Cosgrove to Stoke Bruerne (cruise retrospective)

It was warmer today. It must have been. I only wore five layers of clothing. But the sun was out, the sky was blue, and all was well in our world. Up the shallow Cosgrove Lock, and a stop above for services while Grace nipped into a nearby shop for bread and milk.

Today's journey was very rural. The canal is wide and river-like. There were few boats on the move. Tiny ducklings and coot chicks peeped around their paddling parents. Little lambs and their dams white-dotted the fields, and the fresh, sweet smell of rape filled the air. It was perfect. Even when I had to add that sixth layer!

Thrupp Wharf, Yardley Gobion, Grafton Regis - getting the Regis bit from Henry VIII who owned a manor house there. Six miles of peaceful countryside canal. That's about two hours, remember!

Not knowing what delays we might encounter as we climbed the five locks into Stoke Bruerne, we had lunch at the visitor moorings below the bottom lock. One of the delays might well have been NB Primrose, whom we knew to be ahead of us. We'd passed Foxglove not long before, but they had turned, and were now on their way back to the Wyverne base. But there they were, the Americans, busying themselves with filling their water tank and discarding rubbish at the service point close to the lock. They weren't going to slow our ascent, then. Up we went!

A vollie we met three locks up told Grace that the Primrose crew had seen the flight of locks, asked a lot of questions about it, then decided it was too much work for them. So they'd winded and were ready to follow Foxglove back to Leighton Buzzard. It was a shame, we thought. If we'd been there at the time, they could have come up with us. It would have been much easier for them that way.

Dense, dark blue clouds started to threaten us as we did the locks, and it started to rain as we moored below the second lock down. Excellent timing. And a lovely place to moor for the night. We were only a short walk from The Navigation Inn, and the rain had stopped in time for us to go and enjoy a good meal there later. 

Three photos from our windows

"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

Grove Lock to Stoke Hammond (cruise retrospective)

We slept late. Yesterday had been unusually enervating for some reason. But no matter. We're in no hurry. Except for the slight pressure to leave before Jules leaves.

Late yesterday afternoon, two Jules Fuels boats came down Grove Lock and moored outside the pub (see photo above). They travel together, tied together for the main part, and we didn't want them to get ahead of us and slow our progress. So we were glad to set off towards Linslade and Leighton Buzzard.

The weather was cold, bitterly so at times, with a persistent gusty winds and some nasty, albeit briefish downpours of icy rain. I ended up wearing the same layers of clothing as I'd worn when travelling from Debdale to Yelvertoft in the snow of March 2013. Crazy weather!

Shortly after leaving Grove Lock, we moored at Leighton Buzzard Tesco to do a bit of shopping. Later, as we prepared to cast off, the Jules boats arrived, and moored behind us. What a good job we hadn't dillied at Grove Lock. Or dallied, for that matter!

It was raining, windy and chilly, and we were only one hour away from what we'd normally call lunchtime. There's a two-hour limit to the Tesco moorings, so we moved on just a quarter of a mile or so, past the Wyverne Boats yard, and moored again. We decided that it'd be best for us to eat early and spend the rest of the afternoon in uninterrupted travel. Fingers crossed that Jules would be shopping for long enough for us to have lunch!

We arrived at Leighton Lock less than an hour later, to see NB Suchar Daval pulling away from the bottom gates. She hadn't passed us recently, so she must have only just moved from their overnight mooring, probably having already driven their car on the next leapfrog, and cycled back. We waved as we passed them tying up again, below the lock, perhaps for watering.

photo - chalicecruises.blogspot.co.uk

We passed NB Naughty Lass round about here, too, but Robbie was not to be seen. 

Soulbury Three Locks next, where we found no less than four vollies, who saw us down the flight. I stood at the middle lock, and watched with interest as the bottom paddles were raised, and water flooded into the middle pound.

I came down this flight two years ago, with Jess, and we watched frozen with horror as the water rose in the pound until it overflowed the walls and and ran across towards the doors of The Three Locks pub. It was only the combination of Jess dropping the paddles while I fled down to open the top paddles of the bottom lock that averted disaster.

Today, I watched the start of the same flood. But today, there were vollies waiting at the bottom lock, and when the water started to overflow the gates, they calmly opened the paddles, and there was not even the threat of a flood. I suggested to the nearest vollie that it might be a good idea for CRT to put notices up to warn boaters of the danger, and instruct them in how to avoid it. How on earth would a canal newbie, a hirer from nearby Wyverne, perhaps, know?

photo - geograph.org.uk

We pressed on to Stoke Hammond Lock, where we'd now decided we would moor and escape the cold wind and rain. We met NB Achenar moored just above the lock. They've been out cruising for some weeks now, but like to travel slowly, often staying at one mooring for several days. We hooted as we drifted past them, and Phil came out to chat while we waited for a pair of boats to come up the locks. Determined to do just one more lock, we descended, and moored for the night a few hundred yards further down.

It was cold. Silly-wooly-hat cold.

photo - www.sierratradingpost.com