Saturday 29th July
The originally planned 2.30 arrival at the Black Prince base, Stoke Prior,
turned out to be 3.30, in part due to the improvisation of the route when
we found the M25 to be impassable. This should have then allowed us to
depart by about 5.00, once the necessary paperwork, technical run-through
and general unloading had taken place. In practice, though, it wasn't until
6.00 that we finally embarked, owing to an unscheduled boat swap.
We had first been allocated a boat named Bath - the theme of the names
being places in the South of England rather than household objects. However,
Bath seemed to be rather unfortunately afflicted with an odour of rotting
broccoli in the galley (kitchen) which could not be eradicated, despite
the liberal application of Febreze, so we were then allocated a different
but identical boat, named Falmouth. This was to be our home for the next
7 days.
Having eventually set off we soon settled into the swing of things and
after about half an hour of motoring we were presented with our first lock.
The crew managed admirably and we had pretty soon descended the first 4
locks of the Astwood flight of 6. Then came our first mistake, which can
be put down to inexperience and unexpected circumstances. As there was
a reasonable length gap between the 4th and 5th locks, we decided to pull
up alongside the towpath and hammer in a couple of stakes to keep the boat
secured, while we took stock of our situation, had a cup of tea and thought
about how much further we could go before dark. (I was later quoted as
saying "I had to stop because no-one would talk to me." The crew
would learn to appreciate over the course of the week that communication
is difficult when you are standing above the engine.) As we considered
and cogitated, we gradually became aware that the boat was beginning to
tilt towards the centre of the Canal. Initial thoughts that this was because
we were all sitting on that side were soon dismissed as the angle of inclination
became greater and greater. It was then apparent that the cause of this
was that the level of water in the pound had dropped by about a foot since
we moored, because the paddles on the lower lock had been left open. This
had caused the edge of the boat alongside the tow path to ground and the
edge still floating to tilt lower and lower. Sadly no photograph was taken
of this scenario, but if you can picture a boat leaning over at about 40
degrees then you've got the idea. By the time we realised there must be
a problem with the lower lock, another boat had arrived and was entering
that lock to rise up to our level. Attempts to push our boat away from
the towpath proved futile and we realised that our only hope was to raise
the water level in the pound. Sue and Lauren quickly ran back to our last
lock to open up the paddles and get some water into our pound. Meanwhile
the other boat had emerged from the lower lock and I enlisted their help
in pulling us from the bank. A comedy of errors followed as I firstly threw
them the rope only to find that my end was not securely attached to the
cleat. Secondly, Nicola almost fell in the canal as she stood on the towpath
and tried to push the boat out. Thirdly, my revving of the engine seemed
to do nothing but spray mud everywhere. Eventually, as the water level
rose again and the crew of the other boat pulled, we were finally freed
and could descend the last two locks of the flight.
As
soon as we exited the final lock, the heavens opened and all the crew quickly
disappeared inside the boat, leaving me to get thoroughly wet while I motored
on in an attempt to find a suitable stopping place before the light faded.
At 9pm, as dusk was falling, we arrived at the Eagle and Sun pub at Hanbury
Wharf, a popular mooring spot, and a couple of other boaters helped to
pull our boat efficiently into the last remaining space by the towpath.
Day one successfully over and, after only three hours of travelling, we
already felt like we'd learned quite a lot about canal boating.
Next day
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