Thursday got off to a
dull and windy start, but we had washing to do, so we didn't leave
our mooring until after lunch. We could have run the washing machine
while we were on the move, but we were feeling a little pessimistic,
and didn't want to leave the washing machine to get on with its job
unattended – just in case it decided to go wrong, and leak water
into the boat! So we just ran the engine for an hour or so, and ran
the generator – you know, the one with the history! – and
played Scrabble.
Setting out as late as
we did, we didn't go far. The canal continued to be very winding and
narrow, and at bridge 122 the right-hand bend was so severe that
Grace could not take Kantara around it without a bit of reversing. We
moored just before bridge 123, over which ran a footpath to the
little town of Priors Hardwick.
Before supper, I took a
walk into the town, knowing it to be rather strange in that many of
the houses there are uninhabited.
I can't discover why that
is. They're not derelict, despite their years, they're just... empty!
What's more, I walked through the town at around 5:00pm, and there
was no-one around except a man I spoke with (who might have been the
gardener responsible for the fabulously colourful gardens around a
very expensive-looking house, or the retired rock star who owns it),
and one woman in her front garden with whom I exchanged greetings.
The place was otherwise empty. I looked in at windows as I passed
houses, and they all seemed to be empty.
The one hotel (there was no
pub!) was strangely silent,
the church doors were open, but there was
no-one there.
There was no shop. I almost expected someone to step
out from nowhere and demand to know what I was doing there! It was
very
strange!
We seem to have the
knack of finding really lovely places to moor overnight, although
this is usually after cruising on for some time beyond when we would
have liked to stop. It very often happens that the towing path is
lined with all sorts of plant life along the water side, making
mooring difficult at best. Or the bank is too narrow to use mooring
pins without them obstructing the path of walkers. Or the bank has
been reinforced with bags of cement which render the use of mooring
pins impossible. Thursday's mooring was at the first stretch of "armco" we came to, and proved to be the most remote, peaceful spot
we have ever chosen.
Armco - well, that's what we call it! |
The hook we use to moor onto the Armco |
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