A day out with the ladies!

A few weeks ago, Said the Maiden were gigging at an event in the Handel & Hendrix house in London, and Jess fell down the stairs and put her elbow through the back of her dulcimer. On Tuesday, we drove out to Ely - Jess, Nome, Grace, me and said dulcimer - to a luthier she'd found on the web. Dulcimer duly delivered (he can fix it for a sensible sum, but not for a few weeks), we drove into the little city.

Ely ( The Isle of Eels, so why not Eely?) is the strangest, smallest city I've ever seen. It has the cathedral, of course, magnificent from the outside but rather austere within, and it has Oliver Cromwell's house, a museum and the River Great Ouse. And several other ancient buildings.

Apart from that, it's shops. And, on Tuesday, rain. Quite a lot of it. We got rather wet. But it was a good day, nonetheless. Naomi and Jess did the local Treasure Trail, and we all toured the cathedral, ate in the nearby Almonry Restaurant, and strolled down to the river.

It was a great day out, needless to say!

Coming up next...

Being back in the marina has its advantages, but they're probably only psychological. I feel easier changing the engine oil and filter there (which I will do before we go out again), it's easier for Simon to come and fix the bowthruster problem (a broken, faulty solder - which he has fixed), it's simpler for Colin to visit to cure the diesel bleed from the injectors which he didn't quite cure last time (which he thinks he's got right this time). A water tap is just a metre from the boat. Elsan disposal is a two-minute walk. I can wash the boat with the hose, and use lots of clean water. As reported before, the washing machine on the boat doesn't run properly when driven by the inverter, so washing clothes is far more straightforward here, where we have a mains supply. I even feel happier finding and stopping the leak around the water pump in the marina than on the cut. Which we've done.

I don't think I'd make a good continuous cruiser!

You've got a good idea now what we've been doing since we returned. And now that's all sorted, we're back at the house now, to do some landlordy things there, and to vote at the MEP elections. After that, we're spending a week in Kendal before going back to Kantara, (changing the oil and filter), and going out on another cruise. We then have Michelle spending a week with us, one or two friends coming for a day, and cat-sitting for a week, and we'll still have time to enjoy the Indian Summer on the cut.

Yes, there will be one.

In the time we'd been off down the GU, lots of eggs were hatched in the marina. Eight cygnets, three goslings (not yet photographed), and a number of ducklings that won't keep still long enough to be counted (and won't co-operate with the photographer!) We're still waiting for the moorhens.

And the weather's lovely, and the sunsets are spectacular, and we're so blessed to be there.

The last leg

A local swan family turned out to see us off from our Wednesday night mooring, the cygnets falling over themselves in their excitement. At least, that's how it looked!

It's an eleven lock/mile trip from there to Buckby Top Lock. We stopped at Weedon for supplies. This couple were begging at the side of the canal.

The journey was slow but beautiful, punctuated by the odd drop of inoffensive rain. Buckby Flight was even slower but, as usual, we were in no hurry.

As usual, we moored below Buckby Top Lock for our last night of the cruise, opposite NB Comfortably Numb.

Moving on the next day, we found Watford Locks empty apart from us and one other boat three locks ahead. We had the assistance of two volunteer lockies all the way up, three of them for the last two locks, so it was a speedy and sociable ascent.

Unlike the ones at Stowe, these swans were totally indifferent to us.

Crick Tunnel was the wettest place we'd been that day, but we'd pretty much dried out by the time we got to Yelvertoft. We'd had a really good trip. Five weeks in one stretch, amounting to more cruising time than we'd had in the whole of last year!

What's the most striking thing about being back? The kettle boils really quickly!!

Being, not doing

For most of us, the largest part of our lives is spent doing, so I really enjoy those days that can be spent simply being. Yesterday was like that, and the day before, when there were few locks or swing-bridges or lift-bridges or any other kind of distraction, and our time is spent simply chugging along at 3 mph - less when passing moored boats (and we've passed a lot of those!) - enjoying the canal and the countryside, the peace and quiet.

Tuesday was the same. After another cold night, the morning was mild and sunny as we ascended the last two locks up into and through Stoke Bruerne Wharf. We met no other craft in Blisworth Tunnel, and the journey on through Blisworth, Gayton Junction, Bugbrooke, and Nether Heyford was simply beautiful and beautifully simple.

One of our favoured moorings - just before Stowe Hill, opposite a farm and its camping site - had only two other boats, and we happily tied up there.

It rained hard overnight and into the morning, torrential at times, and with a strong wind. Our hatches were already battened down. We stayed where we were, and pitied the hire-boaters who hurried past, who didn't have the luxury of time to spend moored up, who had to be back at their base by Friday regardless of the weather. We remember it well. Been there, done that, T-shirts were unavailable.

Several boat owners, however, landed on our stretch over the next few hours, furiously banging in pins and fastening lines, and longing to get inside to dry off, warm up and recover.

And after a day of on and off winds and teeming rain, it all cleared away to reveal a newly-washed sky pierced by a bright sun and adorned by scraps of cotton-wool cloud.

All that, and I didn't have to do a thing.

Stupidity at Stoke Bruerne

Giffard Park turned out to be a much better mooring than we had expected it to be. It was very peaceful, and the towing-path was little used. There was open parkland opposite us, and quiet housing next to us on our side. It was clean and tidy. We've marked it as a favourite on our map.

