Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Sunday, and a problem.

Sunday morning was beautiful, a heavy mist hanging over the water like a strange, ethereal blanket.

We ascended the eleven locks of the Wilmcote flight,

across the two aqueducts, and into Wootton Warwen Basin. I now had a cold! We moored for the rest of the day, and overnight.

It rained heavily overnight, with very strong winds, and this continued into the next morning. A window frame leaked - out came the Captain Tolley's Creeping Crack Cure! We were disinclined to move on in weather like this, but our 24-hour mooring allowance was due to expire at around 2:30. The rain stopped at 12-ish, but the wind didn't. We sighed and went to the Farm Shop we'd visited last time we were here, to buy some of the delicious-looking meat pies we'd seen. They were closed on Mondays. Sigh again. Stopping another night seemed like a good idea now. There had been no sign of an Enforcement Officer CRT checking up on mooring behaviour (we thought), and there was no record of when we had first arrived (we hoped) so we felt safe. We could visit the shop the next morning, before leaving. 

During lunch, the wind dropped and the sun came out. However, feeling the need to run the engine for a couple of hours to charge the batteries, we found that the Morse handle (which gives control of forward and reverse speed) was jammed. Not only could we not charge the batteries, then, but neither would we be able to move off. A job for River Canal Rescue - I'd call them first thing the next morning. And we'd just have to be careful with the batteries in the meantime.

With no time pressure now, we took a look at Wootton Warwen village.

Wootton Hall

St Peter's church
The church is of Saxon origin, with a very interesting history, but unfortunately those in charge there have not made the most of it as a place of interest to visitors.

Needing various groceries, we went into the village's general store. It was amazing! The huge range of goods stocked was quite astounding, from the mundane to the eclectic, on shelves from floor to ceiling, with items hanging from the beams, too. Who needs a supermarket?

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