Spring At Last?

Since arriving at our winter mooring at Hatton Station in November we had really only had one short cruise, for a week in January.

Looking at the weather forecast from the end of March and the placement of the Easter holidays we decided to extend our stay by a couple of weeks to Fifteenth April. After what seems like a very long winter there was a promise of settled, fine weather for a week or so from that weekend and the school holidays should have ended then too.

Accordingly, we spent Friday loading up the boat with clothing and supplies and stayed on board overnight. We had been maintaining and preparing the boat for weeks so it was rather surprising how much still needed to be carted up and down the wharf in the persistent rain that started in the afternoon.

Saturday, however, was fine, bright and sunny with little wind and the day soon warmed up from the cold start at just above zero. An ideal day to tackle the Hatton Lock flight. With a first stop at the top for a bacon bap to fortify us for the trial ahead we set off into the twenty-one locks over the next two miles or so.

There were no boats to go down with us, no help from the volunteer lockkeepers and when, at a couple of locks, boats came the other way, the locks they had just left were already half full by the time we got there. This made it all a bit more effort than entertainment and set a record for our longest passage here ever, at four hours thirty minutes. Having moored up at the Cape Of Good Hope and retrieved the car, we felt we had earned a pint and visited the pub, which was absolutely heaving on a sunny, Saturday evening. Luckily, a particularly well-oiled and raucous party, singing and doing shots at six o'clock in the evening, suddenly vacated the premises just after we arrived, leaving a free table and a much more pleasant atmosphere.

Having at last learned the pointlessness of planning, many years too late, we had not spent many hours poring over and marking up maps for the summer. We had settled for the the vague intention of heading north, with a final stop at home on the way to deal with those things we were sure to have forgotten, and aiming to see if the Leeds Liverpool Canal had any water in it this year.

While choosing not to plan in detail there are still some specifics that will shape what we do and when. With Jen, Sue & my birthdays in the same week, we will make a trip home for that in May and again in July, when Nick hits a rather big milestone. Does life still begin at Forty? Also, almost by accident, we have booked ourselves a space on an IWA Rally on the Wyrley & Essington Canal, near Birmingham, over August Bank Holiday. Being that close, at that time, it seems likely that we will then come down to Hatton again for the club's big Commodore's Weekend, a week later, before taking off again.

For the first part of this year's cruise we will be travelling waterways and passing places we have visited quite a few times before. Now being familiar with them has its own attraction and benefits but they don't need describing in detail.

A couple of days to reach Long Itchington, a twenty minute journey by car, followed by a couple of nights at the house, with the boat moored five minutes' walk away. While it was there I dealt with a niggle I had had for a long time. It has always seemed to me that Parting Shot was listing, just a little, to the starboard side. Aintree had suggested where some extra ballast could be put in quite simply but you can't just go to the chandlery and buy ballast that easily. I had suddenly realised that Cole Craft Boats, right there in Long Itchington, must ballast out their boats and perhaps they would sell me some off cuts. I thought it might be difficult to explain but one phone call and I was able to pick up some nice steel bar, cut to the lengths we had space for, the same afternoon. It is quite surprising just how heavy a foot length of four by two steel bar actually is. It is not an exact science but once installed, I could no longer feel that slight imbalance. Time will tell as we get on our way.

By Thursday we were at Flecknoe and a visit to Linda, the slightly loopy landlady at the Old Olive Bush, was a must. Having bought the place in March twenty twenty she has weathered the COVID storm but we still marvel that she can actually make a living, with limited opening hours and a rather random approach to when food is available. Nevertheless, we found the couple from 'Mandarin', moored next to us, waiting outside for the pub to open and we were all asked not to occupy the big table, as a group of village residents always sit there on a Thursday evening. Perhaps the incomers, Neil & Karen Payne, will be joining them this winter?

A week after coming on board we moved on to Braunston, eight miles from our house. We might have done better to stay put, as we had rain showers and really fierce winds from the time that we left. Having turned left at the junction onto the North Oxford canal we got moored up as soon as we could. At one point we were watching real waves being whipped up on the surface of the canal by the wind and you could almost imagine surfing on them as they rushed past.

