Thursday (part 2)

Stan did the swing bridges perfectly as John motored through.

Somehow we didn't want the trip to end and so were not pushing our speed as we made our way slowly down to Planet Lock (3 feet), and finally to the staircase at Bedford Street. I have mentioned this lock before this - a huge double staircase lock which lead into each other and, in our case, dropped us 19 feet down to the level of the Trent and Mersey.

At the bottom of the lock we stopped on the middle rope while John opened the weed trap to check the propeller as things were not sounding too good with the engine. John pulled oiut what looked like the remains of a bed sheet, a fabric handbag and a couple of long pieces of plastic. We can only think that we picked them up in the last stretch before the lock. The bed sheet makes a good starting point for a muder mystery!

The Caldon Canal winds round a small park just before the junction with the Trent and Mersey and in this park there is a statue of James Brindley with his surveying gear. I had to hop off the boat and run across the park, take the shot with both my Nikon and my iPad and then get back to the boat before it   left the edge of the park. James would be terribly embarrassed at the state of his head and shoulders which looks like they are a favourite parking spot for the local pidgeons. As I took the photo I thanked James for his incredible legacy - a truly great man

Back on the boat, we joined the Trent and Mersey and arrived back at the Black Prince marina, tied up and the skipper called down to the engine room "Finished with engines". The voyage was done.

We reported in to the manager of the marina and told him that John and I would be sleeping the night on the boat. He was fine with that. We then asked him to take a photo of the "Three Men in a Boat", which he happily did, and I can show that we have made it through the voyage and are well and happy.

We walked into town to sort out cash and also for me to try to sort out Vodafone - without any success, though they did admit that thery needed to make sure their staff understood how to re-charge data on an iPad.

Back down to the marina for Stan to fetch his cases from the boat and then round to Toby's Carvery for a final meal together.

A taxi was called at the end of the meal and Stan set off on his return journey home.

John and I will tidy the boat tomorrow morning, pack our bags and make our way to Crewe for the night, before catching the train to Manchester Airport on Saturday morning.

We have had a great time together and I hope that you have enjoyed the trip with us.

Thanks for following!

Thursday morning

So begins the last full day of our voyage.

Last night we decided to moor above the fifth lock in the Stockton Brook Flight and save the fifth for the morning. John made one of his delicious soups for supper and as we were all beginning to feel the cold, despite the fact that we had turned on the heaters, we all headed for an early bed and read our books before going to sleep.

During the night the clouds cleared from the sky and the temperature plummeted. According to my weather app. the temperature in Stoke on Trent this morning was 2 degrees Celcius! Waking some time in the darkness I found that my feet were freezing despite being under the duvet. I grabbed my seater and wrapped my feet in that, then doubled the duvet over me - it was really freezing.

This morning I discovered that all of us, at some point during the night had been trying to keep warm!

We discovered to our joy this morning that we had great comms, so set about being in touch with home. As we communicated the sun came up -

Having navigated the fifth lock (seen in the picture) in the very chilly wind, we passed two swing bridges - which we allowed Stan to operate (John had opened them on the way out, and Stan really wanted his 'turn'), locked down Engine Lock (the deepest on the Waterways system at 12 feet), where John reported from the helmsman's position at the bottom of the lock that although he was out of the wind, the lock was freezing cold; and then moored at the foot of a beautiful meadow.

A flock of spurwing geese we had met on the canal need a mention - there were so many of them!

We all had a hand in making breakfast together as the heaters were on again and we needed to warm up. We had a great cook up as we are trying to clear the cupboard and fridge - eggs, bacon, tomato, baked beans, toast and coffee. That will keep us going until this evening when we plan to have supper together at the pub alongside the Black Prince marina.

The villages drift past - Norton Green, Milton and Northwood. Soon we will be on the outskirts of Stoke-on-Trent.

Tuesday revisited (somehow lost the blog and have had to re-write (mutter, mutter)

You may remember that we spent Monday night at Stockton Brook, a village with five locks (41 feet) on the Caldon Canal. We had moored before the locks, so first thing we worked through the locks and then, at the top, I lost John and Stan - they were standing  gazing into the middle distance, for there stretched before them was the Greenway Hall Golf Club. I suggested to them that they should walk over to the club and see if they could borrow some clubs and play 9 holes, which is what they did and had a great deal of fun. The Club was only too willing to charge them a very reasonable fee and lend them clubs, so it was game on.

They were off the boat for just under three hours and for the rest of the afternoon there was much discussion on the fairways, greens and the good and bad points of each hole. I took the opportunity to stay on the boat, try to make Skype contact (failed) and read my book.

