Jobs to do, time to do them.

Because of our concern about the risk of diesel bug because of  the fuel tank being half empty (the bug thrives at the point where diesel oil meets the water it's floating on, and water arrives in the tank as condensation forming on the cold sides) - and because of an irrational need to finish fitting the stern gland greaser - and wanting to sweep the chimney so that I can be confident of it not being a problem when we next light the stove in a wintry hurry - and needing to spin the boat around simply because we didn't do it at the start of summer when we should have done (it's good practice to ensure that the sun doesn't fall predominantly on one side of a boat, so that the paint fades pretty equally over time), we came back to Kantara yesterday.

It was rather cold on board. 8°C when we arrived, but up to 23° within a few hours of  lighting the stove. Then it was a massive 16° when we awoke this morning, quickly pushed up to a more comfortable level by our trusty Alde.

The temperature was no surprise to us. What did astonish us was the plague of flies! Houseflies. Okay, the Egyptians had it worse, but we did away with two dozen or more of the things yesterday. They came out of the folds of our six Roman blinds when we lowered them in the evening. I literally sucked most of them up with the vacuum cleaner. Those that missed that treatment got swatted. Their reflexes seemed to be impaired. Why they were there and how long they'd been there we have no idea. I squashed the last two as I was going to bed, and we've seen none today. Very strange!

The wind yesterday had been rather too strong to move the boat, but the weather forecast suggested that today, Thursday, it would be better. We'd do it then, we said. So I fitted the greaser with Heath Robinson flair, forgot to clean the chimney, and then kicked myself when...

...today we filled both fuel tanks as planned, and returned to our berth, backing in to point the port side to the sun. The chimney is now on the water side and I won't be risking sweeping it, lest I fall in in the process. [Three hours after writing that, I took the risk and did the job without getting the slightest bit wet. I also remembered that I had intended to Hammerite the rusting edges of the stern hatch, and did that, too. Now I'm feeling dead chuffed!]

To round off our busyness, we found the ideal solution to the loss of 56lb of ballast from the front, right-hand (forward starboard 😁 ) side of the boat when we removed the safe from there. It was easy, really. We moved the anchor from the forward port (front left 😜 ) hold to one on the other side where we've been storing paints and varnishes. The combined 16kg weight of the anchor and the 7kg of the chain, added to the effect of taking that weight away from the port side, will give us just the trim we needed to correct the bit of a list to port we've had for a long time.

Now all we need to do is get out there and test it!

PS - It's Friday morning and I just killed another flipping fly!!

Would you believe it?

The weather's the best it's been so far this year (apart from our freaky three days in Wales at the beginning of the month). Wonderful weather to sit out in.

I've had a couple of long walks over the past week or so, and that's been very enjoyable.

It's wonderful weather to cruise in, too, so, it has to be time to leave the marina and venture out on the cut, right?

But, no. It was not to be. The Alde gas boiler has developed a fault and needs to be seen by an expert. We could do without it, but that would mean showering in cold water each morning, and Grace doesn't like the idea of that! So we have to wait for our friendly mechanic to come and sort the flipping thing out.

Sigh.

>>>===<<<

Notice to my book readers! There's an update to "Chapter 1 – Hardware" on the Addendum Blog for "Hints and Tips for life with your feet under water". https://amzn.to/2zsct8L

And we're off!

On Wednesday morning, the leak behind the Alde wasn't too bad, and we'd been running the Alde all night, to give it plenty of opportunity. Clearly, this is something that we'll have to get fixed, but for now, we had a small peppermint lozenge tin there to catch the drips, and we'd check on it from time to time. So now there was nothing to stop us. We set off at around 11:00 with various friends and other boaters waving us off, and several, no doubt, watching to see how well Grace steered us out of the marina exit in what was quite a strong cross-wind. She did it perfectly, and we moved off down the canal under a grey/blue (or was it blue/grey?) sky, the air chilly around our ears. It was great to be on the move again.

Crick Tunnel was unusually wet. Water falling from the roof, that is. We've just recently bought a dash-cam for the car, but I did have it in mind also to use it on the boat, and it was filming the whole of the day's trip from the inside of the front cratch window. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me that the window would get wet as we went through the tunnel; consequently, there are drops of water in front of the lens in most of the film.

