Home For Halloween

In the end, although grey and much cooler, Sunday stayed mainly dry and we had a much shorter trip, about four and a half miles, as far as Hopwas. As we were leaving, about ten o'clock, "Greenlaw" came around the bend and we waited for the nicely maintained old tug boat to pass.

"Greenlaw", beautifully looked after

As they did so, however, they told us that they had a very deep draught and were moving very slowly so they pulled in just at the marina entrance, to allow us to go on ahead of them. This was an unusually thoughtful gesture, although it then put us under a little pressure to get on board and pull away as quickly as possible. As often happens in such circumstances the orderly routine goes out of the window and we were away and round the corner before Sue realised that she had not picked up the mooring hook, known as a 'nappy pin', we had used to secure the boat to the bank the previous night.

At Hopwas, we moored up just before the official visitor moorings, in the woods opposite the military firing range. With no shooting in progress on a Sunday, the towpath seemed incredibly busy with people walking their dogs and children, the latter hardly ever on a lead, up to the next bridge and back. Once the traffic died down, however, it was a nice quiet spot with no other boats moored there. In the afternoon, I took Archie for a good walk around the ranges and surrounding woods. Returning along the towpath from the village, past the formal visitor moorings, what should we see but an abandoned nappy pin wedged into the Armco. I left it there, just in case someone was just about to run back and get it but as it was still there a few hours later, on the way back from the pub and under cover of darkness, we picked it up to replace the one we had lost in the morning.

The promised rain had come in at about six o'clock on Sunday and set in for the night but on Monday morning it had passed through and it became a fine, warm and sunny day. There still seemed to be quite a lot of boat traffic on this stretch of canal, leading down to Fazeley Junction. Just before the junction the main A5 crosses the canal at Bonehill Bridge. From here you can walk up to a big trading estate with a large Sainsbury's and an M&S Food Hall, so we moored up and Sue went to start the shopping, while Archie and I took a walk down to the junction and came back to meet her and carry the bags back. It looks very convenient on the map but always turns out to be a surprising slog up to the shops and back here.

Having done the washing that morning, we stopped again at the very slow water point on the junction, opposite the Birmingham & Fazeley Canal, before heading up through the two Glascote Locks. We wanted to get fuel before we eventually ended up moored for several days at Atherstone. The only place to do that along here would be Alvecote Marina which, when we looked it up, was closed on Mondays, so we stopped a little way short of there, in a suburb of Tamworth called Amington, just by a fine collection of garden gnomes and other ornaments.

Surely you CAN have too many garden ornaments

Although we were right opposite people's back gardens they were long enough not to bother us and the towpath was fairly quiet.

For once, it was after we had finished cooking dinner that the gas bottle ran out. With the gas in the stern locker and the changeover valves we had had installed it was a simple matter to switch over to the full bottle and carry on boiling the kettle. Congratulations on putting these arrangements in place proved a little premature when, starting the crucial morning cuppa the next morning, we found we had no gas coming through. I had a rummage in the gas locker checking the various valves, stopcocks and safety devices but without success. This was a potential disaster as we were about to be standing in one place for nearly a week and having no gas for that period would be a real problem.

Eventually, we called Alvecote Marina to see if they had a gas engineer there, since we were going in for diesel, in any case. Pete asked me a couple of questions and then said that, while he was not Gas Safe registered and would not be able to open up the system, he would have a look and see if he could spot anything.

We were there shortly after ten o'clock and Pete came round to the boat. He opened up the gas locker and spent ten minutes checking the various valves, stopcocks and safety devices, just as I had. Like me, he was suspicious of the red button clearly visible on the safety reset valve and had a go at pushing the button in, as I had. He got out his phone and googled the instructions for the valve to check and then applied the engineering expertise of pushing it really hard, with a degree of force I had not been bold enough to use. With a soft click, it suddenly gave, depressed and allowed the gas to flow. We assume the safety valve had been activated by a momentary loss of pressure during the changeover and we had used up all the gas trapped in the system the night before. Half an hour later we had a full tank of diesel, a replacement gas cylinder for the empty and were on our way with the issue resolved.

From Alvecote we cruised on through Polesworth and past Grendon Dry Dock and this sad looking wreck, sinking back into nature and getting more overgrown each time we pass.

