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!

And on we go...

Fenny Stratford to Soulbury Three Locks, to Linslade Tesco, to bridge 109, to Slapton Wharf, and then to Marsworth Bottom Lock on Tuesday. Progressing slower than usual, and loving it. Drama free, stressless, cold but getting warmer. Then came the drama.

Okay, it was only a minor drama. We set off alone up the Marsworth Flight on the foggy Wednesday morning,

and got stuck almost immediately. Literally stuck! The pound above our first (bottom) lock was very low, and Kantara grounded as Grace tried to ease her out of the lock. There's only one thing to do in this situation. Unless there's a vollie around, then you let them do it for you! I opened a top gate of the next lock, Grace took Kantara back into her lock, and I closed the gates in front of her to protect her from the coming deluge. Then it was a matter of opening one paddle in the bottom gate of the lock above us and watching the ensuing flood, waiting for the water to rise enough for Kantara to pass through and into the second lock. Fortunately, the pound above the second lock is a longish one, and draining that much water out of it didn't make too big an impact upon it. It's always a danger!

Drama over, we carried on up the flight. At the next lock we met NB Daisy from Wyvern Shipping Co., out for ten days on a trip down into London, and we shared locks up the rest of the flight. It was easy going, and the weather was really good by now. Enjoying the locking too much, I neglected to take any photos. There were a couple of vollies around who might have taken the load off for long enough for me to take a few snaps, and they did indeed promise us three times that they would prepare the next lock for us. They did the top lock.

It was well past lunch time, and we were very thirsty and hungry, so we paused below Bridge 135 for refreshments, continuing afterwards, now without Daisy, down through Cowroast, Dudswell and Northchurch locks to moor for the night just above Bushes Lock.

We're loving this!

Moving off from our Stoke Bruerne mooring on another beautifully clear and sunny morning, we stopped for a slow water refill. The slowness was fortuitous, however, for it gave time for another boat to arrive at the top lock, and we descended the flight with them smoothly and easily, with two crews working the locks together. The all-male crew were moving a hire-fleet boat down to Uxbridge. I didn't quite understand why.

After a short stop at the services at the bottom, we sailed on just another couple of miles to a really picturesque countryside spot where tiny lambs bleated plaintively and geese honked boisterously, and we all basked together under a warm sun.

Sheep and geese both provided us with a lot of entertainment throughout our stay there.

Friday's best boat names were Tiny Tardis (I had a peek inside. It was just as small as you'd expect. I think something was wrong with their time/space regulator) and Nunc est bibendum - "Now is the time to drink". Since this is writ large on both sides of the boat, you have to think that the crew might be permanently drunk, but the skipper did seem to be fully in command of his craft.

It was another lazy day for me,  Cosgrove being the only lock. This is a route we've taken several times now, but we still enjoy it enormously. What did disappoint us was the discovery that GDad's has closed down. GDad's Collectables was such a fabulous emporium, and we were sure to pay it yet another visit on our return journey. That was not to be.

However, a poke around the internet resulted in finding this piece of good news...

...so we live in hope!

Just beyond an unusual scene of 14 swans a-grazing (in a field of some or other young crop), we moored at Bridge 75, northwest of Milton Keynes. The grassland either side of the canal has been developed since we last moored here, and is now a huge and pleasant park, crisscrossed with paths passing play areas for kids and benches for the less energetic.

There was frost overnight, and we woke to the sight of white-sprinkled fields. A couple of hours later, the temperature had risen, and we chugged off down through Milton Keynes. I think the town gets an unfair bad press. It's actually a really nice place as seen from the boat. It has some very attractive houses, a lot of open space and parkland, and playgrounds for all ages. The canal's treated with respect, valued, an important part of the pulse of the town. I like Milton Keynes.

We had a brief stop at New Bradwell for a visit to the Co-Op, and lunch, and finished for the day at
Fenny Stratford, right above the 11" rise lock.

Despite the chilly breeze, we investigated the village, looking for the Tesco where we could buy things we'd not been able to get from the Co-Op. Fenny Stratford is a very strange, dead-feeling place. It has no identity of its own, and has actually been absorbed by Bletchley. It's run-down and sad. It was Saturday, but most shops were closed. Many of those permanently. There were very few people about. The railway looked unused. We were glad to get back to the boat.

From our two meetings with local gentlemen, we discovered that we were moored opposite Kantara's former mooring with her previous owners. Each of them told how Bob had had enormous problems with several successive domestic generators, and this explained perfectly the issues we had with the last one he fitted before selling Kantara to us. If only we'd known then...

It wouldn't have stopped us buying her, believe me! It  would have saved us lots of pounds.

Sitting on the well-deck minding my own business that evening, I was accosted by a very belligerent pair of really quite attractive dogs. After the owner had persuaded them to desist and go away, he apologised and I asked him what breed they were. "Malayan Terriers," he said, "but I call them Malayan terrorists!"

I can't find that breed anywhere on the web.

