As the canal wanders directionally aimless around the contours via Ash, Aldershot, Farnborough, Fleet, Dogmersfield and so on, one can’t help remember the (probably apocryphal) story of the hitch-hiker on the old Winchester by-pass holding a sign that said “Anywhere but Basingstoke”.  And with (a)  the Greywell tunnel blocked (b) both ends of the tunnel now two of the most important bat SSSIs in Europe and (c) the M3, no amount of restoration will enable the Basingstoke Canal to reach Basingstoke.

The canal does manage to cross the Blackwater Valley Road, though. It’s quite odd cruising over a major dual-carriageway on an aqueduct that one has driven under far too often over the years.

Immediately after is a huge fishing area that we’d never come across before, and someone in Aldershot made a nice posh bridge once upon a time. It’s certainly an odd area!

Another bright sunshiny morning saw an early departure for an 09:00 reporting time, to climb the three Brookwood Locks, closely followed by the 14 Deepcut Locks. We somehow managed to be the first off, but David & Jane’s Rowan was just behind and joined us for the climb.

With double width locks, virtually no useable lock landings/laybys and only two crew each, it was going to be a steady slog, but we soon settled in to a steady rhythm, and the female crew were so happy lock-wheeling and nattering that they never wanted the male crews to take turn about, like we both normally did. The locks were already set for us, and not overly fierce, so the day passed in interesting company (Rowan’s skipper was someone in the city, then the lockkeeper at Thames Lock on the Wey Navigation), with the sun shining, the gentle thump thump thump of Rowan’s Russell Newbery engine and the tree-lined seclusion from the world outside inducing an almost trance like meditative state. Even occasional problems like jamming the boats on narrower than usual lock walls or gates that wouldn’t quite open all the way didn’t spoil the relaxed mood.

Emerging at the top and parting company with Rowan, we found pleasant moorings by Frimley Lodge Park, only a few yards from The King’s Head which provided Guinness for the thirst, and a menu that provided precious little incentive to cook on the boat.

The crew slept well after such a day. The Captain slept all day (and spent the night worrying the local Canada geese and goslings, we suspect).

Leaving the delights of the Bridge Barn Beefeater behind, another OMG early start saw Song & Dance reporting for a passage up through St. John’s / Goldsworth Locks. We’d planned on doing these and the Brookwood Locks in one go, but were reliably informed that there were no moorings beyond Brookwood until the top of the Deepcut flight (the locals regard these two flights as one: why doesn’t the documentation say so!).

We had company again; convenient moorings right by the launderette in St. Johns enabled some canal water to be washed out of the dunked clothes, and a start made on drying. Then onward through Brookwood Lye, where we found lovely moorings in a country park that we had no knowledge of, despite living in the area for umpteen years – round the back of the old Brookwood Hospital, and hidden from the Knaphill Sainsbury megastore and related housing developments.

We were aware some boats were following us the hill, and several towpath users had remarked that they hadn’t seen so many boats on the Basingstoke for years which puzzled us until a chap polishing his boat said “Hello, are you going to the Rally”? Subsequent enquiries established that not only was our eventual destination Odiham having a major bunfight “celebrating” King John’s supposed departure from the castle 800 years ago to head for Runnymede and an early attempt at Habeus Corpus, but that the Canal Supporters were holding a boat rally roughly when we expected to reach Odiham, and that mooring space would be – errr – limited! We said we’d keep in touch and hurry up or delay, as required…

Arriving first at the delightful Brookwood moorings we’d been told about, we took poll position, but no-one else seemed to bothered about tying up to trees or bushes. I can see Song & Dance staying awhile here on the return journey.

Leaving Baths Island (or “Windsor Castle Moorings”, as the council has it) on a sunny morning, the trip boats were out in force, providing splendid views of the trendy new apartments on the Eton side of the river.

It was clear that Her Maj was at home (the flag’s a giveaway), and appeared to have the builders in. The former was no surprise, as it was the first day of the Royal Windsor Horse Show, held in her back garden.

The first day had free entry for local tax-payers, but they clearly weren’t expecting anyone to arrive by boat, as for miles there were “No Mooring With Extreme Prejudice” signs. Never occurred to us that mooring up for a cuppa was a Serious and Organised Crime… We’re still trying to get our heads round the accusation that Biggles’ cruising schedule might be “organised”. Still, plenty of horses and carts were trotting away in the sunshine.

Arriving at Old Windsor Lock, an odd couple were exiting, breasted up: “That’s the way to do it!”

And the lock is a strange affair: almost like an outdoor theatre with tiered seating.

Leaving Old Windsor Lock and the Bells of Ouseley pub, a quick run down through the Runnymede Meadows and past The Ankerwycke Yew ensued before mooring up by Bell Wier Lock and the Runnymede Hotel. Rumour has it there’ll be an awful lot of boats arriving here soon…