Monday proved to be hot and sultry again, so after pootling along for a while in the morning, we decided to stop for a refreshing lunch before tackling the broad beam locks that descend down to the centre of Chester. The Captain left things to us, jumped ship before we’d managed to tie up, and beat us into the pub. He didn’t even care that he was drinking from the dog bowl. The shame of it!

Resuming cruising after Sir had had his fill, it was getting hotter and hotter, and we were beginning to wonder whether we would make it to Chester and the canal-side Waitrose before we turned around or gave up. Our spirits were lifted when we saw two young ladies walking along the towpath holding their free cups of Waitrose coffee. “It’s only about ten minutes walk further along”.

Actually, it was a good mile and a half, and three more very hard locks. And they never walked it in ten minutes either: never trust time estimates from nattering young ladies.

There are good moorings right outside Waitrose, apart from the fact that they’re limited to two hours, but it was blissfully freezing inside. Back in the heat, we’d decided we weren’t going all the way down to Chester Basin: several more locks including a busy staircase. Fortunately, just before the “last chance” winding hole, we came across a mooring, right by a large pub and even a huge rhododendron bush that the Captain could hide in and cool off. 100 yards to the town walls – just the job.

Later that evening we were slightly bemused by this “push-me pull-you” floating restaurant, which as far as we can tell just reversed all the way to the top of the staircase, then went forwards up towards Waitrose and beyond, before reversing back again. Not a very interesting outlook for the diners. Still, at least it’s afloat.

On Tuesday we really needed to be heading back towards  Swanley and Sidmouth, but decided that as the walls and the cathedral were just a few yards away, it would be churlish not to have a quick look.

There’s lots of nice buildings in Chester, with great views from the walls. The busker was playing a clarinet accompaniment to “I Do Like to be Beside the Seaside” backing track, which seemed singularly inappropriate.

The Shropshire Union Canal changes character after Market Drayton. Leaving deep cuttings tall embankments and the Captain’s carnage behind, the canal dives down hill through loads of lock: a flight of five then another of 15 taking one down to Audlem. There were decent moorings after the first two of the Audlem flight, and the weather dull and grey so we called it a day.

Wednesday morning started grey as well, and thirteen locks later we tied up outside the renowned Shroppie Fly pub, but eschewed its lunchtime delights for a shopping trip into Audlem and coffee and cakes in a posh café instead.

Audlem is rather a fine little Cheshire village, with a splendidly situated church right smack in the middle. Despite the busy wharf area and threatening weather, we arrived back to find Sir enjoying a spot of fresh air while watching the world go by.

Two more locks after lunch, and we were away from Audlem, into pleasant open countryside, before passing Overwater Marina – one of the larger (and better) ones on the system. It really is huge.

We finally moored up at Hack Green, which is signposted on the roads over a large area, as well as the canal. The signs are just wrong for so many reasons…

The above pictures were taken in October 2011 – we’d moored here before – and the “temporary sign” is now even more overgrown. The bunker (built underneath a WW2 radar station that doesn’t look all that different from a bunch of farm buildings) is disturbing and fascinating, if only as a chilling reminder of the political mind-set during the cold war.

Despite the threatening grey skies, we walked down the canal a bit to Hack Green Top Lock, while the Captain joined us for a constitutional.

Reaching the lock, something that had been vaguely bugging us finally crystallised: shiny new or old and decrepit, all the balance beams on the descent from the top of the Shropshire Union were painted a battleship grey colour. It’s an article of faith that canal lock gear and balance beams are painted black and white.

What on earth were they thinking? Did someone screw up and order the wrong paint? Was the DoD having a fire sale now that they won’t need their new aircraft carriers for several years, until we can afford to pay the US for some planes to put on them?

Whatever the reason, it’s seriously disturbing to the peace of mind and predictable tranquillity of the canals: we should be told!

First stop on Thursday just had to be Sainsbury’s at Womborne. Right on the canal (it’s just the other side of the bridge), and the visitor moorings have a nice garden just perfect for Sir to explore while we were shopping. Pub opposite, and potentially a nice place to moor for the night, marred by quite heavy road traffic, and the pylons overhead. Some you win…

A little further up comes Bumblehole Bridge and Lock. Approached at the bottom from round a blind bend, getting Song & Dance aligned and into the bridgehole without hitting anything was challenge enough, without the excitement of oncoming traffic. And no, we don’t know where the name comes from, but there appears to be another one over at Dudley (not far away as the corvid aviates).

And then one comes to the impressive, if bizarre, Bratch Locks. Sometimes, when space is tight, a staircase lock is used. This is where the bottom gate of one lock is the top gate of the one below. You can pack a lot in (Foxton has two 5 chamber staircases), but you have to traverse the whole flight before anyone can come in the opposite direction, which can severely restrict traffic flow, while the potential for fiascos is dramatically increased.  At Grindley Brook on the Llangollen canal the six locks with a three chamber staircase at the top is a well known bottleneck, with delays of up to six hours in the high season. As far as we can work out, the main role of the lockkeeper there is to stop the punch ups and queue jumping attempts with hire boats trying to get back to base on time, and running late.

At Bratch locks, things are even odder. There are three complete locks, each with their own top and bottom gates, but the distance between the locks is only about 10 feet. So you have the disadvantages of a staircase, with the added complication of more paddles, diverting water in side pounds and whatever. No wonder the lockkeeper looked harassed. Woe betied you if you get things wrong.

When we arrived, there was a 45 minute delay, as they were having to sort out water levels from and earlier problem. The volunteer assistant had undergone a solo operation competency check earlier, and passed, and was clearly so relieved he screwed up the middle lock paddles and drained the system… There but for the grace of <insert your favourite deity> go us.

By the time we made it up to the top, we’d had enough, and moored at a very pleasant spot opposite the local cricket club, and spent some time watching the youngsters do their stuff. A classic British scene, but with the sun low on the horizon and glowering low rain clouds, there are no pictures. Wonder what tomorrow will bring!