Sunday morning, and another beautiful day. The good weekend weather had been forecast and we expected there to be lots of traffic around, so decided there probably wasn’t really time to go down Foxton Locks and into Market Harborough, even though the latter boasted a Waitrose emporium for herself. A cruise to the top of Foxton to watch the fun and games before heading back South for Cropredy seemed a good move though.

Leaving Welford Basin, we swiftly arrived back at Welford Lock, to find a boat in front of us, but who wanted us to go first. Rather odd behaviour, to say the least. Turned out to be a pleasant elderly American couple who had left Market Harborough the day before, and made it up Foxton Locks and into Welford without actually having to work a lock themselves. This was their first, acknowledged they hadn’t a clue, and hoped that by watching us they could follow us successfully. So we leapfrogged them, giving the Operation of Locks 101 course as we went, then left them safely in the hands of another crew who by now had arrived to lock up.

Pump out, diesel and milk at Kilworth Wharf all sorted, – someone’s building another huge marina opposite the wharf – and we arrived at the top of Foxton locks mid afternoon, to be told “there’s at least six ahead of you”. So we just smiled, moored up just before the place we could wind, and went for a wander.

It’s a favourite spot for gongoozlers, with cafés, pubs, a museum and quite a lot to see. The place was indeed packed with non-boaters as well as the boaters trying to get up or down.

There are 10 locks, arranged as two 5-lock staircases, with a short “passing” pound between them. We reckon this chap in the middle pound was waiting over an hour while the staircase above cleared down. The volunteer lockkeepers were certainly busy!

At the bottom lock there is the junction with the Market Harborough Arm – it’s the only place that comes to mind where there is a canal-side pub on both banks opposite each other.

The Foxton locks were such a bottleneck that they built an alternative way of climbing the hill: an inclined plane/boat lift. It didn’t last long (1900 to 1911), but they’re still talking about restoring it!

Getting away from all the furore, we turned round, headed South again and found some lovely moorings out in the sticks. Another boat was similarly inclined, and we realised we’d met before somewhere last year. Whio – named after an antipodean blue duck – was owned by a New Zealand couple who kept it at Aylesbury during their summer, and came over to cruise the system for several months during their winter. Sounds good to us. So we’ve met a Tasmanian chap and a New Zealand couple: wonder how many others from down under do the same.

Anyway, it was such a nice evening, even Biggles broke his usual rule when other people are around, coming out to say “hello” and pose.

Wednesday, and with the weather improving we headed up the Grand Junction/Grand Union Canal in the general direction of Braunston and/or Leicestershire. With a need to get back to Cropredy or similar by the first week of October, we weren’t sure how far we would roam before heading there, but until reaching Norton Junction no decision is required.

A trip into Weedon Bec for provisions, a nice and genuine village, notable if only for the first time this year we’d seen a thatched building without a hairnet of chicken-wire. Here the canal runs very close to the West Coast Main Line, with Mr Branson’s Incredibly Fast Trains whizzing past every few minutes. Mind you, if his railway bridge needs that many ties to hold it together, perhaps going by boat is safer. We managed to moor up in a short section of canal where the railway was the other side of a small hill, and the M1 hadn’t yet got too close.

There used to be an Royal Ordnance Depot at Weedon Bec which had its own canal feeder arm, and was rumoured to be a Royal bolt hole should Napoleon get his wicked way. The water and buildings are still there, but these days it’s an small industrial estate and the security guard wouldn’t let us take photos. Their website has some piccies, but the “24 hour manned security” was a pleasant but tiny slip of a young lady who would need to run around in a shower to get wet. Perhaps she had a big stick somewhere.

Thursday, and we were aiming for Norton Junction and somewhere hopefully reasonably quiet. For some distance the A5/Watling Street, the West Coast Main Line, the Grand Union Canal and the M1 all run close alongside each other.

Determined to take it easy now we were back on the canals, we moored up in short order for second breakfast near an out-of-town shopping village so SWMBO could indulge in some quick retail therapy.  In the first picture above you can make out the M1 traffic on the right, and the trains are just behind the trees on the left. In the second picture, taken from Watling Street, you can just about make out the railway gantries and the M1: the canal lies between the two. Not the best place for a peaceful mooring!

On return the Captain was clearly hard at work with the flight planning computer working out our cruising options, but by the time we were ready to cast off he’d clearly had enough and reached a decision. We’d go up the Leicester Branch a little way before returning south to Cropredy. Onwards…

At the bottom of the Buckby Locks there was a fair amount of chaos, as a CaRT maintenance boat was apparently staying in the chamber and going up and down doing something while one boat at a time of the queue each side locked through round them. Eventually CaRT finished, and we teamed up with a Wyvern boat from Leighton Buzzard plus its friendly crew, and made short work of the seven locks in the flight. They were about three days out of Leighton Buzzard; we were about two and half months, but then we did detour a bit!