A sad sight at Grendon

Another stop at the Grendon service facility to ensure we were as full and empty as possible, was followed by the bottom four locks on the Atherstone flight. We were moored up just before Baddesley Bridge by two 0'clock. It seemed a good spot, still out in the open country, with plenty of sun for the solar panels when it was available but still close enough to easily walk into the town and the railway station which is at this north-western end of Long Street.

Having settled in at Atherstone on Tuesday afternoon, eighth October, we had lunch and then I went up to collect some parcels from the Post Office. Shortly after four o'clock, just as I left the shelter of the town, the heavens opened and we were subjected to an hour of torrential rain, with a lot more finer drizzle to follow.

Wednesday continued to be damp, at times and cooler than in recent days but we had some sunny and dry spells as well. Sue went off to catch her train at about one o'clock leaving Archie and I to fend for ourselves. We kept busy over the next few days with some nice walks locally and a lot of little tasks to tidy, mend and clean up the boat, inside and out. Lower down and around the canal there was a lot of flooding and there were plenty of waterlogged fields to be seen.

Flooded ground around the canal at Atherstone

Walking out to Baddesley Common via Grendon Wood took us up onto higher ground and Baddesley Ensor. The winding wheel memorial on the common pays tribute to the mining heritage of Baddesley and Baxterley and all the men who worked there.

The Winding Wheel Memorial On Baddesley Common

In particular, it remembers the twenty-three men were killed in an explosion, while attempting to rescue nine other miners who had been trapped underground, the wrong side of the flames, when a fire broke out. This tragedy in eighteen eighty-two was the worst mining disaster in this area.

We had some heavy rain overnight but mainly fine, bright sunny days and Archie and I treated ourselves to a takeaway on Friday night.

Sue returned on Saturday afternoon and we got ready to move on the next day. An hour of rain in the morning gave way to a mostly dry and sunny Sunday on thirteenth October, as we set off up the remaining seven locks. As we came into the top lock we met a boat coming down who asked for some advice as to how long it would take him to get to Kinver. Apart from saying it would be the same length as a piece of string, we tried to give him a rough idea as well as some information about services he might need along the way. He clearly had no idea what he was doing or that such things as canal maps even existed. It transpired that the fifty-five foot boat had been bought two days earlier for just twenty-nine thousand pounds. As well as having no maps or guides, he had commissioned no survey report and had no BSS (Boat Safety Scheme) certificate. So far, he had suffered a split radiator hose and a dead leisure battery, although it was unclear whether the battery was old and defective or he hadn't known how to manage the power used. He seemed keen but his wife and small child looked less enthusiastic, sitting in the well deck. We could only wish them the best of luck!

We called in at the service facility by the top lock before heading off towards Nuneaton. We had walked into Nuneaton before now and parts of it seemed quite pleasant. Its reputation, however, particularly for the area along the canal and for boats moored there, is very poor, so we planned to moor up before we got too close.

Apart from one night back at Coven on the Staffordshire & Worcestershire, at the end of September, we had been quite comfortable just running the central heating for an hour in the evening. However, since arriving at Atherstone, we had needed to light the stove every evening and had been burning through our stocks of firewood.  We called in at Springwood Haven marina, with its convenient canal side wharf, to pick up some more logs. We had the boat blacked here in May twenty twenty-two and while I don't think they remembered us, they recognised Archie instantly and made a big fuss of him. Leaving there, we just moved through the adjacent bridge and moored up a little further down in the sunshine.

There was heavy rain overnight and again from around eight o'clock on Monday morning. We set off when that cleared, a little after half past ten but a fine drizzle returned as we made our way through Nuneaton and out the other side. The weather may have been responsible for the almost complete absence of any other boat movement and as it finally dried up the canal suddenly became a lot busier, with at least four other boats meeting us at various bridge holes on the way to Hawkesbury Junction. The moorings here were very busy too, partly because visiting boats passing through were being pushed further out by the impressive shanty town of sheds, in various stages of DIY fit-out, established closest to the junction and the Greyhound pub.