We were welcomed with an enthusiastic wave as we approached Watford Locks. John is a volunteer there, and has been for a few years, and we've got to know him quite well. He loves to stop for a chat. There was just one boat coming up the flight, and another following us, and the lockies were preparing ahead of us as far as they could, so our descent was fast. But it's so noisy here! When the Romans built Watling Street through what we now call the Watford Gap, they would have enjoyed peace and quiet on it. It would have been just as quiet when the canal was cut through, centuries later. The railway, not much later, wouldn't have been nearly as thunderous as it is modernly. But now we have the M1 as well! It's such a shame.

We had lunch on the fly. The boat was snug and warm inside, and it was tempting to stop and eat down there, but we wanted to reach a decent mooring sooner rather than later. It really was rather cold. Our plan was to moor just below Buckby Top Lock, a quiet spot we've used before.

We have a neat trick with the central heating system, something we discovered to be a by-product of the design, rather that part of it. The Bubble stove has a back boiler which feeds the radiators as well as the calorifier, where it heats water for our domestic taps. The calorifier is essentially a heat-exchanger, and this tank is fed with very hot water from the engine, too. It follows, then, that we can open the flow-valve for the Bubble, switch on its pump, and heat the radiators from the engine while we're on the move. This keeps the interior nicely warm without the need for burning gas or oil. Useful!

The fields to either side of us were dotted with hundreds of lambs, gambolling and frolicking as only lambs can. Something we'd not seen before was the numbering of the mother and her offspring, the same digits painted in blue on their sides. Clearly, some canny farmer has at last realized that all sheep look alike, and this is a way to make mother and offspring easily recognizable to each other.

There are a significant number of hire boats out, to our surprise. One Alvechurch boat approached us on a bend. There was plenty of room, but the poor guy at the helm wasn't sure what to do, and panicked. Grace had brought Kantara to a halt, but the other boat didn't even slow down. Nor did he turn the bend. He just kept going until he hit the bank very hard and bounced off, back to the middle of the channel. He and his wife looked rather embarrassed as we passed, but we greeted them with a cheerful “Good afternoon!”, and the skipper managed a smile.

Coming to the top of the Buckby flight, we descended the first lock alongside NB Kristie, but didn't continue with them beyond that, mooring instead just around the bend below the lock. It was an overcast, chilly evening, but we were out cruising at last, and very glad of it!

Thursday was altogether brighter, sunnier and warmer from the start. There were more boats on the move, we thought. I heard from a fellow boater the evening before that Stoke Bruerne Bottom Lock is being repaired, and won't be passable until some time on Saturday. This will slow our progress a bit, but it's a good place to spend time, so we won't mind. We continued our descent of Buckby Locks, solo all the way down, and I was glad to be doing the locking, and walking from lock to lock. It was warm and still. Daffodils lined the hedgerows and verges. Birdsong filled the air. Perfect.

The locks were straightforward enough until we came to the second to last one (don't remember what number that is). As the chamber emptied slowly, it became quite clear that neither of the sluices were fully closed, despite the paddles being right down. I checked them, just in case. The sluice in the wall on the towing-path side was the worst, but both continued to pour water into the chamber at such a pace that we didn't think it was going to empty enough for me to open the bottom gates. Eventually, it did, and Kantara made her way to the bottom lock.

The problem here was at least in part caused by the previous lock. I found the top gates closed, the chamber full, and the pound above it so full that water was pouring over the top gates into the chamber. Against that weight of water, I found it difficult to open the gates to let Kantara in. Once she was in, opening the bottom gate paddles started to lower the water in the lock. But then the lock above us, refilling from the faulty top paddles, started to overflow at an alarming rate. The level of that pound rose to the point that the water again started to overflow the top gates and refill the chamber. Kantara rose slowly, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I was joined by one of the crew from a pair of boats who were now in the faulty lock above. It took him a while to grasp the situation, and it was amusing to watch him try to open a bottom gate against a huge weight of water. The time came, though, when the level of the top pound had dropped enough for it to stop filling our lock, and allowing the water to fall again. The bottom paddles were fully open, remember.

All seemed fine at last. The two boats left the lock above us and chugged down to wait to enter our lock in their turn. The lock they'd left would have to fill up again before it could overflow the gates, reflood the pound below them, overflow our top gates and repeat the problem. All was well.

Until it became very obvious that the crew of those two boats had failed to close either of the bottom gates. So yet again, the water rushed over the top of our top gates and... you get the picture.

Eventually, after half an hour in the bottom lock, we escaped and continued a now lockless journey to a lovely mooring opposite some very grand houses just around the corner from Stowe Hill Wharf. It was a beautiful, mild evening.

So, we were just about ready to leave...

...and Grace discovered a wet patch on the wooden panel between the washing machine and the Alde gas boiler. And the source had to be the Alde.

