale). Barb had something much healthier.
The Sign Says "PRIVATE - Members ONLY"
Members of the Swamp Society, presumably
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Nouveau-Riche Ducks enjoying their
Infinity-Edge Pool
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Basil Safely Back on Basil's Bank
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Now we are back on our berth in Mercia Marina and beginning
the process of winterizing the boat and getting ready for our
departure on August 6th. I found a lot of air trapped in the
cooling system, so hopefully that is
the cause of the earlier overflowing problem. The weather
continues to be really unsettled, we have had very little
summer this year. The rainfall has been less than usual but
there have been too many gray, cold days and too few sunny
ones. I am more sanguine about the weather than Barb, who is
royally fed up with it and with boating in general. This will
probably be my last journal entry unless something interesting
happens.
Many thanks to everyone in Phoenix who makes these trips
possible - particularly Lois, who has done a superb job of
looking after our cat Marni and reporting every detail of her
behaviour to us, and Judy, who looks after our house and
visits Marni, and last but not least to past cat-carers Mary
& Moe.
Postscript, August 2nd
Four days now until we return to Phoenix. Basil
is part winterized and groaning with half-packed luggage. We
did take time out to visit some of our favorite local
restaurants and also for a day trip to Birmingham which we
thoroughly enjoyed. The train ride there and back was
nightmarish, however. The outward journey was packed and
marred by a boisterous child and her trailer-trash mother with
a voice like a foghorn who, at one point, publicly sprayed her
own armpits with deodorant. On the way back,
Birmingham New Street Station was packed with rowdy cricket
fans celebrating a Test Match win over Australia at Edgbaston.
The phrase "rowdy cricket fans" would have been an oxymoron in
my youth but times have changed. We were packed into one train
like sardines but it went nowhere due to a crew shortage. The
next train was so late that we missed our connection to
Willington from Derby and so had to get a taxi. I am now
enmeshed with CrossCountry trains trying to get compensation
from their truly abysmal 'customer service' department.
Enough of the whining and snivelling. Birmingham was bathed in
sunshine and looked splendid. The City Centre is undergoing a
multi-year redevelopment project so there is construction
going on and new buildings everywhere. New Street will rival
Grand Central or St. Pancras stations when it is finished, but
right now it is a mess. We went to the Art Museum to see an
odd juxtaposition of Andy Warhol and William Morris, the
Victorian designer, in exhibition. The rationale is that they
are both pop artists of their time, both had art 'factories'
and produced art and design with mass appeal. Some of Warhol's
most famous works including 'Marilyn', 'Blue Jackie', 'Gun'
and the Campbell's Soup can were there, alongside Morris'
wallpapers and some large, impressive tapestries depicting the
search for the Holy Grail.
We sat and listened to a free jazz concert in the Symphony
Hall foyer and then had an excellent meal in La Galleria,
an Italian restaurant we found near the station. The staff
were all Italian and very demonstrative and amusing.
The Swanky New Library of Birmingham
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Jacob Epstein's Statue of Lucifer in the Art
Museum. (Click Here for
a close-up)
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5 p.m. Free Jazz Concert in Symphony Hall
CLICK on any IMAGE to ENLARGE
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Talked to Rick, Barb's nephew in Vienna, via Skype just now
and reflected how the world has been shrunk by modern
communications. Who would have thought, just a few years ago,
that it would be possible to summon up a clear teleconference
with someone in another country at the click of a mouse from a
boat. We are planning a trip to the Galapagos with Rick so
that may be in my blog future.
In British politics, Jeremy Corbin is the surprise leftie
front-runner for the Labour leadership contest despite a
barrage of attacks from the Blairite wing claiming he will
make the party unelectable. How Blair and his cronies have any
influence after the Iraq debacle is beyond me. At least Corbin
is a real alternative to the Cameron blitz on the poor and
refugees from Africa. He is a welcome change from the eager,
freshly-scrubbed elite schoolboys that make up the current
crop of British pols.
Xenophobia rules here; the UK has taken in fewer asylum
seekers than France, Germany and most other European
countries. Refugees are branded as criminals and welfare
freeloaders. Meanwhile, the media here is having a
ball with the US Republican candidates, with Donald Trump
attracting the most mirth. The Observer today had a two-page
spread showing all the candidates and listing their (non)
qualifications to be President of the Most Powerful Nation on
Earth.
August 16th
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We had a smooth ride home
and saw spectacular views of Greenland, Baffin Island
(right) and Hudson's Bay from 35,000 feet. The little
white dots at the bottom of the photo are icebergs.
Now we are back in the oven that is Phoenix in
August - 115F (46C) yesterday and a record 117F (47C)
the day before. Mercia was basking in the sun when we
left (see left), of course. On the whole, I'd rather
be there, or even in Baffin Island!
<< Mercia basks in sunshine (August 2nd).
Baffin Island from 35,000 feet.
>>
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Finally, here's a photo of the strike point (hit it with a big
hammer) for fixing a loose rudder on a Piper boat.
CLICK to ENLARGE
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