On the move again we swung past Endon and stopped at the Park Lane Wharf where we took on water. Leaving the wharf with Stan at the helm and John  in the bows, I pushed off and made my way down the side of the boat towards the stern. My foot slipped out from under me and next moment I was hanging from the rail, that runs the length of the roof, by my fingers, and my legs dangling up to my knees, in the canal. There were shouts from the British Waterways men on the bank and Stan, seeing that I had disappeared called to John, who raced back down the side of the boat, grabbed me by my belt and hauled me up onto the side again.

Funny how things play tricks with your mind - I had this fear that I was going to be crushed between our boat and a British Waterways work boat that was moored ahead of us. In fact I was up on the side of the boat well before we passed the work boat.

So, John has had a 'paddle', I have had a dip, and Stan is still dry!

So we arrived at Hazelhurst Junction which is the meeting place of the Caldon Canal and it's branch, the Leek Branch which is 2 miles long. It leaves the Caldon on the right, travels parallel for a short distance and then turns back over the Caldon to head north east. More of that tomorrow.

At Hazelhurst we dropped down through three locks (25 feet) and travelled east under the Leek Branch  aqueduct on our way to Cheddleton. Here John  and Stan took the boat down through two locks (16 feet), while I went to the Post Office to post postcards to Australia and South Africa. Cheddleton had an industrial past with a flint mill and other industry related to coal and limestone. There were even silk and paper mills here. Now there is a huge factory right next to the canal where steel in all shapes and sizes was being fabricated and galvanised.

Outside Cheddleton is the main yard of the Churnet Valley Railway. There we saw all sorts of rolling stock - wagons, coaches, a kitchen car and a dining car, and a number of the earliest diesel locos. There is a group of entusiasts who are restoring the line and during the summer months their steam locomotive pulls holidaymakers up and down the line.

By now the Caldon is in deep woodland as it makes its way into the Churnet River valley. This is England at its best! And pheasants - we saw them everywhere!. 

At the Oakmeadow Ford Lock the Caldon drops 7 feet and lands in the Churnet River, whose waters took us gently on to Consall Forge. Here the canal takes its leave of the river, as the river runs over a weir, and takes us on to Flint Mill Lock which has the last winding hole for boats of our size. Stan made a masterly turn through 180 degrees and, having travelled the navigable length of Caldon, we made our way back to Consall Forge.

Consall Forge is a village of two or three houses and a pub lying deep in the woods in the Churnet River valley. The peace and quiet were not always like this. At its peak in the 1860s there were over 1000 men working on the limestone mines and lime kilns in this little valley. Pearson tells us that there were 30 boats a day leaving Consall Forge carrying lime and iron ore, which was also mined in the area. One imagines the lime kilns belching clouds of toxic smoke into the atmosphere and dust and dirt everywhere. These pictures catch something of Consall Forge today.

The old lime kilns, Consall Forge - the kilns are built into the side of a hill so that limestone and coal could be shovelled in at the top, the kiln was lit and then, when ready, the lime was shovelled out the doors at the bottom.

The Black Lion pub and the Caldon Canal at Consall Forge

The Churnet River weir, Consall Forge

We moored at Consall Forge and repaired to the Black Lion pub where we had a delicious pub-food supper.

Tonight it is the owls we hear in the woods.

Wednesday, and rain

We left Consall Forge after taking time to walk around and explore, and worked our way back through Oakmeadow Ford Lock,Wood's Lock, and Cheddleton to Hazelhurst Junction, where we made a turn into the Leek Branch.

Caldon Canal on left and Leek Branch on right. (We came up on the left and went down on the right)

The Leek Branch is, if possible, even more beautiful than its parent canal. Full of twists and turns, it was not an easy one to navigate, which explains why narrowboat 'owners' have 45 foot boats and 'renters' have 69 foot boats - because the 'renters' don't know any better!

At this point I want to retract what I said in a previous blog about 'owners'. Since writing that blog we have met some very nice people, friendly and helpful and willing to give advice on local conditions.

At the top end of the Leek we scored a second "end of navigable water" and so, this time John, made a 180 degree turn immediately in front of the Leek Tunnel mouth.

John now warrants a serious "mentioned in dispatches". John took over the helm for the return down the Leek Branch as the clouds rolled in, the sun, which we had been enjoying for most of the morning, disappeared and the rain came down. John, dressed in his full rain gear brought the boat right down the length of the Branch on his own while I re-typed yesterday's blog and Stan cowered behind his Kindle - not quite fair, he did help John when help was needed.

We re-joined the Caldon at Hazelhurst Junction and, as I write, are aiming for Stockton Brook once again where we will moor for the night below All Saints, ready for the run down to Stoke tomorrow. This will be Stan's last night on board, for tomorrow evening he will catch a train for Crewe, spend the night in a hotel there and then travel by train for Manchester Airport early on Friday morning to catch his flight back to San Diego.

