Limping back...

I didn't mention that when we broke down on Saturday, a group of women came along the towing-path and immediately showed great concern over our plight. I was just stealing myself to launch off the side of the boat, over tall stinging nettles and onto an invisible bank at the time. After my breathtaking jump and perfect landing, I looked up into the face of Jane. Jane and her husband Michael are old friends from when we lived in St Albans. Michael was our minister at the Baptist church there, but had left to go to Poland to teach in 2005, and returned four years later to take up the pastorate of Rugby Baptist Church, where we met up again in 2012. They live in Hillmorton, quite close to the place where we broke down.

Jane and her friends, having been assured that there really was nothing they could do to help, apart from telling us the nearest road bridge for the RCR man to drive to, went on their way. Later, I got a FB message from Michael offering us whatever help we might need; beds for the night, for example.

" I suspect this is not like calling out the AA?" he asked.

"RCR arrived quickly, the problem was sorted out, and we were on the move within a couple of hours." I replied. " It really is very much like calling out the AA - only wetter!!"

It had been a nice coincidence.

Talking of coincidences...

It was later that day, while we were moored and recovering, that Michelle and I had our "Hippocampus" moment. Do read about it if you haven't already! We're still amazed.

On Sunday morning, with Grace and Michelle still in a lot of pain, we carried on to Hillmorton Locks, which we ascended solo, though with a bit of help from a vollie at the bottom lock. We moored above the Admiral Nelson lock at Braunston. Another light day.

Sunday had been hot and sunny. Just the three Braunston locks had been a sweltering experience. Monday was cooler. We finished the locks in tandem with NB Mister E,

did the tunnel in style and a lot of drips, turned left at Norton Junction

and ran into a hold-up at Watford Locks.

The 45 minutes was enough time for us to have a bite to eat, after which Michelle got out to do the locking on this final flight. The rest of the journey was frustratingly slowed by a boat in front of us which was travelling so slowly that even our tick-over speed was too fast. He was well aware of us, but made no attempt to let us past for ages. Sorry, but, in the circumstances, we were a bit annoyed. Eventually, he stopped for us, and apologised as we overtook.

"I only go slow", he said.

Back at Yelvertoft, we had a very welcome dinner at The Wheatsheaf, and Michelle drove back home on Tuesday morning. We all agreed that, despite the injuries and break-down, we'd had a really good time together.

Hillmorton to the M6?

Our overnight mooring

We got excellent phone and internet connection here!

 So the first thing to do the next day was to go down Hillmorton Locks. There wasn't much traffic, so we descended quickly. There are three sets, each of two locks here, remember, to speed the passage of boats.

At the bottom lock, I had the great pleasure of meeting vollie Maurice Farndon. We're mutual Twitter followers. No only does Maurice have the distinction of being a really nice man who loves his volunteer work, but also that he features in one of Cruising the Cut's vlogs (in which he speaks about a new project at the locks), that he has a golden windlass, and that he's read and "really enjoyed" my book.

Maurice Farndon - The man with the golden windlass. Narrow Boat nut. Volunteer Lock Keeper at Hillmorton and Watford.

There was a lovely mood of helpfulness amongst boaters at the locks, with people operating paddles and gates for others who weren't on the right side of the lock at the time. I think Maurice sets a good example.

The sun was out, the sky was blue, and rabbits bounced into the hedges as I walked down the towing-path.

From Hillmorton, on now through Clifton-upon-Dunsmore and into Rugby, where we moored to do shopping at the nearby Tesco. This is our third day out, yet this spot is just a 25-minute car journey from our marina! After lunch, we moved on again. Brownsover, Newbold-on-Avon, and through the very short Newbold Tunnel. 

Tiny, or what?

We passed NB Glascote, moored at the side. The woman was cleaning the roof.

"Hatton Flight, pouring rain, two years ago!" Grace called out.

"Oh, I remember it well!" she said, pulling a wry face. We laughed and drove on.

The sky was looking a bit threatening, time was getting on, and we were needing somewhere to moor. The problem was that the bank now was not really moorable. In places, it was breaking up. Elsewhere, it was edged with bags of cement (which absorb water and become solid blocks) against which mooring's not recommended. Everywhere, it was overhung by grass and other plants. At one point, I told Grace with great confidence that we could moor "right here!". I jumped off the bow with a rope, expecting to help pull Kantara in to the bank, and tie her up. Instead, we found the water was too shallow there, and I lost the opportunity to get back aboard. I walked ahead, hoping to find a spot. Behind us, NB Takara, a hotel-boat, was trying a similar manoeuvre. They failed, too.

At a point where the M6 motorway crosses the canal, I waited for Kantara. I'd be able to get on from the concrete bank here. Takara had failed to moor, too. Grace waved them past as she moved to pick me up, and the skipper called out that he knew a place to moor.

"Follow me!"

The spot was the length of the two boats, and moorable. Far too close to the railway, but now was not the time to be fussy! We moored.

Views through our windows...

>>>***<<<

I said I'd be reporting back on the alternator replacement job done by Ed Shiers of Four Counties Marine Services in Leek on Tuesday. I'd contacted him just the day before. I'd seen his advert on Ebay, selling a package deal on a replacement for Barrus alternators (now hard to get, and rather pricey). The job took him a couple of hours or so, during which time he also told us all sorts of things we didn't know about our electrical systems. His work was tidy and through, and his charge - including a per-mile travel cost - was less than I would have paid simply to buy a Barrus model, let alone having it fitted. When we're close to his home in a few weeks' time, he'll come out to us, tighten the new alternator belt, and fit a modified regulator on the alternator, to make it even more efficient. All part of the service. We'd not hesitate to call on him for any other work on our engine, and we recommend him very highly.

Sunday - pushing on back towards Yelvertoft

Sunday was another scorcher of a day. Cruising was relaxed, and traffic in our direction wasn't nearly as heavy as that going the other way. Boats were queuing to descend Hillmorton Locks, but we ascended with ease and speed.

Our enjoyment of the day was somewhat marred, however, when an alarming noise was made, apparently from the propellor, and we were forced to cut the engine and drift over to a reedy bank. At first, we thought it was something metallic wrapped around the prop or prop shaft, but an inspection found them to be totally free. Looking into the engine, however, I found two drive belts (that's right - the ones that were fitted last week!) had shredded. The noise had been the frayed ends whipping various parts of the engine as they flew around their pulleys.

I called RCR, whose engineer had fitted them last week, and two guys arrived within an hour and a half. Apparently, one of the belts fitted last week had been too narrow, and this had caused premature wearing. What had caused much the same to happen to the other belt, they could not say.

After a quick visit to the (fortunately) nearby Halford's shop to buy a belt, the engineer (the other young man was an apprentice) fitted it, but had been unable to buy a replacement for the generator. However, since that one isn't needed for the engine to run - and the generator control unit had already broken down - we were able to continue on our way, after a hasty lunch.

We finished for the day, overheated and somewhat scorched, at bridge 81.

Oh! And the fridge stopped working! In this heat! I checked the fuses and all the other obvious things, but zilch. Keeping food edible over the next couple of days will be a challenge!