While walking from The Holly Bush to The Star, one passes Cheddleton Flint Mill; as it’s named after the Head Gardener, and we’d been past several times without stopping, we thought we’d better investigate.

There are some rather fine old buildings: the mill with two water wheels, and some workers’ cottages. The wheels still turn and run the flint grinding machinery inside.

There’s an old steam engine, presumably for when the water supply failed…

… and a rather unsatisfactory answer to one of the mysteries of the universe.

It’s easy to lose track of the days and even weeks, but the Gin Festival reminded us that it was a bank holiday weekend, so we expected things to be busy, and they were. Setting off on a lovely morning, we’d hope to partake of a lunchtime beverage at the Black Lion at Consall, where we’d moored a few days ago.

With two trains running in opposite directions all day, they had to wait for each other at Consall, and as we passed their steam engine was waiting for the train coming from Cheddleton.

Immediately past the station the canal bends through a low bridge under the railway, then immediately back again under the hump-backed bridge giving access to the pub. It’s very narrow, and some how or other the helmsman or helmswoman managed to get Song & Dance  thoroughly wedged and stuck, even though we’d had no problem in the other direction. Managing to back out with a degree of sound and fury from the engine, we took the fenders up, and squeezed through without incident at the second attempt…

… just in time to see the steam train finally depart. Sadly, all the moorings there were taken, so we continued to Cheddleton, and luckily finding a suitable place for lunch if not the rest of the day, we walked up to The Boat Inn. We’d left the car there yesterday, so thought we’d frequent their bar rather than the Gin-fest across the bridge; they were mobbed too, with live music, cheap gin in competition, and a BBQ.

Thinking it might all be a bit noisy to stay the night right between The Star’s and the Station’s festivities we pottered on through Cheddleton locks and village, eventually finding a delightful spot just short of the Holly Bush Inn, where we’d been several, even many times before. With lovely evening weather most inappropriate for a bank holiday Satyrday, loads of grass, swings and roundabouts etc. that pub was really mobbed – even the grass overflow car park was overflowing. But a couple of hundred yards back along the canal, just around the corner, it was lovely and peaceful.

If a bit full! Mis-estimating our length by a foot or so, we only managed to squeeze in by noticing that the boat behind was (a) padlocked up and unoccupied, and (b) using piling clips to moor, so we pulled him back a few feet. Wonder if its crew will notice on their return…

Thursday morning sunshine saw us setting off for the rest of the journey to Froghall: slow, winding, narrow and lovely. But the height gauge at Consall Forge lock – even though known to be highly pessimistic – confirmed what we’d known all along… we were never going to get Song & Dance through Froghall Tunnel. Well, not without taking off all the cratch, filling the water tanks and finding some extra ballast somewhere. And even then, not without losing a substantial amount of the shiny new paintwork.

We were soon at the tunnel mouth, and the winding hole for cowards like us. The basin at the far side of the tunnel looked just as idyllic and inviting as before, but realistically there was no way – Andy Irvine would just have to wait until we had a traditional boat some six inches lower than Song & Dance.

We noticed that the nice wharf building had turned into a rather nice café, and someone was running a trip boat through the tunnel and up to the Black Lion. Hope it goes well with them, even if hearing the grinding and crunching as they went through the tunnel reinforced the correctness of our decision not to even try!

While partaking of coffee at the café, it seemed that the missing bits for the boat had arrived, and someone was coming out to finish off things. Scrounging a lift back to the factory to collect our car, the engineer’s SatNav took us on a lengthy but highly scenic route back to Knypersely via all sorts of high Staffordshire moorland. Coming back on the A roads was positively dull by comparison.

Dinner was taken at the recently refurbished Railway Inn, where a chance conversation elicited the fact that we were only about 6 miles from Alton Towers. The geography around here is hard to get your head round!

Saying farewell to Leek on the Wednesday morning, we soon made it to Hazelhurst Junction, where the Leek Arm and Froghall Arm come together; a tight right turn took us into the top Hazelhurst Lock, aiming for Froghall.

Letting down, we noticed something very odd about the lock gate. A prize for the first person to spot it…

And after the Leek Arm, and the three Hazelhurst locks, we arrived at The Holly Bush Inn at lunch time. It would be rude not to… Actually, it was pretty busy for a Wednesday lunchtime we thought, albeit a pleasantly warm and sunny one.

The canal follows the Churnet  Valley, a hidden gem in the moorlands while just a stone’s throw from Stoke on Trent, and before long, drops down onto the River Churnet itself.

As we were approaching Consall, we were lucky enough to find a prime mooring spot just by the Black Lion, a splendid, and splendidly isolated watering hole. With good moorings between here and Froghall being a little thin on the ground, it was definitely time to go for a Guinness,

We’d noticed on a previous visit that the pub was run mainly by chickens, but were particularly taken by this chappie, who we hadn’t seen before.

Finally saying farewell to Festival Park on Sunday morning, we headed up the Caldon Canal: Piper Boats still had some stuff to finish off (!) and we planned to stay close to the factory as the crow flies, if only because we’d left the car there. The weather was gloomy, and didn’t inspire any photographic efforts, but there are some from the previous trips here and here.

Mooring up in Milton, we discovered (again) that on Monday morning, Milton is pretty like a town on half-day closing. We did manage to stock up on some local pies and sausages though. The sky was leaking drizzle, unlike last time, when the leak was more serious. We were also expecting Pipers to come and finish off some stuff, but they’d forgotten. Ho hum.

So we headed off in dull and drizzly weather, stopped somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and ended up on Tuesday tackling the Leek Arm of the Caldon Canal: narrow, winding, overgrown and somewhat of a challenge. Fortunately, we found room to moor at the end of the arm, the sun had finally peeped out, and we spent a pleasant lunchtime and afternoon walking into and around Leek, a town that we like more each time we visit (even if the local Waitrose is closing next week).

The path from the end of the navigation into town (or Morrison’s car park, anyway) is quite long and overgrown, but runs alongside Leek Cattle Market even though you can’t see it. Judging by the noises and aromas, Tuesday is market day at Leek…