Crossing The Summit
From Crofton Pumping Station there are still six locks to go up before you finally reach the top. The summit pound, itself, is quite short, about a mile and a half, with a small tunnel half way along. From there you descend four more locks into the Vale of Pewsey. In principle, these ten locks are chained up overnight, from four o'clock in the afternoon until eight o'clock the next morning, to help preserve water. In practice. we didn't see any sign of them having been locked up before we went through fairly early on Sunday morning, August the eleventh.
From the bottom of the summit flight, at the western end, you get fifteen miles of lock-free cruising, all the way to Devizes. It is a lovely section of the canal with good views all around across Salisbury Plain to the south and the Marlborough Downs to the north.
Most of the locks were in our favour or even open and as we reached the summit we found a couple waiting for us at the top lock, so we were able to go down with them as far as Pewsey. They were heading for Bumblehole, near Dudley, where they were due to be running the bar at the Black Country festival in September. They were on a bit of a mission, as they would be heading from Portishead to Sharpness on Wednesday so, as we locked down, we were able to pick their brains about preparing for the crossing.
Approaching Pewsey we passed a long, long line of moored sheds that showed little signs of having moved for quite a while. Closer to the road and the services, however, the restricted two day mooring did have a couple of spaces to offer and we were grateful to find one tucked nicely in the shade for the afternoon. We had not long tied up before a boater passing by was telling us which day the CRT spotters came round each week and how to avoid moving on, which rather confirmed our suspicions.
The Waterfront Bar & Bistro, beside the road bridge, was rather sad looking and somehow uninviting. The centre of Pewsey, itself, was a hot, humid, twenty minute walk from there and on arrival, did not feel that it was worth the trip. The whole place was pretty much closed up, including the substantial Co-op Superstore, which apparently shut at four o'clock. Even the little store in our village doesn't close until nine o'clock. It didn't feel like a particularly pretty place, although there were attempts to provide information about some of it's history.
In the market place, the junction with the High Street, which crosses the River Avon, is dominated by a statue of King Alfred.
Alfred The Great in Pewsey
Nearby is an information board commemorating the Thresher riots in the eighteen thirties, a movement that started in Kent, protesting against the introduction of threshing machines which had led to a loss of jobs for landless labourers. The riots swept across southern England and eventually through the Vale. Hayricks and barns were burned, farm buildings and newly introduced threshing machines were destroyed and there were demands for money with menaces made to local farmers. The Yeoman Cavalry were mobilised to pursue the rioters and ten Pewsey men were eventually transported to Tasmania. They left behind four wives and fourteen children but none of the men returned at the end of their seven year sentences. One can only speculate as to why.
Making our way back round to the canal we emerged to the east and headed back down to the boat. On the way along the towpath we had to negotiate a full scale vagabond encampment, gathered around an open fire and working their way through a few crates of tinned lager. They were friendly enough, perhaps even over-friendly but we had to make sure they spotted us approaching from a distance, as they clearly didn't trust their dogs. Some of these looked rather less than friendly and we had to wait while they gathered them in before we took Archie through. The gathering-in might have been quicker and easier if any of the animals had at least been wearing collars.
We stayed put on the Glorious Twelfth, as it promised to be another very hot one and we had the benefit of a shaded mooring and a bit of breeze. It also gave us the opportunity to make some slightly more concrete plans for the journey down to Bristol and beyond.
Downstream To Devizes
With a slightly cooler day in prospect we started on Tuesday, thirteenth August, with a trip to the water point and services. We waited a while for the boat that was already using them to move on and we set off down towards the wharf by the bridge about ten o'clock. As we should have expected, another boat, a wide-beam, suddenly emerged through the bridge as we approached and dropped into the wharf just before we arrived, so we had another wait while they filled up. We also had to help them get their kayak onto the roof as it was too heavy for him to lift alone and his wife couldn't help him with it.
It was past eleven o'clock by the time we were on our way again through more delightful scenery. Just before Ladies' Bridge the canal widens out to the south for a short distance, known as Wide Water. Permission to build through land owned by Wilcot Manor was contingent on the canal being widened there to form an ornamental lake with a fine ornamental bridge over it. Susannah Wroughton of Wilcot Manor and her daughter, also Susannah, were the ladies for whom the bridge is named.
Ladies Bridge At Wilcot
Shortly after the bridge, the landscape nearby seems dominated by what we think is Picked Hill, with its trig point on the top.
Picked Hill
Further away, the Pewsey White Horse is clearly visible up on the Downs. Apparently, it almost completely disappeared by the nineteen thirties but was recut in nineteen thirty-seven and is now regularly maintained, so it was shining brightly when the sun came out.
Vale Of Pewsey White Horse
We did have one particular date driver at this point. We wanted to get past Honeystreet well before the end of the week, when a floating market was being held there and various visitor moorings were being reserved for traders. It turned out that we were already too late. The boats had already started to gather so, as we passed through Honey Street and then All Cannings, there was no room at the Inn.
We had a few unsuccessful attempts to get close enough to the side to moor up but eventually found a short stretch near Horton where, with a bit of shoving, we were able to get alongside and tie up after a longer day than we had expected.