Monday - in which we went underground

There are those who would say that one good day in fourteen isn't bad, so we were grateful for yesterday as we woke to grey skies and a chill wind reminding us that autumn/fall is well and truly on us.

Last night we heard the bells of All Saints, Church Lawton as we were readying ourselves for the night, and as we stared out this morning discovered the church just around the corner hiding behind huge trees!

The Red Bull Locks - five of them - were monsters, raising us 54 feet and taking us through the junction of the Trent and Mersey and the Macclesfield Canal. It is quite an engineering feat with the branch to the Macclesfield turning off to the right, back past two of the locks and then itself turning right over the Trent and Mersey. We stopped here and strolled over the bridges, as it was a trip down memory lane for John and myself - we had taken 'The Macc" after starting our Cheshire Ring trip from Middlewich five years ago. Today we were to travel on south down the Trent and Mersey.

John and Stan standinmg on the bridge looking down to the T&M

The village where the Macclesfield branches off is Hardings Wood Junction, which is half a mile short of the portal to the Harecastle Tunnel. We arrived at the portal and were met by the lock-keeper who told us there would be an hour's wait, so we had breakfast while we waited.

The Harecastle Tunnel is described as one of the great waterways adventures, almost a 'rite of passage' one could say, for those who consider themselves narrowboat men/women. The brief histoiry is that the first tunnel, designed by James Brindley, was built in 1777. Because the tunnel is only 14 feet wide, groups of boats could only travel in either a southerly or northerly direction at one time; so the tunnel became a serious bottleneck on the system. Thomas Telford designed a second tunnel which ran parallel to the first - this new tunnel was opened in 1827; these two tunnels were used until the early 1900s until Brindley's tunnel was abandoned due to subsidence. The tunnel used today is Telford's adapted with forced ventialtion which keeps the diesel fumes to a minimum. The tunnel is just under two miles long and takes around 45 minutes to travel through.

The reason for our wait was that a boat had just started out from the southern portal. Once the boat came through and we had received our instructionbs from the lock-keeper, off we set with three boats behind us.

No, the lock-keeper is not singing an aria! The water is orange due to the fact that the underground streams which run in to the tunnel are filled with particles of ironstone.

It was a great experience - not at all claustrophic - and one to be remembered.

The hour from the end oif the tunnel to Stoke through the ruins of the pottery factories and the giant ironworks was a sad one as one could imagine the hive of activity that used to happen in this great industrial  area.

We moored outside the Black Price Marina and walked into town to Morrisons supermarket to buy the provisions we need for the next few days. The walk back to the boat was interesting as one member of the crew was sure of a short cut. It took twice the time to get back to the boat as it had taken to get to the supermarket!

Leaving the marina in the early afternoon we travelled south about half a mile and then turned left onto the Caldon Canal. The plan is to do an "out and back" as far as the Black Lion (pub) in Consall Forge where there is a 70foot 'winding hole' where we can turn and return. We have to be back in Stoke on Thursday afternoon so that Stan can catch an early train back to Manchester Airport for an 11.00am flight.

The Caldon is a beautiful little canal, opened in 1779 to carry limestone down to the Trent and Mersey. Pearson makes the sad observation that the Caldon was the death of James Brindley - he caught pneumonia on a survey trip and did not survive.

Swing bridge on the Caldon Canal

We moored for the evening in woodlands outside the village of Stockton Brook and walked in to the local pub - "The Sportsman", but as they did not offer food, we walked on to to the Cibo Ristorante, where, obviously, we ate Italian!

As I write, we have heard the nightingales singing in the woods next to the canal - what a sound to lull us to sleep!

PS. This one is for Elly - her man dry and smiling - taken up the road from the Ristorante

Sunday evening sitting on the southern side of Church Locks

What a great day this has been!

Had to start the day with a post of the glorious 'son-rise', and the day just got better and better and the sun came through and the clouds disappeared over the horizon.

Now that I have the book in front of me I can tell you that we climbed through 17 locks before lunch. The first three (29 feet) were Booth Lane Locks - all straight forward and soon climbed. We moored up for breakfast, and, that meal over, continued past the village of Ettily Heath, Yeowood Farm and one of the biggest sewerage works we have ever seen. It looked as if much of the works were no longer being used as many of the huge circular beds were overgrown with lush foliage.

I must tell you about the people we meet as we travel along the canal

* The narrowboat owners - these folk hold themselves aloof from us mere "renters" and usually make some comment about the way we are, or are not, doing things. John nearly had his head bitten off by a lady owner when he offered to open a paddle for her. "Get....your...hands...off...that...paddle". When one passes moored boats the owners ALWAYS tell you to slow down with an imperious flapping of their hand up and down. I sometimes feel that we could be going past in reverse and they would still tell us to slow down!

