A break!

We needed a break. We were breathing out paint fumes, and Grace had Summer White oozing from her pores. Said the Maiden were performing at the Moira Furnace Folk Festival, and we were tempted to go to that, but there were only two acts we knew, and we didn't fancy forking out 40 quid when there was a risk that we wouldn't enjoy much of the music. However, there was the not-too-distant Lichfield, and we'd been meaning to go there for some time.

We drove Jess to Moira. She had to be there before 10:45, and it's a two-hour journey from St Albans. We arrived with half an hour to spare. The furnace is a nineteenth-century iron-making blast furnace built on the banks of the Ashby-de-la-Zouch Canal. It's now a museum, and we've added it to our "to see" list. We didn't have time yesterday,

From Moira, we drove to Lichfield. It's a lovely ancient city on the Coventry Canal. with beautiful old buildings, crooked and characterful, and newer ones squashed into the gaps.

This was the most tuneful busker I've even seen. It's a fairly small organ attached to a mobility vehicle, and battery operated. The owner was nowhere to be seen, and his hat lay next to the organ to receive donations. It played a large collection of melodies from its own era, and was a delight to listen to.

800 year-old Lichfield Cathedral was stunning.

I am always amazed by cathedrals. The architecture, the construction, the sheer size and the intricate detail carved out by hundreds of men with very limited tools. I spent my whole time smiling broadly, awed by it all.

We had hoped to carry on from there to Ryton Organic Gardens, not far from Yelvertoft, but it was closing at 4:00 pm, and we couldn't have got there in time after our Lichfield visit. Instead, we drove to Yelvertoft and visited Kantara. There were various bits and things we needed to have back at the house, so we bundled those into the car, had a short nap, had dinner at The Wheatsheaf, and drove to Watford Gap services, there to wait for Jess. The Maidens' last performance was due to finish at around 8:00, but they had to hang around for some time after that, selling CDs and chatting with fans old and new from their two 300-strong audiences, so it wasn't until half-past ten that Hannah dropped Jess off before continuing her drive home to Bedford while we set off back to St Albans. We were glad we'd had the nap.

Today, family. Tomorrow, decorating.

The Ashby Canal in fab weather

Fab weather is what we awoke to on Wednesday, and fab weather is what we had all day long. Michelle's knee wasn't sufficiently recovered for her to do much walking, so we decided against going to Coventry, turned right out of Hawkesbury Junction onto the Coventry Canal, and set off towards the delightful Ashby Canal.

We'd been warned that the water was unusually shallow there. Would we get far? we wondered. It would have been good if we could trip down to Coventry on our way back, Michelle's knee allowing. Time wasn't critical, so it was a matter of wait-and-see.

The boatyard at Bedworth looked tidier than usual. There was definitely less junk there, and more intact boats that looked as though they were there for work to be done on them. The dressed mannequins that line the bank were fewer, and less of a feature.

Marston Junction, and the start of the Ashby. We were a little dismayed to see the Norwegians turning in ahead of us, but we passed them later as they pulled over to moor. Travel might well have been even slower if we'd ended up behind them!

The canal was shallow, though we didn't think it was more so than usual, and it made passing oncoming boats difficult at times. Bank effect was a frequent occurrence. But it was all very beautiful, peaceful, serene. Lots of boaters were enjoying it with us.

We stopped before Bridge 3 for a relaxed lunch.

And at the end of the day, we moored below Basin Bridge 22. The only disturbance was the distant barking of dog kennels.

Fab!

Starting with a splash

On Tuesday morning, before Grace and I were even out of bed, Michelle fell into the canal. Well, she washed one leg very thoroughly, and badly bruised the other knee.

"It's certainly one way to avoid locking!" I joked. She glared at me. She really enjoys the job, and wasn't going to be best pleased with having to watch me do it on my own - though I can be very entertaining!

It was a day of clouds...

and cows.

We moved on to Rugby, stopping for a short while to shop at Tesco. The stretch beyond, between bridge 59 and the aqueduct, has been very nicely restored where it used to be a badly broken bank. OK, it wasn't possible to moor there before the fix, but it's a shame that the opportunity wasn't taken to make this long stretch into a good 48-hour mooring.

Newbold Tunnel was still unilluminated. They really ought to replace that fuse! We stopped at Easenhall Bridge 34 to eat. Over lunch, there was much discussion about what we'd do when we met the Coventry Canal. Left to Coventry to see the cathedrals and whatever else we might discover Coventry has to offer, or right to the Ashby Canal? Michelle hadn't seen the city before, and would have liked to see the cathedrals at least, but her knee wasn't holding up very well, and there was some doubt that she'd be able to do the walking. I made the executive decision to turn right. How rubbish would it be to do the 10-mile journey in and out of Coventry with Michelle not being able to benefit from being there?

As it happened, we were able to moor at Hawkesbury before the junction. Every time we'd been this way before, that bank was totally full of boats. We moored close NB Ottawa whom we'd moored next to the night before. Another boat filled the gap between us. The young lady from the boat introduced herself as Isabelle, the social media manager of her dog, Tony, who tweets as @tonyonaboat. Tony follows me on Twitter. I follow him now, too. Well, I already follow @BoatHorseCracker‏, the boat horse on the Montgomery. I can't be specist, can I? Not at all PC!