"There's no such thing as bad weather..." (cruise retrospective)

"...only unsuitable clothing.” (Alfred Wainwright) Which is why I wore six layers of clothing today, from T-shirt, through shirt, pullover, fleece, and another fleece to a cagoule. With a body-warmer standing by just in case. And I was warm. But the weather was very cold indeed, and we had several spells of snow and hail, and the wind gusted icily. But there were times when the sun broke through, pulling blue sky along behind it. Weather, eh?

We started today's trip behind a couple of Wyverne hire boats. The first, NB Foxglove, pulled away from the second as they left the bottom of Stoke Hammond Lock. The second, NB Foxglove, was clearly being driven by a novice. No surprise there. Every boater has to have their first trip, and for most, that'll be on a hire boat. It was for us. But what do you do if you're rather more expert, and the newbie is driving very slowly indeed, and finding bridges very difficult? It's very frustrating having to dawdle, even when you're not in a hurry. They wouldn't move over to let us past. The skipper kept looking nervously over his shoulder. We hung back. We didn't want to apply any pressure, to stress him. He's on holiday. He's meant to be enjoying himself. We sighed, smiled, and dawdled.

The two Wyverne boats shared Fenny Stratford Lock, aided by the owner of an old, battered boat moored nearby, and myself. I do believe that the American crew of slow Primrose thought we were paid hands. The two of us had a chuckle over that. They left the setting of the lock to us, and sailed off, and Grace brought Kantara down. The two hire-boats were out of sight by now, but we passed the Americans mooring not long afterwards. It came as something of a relief not to be following them any more.

Milton Keynes was next. I like Milton Keynes. The canal passes almost entirely through attractive parkland and woods. The water's clean, the miles of footpath are clean, too, and there's no graffiti. While there are stretches where mooring would be difficult or even impossible because there is neither armco nor grass verge, there are plenty of very good places to stop for the night, or several days if you wanted to.

But for a change, we carried on out of the city, passed bridge 75 where we've moored several times before, and on to Cosgrove. Here we stopped, just a few hundred yards from the lock.

NB Foxglove passed us not long afterwards. The Americans crawled past two hours later.

Views from our windows

Our week with Michelle - part 3

It really makes me mad when boat-owners are rude and thoughtless towards holiday boaters. There are a lot of hirers on the cut at the moment, and they are having to put up with a lot of "more experienced" boaters, too. What is it about boats that attracts so many grumpy old gits? They stand at the tiller looking as if they're being forced to do something they don't like. A friendly "Good morning!" is greeted by a grunt, and a look which says, "And what do you have to be so flipping cheerful about?" Then they head off to look for some poor holidaymakers, no doubt to complain that they didn't let him through the bridge first, even though they were much closer. They were never novices, of course.

Michelle arrived at Stoke Bruerne. The Pay & Display fee is a fixed £3 per day or any part thereof, but they allow people in Michelle's situation to stay overnight as well for the same cost, and issue a special pass to display in the car. Very convenient. A quick cuppa and a piece of cake, and off we went down the Stoke Bruerne Locks, aided by the same volunteer as had deserted Jess and me last year, failing to go ahead and prepare the locks for us as he'd said he would, in favour of going to the pub with his mates. He didn't do it this time. Perhaps it was my glare which kept him. A bright sun lit up the clouds between short spells of rain. A stiff breeze kept it cool.

At Cosgrove, Michelle introduced us to the friends she'd brought along with us. Three small furry animals. A koala, a teddy and... well, I didn't want to offend her by asking what the third one was. They came from work, where each one is named after a friend. Several times each day of this week, Michelle was to take photos of these three in canal-holiday settings and poses, and send the photos back to work with a "wish you were here", or "glad I'm not there" sort of message. The photos were brilliant. The first shows them by the magnificent Cosgrove bridge. The next, by the "Welcome to Cosgrove" sign. I'll post some of them here as soon as I can.

Continuing, we turned left at the lock. We missed it last time. This stretch of the GU has a motley collection of long-term moored craft. I can't imagine that's unique, though. There are broad-beam canal boats, Dutch barges, plastic cruisers (I use plastic in the derogatory sense of the word), and some strange hybrids. There are boats with 30-foot masts. One with folded wooden wings (well, that's what they look like to me). And the ubiquitous narrowboats which have quite clearly recently lost a paintball battle.

Then there are those who have been turned into beautiful, floating gardens. I miss having tomatoes and flowers on the roof, but we're feeling really protective towards the new paint, and there's no doubt that the pots and the plants are both bad for it.

On now through Milton Keynes. A boat called "Moose Drool". Whaaat? Michelle was fast asleep, enjoying the tranquillity and the removal of stress, as we passed through Fenny Stratford with it's swing-bridge across the middle of the shallow lock. Different!

Soulbury Three Locks was easy-going. No flooding this time. Last time, Jess and I very nearly had water running into the pub. "Yes, it happens a lot", said a lockie, casually.