We've always been a bit worried that, if there were some majorish problem with the Alde, we'd have serious problems with the fact that the boiler is in a cupboard that isn't much wider that the boiler. Accessing the back of said boiler would be impossible without removing at least part of the panel behind it. There was little water on the floor of the Alde cupboard, but that side of the back panel showed signs of there having been a significant wetting some time recently. Sigh. The boiler's fifteen years old. Would this be the time to get a new one? For around £1,500? BOAT - Bring Out Another Thousand. Whatever the outcome, we weren't going to cruise if there was any possibility of this developing into something worse while we were out on the cut.

We put pads of kitchen paper on the floor, under a couple of pipe joints, and under the boiler itself. And we lit the boiler, and we waited and monitored.

The marina wi-fi didn't work for most of the day, so the several things I wanted to do on the Internet had to be shelved, and I got a number of odd jobs done. But then I ran out of odd jobs, and I did something I really don't do often enough. I got out the folding chair, erected it at the end of the pontoon, made myself a cafetière of coffee, and sat and did nothing. Apart from drink coffee. And I watched the birds and the boats, enjoyed the sun, the fresh air, the water. A male Canada Goose in pursuit of a mate was making a sound like a very quiet cow. I'd never heard that before. Nearby, someone lit their woodstove, and the sweet smell of the smoke added to my enjoyment. I'm really too fidgety usually, too eager to be "doing". "Being" is important, too. I must take these times-out more often.

The paper under the Alde absorbed several drips to start with, though nothing serious. And it seemed to get slower as the afternoon moved into evening. We left it all night, too, though I regretted it, since it was too hot in bed, even though the boiler was set at its lowest output.

During the night, Grace lay awake coming up with a theory. Something she does a lot. In the morning, she told me her theory. One day in the last week, I had been a Muppet and forgotten to switch on the central heating pump when I lit the Bubble stove. And on the previous occasion when I'd done that, (yes, I have Muppet in my blood) water had flooded out of the Alde and across the shower-room floor. This time, ran the theory, I didn't leave the system quite so long without the pump. Hence less water. As I write, we're running the Bubble stove (with the pump on) just to make sure that it's not involved in the leak in some other way. It seems OK. We'll keep an eye on it while we're cruising.

And that will start tomorrow! Watch this space!

Tsk! Boats, huh?

Well, boat life's just been made a little more challenging. Yesterday lunchtime, we prepared our first meal without a galley sink, and did the washing up in the shower! A few days ago, I noticed that water was getting into the cupboard under the sink, and traced the fault to the sealant between the sink and the draining board. It looked to me as if the front right corner of the sink had dropped a few millimetres, and the sealant had consequently pulled away along the right side. Water running off the draining board over edge of the sink naturally runs along the bottom edge of the board before meeting the inside of the sink, and it's there that the seal is broken and the water gets underneath.

I contacted Roy straight away, but he was unable to come until yesterday morning. He and Lee found that the oak draining board had warped a little. It, and the sink itself, all needed to be screwed more tightly, but first the wet panels have to dry out, and this will take some days. Consequently, we have no sink! Interesting!

Two or three days ago, I needed to run the Alde boiler. It wouldn't fire up. I called Carl, who'd been responsible for moving gas pipes when Kantara had her new galley fitted, and he came on Wednesday to see what the problem was. There were flakes of rust which had fallen onto the burner unit. He cleaned it up, and the area all around it, but it still wouldn't ignite. He changed the thermocouple, which he had suspected to be the culprit in the first place. Still no ignition. So he had to remove the heart of the Alde, to send it off for repair by a qualified engineer.

A thermocouple - fascinating, huh?

Carl and Roy will both need to come back next week to complete their jobs, but we intend to have left Kantara by then. The office keeps copies of our keys, and will sign them out to known individuals, so there's no problem there. What will happen now is that we'll go back to the house on Friday, return here when the men have finished their jobs, winterise the boat and then leave her for the winter.

The dehumidifier was delivered yesterday, and we set it up straight away and switched it on. Let's hope it lives up to our expectations. We had it on for several hours before going out yesterday afternoon, then all night. It's still on now, and has done a remarkable job of preventing the condensation on the window-frames which normally forms very easily in weather like this.

We'll come back to Kantara every couple of weeks over the winter this year, to check that all is well with this device running all the time. It'll cost us a fair bit for the electricity, but not as much as it costs those who leave their boats to keep warm with their in-built diesel-fuelled heaters, and our solution has the air-drying advantage over heaters, too.