We had ascended the lock by 8.30, only to find access to the water-point restricted by a moored boat. Yes, it was Paradise, which had obviously passed us while we were moored up at the Waterfront. There was no sign of life on the boat yet so, rather than disturb them, I decided to moor right up behind them, although this would mean the rear of our boat would be completely blocking the lock. As it was still quite early I hoped that no one else would be coming that way. It took quite a bit of manoeuvring to get the boat into position, and required some unusual tying up, but we managed and started to fill the water tank.
The scene at Blower's Green: I moored right up close to Paradise
(in the foreground) to access the water-point, although the stern of Falmouth
is completely blocking access to Blower's Green lock, just off the left-hand
edge of the picture.
Falmouth
in the foreground with the lock behind.
The
view from the lock - try getting past us now!
The man from Paradise emerged at about 9.00 but didn't seem to see any
error in his mooring, instead saying what a good mooring they'd found!
I explained that if anyone was to come along wanting to access the lock
he'd need to move and let us moor closer to the tap. Luckily no one did
come along and eventually at about 9.30 the 100-gallon tank gave its customary
metallic burp to say that it was full and we could move off. Soon we were
approaching the Netherton tunnel, Thomas Telford's 3027 yard dead straight
construction that would link us up to the Birmingham Canal Navigations
New Main Line.
View
from the bow as we approach the tunnel - you can just see the light at
the other end, nearly 2 miles away.
Being straight of course meant we could see the light at the other end
as we entered, although for a long time that light didn't seem to be getting
any bigger. The tunnel was cold and damp with occasional drips from the
ceiling that would run down your neck. After about 20 minutes we could
see an oncoming boat entering the tunnel, which I had hoped wouldn't happen.
I concentrated very hard on positioning Falmouth so as not to collide with
either the oncoming boat or the tunnel wall, although when we eventually
passed the boat it was clear that the tunnel was deceptively wide and there
were in fact several inches of space between us. The entire tunnel took
about half an hour and then we were soon on the BCN New Main Line.
Nicola took the tiller for a while along this largely straight canal,
along which the only complication was the occasional island in the middle
of the canal. Some of these islands contained bridge supports but others
seemed to serve no purpose whatsoever. As we lined up to go to the right
of one such island, from which the M5 motorway was supported, we ran aground
in shallow water and it took a good deal of pushing before we were free,
no doubt to the amusement of passing joggers. The weather had been dull
and sometimes showery throughout the morning, but as Birmingham city centre
drew nearer the sun began to shine and by the time we came alongside the
Sea Life Centre and National Indoor Arena it had become a glorious, hot
afternoon.
The city was a hive of bustling activity with people enjoying an afternoon
drink outside the many canal-side pubs and the various boats ferrying parties
of paying customers around to see the sights. Just beyond Gas Street Basin
we decided to stop for lunch. Sue then found that no water was coming out
the tap, which was something of a concern as we'd only filled up that morning.
We
happened to have stopped quite near to a water-point so we pulled the boat
a bit nearer and Nicola started to refill the tank. As she was doing this,
we realised that what had happened was that the electrical circuit operating
the water pump (which also served the 12 volt socket) had fused, owing
to a faulty mobile phone charger, and replacing this fuse restored our
access to water. After only a few minutes the water was spurting out at
Nicola from the top of the tank, confirming that the tank didn't really
need refilling yet.
"The Gas Station can quench that thirst!"
After a quick spot of lunch we resumed our journey as we still had a good way to go to reach our target. We were soon approaching Birmingham University, where I spent 3 years of my life and, true to form, the rain began to fall as we drew alongside the Halls of Residence. Familiar sights such as the monstrous concrete block, the Muirhead Tower, and the more architecturally pleasing clock-tower, Old Joe, were soon upon us, and it wasn't long before we were passing Cadbury world at Bourneville.
The landscape once again returned to industrial suburbs as we got further
from the city centre, and gradually even the presence of industry faded
away. We were then approaching the Wast Hill tunnel at Kings Norton. In
my student days I used to walk along the towpath and had reached this Northern
portal of the tunnel, but the towpath does not follow the water under the
ground, unlike in the Netherton tunnel, so I had never found the tunnel's
other end. I now know why my aimless wanderings had not hit upon the Southern
portal, as this tunnel is also the best part of two miles long and is also
(again unlike Netherton) not entirely straight. Hence this was quite a
different experience to the morning's tunnel, because as we entered we
became engulfed in a misty blackness, and I cautiously motored on with
no idea of what lay ahead. Our headlight seemed to light up only the few
feet in front of the boat so bends loomed up frighteningly quickly. The
tunnel is in fact not far off being straight, but inside it gave the impression
of twisting and turning like the world's slowest roller-coaster. The images
that came to my mind, as I concentrated intently on steering, included
the scene from the Italian Job where the man speeds into the tunnel to
meet his death in the form of a JCB digger placed strategically on a bend,
and of countless episodes of Scooby Doo where ghostly images appear projected
on darkened walls, usually done with mirrors and always "foiled by those
meddling kids". Our own ghostly image did appear in the form of the light
from an oncoming boat and again I had to deploy my skills at steering through
tight spaces. When we emerged from the tunnel, it was as if we had been
transported through space and time, as we now found ourselves in beautiful
countryside and superb sunshine.
Exiting
the Wast Hill tunnel.
We kept going until we reached Alvechurch at about 6.30, where we felt
we were sufficiently well-placed for tomorrow's challenge of the Tardebigge
locks. Mooring up at Alvechurch was a little tricky as the water was shallow
and the bottom rocky, and we ended up tied up a few feet from the bank
so that some members of the crew needed the plank to get ashore. The girls
did another spot of fishing in the evening and we chatted to some of the
crew of the Black Prince boat Bridgit which we had seen earlier in the
week. And so a satisfying day, in which we'd covered over 20 miles, drew
to a close and we prepared for our last full day and the Tardebigge locks.