Monthly Archives: August 2016

Chocolate-less in Chirk

Having originally decided to get to Ellesmere and assess the situation, it subsequently seemed that it was worth making a determined assault on the Llangollen summit. Song & Dance needs an oil change and service fairly shortly, and the marina in Ellesmere can fit us in next Tuesday, so we had just under a week to potter somewhere. A combination of hire boat base turn-round days, and the rumour that many of these hire-boaters were only interested in going as far as The Unpronounceable Viaduct before heading back meant that Friday and Saturday could be reasonable days to tackle the final stretch. And so, bidding Ellesmere farewell for a few days, we set off, having decided to try and get somewhere near Chirk base camp to put us in a good position.

The canal winds around the contours a bit, and the countryside is progressively less flat than the mosses and  meres East of Ellesmere, as one approaches Lower Frankton, Frankton Junction, Welsh Frankton, Welsh Wales and so on. Meandering along the border, Song & Dance seemed to be one of very few boats heading uphill, while there seemed to be a never ending stream of boats coming the other way. The Llangollen Canal was living up to its reputation as the busiest spot on the network.

After some delay getting through the two St. Martins locks (mainly caused by a long queue of boats coming the other way, and a fund raising exercise at one of them, causing some degree of chaos), a late lunch ensued, out in the sticks, with an open view on the towpath side (unusual), and far off vistas of the Welsh Hills mountains.

St. MartinsSt. Martins

And then fairly quickly you start getting closer and closer to the scenery; at Chirk Bank you suddenly realise you’re on the side of quite a deep valley, before launching across Chirk Aqueduct, which takes you into Wales properly: one minute soaring high above countryside, the next diving underground through Chirk Tunnel. The aqueduct is accompanied by a rather fine railway viaduct.

Chirk AqueductChirk Viaduct

Chirk AqueductChirk

Although not overly long, Chirk Tunnel is always a bit of a challenge – a subject for another post – and one eventually emerges into a long deep cutting by Chirk Station and Chirk Castle. With loads of downstream traffic still milling around the upstream tunnel entrance, we decided not to try and stay at the visitor moorings there, although we knew Chirk well – we had some friends who lived in the nearby village until they passed a few years ago. There’s normally an overpowering smell of hot chocolate along this part of the canal: it passes by a large Cadbury’s chocolate factory, but today, not a whiff!

We knew there were reasonable moorings just before The Great Unpronounceable, but as we approached the nearly unpronounceable Froncysyllte, the Captain announced that he rather liked the view over the steep valley down to the River Dee, and jumped off to explore while further we were still cruising. Fortunately there was a suitable proper job visitor mooring about 100 yards further down, so we called it a day – we called it Wednesday – and retrieving Sir from the woods we settled down for a well earned bottle of the red stuff.

Ferret on a String

From the Duddlestone (Tuesday nights place of repose) to Ellesmere you pass through Whixall Moss, then the Shropshire Lake District. The former is a somewhat odd, if flat, landscape, thinly populated, with a few lift bridges, and largely designated as a Nature Reserve. The canal itself has long straight sections, and isn’t – of itself – very interesting. We’d originally intended to stop and follow one of the Nature Reserve guided walks, but suitable mooring spots are thin on the ground, and we ended up saving it for the return trip.

Further on, the canal skirts a series of lakes. The first one – Cole Mere – is supposedly a good spot for spotting the birds, but is set well below the canal, with a wooded hillside keeping guard. Mooring up for lunch, we wandered across the canal and down on to the mere’s perimeter path, but that was still well back from the water, and the trees prevented us seeing much of anything. Ah well.

Mind you, we did see one thing neither of us had seen before: someone taking their ferret for a walk on a lead. The ferret didn’t seem that keen: it was more a case of taking it for a drag. (Cue remarks about the old “pet rock” joke). Apparently it’s not that uncommon: we’re reliably informed that there was one at Sidmouth during Folk Week, and for many years one in Farnham. You can even get you ferret some fancy haut couture kit…

With provisions running short, we decided to abandon the proposed bird bothering walk, and try and make Ellesmere instead. After a pleasant hour’s cruise in improving sunshine, we turned into the Ellesmere Arm and – against all expectations – found the perfect spot half way down. The Captain likes the Ellesmere Arm: cricket club on one side, wide, busy but well behaved and sociable towpath so that dog walkers can be seen from afar, and a nice open wood/hedgerow bordering it, to explore and hide in.

Ellesmere Cricket ClubEllesmere Cricket Club

The staff like the Ellesmere Arm because as well as being an amenable spot to pass the night, it’s within trolley pushing/borrowing distance from a large supermarket, and five minutes walk to a pleasant market town High Street, with a decent selection of shops, restaurants and pubs to choose from.

That said, a restaurant we’d previously favoured, down in the cellars below a building in the main square, was now an oddball church. God works in mysterious ways.

Grinding Through Grindley

Leaving Wrenbury on the Monday morning, the main challenge was the Grindley Brook Locks. Heading upstream, there are three locks in a flight very close to each other, followed by a three chamber staircase. Queues here are legendary, and a three up three down regime normally enforced through the staircase: on a bad day, six hours delay has been quoted. It seemed as though the resident lockkeeper’s main role was that of refereeing the punch-ups between those near the front of the queue, and arriving hire boat crews who had misjudged and were now going to be late getting back to their base (which is expensive).