On Saturday, things had calmed down for a really quite pleasant morning cruise to Clifton, just short of Rugby. We had a good walk up to Clifton-Upon-Dunsmore but were rather surprised to find the Bull Inn looking very closed down on a sunny Saturday afternoon. We settled for an ice cream from the village shop and headed back down to the boat. We were moored by the golf course and Sue, looking on the Google maps satellite image, found a really nice area, known as bluebell walk, on the far side of the course. It runs all the way up to become Whinwell Woods and Whinwell Park leading right into Rugby. Brilliant for walking the dog and we had no idea it was there.

After another day there we moved up to Rugby for the supermarket shop and access to big city life. Here, sadly, just as we were about to leave, Sue had 'one of her falls'. She tripped as she returned from an emergency trip to M&S that would eventually result in another trip to Emergency. Bruised knees, grazed hands, jarred shoulders and a very bloody nose was quite a catalogue of injuries from such a simple slip. At that point, having dealt with the shock, Sue didn't think it would need any treatment bar the passage of time, so we moved on.

We had a couple of nice nights at Brinklow, where Archie got to grips with the concept of rabbits up on the old castle grounds known as Brinklow Tump. The village is a short walk uphill from the canal but well worth a visit.

Evening In Brinklow

We had some good weather here and tried out a new technique for keeping the inevitable scratches on the hull under control. Just some of the topcoat decanted into an air-tight jar and mixed with a little thinner, making it readily accessible, simple to stir up and easy to apply. It isn't a 'proper job' but it could protect the bare steel and make it look tidier, without spending days putting on layer after layer. So far, it seems to be quite successful.

We moved on on Thursday morning, via the water point at Rose Narrowboats swing bridge, Where I became the temporary bridge keeper for a stream of boats in both directions on what seemed to be a busy day.

Bit Of A Squeeze At Rose Narrowboats

We went on up to Hawkesbury Junction, which marks the end of the Oxford Canal. We spent the night there, ready to take on the Coventry the next day.

Setting off on Friday morning, three weeks on and about twelve miles from home, we were rounding the Hawkesbury Junction to head away from Coventry with a busy day ahead. We needed to attend to all the usual services before we left, we had an order to collect from a Post Office in Nuneaton and would need to do a major grocery shop at Sainsbury's there. The gas bottle had run out the morning before, for once visibly failing when trying to put the kettle on, rather than the usual sneaky trick of quietly expiring in the oven, half way through cooking dinner. Since we would be passing a couple of boatyards we could stop and replace it and get some diesel at the same time, before finally mooring up safely beyond Nuneaton.

On the approach, we passed an enormous building in construction. It seems set to loom over the canal but in fairness, what was there before may have been worse. What we particularly noticed was the, apparent, timber frame construction. The beams and planks seemed absolutely huge and we had no idea timber frames were built on this scale.

Massive Timber Framing

Nuneaton, despite the nickname Treacle Town, from the sugar and treacle factory that used to operate there, gets a lot of bad press. This is particularly so recently, with various reports of attacks on the towpath, damage to moored boats and theft both from and of boats left there. We proved right to think that we should be okay in the middle of a sunny day but chose a spot surrounded by other boaters to be on the safe side. Walking to Sainsbury's through Riversley Park was really pleasant and showed a side of Nuneaton that is much less mentioned.

Riversley Park In Nuneaton

From what we saw it didn't seem any worse than many other large towns we have visited.

We rang ahead and found Starline didn't have any gas, so we stopped at Springwood Haven, where the boat was blacked this time last year. They were as keen on Archie as ever and pretended to remember him as they fussed over him. Very nice place, as always but as for everything these days, the prices are eye-watering, with gas at forty-two pounds compared to thirty-two pounds last year.

All this took a long time and when we reached a particular spot, near Hartshill, that we had marked on our map as an ideal mooring we had been on the go for nearly eight hours. The weather had been great, though and it was a lovely evening at a mooring that was just as good as we had remembered. I took Archie for a walk and we went up the hill to Hartshill. Sadly the Stag & Pheasant operates a No Dogs policy so strict that I had barely set one foot in the door when I was told to leave, even as I was drawing breath to ask if Archie could come in. I considered asking to place an order to drink in the sunshine outside but decided we should operate an equally strict 'No Dogs, No Money' policy. Instead, we headed down Quarryman's Walk through the woods, startling a frantic Muntjac on the way and found our way back to the boat.

Spring At Last?

Departure Time

To Plan Or Not To Plan?

Covering Old Ground

The North Oxford

The Coventry Through 'Treacle Town'

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