A shout, "Grace and Roger!!" made us hurry to the side doors in time to see Sandy and Dave - the Fairies - go past, waving and calling out. They were with another boat that was ahead of them, so they couldn't stop to catch up, which was a great shame. They were on their way back to Barby from a trip to Leeds. Eleven weeks in total. Lucky them!

We ate at The Greyhound Inn, down at the junction, an excellent meal in a charming old building, then returned to Kantara for a sweltering evening of card games.

A smelly end to the day!

Misty drizzle softened the countryside as we moved on this morning. The Coventry Canal is truly beautiful, except for the bit through Nuneaton, which still has a long way to go even before it can be called attractive. Bedworth, too, Enough said! There were a lot of craft on the move. Hire-boats, owner-boats, working boats, a boat and butty. Many of these will have come off the Ashby Canal, where the Moira Festival had been held over the weekend.

After a lazy lunch south of Nuneaton, we moved on past Marston Junction. A small boat turned off the Ashby after we'd passed, and speeded up behind us. Small boats are nippier than bigger ones, and we didn't want to hold him up. We know what that feels like! So we pulled over, and beckoned him past. Mistake! The boat was skippered by a single-handed man, with a restricted view because of a large box on the roof. His steering was very erratic, and he slowed down once he'd overtaken. Very annoying! Now we were crawling, and it got progressively worse. He looked very agitated, and kept peering over the back of his boat. Perhaps he had boat problems.

Arriving at the start of the Hawkesbury moorings, he pulled over and stopped. As we passed, it looked as if he did have issues with his engine or prop. Poor bloke. I know how he felt!

Grace took Kantara around the 180° turn into the Hawkesbury basin, we were now back on the Oxford Canal. Or, rather, we were once we'd been through the very shallow stop-lock. And the Oxford is beautiful, too - after the first half mile or so, anyway.

But then we remembered the problem it has that we'd experienced on our way out, weeks and weeks ago. It has little in the way of good moorings. The banks are often rocky, or have reeds and rushes growing against them. Or both. So we travelled longer than we'd intended - as we had on our way out - until finally we found a stretch or Armco, only long enough for us to moor against after the skipper of the boat in front had moved his craft forwards six feet.

 Back a while, between bridges 19 and 24, we'd been through very polluted water. Very black, with white, bubbly patches, smelling foul. Chemically. And it was leaving a thick, black deposit on overhanging plants. Water birds had deserted it. After mooring, I phoned the CRT emergency line, and reported it. They already knew. Let's hope they got it sorted out before it did real damage.

Back onto familiar waters

Friday morning had us wondering whether to do a short journey that day, finishing at the bottom of Atherstone Locks, or the longer one to the top. Hmmm. We're really not in a hurry (despite the fact that our washing machine's not working, and we have a large pile of washing waiting in the shower room to be done), so we go for the short option for a change.

Down we went to Fazeley Junction, to join the Coventry Canal. Familiar territory once more. It was like Piccadilly Circus! As we approached this T-junction, a boat passed across in front of us. Then stopped. Reversed. Went forward again, and disappeared from view. We moved forward cautiously. Then his bow appeared in the bridge-hole, and he started up the Birmingham and Fazeley towards us. Grace backed Kantara off as he pulled over to our right, to moor.

Two more boats passed across in front of us, one in each direction. We edged forwards. Another stopped across our exit from the B & F, waited while another two passed him, then moved off, making to turn left up towards us. But then he saw us, closer than him to the bridge over our exit, and he stopped, effectively blocking off the top of the T. He beckoned to us to proceed. I indicated our intention to turn right (just as well, since he was blocking the left), he looked behind him and gave us the all-clear to complete our turn. Grace brought Kantara out slowly. The waiting boat had now moved across to the bank opposite our exit, reducing Grace's turning-space, but she did it with only a minor bounce off the far bank. With a "phew!", we moved on a little to moor up for lunch.

Unusual, castellated footbridge!

Glascote Locks, just two of them, were silly busy, with craft in both directions waiting to pass through. I locked with a woman from a 25' boat with an outboard motor, and weighing just 5 tons. It suffered badly from any significant wind, and even from the wash of bigger boats. We'd watched them being bounced around as we followed them to the locks. She and her husband had had her for six years, for use on weekends and holidays, to help them decide if they wanted a bigger one when they retired. Despite her disadvantages, they loved her, and it seemed very likely that they would, indeed, buy a larger one one day, and do more adventurous cruising.

They left us at Glascote Basin at the top of the locks. The boat was going to have her hull blacked while they took themselves off to Spain for a holiday.

We carried on through Tamworth, Alvecote and Polesworth, until finally we left the built-up areas behind and slipped into wide, green countryside. We found a lovely place to moor at Bridge 50. It felt as though we were miles from anywhere, but Atherstone was just two miles away.