Ian to the rescue!

Sunday
Ian Skoyles arrives (lovely surname!) at 9:30 with a big box of tools, two empty plastic containers and a big smile. And a story of how very tired he is because of working very late very often. I'm hoping he'll be able to think straight, despite his fatigue.

Between his countless horror stories of previous jobs, the lovely Ian pumps all that expensive diesel fuel and oil out of the engine, and replaces the lift pump. He's then able to say with confidence that Sam had made the right diagnosis of the situation. Phew! He tells a few more stories, then pours new oil in where the gunk had been pumped out. And turns the starter. There's a very loud bang. Which dismays all three of us.

“That doesn't sound good,” he says, as if we don't know it. I offer him a cup of tea or coffee.

“Not now, thanks. I'll have one to celebrate, when I've finished!”

It occurs to him now that there's probably fluid in the cylinders, so he removes the fuel injector from the first cylinder, and tries it again. This time, the loud bang is accompanied by a large quantity of gunk being propelled from the cylinder at high speed, covering Ian and the inside of the engine-room. This is going to be too messy a business to be repeated another three times.

The solution is to syphon the fluid from each cylinder, but for that, Ian needs his syphon pump. This is at home, so he has to go and get it. I suggest he has a quick lunch while he's there. He showers, and changes his oily clothes while he's there, too!

Returning an hour or so later with the pump, a smile and another story, he empties each cylinder of gunk, then tries again to start the engine. Zilch. Now he finds there's diesel/oil mix in the exhaust pipe, so he removes the injectors again, to reduce the internal pressure of the engine whilst cranking the engine to clear the pipe, and he cranks and cranks for seconds at a time, and I'm amazed he doesn't flatten the battery. Diesel and oil get pumped out of the exhaust pipe over the grassy bank. Encouraged by this, he keeps going until it stops spilling out. Then he replaces the injectors.

And starts an uncomplaining engine. We all cheer!

Then follows a period of much white smoke pouring out the back of the boat as he runs the engine to burn off all of the excess fuel in it. The smoke, dense as it is, elicits various responses from walkers and boaters alike. Perhaps you might imagine some of them.

My favourite is, “I thought you were having a barbecue!”

Ian cleans up the mess from the engine and the bilges, and goes on his way. He's spent more than nine hours on the job, and he's still smiling. What a star! 

He tells me a few more stories while we're carrying all of his stuff back to his van.

And so we wait

Saturday
9:30 Ian phoned, the guy contracted by RCR to fix Kantara. He should be with us today, he said, though possibly quite late. Meanwhile, would we go to BCBM Boat Share Ltd in Audlem village to collect the lift pump which is being delivered there, for him to collect? He's not sure he'll get there before they close.

I have to confess my anxiety about the boat. Sam did say that the fault might be with another component, and the he was simply going with the cheapest one first. So Ian may well fit the lift pump, and then find that the problem's still there, and have to order another part. And there's still the possibility that damage has been done because the lubricating oil became so badly diluted with diesel. This could turn out to be very costly.

We walked into Audlem and collected the parcel from BCBM, sent directly by Barrus, the makers of our engine. It felt very light for around £50's worth of pump! We did some more shopping at the Co-Op while we were there - who knows how long we're going to be stranded here? - and returned to Kantara for a day of reading, writing and card games.

The batteries are running low. We can't run the engine to charge them, obviously, and our solar panels can make very little of the heavily-clouded sky. In the evening, there's no TV or DVD-watching, and no use of our laptops, so it's Scrabble, Skip-Bo and RummiKub under the light of two LCD lamps.

We share one LCD lamp when we read in bed. Energy has to be saved for the fridge and the water pump.

Oh, and our water's not going to last forever.

Well, this is fun!

Grace woke to a strong smell of diesel inside the boat. I got up fast, lifted the deck board, and looked down into the engine compartment.

Remember yesterday? I ask, "Will the diesel and the oil continue to seep into the engine?"

Sam answers, "No, not without the engine running."

I'm now looking at the result of the diesel and oil having continued to flow, and to fill the engine to overflowing. Sam hadn't closed the fuel stopcock. I closed it and swore. Only mildly, you understand.

I phone RCR and updated them, and cursed - only mildly, you understand - the rain that had started, and which is forecast for the whole day. RCR will pass on the information to Ian, the man who'll be fixing our boat. He'll be with us later, they say.

1:45pm No Ian. I phone RCR to chivvy them up.

"I'll check with Ian, and phone you back."

2:30pm I'm still waiting for them to call back.

2:45pm I call back. The pump has not been delivered as promised. Ian's working in an area with bad phone signal, and can't be contacted. I repeat my 8:00am update about the bilge flood. She seems to know nothing about that.

"Surely it's on your system?? You do HAVE a system, don't you?"

"I'll speak with Ian as soon as I can, and get back to you."

4:15pm No callback.

