Four Counties Odyssey
Part three. Second week on the move and further challenges.
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Yesterday’s Adderley five locks could be viewed as the warm up for today’s endeavour, the Audlem fifteen. To be fair, the plan was to get down the first eleven on the day (a sufficient day’s effort with two boats and three crew between them) and moor for the night, then carrying on the following day.
With what was probably the warmest day of the year to date, little or no breeze and substantial arm- and leg-work, we were glad that we stuck to the schedule.
Jubilee headed in first, stopping after lock three to wait for Hyperion to come through the first two (and for us to grab a quick bite to eat). Graham joined us again, as we headed through the next eight before I moored Jubilee and walked back up the hill to help with gates and paddles for Hyperion’s passage through. We were all pretty tired by this point - mooring after lock eleven was a good call.
Negotiating the last four was straightforward, stopping briefly after lock twelve for water and the adjacent CRT facilities. Onward we wandered, through Hack Green Locks, to moor up just before the Nantwich Aqueduct.
Irene suggested there was time before making tea for me to have a stroll down into the town itself and see some of the old buildings. I felt guilty indulging without Irene being able to join me, but the best part of sixty steps down from the ‘duct, then a mile or so walk into the town centre, then back up again would not have been practical. Having that ‘alone’ time, albeit still with Percy, was probably a good thing for her anyway, not having to look at this grumpy old fool’s face for a while.
The old architecture in the town was a delight to behold and I admit I got a little ‘trigger happy’ with my camera.
As is inevitable with any excursion, you can only take so much in the way of clean clothing. Eventually you need to do a little washing. Such a situation it was for us and the following day we travelled literally just about a quarter mile around the bend, to then moor again for the day and explore the local canal-side laundrette. With numerous large bags-for-life between Graham and I, all stuffed with dirty togs and towels, duly walked along the towpath to the facilities and back afterward, Viv staying with Irene for a chat on Jubilee during this time, all was good. Or so we thought.
The boat behind us thought it was a jolly good idea to set up their little P.A. system on the towpath and broadcast their taste in music to all and sundry. Some folk may have enjoyed it but it was stressing us out, Irene in particular. The plan had been to stay there the night before moving on again, but the decision was made to try and moor a little way beyond the bridge just ahead of us to escape the din, with Graham a d Viv needing to stay put as they were due to catch up with friends in Nantwich. That little way beyond the bridge ended up being quite some distance before we could find a suitable mooring. We did wonder if the busy road bridge a short distance ahead would disturb us, but compared to where we had been, it was relative bliss.
We had a relatively relaxed start the next morning, sorting laundry and giving Percy a bath while we waited for Hyperion. Shortly after lunch they eased past us and we followed on.
We came to the junction where we’d have turned off onto the Llangollen if fate hadn’t dictated otherwise. We sighed a sigh and carried on, eventually reaching the sharp right-hander onto the Middlewich branch. It was a little slow going at this point, as we passed a line of moored boats stretching nose-to-tail from the junction right up to the first bridge. The way freed up beyond this point and we could make better progress.
But, not for long...
I’d slowed the boat as we were approaching the next bridge and all was well until I tried to make quicker progress. When I engage forward drive, I thought “mm, that prop sounds noisy, must have suddenly picked up a lot of weed/fishing line/old shirts/bits of rope/you name it...” as we seem to be stopping and then going in reverse, I thought “mm, that’s funny, that shouldn’t be happening..”
As I pushed the throttle further forward, we were going faster backward. What on earth was going on? I tried engaging reverse and we continued backwards, then ‘neutral’ and we were still going backwards. The only way to stop the boat moving was to switch the engine off. At this point, we drifted stern first into the brambles and other shrubbery overhanging the bank, the bow still sticking out into the main thoroughfare.
What on earth do we do now? Luckily the two boats that passed us at this point were quite understanding as they negotiated an unexpected boat-shaped obstacle. After some hearty cursing and swearing and pushing like mad on the pole, I managed to dislodge the stern from the mini jungle and muddy shallows below. Slowly, I limped the boat backward over to the towpath side and moored up.
A little while later, after a rather urgent call from us, Hyperion returned from where they were waiting at the next lock, mooring up in front of us, nose to nose, or bow to bow if you prefer.
By this time I’d discovered the nature of our problem - a broken gear cable. Sadly, our man Will was unavailable, as he was off for a week attending a stag party. His Dad, who’s in the same line of work, might have been able to help, but he was at least an hour’s drive away and still nursing a poorly leg in a pot, not exactly ideal for crawling around in an engine bay. After a little chat about what was involved, it was decided I would tackle the job. It wasn’t overly complicated in regard to what was involved and well within my capability, but it was totally unfamiliar territory to me, having never worked on a boat before in this manner. It’s a good job I brought a bag full of tools with me. As it turned out, once again we weren’t too far from a marina and it’s chandlery. We tried phoning, texting and whatsapping, but to no avail. The only option left was to walk the best part of a mile along the towpath to the marina and spoke face to face. Sadly, they didn’t have the right cable in stock but suggested maybe another place might have one. It took more gentle persuasion to get them to do what they should have tried doing without our urgent prompting and looked it up at Midland Chandlery. The good news - they had one in stock. The bad news - it would take a couple of days to get it out to where we were. Ah well, back to the boat and decide what to do while we waited.
Bright, clear skies and a fairly strong breeze greeted us the next morning. Viv and Graham had decided to walk back to the junction and catch the bus back into Nantwich for some shopping and another mooch around. I took the opportunity to clean down the port side of the boat (the starboard side having already been cleaned before we’d left Taft, a couple of weeks previously). It’s surprising how algae and other deposits build up in less than the space of a year. Irene enjoyed her weekly online art group without interruption. That just left young Percy and he just kept doing his own thing quite happily. We were joined later by numerous ducks and a swan who, of course, were generously fed from our sizeable stash of pellets. Any leftovers were enthusiastically nibbled by the fish.
