On to Plank Lane (broken) Bridge

Wednesday

The flipping alarm woke us at 6:00 this morning! OK, I had set it for that, but that's no excuse! We left at 7:15, giving ourselves more than enough time to get to Plank Lane Bridge before 2:00pm. There was no knowing what might happen to delay us, and we really didn't want to risk missing today's bridge opening, and have to wait until Friday for the next.

Our first delay was at the first lock, just 15 minutes after we'd set out! I'd forgotten that this lock is padlocked closed between 8:00pm and 8:00am each day through the summer months (whatever they are!), to “preserve water” (CRT).

So we made hot drinks, and sat back and enjoyed them until the CRT man arrived and unlocked the paddle mechanisms.

Five more locks followed, and, as I said on our way in to Liverpool, these must be the worst locks on the system. There are broken paddles that can't be opened, and heavy gates that either wouldn't open more than half way or were extremely heavy and difficult to move. And then there's the total lack of gangplanks across the lock gates, so that you have to use the footbridge – and even a major road bridge in one instance – at one end of the lock to get to the other side. All of these contrived to slow us down considerably. But we'd allowed plenty of time, so that wasn't too big a deal.

We met absolutely no other boats until we got to Plank Lane.

The nicest thing about the canal through Wigan, I have concluded, is the Elsan Disposal point at Henhurst Bridge Lock. Just above Poolstock Locks is a CRT notice promoting the “flashes” which we would encounter over the next few miles. We moored at Pennington Flash and later at Scotman's Flash a few weeks ago, and they're lovely. This sign has “Wigan Flashes” in big letters across the top. Wigan flashes? Flashes?? It doesn't even glimmer!

We arrived at Plank Lane at 12:30, and joined the queue of those waiting for the bridge to be opened. NB Gerty was two boats ahead of us. Boaters stood around, chatting happily, and we joined in. We were all glad the weather was fine.

We had lunch, and were ready to move at 2:00. We we now sixth in a convoy of nine going east through the bridge. Fourteen boats were waiting the other side to go through the other way. By the time we got to the raised bridge, there was a long line of cars waiting on both sides. The convoy was fun. It really looked as if we were all at a canal festival or something similar.

We pulled over for the night at Pennington Flash while the other eight boats carried on.

Musings and more

The Leeds and Liverpool is a strange canal, it has to be said. At least, the Liverpool arm that we're on. From the Leeds junction at Wigan to the Rufford Arm is 10 miles. I believe that the Rufford Arm is fairly quiet. It leads north to the Ribble Link, a crossing over the estuary of the River Ribble to the bottom of the Lancaster Canal, a trip that many might consider a little too “adventurous”. (The jury is out on this on board Kantara.)

From the Rufford junction to Liverpool is 24 another miles. Anyone on this stretch is either on their way in to Liverpool or on their way out. Or possibly going to or from the Scarisbrick Marina. Because of these factors, very few boats travel these 34 miles. We've travelled for hours most days without seeing single boat on the move. It's like the canal version of a ghost town.

And it feels a very neglected canal, too. Far too many locks are faulty one way or another. “CRT aware – 2014” notices are too common. Services are few and far between, and several of those leave much to be desired. If the battle against Himalayan Balsam has ever been engaged here, it has most certainly been lost.

Large masses of this plant - Mash Marigold? - float across
the canal in places, obstructing the passage of boats

It's a great shame. The problem is, of course, that CRT simply have too many problems to deal with around the system, and too little money and staff to solve them with. There's only so much they can do at a time, and prioritizing must be a nightmare.

The greater shame is the whingers who bang on and on about some issue on “their” part of the system, apparently not realizing that theirs is not the only issue that CRT would love to be able to put right immediately, but simply don't have the resources to do so. Thank God for the thousands of CRT staff and volunteers who put in so many hours between them, working to put things right. I don't envy CRT their job.

>>>===<<<

We left Hoscar at around noon on Tuesday, having bought lots of food and some very good, inexpensive wine, from Taylor's Farm Shop. It was silly windy again, giving Grace particular problems with controlling the boat. Particularly when, having pulled over to the towing-path to let me get off to deal with a swing-bridge (of which there were several that day), it was hard to pull away again against the wind, and get the right angle of approach to the open bridge. The same kind of problem had to be faced again the other side of said bridge when she had to side up for me to get back on. The wind blew strongly from the towing-path for most of the day.

We have no idea what this structure is - a Viking house??

Ancient, sail-less windmill in Parbold 

Any idea what this signifies?

At one swing-bridge where I had to close the road barriers manually before the bridge would open under motor power, I closed one barrier, and turned to find that a car had driven onto the bridge against the traffic lights from the other side where the barrier was still up.

“Let me over, I'm in a hurry!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Put the barrier up, I need to get across!”

I had it in mind to leave him where he was, close the barrier behind him and swing the bridge open with him on it. But that would probably have been in contravention of the law, and I couldn't be sure that the bridge would open with his weight on it, anyway.

“You're in a hurry? I'm sorry, I don't know what hurry is.”

I walked slowly to the offending barrier, and opened it without hurry, smiling at the driver as he speeded off.

“You're very welcome!”, I said to his speechless departure.

We lunched after Appley Locks, and moored for the night at Crooke, on the first bit of Armco we'd seen for ages!