5:00pm The rain stops. the sun comes out, and boats and people are steaming as they pass. I'm steaming, too, but not because I got wet. People brighten up along with the weather, their customary greetings now more animated and genuine. Our solar panels begin to push some real power into Kantara's batteries, and eventually, the sun seems to do the same to me, too.

7:00pm OK, this is getting ridiculous. I know from experience that RCR engineers are excellent, but I'm seriously beginning to doubt the capability of their office staff. Time was that "I'll get back to you" meant that I'd hear from whoever it was, one way or the other. I'd know what was going on, where I stood, what I might expect to happen next. As it is, we're left feeling that no-one actually cares that we're very low on battery power, with weather forecast that's not going to replenish it, we can't use the engine to do it, and we're going to need water soon, and we can't drive the boat to a tap. And I'd have to carry a full cassette over a mile to the nearest Elsan point.

I'll be on the phone to them again first thing tomorrow, with my best teacher's-not-pleased voice.

So tonight, it'll be Scrabble by the light of one LED lamp, in order to conserve energy for essentials like the fridge and the water pump.

An unexpected delay

Wednesday
I rang RCR at 8:00 this morning, and reported our plight. At 9:00, I got a call back, saying that an engineer had been given the job, and we'd hear from him when he'd finished his current one.

I'm now pretty certain that the problem's a blown head gasket. That would explain the smoky exhaust and the oil in the water, which I discovered this morning. I can't imagine that it's a job which can be done on the cut, and I think the nearest boatyard is miles away, in Market Drayton, so I'll be interested to learn what RCR intend to do about it. We're thinking now that it's likely we'll not get to Pelsall in time for the festival, though we do have a few “spare days" on our itinerary. We shall see.

Audlem Locks have been very busy since 7:30. There's been an almost constant flow of boats in both direction. I put a notice up at Lock 4 above us, telling boats on their way down that we're moored, and not waiting to go up (so don't leave the bottom gates open for us, thanks).

The water that rushes out of the culvert at the bottom of the lock is a problem to everyone, regardless of their experience, though it has to be said that it's the hire-boaters who have the biggest problems. The strong currents hit the boats broadside as they head into the chamber, and this almost invariably results in them being knocked off course, and crashing into the entrance wall.

I used the waiting time to wash Kantara. The roof in particular was filthy, not helped by the fact that we'd moored in the shade of trees which dropped a sticky sap over the boat overnight. We moved her this morning, just a few yards to a place where we were less in the way of other boats. While I washed the boat, Grace was making a couple of meals' worth of soup. It smelled delicious.

The RCR guy arrived before 1:00. I was talking to a passing boater when he arrived. The boater was commiserating over the head gasket, and saying how he'd had to call in RCR a week or so ago, to fix an oil leak, and that the young man who'd done it had been most impressive. Lo and behold, it was the very same man who arrived at that moment.

“I get around”, he said.

He lowered himself into the engine compartment, and looked around. I was wrong about the head gasket (thank goodness!). It's not water in the oil, it's diesel(!) An oil seal in the lift pump has failed, allowing fuel into the lubrication system. It's far more easily fixed, and cheaper, but there's still a chance of damage having been done to the engine before it cut out. We can only hope and pray about that one.

Having taken photos of the pump needed to fix our sick Kantara, Sam the engineer towed her up the next two locks to a Visitor Mooring where we'd be right out of the way of other craft. He took the lead, very carefully manoeuvring the boat into the locks, steadying her as they filled, and out again. Grace towed at the stern, I managed the locks and took a centre line when needed. It was clear that he'd done this job before, at the same locks. He was very impressive.

  

I asked him, "Will the diesel and the oil continue to seep into the engine?"

"No," he answered. "Not without the engine running."

That's a relief. I had visions of waking up in the morning and finding the bilges full of a nasty mix of oil and diesel.

It seems that we'll have to wait a day or three for the problem to be fixed. Meanwhile, Sam will order a new lift pump, and he'll call when it arrives.

As I type, a man's just cycled past, calling out in a silly, high-pitched voice to Percy and Isaac, his two dogs.

"Come on, Percy! Isaac, hurry up!." This several times. Then, "Who's that over there, Percy? Isaac, who's that?" They didn't answer. Perhaps they didn't know.

"It's Mummy! Go to Mummy!"

Since the dogs were different breeds, I looked out to see what their mother was like.

"Come on, my little darlings!!" It was a woman. I was disappointed.

Fellow-Tweep Fuel Boat Halsall passes us

Thursday was spent basking in the glorious sunshine. RCR called to say the pump had arrived, and it would be fitted tomorrow. They'd call to let us know when.

One odd place to another!

Nantwich is an odd sort of place. Pleasant enough. But odd, we thought. The cruise from there on to Audlem was beautiful, however. Dairy herds spread out across lush pastures, hillier countryside beyond. Swallows graced us with their presence a lot of the time, singing shrilly in the trees between sorties for food over the canal.

Hack Green Locks interrupted the tranquillity for a short while, and a brief encounter with shallows on the off-side whilst waiting for an oncoming boat to pass an obstacle. Kantara lurched quite violently to port as Grace drove her onto the invisible mudbank, but no harm was done, and we reversed off easily enough.

