Category Archives: Boats and Boating

The Storm Clouds Gather Over a Large Jigsaw Puzzle

Finally leaving Slimbridge on Sunday morning, we made it all the way back to Gloucester Docks, via a short diversion at Saul for fuel (both diesel and human food). We moored back up on the Llanthony pontoon, in weather that looked increasingly ominous.

The plan for Monday afternoon, was to do a proper tour of the cathedral: we’d been told they were filming something on the Monday morning.

Heading towards the cathedral over the lock gates as the large holiday hotel/cruise boat departed the dock, we were slightly intrigued by the red-haired young lady with the colour coordinated carrier bag. She looked for all the world as though she was mournfully waiting for her ship to come in. But at the last minute, a crew member of the boat appeared on the starboard side of the boat, and with arms outstretched by both parties, the bag was passed up onto the boat. Clearly a last minute delivery of supplies from Sainsburys.

The cathedral was a little bit of a disappointment: the filming was not only going happening on Monday morning, but all day all week it seemed. The local car park was full of support vehicles, the cathedral surrounded by generator lorries, and full of film studio kit. Large parts of the cathedral were out of bounds to visitors, although a very friendly knowledgeable guide gave us a tour of the bits still open, which was most informative, and let us into some areas normally only available to paying guests, as a consolation prize.

Here’s a couple of pictures sneaked from the whispering gallery. Seemed they were making an American production of some medieval story. It seemed odd seeing knights in armour speaking with strong NY accents, although Scottish actor Kenneth Cranham was spotted in a side chapel, in a bishop’s outfit.

The wonderful medieval glass window (the size of a tennis court) was removed and packed away safely during WW2, with half stored in the crypt and half in the cellars of a nearby stately home. After the war, the boxes were recovered and opened, and the glass had all survived intact. Unfortunately, however, both storage sites had been damp, and all the sticky paper labels had faded, smudged or come off. So the glaziers had the largest jigsaw puzzle in the world… and had to go and buy picture postcards of the window so that they could make a start.

After the disappointment of Monday, the quartermaster spent half of Tuesday wandering around the new “Outlet” shopping area while the FO moved the boat to attend to certain plumbing necessities (and back) while the Skipper jumpp ship and went walkabout around Gloucester college. Wednesday passed in a blur, but involved a wander round the museum of the Royal Gloucester Regiment, a visit to the railway station, and more shopping.

With all the heavy rain that had been going on everywhere, we were getting interested in whether we there was going to be trouble heading North up the Severn. Asking the Gloucester lockie on Wednesday evening whether there were any issues heading up to Tewkesbury on Thursday morning, he said that he’d just got back from a few days off, the river had risen significantly, and the Upper Lode lock at just South of Tewkesbury was talking about shutting… we’d need to talk to them first thing Thursday morning. Hmm…

The Incredible Hulks

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The Severn runs just below, and very close to the Gloucester & Sharpness Canal, and just a mile or two from Sharpness, at Purton, there’s the largest ship graveyard in Britain. Known as the Purton Hulks, from 1909 onwards attempts were made to prevent the Severn eroding the canal bank, by deliberately beaching redundant barges there.

Not wanting to head all the way – admittedly not far – back to Slimbridge only to find mooring a problem late in the day, we stumbled on a pleasant spot to moor up just above the hulks. The Captain was intrigued, and immediately set off to investigate. It’s really not far from Sharpness: the wind turbine in the picture looms over the docks and you can see the old lockkeeper’s cottage too, through the haze.

There’s supposedly over eighty barges beached along here. The earlier, wooden ones, have become rather more assimilated into the scenery and greenery, and acquired other boats on top, so there’s not so much visible evidence of them. But the concrete barges still stand proud even if I still have difficulty with the concept of building a boat out of concrete, but there you go.

Watched over by the Forest of Dean on the other side of the river, it’s million miles from anywhere and an odd and unique spot.

The Milk Run

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We knew wanted to go back to Slimbridge, were 99% certain we weren’t going to head down the Severn Estuary to Portishead and Bristol even though weather conditions had been clement, and we needed some milk… Sharpness was calling. The cruise down alongside the River Severn didn’t take long, and we were soon moored up at Sharpness Junction. That’s where there’s the old arm that leads to the original basin and lock down onto the river. Proceeding any further would have taken us into the docks themselves, and needed 24 hours notice (presupposing we were heading down the Estuary).

Here’s the old basin and lockkeeper’s cottage, and a photo looking down the old lock exit. The river was at high tide and running fiercely. If you click on the picture and enlarge it you can see the flowing area. If we ever needed confirmation that this wasn’t the place for a unseaworthy narrowboat without a qualified pilot, this was it!

Although little large ship traffic goes up the canal to Gloucester these days, a wander round the docks showed plenty of activity.