Tuesday morning, fifteenth October, was dry, at least, although the air felt moist and there was a cold wind as we worked through the junction onto the North Oxford Canal and along to Brinklow. In February a major landslip in the eighteen metre high embankment of the Easenhall Cutting, approaching the mooring at Brinklow, had closed the canal. A huge amount of soil, debris, and large mature trees were deposited into the canal and the operation to remove it and re-open the navigation lasted until the middle of May. The saturated ground limited what could be done without risking further slippage and before work could start in earnest, a three hundred metre access road had to be constructed in the fields above, to get the heavy plant and machinery required to the site. Even now the towpath through the cutting remains closed and is unlikely to re-open until at least May twenty twenty-five.

On the water, thankful that CRT had made it an immediate priority, we were able to cruise straight through and moor up just beyond, in sight of the Brinklow Tump, the medieval castle mound overlooking the village. It was busy on the moorings and we had to rely on pins and moor against a rocky shelf below the surface. Having slept in past eight o'clock the next morning, I emerged to see the boat ahead of us, which had enjoyed a much more secure mooring against the bankside piling, was just pulling away. A frantic rush followed to get, more or less, dressed, put on some shoes and pull the boat forward into the vacant space. Thirty yards behind us, on the same type of rough bank we had enjoyed, was a boat called "Never Two Late". They have a video blog and we have met them a few times on our travels. As I walked past with Archie, Steve told me that, if we hadn't moved quickly, he had just been contemplating moving up there himself, so it is a good job we didn't wait until after breakfast.

Having secured a decent berth, we stayed at Brinklow for the day and went for a nice walk round Brinklow Marina and then up into the village. Pumpkins Deli was still there, in the High Street, serving delicious breakfasts, lunches and cakes that we remembered from a past trip. We had set our hearts on a good lunch here but were shocked to find that they were not dog-friendly. Clearly, memory must have played us false and we assume that we were between dogs last time we were there. It was too cold to sit outside so, in the end, we settled for a takeaway lunch to take back to the boat. It might have been nicer to eat in the café but at least the food was as good as we remembered.

On Thursday, seventeenth October, it was time to move on towards Rugby and it was lucky that we had already passed through Easenhall. Following heavy rain overnight, we could see, through the bridge behind us and along the cutting, that there was a large tree down across the canal. By the time we left, at nine forty-five, there were already three boats, heading towards Coventry, that were pulled over waiting to get help from CRT to clear the channel.

From Tuesday onwards,  the weather had become much milder and today was particularly warm and sunny, with very little wind. It made for a very pleasant cruise down to the water point at Brownsover and we moored up in almost the last remaining space by half-past twelve. Once again, for October, the moorings seemed very full. In the afternoon it was nice enough to give the boat a wash and polish on the bank side and we made full use of the easy access to Rugby's extensive out of town shopping areas and supermarkets for everything from groceries to walking shoes.

It was too busy here for a second night especially at the weekend, so, on Friday, once Sue had made a final foray to Tesco and just as the light mist burned away, we set off for a very short cruise, about one and a half miles, to a spot we like near Clifton upon Dunsmore. On the way, we stopped for fuel at Clifton Cruisers. All their boats seemed to be in and we ended up triple breasted opposite their pump. Since we were blocking the canal, we had to be quick, so any thought of trying out their excellent café was forgotten. Fortunately, we managed to take on the fuel and get the payment done before anyone came along. Normally, we might find that unsurprising but it had already proved very busy today, in both directions. In fact, having left there, we passed under the next two bridges and pulled over to check out the best spot to moor up. Before we could secure the boat, 'Firefly' had come up behind us and as we stood there, holding onto the centre line while they passed, five more boats came around the bend in steady succession, all being held up by 'Firefly' at the front and all confronted by two others coming the other way.

We waited patiently for this fever of activity to pass and then went on to pick our spot and moor the boat up. We were close to the new bridge, erected to serve a whole new town of over six thousand houses being created on the hill above the canal. While it may sound as if it would be unpleasant, we had found that, so far, the new town was sufficiently distant as to be unnoticeable and although the towpath was well-used, having the fairways of Rugby Golf Club running all the way along it meant that, apart from the occasional thwack of a mashie-niblick, it was normally very peaceful. So it was today, on a lovely, sunny, autumn afternoon and we enjoyed a good walk along the towpath to the Avon Way and up over Clifton.