The Secret Nuclear Bunker is marked clearly on the OS map, and canalside signs make sure that all passers-by know about it. We didn't visit it - it claims to be a day's entertainment - but we've added it to our Llangollen/Weaver trip.

Arriving at Audlem, we filled up with water and disposed of rubbish after the first two locks, then moored at the Visitor Moorings above Lock 13. We had lunch at The Shroppie Fly ("No hot food today because of the hot weather"), and perused the fascinating Audlem Mill Canal Shop adjacent to it.

We strolled into the village, too, but it was here that we discovered that Audlem's also a pretty strange place. It has the feel of a very old village where not much has changed over time. There are few shops, and most of those were either closed or closed down. A Co-Op and a traditional butcher's shop appeared to be the only suppliers of food.

Back at the boat after two hours, we decided to carry on up the Audlem Flight, and stop for the night at the top - 15 locks up. It was a good decision. Nearly all of the locks were set in our favour, and, apart from the really tricksy sluices at the bottom of each one of them, pouring water out from the side across the canal in currents that made steering difficulty, all went well.

Until Lock 4, when the engine cut out without warning, just as Grace was taking Kantara in. The engine exhaust had been unusually smokey for a while, but nothing else had seemed to be wrong, and I thought, "Oh-oh!"

I took a centre line, and pulled the boat back to a place where we could moor her without being too much in everyone else's way. I tried to phone River Canal Rescue, found my phone had no signal, took it up to higher ground and tried again, failed and went back to the boat, tried Grace's phone, heard RCR's phone ringing. And it rang, and it rang, and it rang. They were closed for the day, except for emergencies. And this was not one of those.

So here we are. Stranded. I'll phone RCR first thing in the morning. It's a pleasant spot between two close locks, with the constant background sound of rushing water.

Moor and Peace

How very appropriate, here on the Shropshire Union Canal!

We left our very Peaceful Mooring hoping upon hope that the Canal Club boat we'd encountered yesterday had made a very early start, and was moving at least 50% faster than she was yesterday. This was not very charitable of us, I accept, but we do have a schedule to keep. We do need to be on the Wyrley and Essington (aka the Curly Wyrley) by Friday week. And I really do want the poor lady skippering that boat to be doing it better than she was yesterday. For her own sake, and that of her family.

It was a warm day, and building up to be very hot. Swallows darted around the boat. Three of them were seeing off a buzzard, flying at him from all angles as if to confuse him, until he got the message and winged it.

The Shroppie is clearly a superior canal; superior to the Leeds & Liverpool and the Bridgewater. It has Armco for mooring. Miles of it, on banks that aren't overgrown with undergrowth, so that, once again, we can moor pretty much where we want to.

Except that there's the Shroppie Ledge, a mysterious protrusion from the side of the canal, below water level, which gets in the way sometimes when you try to moor, and results in the boat standing out from the back a foot or so. We haven't actually experienced the problem yet, but we have seen lots of boats moored with that gap between them and the bank.

And then there are the wasps. Entirely seasonal, of course, but still a problem. It wasn't so bad today, but yesterday they were buzzing around us in large numbers almost immediately we turned onto the canal. They stayed with us until bridge 27, when they simply disappeared en masse. Even the ones which had been avidly feeding in bowls which had held cake and cream just left. It was strange, as if some natural law forbade their passing beyond that point.

We stopped counting the boats we met, yesterday. This canal is far busier than any that we've been on this yea, and we're probably meeting more in one day now than we were seeing in a week previously.

We spent some time travelling with NB Serenity, getting to chat with them when both of us stopped for a lock. They were on their way to Venetian Marina, where they'd be hanging up their windlasses after six years of living aboard. They were finding life on the canals was getting too much for them as they were getting older, and were stopping while the going wasn't too tough. Wise, but sad.

We've been using less diesel that we'd expect, which is a good thing, of course. But, with about half a tankful still, we decided to fill it to the top again, thinking that this will probably last us now until the end of this cruise. We pulled over at Venetian Marina and filled up. NB Serenity was moored sadly nearby, her owners no doubt psyching themselves up now for moving off her and back onto land.

It was good to meet NB Dabbling this afternoon, albeit for the ten seconds it takes for two boats to pass each other. We were greeted first of all by the lady at the tiller, then by her husband who appeared from below, calling out that he's  a reader of this blog. I got a Tweet from Gerard this evening.

@NBKantara great to sail past a #boatsthattweet, enjoy reading your blog. I was working in L'pool last week and did spot you on the moorings

It's always good to meet folk who read the blog, or have read my book, or whom I follow on Twitter. It makes them far more real somehow!

At Barbridge Junction, we turned left,

passed the start of the Llangollen Canal,

and went on to Nantwich.

A long line of moored craft had left a space for us!

The sunset over Nantwich was phenomenal!

Not Photoshopped!