This is now the lock / basin leading down to the river from the docks proper: the gates at the far end can only open around high tide, so all movements have to be planned. It all makes Song & Dance look very small.

Not sure why this boat carries its own helicopter… it would be more useful if had some rotors. Perhaps it’s a early prototype for the Super Puma (he said, cruelly). And while we often see electric fences for keeping animals in place, this one seems a bit OTT.

Having located the shop and pub (miles from where we were moored) and purchase the milk, wandering back Fran decided she’d found the perfect hanging basket for home. There also seemed to be a crane factory, as well.

And when Song & Dance hove back into view, we’d clearly been long enough for the tide to go out.

We’d heard, anecdotally, that most of the 60 or so small boats that transit the estuary per year did it from Bristol/Portishead to Sharpness. As such a trip may well involve waiting days for the right combination of tides and weather, we now understand why, and resolved there and then that if we were going to do it, we’d start from the Kennet & Avon. With nothing to keep us at Sharpness, we turned the boat around and headed back for Slimbridge and Gloucester.

Standing at the Crossroads

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After the delights of a Gloucester Monday morning and lunch, the Captain decided he wanted to get out of town for somewhere more rural, so later that afternoon we cast off for pastures new.

The Gloucester & Sharpness canal is unusual: once one that too significant commercial shipping, it is wide and almost river-like in feel, but the sides are normally piled, and there’s a towpath, and you can moor up rather more freely. There are no locks, but loads of low swing bridges, each of which – at the moment – is manned by a bridge-keeper. But there’s mutterings about automation…

Once out of the industrial bit we found a pleasant spot for the night, and were rewarded by a sunny Tuesday morning.

Setting off late morning, we passed this abandoned barge, complete with resident swan on the nest, and were soon mooring up at Saul Junction for lunch.

Saul Junction is a unique spot on the British canals: it’s the only place were two canals cross at a genuine “crossroads”. The Stroudwater Canal starts in Stroud (where it joins the Thames & Severn Canal), and crosses the G&S at Saul just before dropping down to the River Severn. The Canal & River Trust are talking about restoring the lock just visible in the second photo, because it will look pretty, although entirely useless to boaters: restoring any further is a bit pointless as no one in their right minds would nowadays want to go down onto the tidal Severn there.

Meanwhile, the Cotswold Canal Trust are trying to restore the Stroudwater Canal and make it navigable to Stroud initially (currently only about half a mile is navigable), and eventually restore the Thames & Severn all the way to Lechlade-on-Thames. That would make a huge difference to boating in the South West, but will probably only take a couple of centuries to achieve… We won’t hold our breath!

You don’t often see RNLI lifeboats on a canal, or seemingly top-heavy pirate ships either. Don’t know what either was doing there, but with access for big boats at Sharpness, the boatyard here clearly had more than narrowboats and tupperware jobs to manage.

First time we’ve seen anyone actually taking a dog for a swim…

And walking back to the boat after lunch we were delayed by a tow-path hog who was disinclined to let anyone pass.

Gloucester Here We Come

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Saturday morning dawned bright and gloomy, and we set off, starting with locking down through Avon Lock onto the Avon link, then a left turn onto the River Severn proper. Very shortly we came to Upper Lode Lock, below which the river is sometimes tidal (at high Spring Tides), and hence bad news for little boats. There was to be a Spring Tide on the Sunday morning, so we really needed to get tucked up in Gloucester before then.

Upper Lode Lock is ENORMOUS. Safely descended, the far gates were opened, and Song & Dance was fully up to deep river cruising speed before we even reached them. And there’s also a wide pool at that end fully big enough to wind/turn a 58ft narrowboat round or moor a flotilla of sailing yachts.

Just down the Severn from Upper Lode, you come across the premises of the Avon Sailing Club, but that’s all right as the Severn Sailing Club is situated near Bredon, about 6 miles up the Avon from Tewkesbury. Must be something in the water.

Making good time we stopped at The Boat Inn at Ashleworth for lunch and a short wander. Although the village itself is a way off, just behind the pub is a fine collection of 15C buildings huddled together: a manor house, church and tithe barn.

This barn is still seemingly used for storing useful things like dead sinks, but at least there was little in the way of guano underfoot. More impressive were the giant “half doors”. Don’t know about lifting one off so you can clog dance – these are big enough to hold a small ceilidh on! An instant hernia at the mere thought.

The church had an unusual – but probably not 15C – stile, and their bell ropes matched the chief cook’s fancy mooring warps, so if we need some more we know where to come.

And just around the corner were some Gloucestershire Old Spots – an early inspiration for several other Morris sides and the Morris movement in general – one even looks suspiciously like Ken Langsbury…

During the pub lunch break, the Captain had braved the open weave pontoons for a good rummage around in the bankside weeds and woods. Needing to get going, and after watching him seemingly sitting quietly in a chunk of long grass for some while with no sign of wishing to go boating again, the navigator picked him up as per normal. Only to find him in mid wee. After a wash, and a clean shirt, we set off with a very grumpy Skipper muttering to himself.