I had contacted the fuel boat "Frederick" the day before. They were coming up from Devizes and I sent a message to tell them where we were moored. They duly arrived a little bit later on and we took on ninety-seven litres of diesel, our first fill since arriving at Froud's Bridge on the first of July.
There was time to walk through Horton, which proved to be virtually non-existent, along a lane that cut off a loop in the canal to Horton Bridge, where we had a quiet pint in the garden of The Bridge Inn. There was a mooring here, for patrons only, and an Anglo Welsh hire boat arrived with a flurry of noisy chaos. Its extensive crew assembled in the garden to the disappointing news that there was no hot food available. They got on the phone to The Crown Inn, booked a table and then began asking for directions to The Crown Inn in Devizes, which they then learned was more than an hour's walk away. I don't know why they didn't take a little more time and Google it, which I did when, on the way back down the towpath, I saw the large, clear signage by the swing bridge that they had passed through just before they arrived. If they did walk to Devizes I fear they will have had a further disappointment, as The Crown Inn in Devizes was temporarily closed for refurbishment at the time while, as the signs clearly said, The Crown Inn, Bishops Canning was fully open and just a ten minute stroll from there. I suspect that this may be where they had actually made their hurried telephone table booking.
Late that evening we were joined by another boat moored up ahead of us and heard the sound of pins being hammered in. It was a bit of a shock to step out in the morning to be greeted by this "Flying Pig".
The Flying Pig
The weather was slightly discouraging and the owner of the "Flying Pig" gave a rather pessimistic prognosis for mooring in Devizes but there was very little prospect of either of them brightening up soon, so we set off about ten o'clock, regardless. A hire boat came past just before we left and we were able to slip past them as they worked the swing bridge. It was quite a short run so we arrived in Devizes before midday to find a convenient, three day, visitor space, just our size, with mooring rings and a nice, wide towpath just past White Horse Boats, near the Cemetery Road Bridge.
An initial foray across the bridge into Devizes did not leave a favourable impression. A busy main road with not much going on but traffic, leading up to the supermarket. The next day, however, we took a proper town trail look around. Beyond the main road you enter the town proper and it is a lot more pleasant. We had a good walk around and decided that, actually, we rather liked it. Despite the looming presence of the Wadworth Brewery,
Wadworth Dominate in Devizes
there are lots of attractive buildings around, most of them in use rather than derelict.
In the end we spent our full permitted three days here, exploring the town, including a wonderful Aladdin's cave style hardware store, with some nice walking in the countryside around us, accessible straight off the mooring beside this little chapel in the cemetery.
Devizes Cemetery Chapel
In between times we did firm up bookings with the various pilots, checked our insurance terms and paid an additional premium, made a date with someone to clean the fuel tank in Bristol and checked out the anchor equipment and other points complied with requirements for the Severn estuary crossing. That included a good walk down the towpath to purchase the required additional fuel filter from Devizes Marina, the only place between here and Bristol that we could be sure to get one.
Caen Hill
Saturday, seventeenth August was time to move on from our three day mooring. Ahead lay the Caen Hill flight, twenty-nine locks in all, dropping around two hundred and forty feet. Sixteen of the locks are very closely spaced, with side pounds to manage the water flowing out of one and into the next. There is nowhere to stop on the way down this group of sixteen and they are locked up outside of specific hours, with the last entry time at two o'clock in the afternoon.
First, with a light mist on the water, we needed to access the facilities at Devizes, that happened to be behind us.
Our Route To Reverse On A Misty Morning
We reversed up past the few moored boats on our side and successfully threaded our way past the hire base with its boats triple-breasted across the canal. All seemed to be going well until we hit the shallow silt on the approach to the foot of the bridge. Suddenly we weren't gliding backwards but skewing sideways, with no amount of engine thrashing or bow thruster action getting us back in a straight line. Eventually, deep under the low hanging trees, we managed to push and shove our way free and get across to the service wharf on the other side, humiliated but largely unscathed, apart from a new collection of twigs and leaves.
As we left the wharf, heading for the first lock, we passed "Lizzie", who asked if we were going down and could they join us. To be honest, it was a bit of a shed and didn't look as if it could be certain to make it all the way down but of course, we agreed and waited in the lock for them to arrive. There were two guys on the boat but they were meeting a friend, who had arranged to join them and help work the locks. By the time we reached the second lock he had already filled that one and had the gate open. They clearly knew what they were doing and worked energetically. We quickly sorted out a system working together that kept us flowing through very smoothly. If there had been a lot of opposing traffic coming up it would have slowed us down but we only passed one boat the whole way.
No-one had told us about the café and welcome station at the top of the group of sixteen and the smell of breakfast frying on a fine Saturday morning was tantalising. Sadly, we were now in an unstoppable rhythm and had no time to wait for bacon rolls. Likewise, there was no time to pause and take in the spectacular views from the steep flight.
At the bottom of the sixteen, having done twenty-two locks in a little under three hours, we decided to stop at a forty-eight hour mooring there. We parted company with "Lizzie", who were heading for Hilperton and moored up for the afternoon. As the locks are closed from two o'clock there was not a lot of traffic but we did have one or two boats arriving and then having to turn back and moor up because they hadn't realised they wouldn't be able to get through. Archie and I did walk back up, on our way to explore Rowde, to take in the views we hadn't been able to enjoy on the way down.
Caen Hill Flight From Our Mooring