It was flipping cold that night. 11° C in the cabin when we woke up. Thank goodness for the stove! It was milder when we left Giffard Park, but got progressively colder as the day got older. With no locks until the one at Cosgrove, I had time to enjoy the serene beauty of the canal; wide, peaceful, lined on one side by full leaf and early flower, and farmland on the other. Duck mothers were out with their ducklings, moorhens with their chicks, and herons on the lookout for feathery breakfasts. Have vegans ever noticed that a lot of birds are not vegan? Many other animals, too. Hmmm. It's sort of letting the side down, isn't it?

At Cosgrove Lock there was a goose nest, cordoned off by some thoughtful soul to keep idiots away. Mum was sitting, and raised one wing as I approached, to reveal several goslings nestled there in a yellow huddle, on display to be adored by enchanted onlookers.

We had intended to moor at Yardley Gobion for the night, and to visit the ancient church and its village, but we couldn't remember if there's any decent mooring there, so we played safe and stopped a couple of miles before, where mooring was good. It was a lovely, remote spot. We thought that perhaps we'd stop off at Gobion if we could when we moved on the next day.

It wasn't as cold the next morning as it had been the day before. It was all of 12° in the boat. We donned multiple layers of clothing against the chill and ambled up to Stoke Bruerne. We didn't stop at Yardley Gobion. We didn't want to delay our arrival at Stoke Bruerne and risk not finding a mooring there. We'll visit the village by car another time.

The five locks at Stoke Bruerne were easy going. There was no other boat to share with, and no vollies in sight. There were several very interested gongoozlers, however, and a lot of conversation most of the way up.

But my enjoyment of the day was very nearly ruined by an couple of elderly tandemists. While I was filling one of the locks, the pair of them crossed the top gates carrying their old (and therefore heavy) tandem bike. They were hindered by the paddle mechanisms and, ironically, the handrail. The top of the gate was too narrow for them to wheel it across, so they manhandled it across, slowly and very precariously. If I'd seen them start I'd have stood in their way and insisted they cycled on to the nearest bridge, but they were half-way across when I saw them. I was too alarmed to think to take photos apart from this one, snapped as they stepped down. It could so easily have resulted in a fatal accident.

Shaken but not stirred, we carried on to tie up below lock 15, next to the Wildlife Trust Nature Reserve, then hurried up to the wharf for some much-needed lunch. The wharf was unsurprisingly full of Bank Holiday visitors, and The Boat Inn was packed, so we had to wait forty minutes for our food. But it was well worth the wait!

 

Soggy Stratford

On Thursday we stopped off at Grove Lock to buy gas and diesel from the marina there. It's an impressive-looking business. Not only is there a very pleasant marina, but also two large and inviting camping sites dotted with caravans and campervans. The next stop was at Linslade, for water, Tesco and lunch. Rain had been promised, but hadn't so far amounted to much.

Mooring at the end of the day was problematic. We wanted to stop at Old Linslade Manor. We made several attempts to pull in to the bank, but found the water too shallow, and had to reverse out, move on and try again. But we were successful eventually, and tied up between bridges 108 and 109. It was an even more suitable mooring than the ones at which we'd failed.

The sky was piled high with fabulous clouds, but still there was no rain.

The CRT guy I met on Monday had said that the Grand Union main line was "really busy", but seriously you wouldn't think that even if you were seeing double! The canal continued to be very quiet. Our five-mile dawdle to Fenny Stratford was peaceful and beautiful, and we met perhaps four other boats, one of which bore Donna and her other half on their way back to their home mooring. Sadly, the five-year-old intermittent engine fault had recurred and forced them into submission, and they'd had to cut short their trip. We waved them farewell and wished them all the best in sorting it all out.

Oh look! A pile of boats!! 

Soulbury Three Locks were bleak and deserted. The pub was empty. Odd. Vladimir Putin was walking back and forth agitatedly in the car park, his phone to his ear. At least, I think it was him. Very odd.

By the time we got to Stoke Hammond, it was raining on and off. When it was on, it was quite hard but mercifully brief. The worst of it was being saved until we got to Fenny Stratford. Here we met up with NB Nutshell, whom we'd seen several times over the past weeks. They were about to enter the lock, so we slipped in next to them. Then it started to rain.

We closed the top gates, and it rained harder. Dropped the paddles, harder still. Opened the bottom paddles - it was really raining hard now! Opened the gates and let Nutshell out ahead of us, was unable to close the swingbridge because - dunno why, closed the bottom gates and dropped the paddles, moored Kantara and wrang the water out of some very wet things, hurried back to figure out why the swingbridge wouldn't swing, figured out why and swung it, re-closed a recalicitrent gate, and hurried back to Kantara.

Drenched! Sodden!! Soaked!!!

 (Photos taken next day!)

It wasn't raining as we set off the next morning, and there were a lot more boats on the move - most of it hire boats from the Wyverne fleet. But the weather wasn't in their favour; cold to very cold with strong winds, mainly sunny but with outbreaks of ice. We didn't go far. After about six miles we stopped at Giffard Park, Milton Keynes, to have a bite to eat and to do some shopping. When we were ready to move again - we only had about two more miles to do to get to a favourite mooring - the sky loured, the ice descended and the wind it did blow.

We went in for further refreshment. And stayed the night.

Giffard Park turned out to be a much better mooring than we had expected it to be. It was very peaceful, and the towing-path was little used. There was open parkland opposite us, and quiet housing next to us on our side. It was clean and tidy. We've marked it as a favourite on our map.

 (Photos taken the next day!)

Favourite boat name of the day, "Flat Bottom Girl".

Did I tell you about the last time we were on this stretch of canal, and saw a duck flying away with an egg in her beak, angrily (?) pursued by two males? Weird!