The top lock is right by a pub and about 200 yards from Norton Junction, but all the nearby moorings were taken. Just round the corner from the junction on the Leicester Arm (note: decision taken!) there was – amazingly – a mooring suitable for Sir, and out of earshot of both railway and motorway. After such a long morning, the only option was a brisk walk back to the pub for a healthy late lunch (Guinness and Cheesy Chips) , followed by a well earned afternoon nap.

Safely crossing the flood storage area on Tuesday morning, the pleasant Midsummer Meadows we’d passed outbound now seemed to be a vast building site. Turns out that they’re creating a new university campus on the other side of the river, and have started building a couple of bridges: it’ll be more meadow like again in the future. Maybe.

Mooring up at Becket’s Park just below the marina for a walk into town for lunch and shopping, on return we went into the marina, and spent the afternoon sorting out the boat waste and rubbish, and a shore line, and cranking up the washing machine, all in pleasant sunshine.

Wednesday, and the bo’sun’s mate headed for the station and home, while the housekeeper kept feeding and watering the washing machine. The weather turned unspeakable both in Northants and Berkshire (and pretty well everywhere else).

Thursday afternoon, laundry done and dusted, bo’sun back at the boat, and we waved goodbye to the marina for a last potter on the River Nene up through the Northampton Flight bottom lock, and onto the highly amenable moorings we’d discovered lying between Far Cotton and the town centre, on Canal and River Trust Waters. Farewell to The Nene.

Mind you, Biggles kept very low profile, in case we should feel the urge to whip him off to the vets again.

Amazingly, it was the first time since staying on the Wendover Arm at the beginning of July that the port side of the boat had been on a suitable height and stable mooring with decent weather, so it was definitely time to give it a good spit and polish while the chef went off to stock up and sample the delights of Northampton’s shops and supermarkets.

In fact the weather stayed fine but the boat was mainly in the shade, so staying another day, the Captain located the only spot of the boat basking in the sun while the bo’sun took the opportunity to repaint the blacking on the port side top plank, which had become a little disreputable. As they say, boating is a contact sport!

This spot may not be the most scenic, but graffiti free with very little foot or dog traffic, little traffic noise, 5 minutes from B&Q, 10 from decent supermarkets and restaurants and 15 from the town centre, it’s a pretty good place to catch up with supplies and boat chores and eat at some city centre restaurants for a change.

Saturday morning, after rainy and windy night, and no smoky smell from the apparent conflagration, but we needed to be off. The housekeeper had decided that doing some laundry was creeping up the “To Do” list, and one of us needed to pop home briefly to collect the mail and do some other chores, so we’d tentatively arranged to hole up in Northampton Marina on Tuesday and Wednesday. The flight plan program said we were still several days away at our usual rate of progress, so opting for the easy way, we’d pretty much decided to retrace our steps via mooring places we’d already used. Almost immediately we came across a flotilla of paddle-boarders led by the lady we’d bumped into the night before… we told her that the fly-posting had been in vain, as her poster hadn’t survived the miserable overnight weather.

Working our way steadily up stream, lock by lock, taking turn and turn about, we managed to get tied up to the bank satisfactorily above Ditchford Lock, where we’d stopped on the way down. Increasingly of the opinion that it was about time Biggles did his share of windlass winding, Sunday went much the same way, and we had the Friends of the River Nene bit of bank near to the Water-Ski Park to ourselves.

This time there were people falling in the water, and jumping on the trampolines, even though cold and miserable. We did, however briefly, get a splendid autumnal sky.

In some places, the river was quite high after the overnight rains, and at least one of the locks didn’t really need top paddles… just a bit of patience!

Given the rather uninspiring weather, we’d pressed on and at one point thought we might make Northampton by Monday evening, but as the afternoon dwindled away it became wetter and windier. Faced with strong crosswinds and waves on the wide stretch of water with the delightfully romantic name “Northampton Washlands flood storage reservoir” we opted to moor up for the night before the “sea” passage. There are flood gates at each end which close automatically when things get sticky, presumably to avoid flooding Northampton.

The moorings are not just floating pontoons, they clearly expect significant changes in water level around here! And only available until the end of September, so we kept out fingers crossed that we’d be OK overnight, despite the weather. The Captain wasn’t terribly amused at having to walk a long way uphill on a walkway to reach fresh ground, either.