On Saturday, nineteenth October, we had heavy rain from five-thirty in the morning for nearly four hours. We let it pass and ran the washing machine while we waited, as we would be getting water not far ahead. By eleven o'clock it was fine and sunny, although the ground was saturated, so we set out for Hillmorton Locks. Although these are supposed to be the busiest set of locks in the country, it was fairly quiet. There was a volunteer lock-keeper on duty and we were the first boat he had seen. We got water and used the service facilities as we passed through and moved on towards Braunston. We planned to stop before reaching the village and stay there for a couple of nights, as the forecast for Sunday was, at best, poor.

The mooring along the towpath was pretty busy here but we found a space, although a little gardening was required as the path was so narrow that the overgrown hedge was making it difficult to get on and off the boat comfortably. The afternoon was brilliant and sunny again and there was time to take Archie out for a walk down towards Braunston and across to Willoughby. It was a nice walk, overall but the paths were narrow and filthy with slippery mud. At one point, as we crossed the fields towards the turf farm, we found ourselves being rounded up by a sheepdog, which seemed to be operating completely independently. We climbed a stile but the dog continued to follow us across several more fields notwithstanding the lack of sheep requiring protection. It wasn't aggressive but it was a bit unnerving and we were quite glad to be able to lose it as we reached the main road.

Rain came in again overnight and the promised Storm Ashley arrived, quite suddenly, shortly after eight the next morning. It was grey and wet but the main feature was a very strong wind and the storm encouraged us to stay indoors for most of the day. We certainly had no intention of trying to move the boat. By two o'clock the rain had stopped and the sun came out but the high wind continued. One or two hire boats were obviously tempted by the apparent improvement and soon found out why it would have been better to stay put. One in particular came up behind us, struggling their way up the straight but losing it completely as they came around the bend. They ended up across the canal and stuck in the reeds until one of the boaters moored there, probably in fear of what they might do next, managed to take a line from them and help get them back under some sort of control. That was obviously warning enough, as they immediately hauled the boat into the bank and moored up for the night.

Monday, twenty-first October, was dry and calm, with no trace of Storm Ashley in the weather. However, everyone who had spent the previous day hunkering down was now out on the move. We set off after ten o'clock, planning to stop for the services before Braunston junction and to visit Midland Chandlers for firewood and the various parts required for the next engine service. We got down there and managed to get onto the water point but activity around the junction was chaos, with boats coming from all directions, most of them wanting services, chandlery or both. We filled up and then moved on a few yards and moored up against two other boats on the Midland's wharf while we did our shopping. We then turned at the junction, heading towards Napton and another favourite mooring at Flecknoe. Here, Ashley's influence was very much in evidence, in the shape of a large fallen tree just beyond the bridge at the end of the straight. Boats were just able to pass between the bank and the crown of the tree, provided they were prepared to risk their paintwork. In fact, we had to wait while four boats in succession came through from the other direction and a small queue formed behind us. We squeezed through and carried on down to Flecknoe where we moored up for a couple of nights.

We had planned to meet Neil and Karen Payne here but we had had a message on Sunday that Neil had been struck down by Covid again. It had been a while since we had been aware of anyone testing positive for Covid and we had almost forgotten about it. Hearing this, it all came back to us. As well as Neil feeling rotten we certainly didn't want to risk catching it ourselves, so we had to call it off. It did prompt us to get in touch with our GP and book Covid and Flu jabs for us both, as soon as possible.

We had really fine weather at Flecknoe and it seemed set fair for the next couple of days, before being forecast to worsen again on Friday. On Wednesday morning we moved on round Napton Junction and down the Grand Union to moor up opposite Nelson's Wharf, only about forty-five minutes walk from our house. On the way, we passed a boat called "Ellen", who generously moved over onto the off side to give us plenty of room. A little too generously, in fact, as the driver caught his woolly hat on the branches of a tree and left it suspended in the air. We managed to grab it as we went past the spot but they had already cruised on and there was no way to return it.

Despite being so close to home we stayed on board, ready to tackle Stockton Locks the next morning. We had ten locks to get through to reach our own village of Long Itchington and we would leave the boat there for a few days to open up the house, fetch the car and settle back in at home until the weather was right to move the boat up to her winter mooring.