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.

We're cruising!

At last, we're on the cut again (sings "On the cut again") Sunday invited us to battle against the wind to tie up at the service platform (we won) to top up with diesel for the stove, then to go with the wind out of the marina and head south.

It was chilly, but it was great! There was a good number of boats on the move. Many, perhaps most of them hirers.

We stopped prematurely at Crick Tunnel. We couldn't see the far end of it as we approached the mouth. Remembering the last time this happened - and we carried on regardless to discover that the tunnel was full of smoke through which Grace literally couldn't see the bow from her stern position (and this is "literally" as in "In a literal manner or sense; exactly", not as in the modern "Used for emphasis while not being literally true.") and I had to sit at the front and make sure she didn't crash -  we pulled over and moored. Grace walked down to the tunnel portal and confirmed that the tunnel was indeed full of smoke again. Someone hadn't bothered to extinguish their stove before entering, despite the polite notice asking them to do so.

An hour and a lunch later the smoke had cleared, and we continued without incident. Apart, that is, from the one in which the skipper of an oncoming hire boat, experiencing the horrors of his first ever canal tunnel, crashed heavily into the front of Kantara. No damage was inflicted that can’t be put right with a brushful or two of black Hammerite, but the poor man was very apologetic, and feeling very incompetent. We felt sorry for him. We’re all beginners at some time.

As we descended Watford locks (above), the temperature climbed pleasantly - or was that just me heating up from the effort of locking? - and it was noticeably milder when we moored above Norton Junction in a tight space in front of NB Achernar, friends from the marina who'd set out the previous day. They move slowly!

We awoke to mist over the water, and silent beauty. We’re in no hurry, and we made a leaisurely start at around 10:30, waving goodbye and bon voyage to Phil and Jackie who would be going in the opposite direction from us at Norton Junction, embarking on a fabulous journey of several months (though we did a see them again later a couple of times when their dog, Oscar, was taking them for a walk down the Buckby Locks, on occasion asking the crew of ascending boats to leave the locks open for us. The weather was warm and sunny, and I’d peeled off layers down to my shirt.





At the bottom lock, I met an Australian couple who had just started their very first experience of the UK canals. They’d walked a mile or so along the canal, loving it all the way, then come to their first ever lock. They were fascinated, delighted, mystified, and full of questions. It’s always a pleasure to talk with such folk.

After a brief stop at Weedon for lunch and a quick bit of shopping, we moved on slowly to the lovely mooring spot a half a mile on from Stowe Hill. The solitude was wonderful.

Buckby flight (cruise retrospective)

Early morning Tweets included reports of snow in the north of the country. We'd escaped that, but did wake up to a hard frost. We were eager to get moving, so we set off straight away up the two remaining Stoke Bruerne Locks. The frost was melting under a bright sun, and we were hopeful of a warmer day, but this was not to be. That first moment was the best of it, and it soon got dull, windy, sometimes raining, sometimes hailing, always cold. Very cold.

We raced through Blisworth Tunnel in a mere 26 minutes, and maintained that pace as much as we were able for the rest of the day. Blisworth, Gayton Junction, Bugbrooke, Heyford, Stowe Hill, Weedon. The countryside is lovely, but it would have been even more so if it had been bathed in sunlight.

There's an ancient church in Weedon, right next to the canal. A good mooring's provided for visitors. We've passed it several times now, and keep saying that we'll pay it a visit "next time", but the desire to keep going won today. It's not a long drive by car from yelvertoft, so we'll visit at a later, warmer date.

photo - www.rootsweb.ancestry.com

[Time shift]
Today, 1st June, Grace and I visited Weedon, and the church. And we're glad we did.

It's worth noting that the mooring by the church is a good one, for several boats. There's a path from it down steps and through the churchyard to the village, where there is a good OneStop shop and a "Post Office"
[End]

I've been collecting a list of the silliest boat names we come across. Today, I added to it. Beneath Moose Drool, Laughing Gravy and The Slowness of Cows, I added Tegg's Nose! This turns out to be the name of a park in Macclesfield, but it's a flipping odd name for a park, too, isn't it?? As Moose Drool is, for a beer? And Laughing Gravy for a film, a restaurant or a band? And The Slowness of Cows for a song? But, hey - I like odd!

After a quick sarnie shortly before the Buckby Flight, we moved on to the bottom gate, quite expecting to be faced with the same problem as we've had here twice before - the water coming over the top gates faster than it can leave the bottom sluices. But no, we got in fine, joined by a boat with two new boaters under instruction from an old tar from Willow Wren Training. They'd been out for a while, and now just wanted to ascend this lock, wind, and return back down it.

At the second lock up, we met another boat on the way down, and enjoyed the fact that each lock after that was empty, in our favour. So we climbed the flight quickly, and moored finally not far below Top Lock.

As I write, the wind is rocking the boat considerably, rain is thrashing on the roof. And it's May the day after tomorrow!

Photos from our windows

On the move...

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 wouldn'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 wouldn'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 was 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, very slowly, 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. As you would expect. But then the lock above us, refilling because of the faulty top paddles, started to overflow at an alarming rate. And the level of the pound below rose to the point that the water again started to overflow our 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, overflow our top gates and repeat the problem for us. 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.

Looking back at the offending lock

Stowe Hill

The next day, Gayton Junction was the first place of any importance, being the entrance to the Northampton Arm of the GU. When we've wanted to use the services here in the past, there have been other craft moored there, and we've had to wait – where there isn't really anywhere to wait. That day, the moorings were vacant – and we didn't need them! Ironic.

Blisworth village has a small but usually useful general store, which was totally useless to us on this occasion, so we moved on to the tunnel. Two working boats were behind us as we approached it, and we allowed them to pass before entering. The extreme flooding we'd seen on YouTube had subsided, leaving behind grassy banks in muddy disarray. But the amount of water falling from the roof of the tunnel, throughout the 35 minutes we were in it, was soggily amazing.

Finding a good mooring in Stoke Bruerne shortly after exiting the tunnel, we tied up for the night. We like it here.

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.