* The fishermen - these fellows sit along the bank of the canal with piles of equipment carefully gathered around their chair and hold very, I mean very, long fishing poles right out across the canal. At the end of the poles they have a microscopic float from which dangles a worm/grub/?. When we approach (very slowly) the sigh is easily heard twenty meters away as they either raise the poles high in the air like some great border post, or shuffle it backwards hand over hand through the hedge to avoid having it being hit by the boat. Today we sailed through a fishing competition. Twent or so fishermen were seated every five metres or so down the bank and, as we passed, each gave us the treatment. Ihappened  to be at the helm at the time and John and Stan were sitting up in the bows. Later John told me that he greeted each one with a cheerful "Good Morning", to which most fishermen replied with a scowl. Except the last man (could he have been a new fisherman who had only recently been tagged on to the end of the competition, and therefore didn't know the rules?) When John  greeted him, he was most talkative and chatted away as we went by!

* The walkers - the walkers are obviously out on the towpath because they want to be there and are enjoying their walk, so when we wave and greet them, they nearly always greet us back, or wave to us. There is, however, one group of walkers, cheerful though they may be, who are not top of our pops. These are the walkers who are taking their dogs for a walk. Up and down the towpaths there are pleas from British Waterways to dog owners to clean up after their dogs, but some don't and they leave a nasty surprise in exactly the spot where a crew member is jumping off his/her boat to walk up to work on a lock. Yuck!

*The other renters - we are a happy lot, us renters. When we meet up at locks we chat together about the routes we are foillowing, the weather, interesting information about the canal ahead and the pubs where we had our last meal. We help each other lock up and lock down and really make the Waterways a very happy place .... if it wasn't for those aweful owners!

* The professionals - every now and again we meet up with someone from British Waterways who give us some really good advice, like "noisy up, quiet down" regarding the use of the ratchet when opening or closing a paddle, and how to fill a lock when locking up to avoid the surge of water that rushes in from the front paddles, races under the boat, hits the back gate, creates a tsunami and hurls the bow of the boat (and the startled helmsman) crashing into the cill. Always curteous and understanding these men are a great attribute to British Waterways. 

And so to the village of Wheelock. Perhaps this photo will help explain the name of the village. Amazing to think how old this village is!

The real work of "Heartbreak Hill" starts here, so after we had filled our water tank and done some shopping at a convenience store in the village, we made a start on the 26 locks that are to be found over the seven miles between Wheelock and Harding's Wood.

The ten locks in the Wheelock Flight raised us just under 80 feet. We were travelling with "Six Men in a Boat" and we helped each other through the locks. This flight of locks was originally built as duplicate locks, meaning there are two locks side-by-side. Sadly over the years some of the locks have fallen into dis-repair and so in places there is only one lock instead of two.

Sorry, its a bit dark as there is a farm bridge immediately before the lock.

The last of the ten locks brings one to Hassall Green and then there is a pair of deep locks called the Pierpoint Locks (raised us 15 feet). Next to these locks we saw the ruins of two old cottages, they looked like they could have been beautiful in their day. Pearson refers to them as 'The Potter's Barn'. We then had a break from locks as we passed Chellshill Farm. This is a huge dairy farm with Friesan cattle in the cropped green fields.

The next locks were Thurlwood Locks which raised us a further 19 feet and brought us to Rode Heath and "The Broughton Arms" where we had lunch. (See previous blog)

Afetr lunch we journeyed on, still on the Trent and Mersey, through Lawton Treble Locks, Hall's Lock and Church Locks - raising us a further 56 feet.

We decided that we had done enough for the day, and, finding a quiet spot on the canal bank moored for the night. While we had a cup of tea and read the Sunday paper the dusk drew in and we were given a most amazing sunset. I end this post with this picture.

The most glorious Sunday

We have been travelling all morning in the most perfect 'Indian Summer' weather. Dressed in t-shirts with the sun shining brightly we have tacked the first half of "Heartbreak Hill". Don't have the book in front of me but we must have come through 12 to 15 locks.

Taken at he Wheelock water point

Arrived at the Broughton Arms just after 3.00 and decided to have a Sunday roast with all the trimmings. Here is John's picture -

Roast beef, a ginormous Yorkshire pudding, baby potatoes, roast potatoes, carrots, peas and mashed swedes. Being a pub we had to have a drink - Fosters beer for John and Stan, English Pale Ale for me.   Stan is opting out of the dessert, John is having sticky toffee pudding, I am having Bramley Apple Pie and custard.

More later (after a nap?)