Willey Moor LockWilley Moor Lock

But first, passing through Willey Moor Lock, it seemed rude not to moor up and partake of their beer and sandwiches for lunch.

Arriving at Grindley Brook mid afternoon, there was virtually no one around apart from gongoozlers in the the tea shop! Working the three single locks ourselves we met one boat coming down, then with the lockkeeper setting up the staircase for us, we covered all the six chambers in about 40 minutes. Something of a record, we reckon.

Grindley Brook StaircaseGrindley Brook Staircase

Grindley Brook Staircase

The lockkeeper said that Thursdays used to be the really bad day, but one of the canal guides mentioned this in a recent edition, following which some of the traffic now makes an effort to get through on the Wednesday. So now both days are busy and best avoided. Ho hum. Mind you, the hire fleets now spread out their turnaround days and have short break packages, so boats start out on three or four different days during the week, rather than just everyone departing on a manic Saturday afternoon for a week’s cruise, as once used to be the case.

Skirting and eschewing the delights of Whitchurch town (the sun was getting seriously past the yard-arm), once back out in the countryside, we moored up rather pleased at our progress, given the circumstances.

We Must Be Mad

Although we’d vaguely intended to head up the Shropshire Union, we’d kind of decided not to tackle the Llangollen Branch for several reasons. Firstly, we knew it well – off season – from several previous trips. It’s apparently the most popular stretch of canal on the system, and justifiably so. Secondly, it was school holidays, and with more new marinas and hire fleets (over seven at last count) it was doubtless mobbed with boaters, and we’d rather got used to having the cut more-or-less to ourselves. With rumours of 6 hour queues at Grindley Brook staircase locks, surely any cat heading up to Llangollen in August must want their head tested…

And yet… already four locks up at Swanley Bridge Marina, there seemed little traffic passing. The people at the marina said – at least mid-week – it was pretty quiet up as far as Ellesmere if a bit busy beyond. The Captain liked Ellesmere, and so did we. So, questioning our sanity, we decided to go as far as Ellesmere and then take a more considered view.

Back from the Biggles/Luggage/Car/Train shuffle, we set off on Sunday after lunch for a short meander. Mooring up near Wrenbury Church, with a glorious morning to follow it felt good to be going mad.

Wrenbury Church Visitor Mooring.

Birthday Boy

By doing most of the packing the night before, and going for an early breakfast, we managed to leave Sidmouth by about 09:45 – something of a record. We had to get home, pamper Sir, then rush over to a family 30th Birthday Party for SWMBO’s nephew Ed. Pictures have been requested: here are just a few before we get back to the serious business of Biggles’ adventures in a narrowboat.

Held in the garden, it was a lovely day with warm sunshine and an ever flowing supply of champagne. Can’t be bad.

The Birthday Boy…

The Birthday BoyI'll Huff and I'll Puff

The latest addition to the family – Rufus, along with mum Victoria and dad Henry…

Victoria & RufusVictoria, Henry & Rufus

The Wall of Shame (lovingly assembled by eldest sister Rebecca…

Rebecca, Fran & Wall of ShameWall of Shame

Auntie Frances, and the band…

FranThe Band

Time Off for Good Behaviour

Having catered to his every whim since Easter, the Captain allowed us some time off at Sidmouth. So after a few days at home catching up with washing, dentists, vets etc. we left Sir in the capable hands of our friends from Windsor, and headed off for the annual gathering of the clans. SWMBO requested some photos, so those with Morris-o-phobia should look away now.

The chief navigator works at Sidmouth Folk Week, so, as requested, some photos from the office.

John McCusker Band & Heidi TalbotJohn McCusker Band & Heidi Talbot

Here’s Johnny McCusker, Heidi Talbot, Kris Drever and chums sound checking, then doing their thing…

The FO at work

… and here’s someone telling the audience where the oxygen masks, ice creams and toilets are to be found. (Whatever you do, don’t click on that one, it’s too horrific. And “thanks” – if that’s the word – to John Dowell, a former director of the festival, for the picture),

The Chief CookThe Chief Cook

Sunday lunchtime, and it’s a tradition of some 35 years or more that SWMBO frightens the natives on the Esplanade outside the Mocha café.

Judging the HatsEarlsdon Prizewinning Hat

Earlsdon Morris (followers may remember our previous encounter in Long Scratchington) have a hat decoration contest… here’s the judging in progress, and the winning titfer.

Earlsdon Airborne

Here’s Earlsdon getting airborne, rather uncomfortably by the looks of it.

BBs AirborneBBs Airborne

Here’s Berkshire Bedlam getting airborne rather more effortlessly.

Alone on the Range

And we’ve absolutely no idea who the clog dancing cowboy and pantomime horse were. Roy Rogers and Trigger, maybe.

A few weeks ago, the canal/narrowboat blogs and boards were awash with a story about someone stealing a narrowboat from a marina in the Midlands, and making off with a slow-footed getaway. The idea of making your getaway from a major crime at 3mph sounds bizarre to us. Anyway, it was some days before it was noticed that the boat was missing, and sometime later before we realised we knew the owners! The boat was part owned by the musician and one of the aerial dancers in the first Berkshire Bedlam picture. It’s a small world.

Anyway, the boat was soon located, and the only significant damage was that the criminals had painted over the boat name.

Anyway, that’s quite enough music and dance… time to get back to the water.