The clear skies continued on into the evening and we were treated to the most glorious of sunsets. The full, beautiful face of Luna, the Flower Moon, gazed gently down upon us all the while.
Still no news from the chandlery by lunchtime the next day, so Hyperion headed off back to the junction to turn, return, then continue on down through the next lock to the marina at it’s base. Graham, once again, had to go in to the chandlery and enquire directly. Finally, we hear the part had arrived, so off I trot down the towpath again and collect the new cable from Graham. On my return to Jubilee I got stuck in.
Jubilee’s counter is relatively big compared to most boats to allow for accessibility. This affords space for two hatches down into the engine bay. This does make life a little easier gaining access, but even so, if I’d been a gymnast or contortionist it might well have helped. In principle these cables are not much more complex than brake or gear cables on bicycle, the main difference being they can pull or push. In practice, their implementation is rather more convoluted. The throttle mechanism is housed in a rigid steel column, an integral part of the fabric of the boat. Also housed in said column is the isolator switch for the engine starter battery. I discovered the hard way that the terminals on the rear of the switch aren’t shrouded in any way. While blindly trying to jiggle the throttle mechanism down through the column, left hand on the cables below, right reaching down through the upper aperture to guide it, there was a sharp SNAP, CRACKLE, POP and a shock-like burning sensation in my right hand as the throttle baseplate connected with the switch terminals and the boat’s bodywork, hundreds of amps fizzing through nicely. I swiftly moved the throttle back out of the way. Luckily no actual burns on my hand and no signs of any further damage within the column, other than leaving a bad smell and wisps of smoke drifting out.
With the battery now disconnected and safe, I resumed the task of replacing the cable.
My absent-minded forgetfulness did me no favours - the job would have been done in half the time if it were not for this. I started getting the horrible feeling I hadn’t properly secured the clamp holding the cables to their baseplate, so, out the came the mechanism yet again. Sure enough, I hadn’t. So glad I’d checked. As you can imagine, all this brought about some choice language. Add to this the fact that during proceedings I twice cracked the back of my head on the underside of the counter. The surrounding air turned a very deep blue.
Finally, all was back as it should be, with the prop-shaft once again spinning as it should, when it should. With all this focus on the job in hand, I hadn’t noticed until afterward, that all the while I’d been brushing up against the fibreglass lagging on the exhaust. As .i stood in the lowering sunlight, my otherwise black trousers and teeshirt glistened with countless tiny, itchy glass fibres, like stars on a crystal clear night...
We were finally down at the Marina the next morning, re-fuelling and obtaining a new spare gas bottle, both of us relieved to be on the move again in the appropriate direction.
Soon we were at Church Minshull Lock, adjacent to the ancient village of the same name and written about fondly by Tom Rolt in his well known book Narrowboat. If the village is as charming as the lock and the old lock keeper’s cottage, then it would be well worth a visit one day.
As I waited with our boat above the lock for our turn to go through, I thought about today’s date, 1st of May, and took a few minutes to quietly take in the simple joys of the moment. The fresh green bursting forth on the trees, the alluring fragrance and almost overwhelming glory of the May blossom and cheerful beauty of the bluebells, along with all the other sights, sounds and scents of Spring. Life humming, Mother Nature at her finest. What more reasons would one need to keep coming back to the canals? It was all the heady magick I needed at this time of Beltane, Spring at it’s height and the gradual coming of Summer.
Well, onward we traveled, although there was a short ‘traffic jam’ at Stanthorne Lock.
Apparently this spot can be a bit of a bottleneck according to the guy holding his boat in line behind us. Eventually we make it into Middlewich, heading through the VERY low bridge at the junction with the Trent and Mersey. Poor Graham, who’s well over six feet in height, was bent double to walk under it on the towpath. Once through, it’s an immediate right, where the mooring pins for King’s Lock are right there, next to the junction. It was a case of gently, gently, on the throttle to swing the boat round in the space offered by the winding hole opposite, reverse a little and draw in close to the pins to moor. While we stood waiting for Hyperion to head up through the lock, we witnessed another boat come out from under the bridge at the junction at some speed, shooting straight out across the winding hole and nudging the bank opposite. I stood, mentally scratching my head, wondering what their intent was, here. It turned out that they were intending to turn left and head in the opposite direction to us. After a lot of engine revs and churning, frothing water all about, moving back and forth, they managed to get their boat round and facing the right way. What’s that old saying - “more haste, less speed”?
Shortly after, Viv came gently through under the bridge, gracefully showing how it can be done and turning in behind us on the pins. On our way up the lock, we discover there’s a busy pub garden overlooking, with numerous young children fascinated by the sight of Percy looking out of the window. Some came right up close with their mums, causing a little worry on our part regarding the their potential lack of awareness of the dangers of lock, but fortunately all was well. We moored a little way down from there for the night. Despite being right next to a busy main road, we all slept well. It must be all that lovely fresh air!
Thank you for joining me, once again, on our voyage around the Four Counties Ring, I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll come along for the next installment. See you then. Take care.
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Another wonderful travelogue, Ralph, with the added adventure of the broken gear cable. It’s one of those things that make you curse at the time but also makes for great stories after the fact. Love the photos, especially the bnw ones of Nantwich.
A great travelogue. I have walked the Audlem locks many times. I particularly liked your b&w images of Nantwich, a beautiful town.