We’d been warned about the approach into Gloucester Lock, which takes you up from the River Severn into Gloucester Docks: it was as interesting as promised, and we were glad of the detailed briefing; even gladder there wasn’t actually much flow on the Severn that afternoon, or it could have easily become exciting – something we try and avoid.

With us as the only occupants, the lockkeeper filled the large lock very slowly, and before we’d made it all the way up to the busy bedlam that is Gloucester Docks on a sunny weekend afternoon, our friends Moira, Graham and family were peering over the edge and forming a welcoming party. We’d seen them all several times in passing last weekend at Chippenham, but never got a chance to chat, so tea and buns at the narrowboat cafe rapidly ensued.

All in all, we’ve had worse days, even if the Captain was still sulking, and The Guv’nor was nowhere in sight.

Ding Dong… Avon Calling

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Couldn’t put it off any longer, we’d overstayed in the basin until the Thursday morning (as had the hotel boat), and we had to head down to that well known tautology the River Avon.

Just down a little you come to the first lock, hiding in the trees below Holy Trinity Church, where his Bill-ness was apparently buried.

This River Avon was restored to navigation by a trust, and all the locks are named after people or organisations who contributed in some way or another.

The first lock, with it’s strange RSJ reinforcements is oddly intimidating: even Biggles didn’t know what to make of it. The Upper Avon lock gate balance beams are made of scaffolding poles, which bend and wobble slightly in a rather disconcerting manner; the paddle mechanisms are highly geared and fitted with counterweights, making it easy but tediously lengthy to raise or lower the paddles. All very different from normal canal paddle gear. At the first lock, one of the paddles was counterweighted to excess, and wouldn’t stay down and shut, creating an interesting challenge when trying to fill the lock.

Anyway, a gentle pootle through a winding river and pleasantly wooded scenery brought us to Bidford-on-Avon for the night. And there’s another difference: you can’t just moor pretty-well anywhere you like, as you can on the canals – you have to use the approved moorings. There are usually some “overnight only” moorings at the locks, and sometimes some in a village or town.

The next morning the gentle meander continued, bringing us to Robert Aickman New Lock. Named for a founding father mover and shaker in Inland Waterways matters, it was a pleasant spot to moor up for lunch, but we were rather bemused by the almost-but-not-entirely-unlike a bridge contraption that straddles the lock. Looks like someone nicked some brick steps at each end. The lock is also very wide, and would clearly take three narrowboats alongside each other. All very odd.

And so to Evesham for a Friday night on the town. The approach to the lock is a bit scary, with the lock layby a pontoon at the top of the weir. Must be exciting when there’s “fresh” water in the river!

Just below Workman Bridge (named after Mr, Workman, it seems) there were plenty of moorings just a short walk from the centre of town – after two days of steady river cruising in variable weather, winding hither and thither, a pub dinner and early night beckoned: we’d hit the Evesham high spots properly on Saturday morning. Moored just up a little from us was another Piper narrowboat Nice Butt, who we’d seen last year somewhere – on the Thames we think. Could hardly forget a name like that…

Stratford-upon-Avon

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Just before leaving the Excellence Afloat / Valley Cruisers wharf, we’d noticed a hotel boat and butty pass us, heading for Stratford. With two boats to descend the few remaining narrow locks, and the butty – being unpowered – needing to be manhandled through, we thought our chances of making the town centre by lunchtime were remote. But they fortuitously moored up for an early lunch themselves, just before the top lock; we were soon moored up in Bancroft Basing, with the delights of Stratford at our beck and call, even though the Captain kept jumping ship to check out the facilities.

The basin was busy but not full and during the day mobbed with tourists of all persuasions, but once the coach parties left and the traffic died down it’ became a nice quiet spot nestling between the river and the town centre. Loads of restaurants, proper shopping HIgh Street and the RSC Theatre all within 100 yards walk max. And with a large flower bed for Sir to hide in and amuse Himself within a few feet from the cat flap, even the Captain was impressed with our choice of a place to stay for a few days.

The hotel boat pair turned up soon after lunch, and we realised that we’d seen them before: they’d been tucked up for the winter like Song & Dance about half-a-dozen berths down from us at Cropredy Marina.

There’s lots of photogenic stuff here (although the RSC Theatre complex is probably not included in that!) so restraint is needed. But there’s a ceilidh dance called Clopton Bridge, and we were rather taken by the hand-cranked chain ferry down on the River Avon. We’d have gone across and walked back over the bridge but for the fact that he packed up for the day just as we arrived.

And after all that wandering, we decided to eat out at the nearest restaurant to Song & Dance, which proved to be one of Mr Carluccio’s establishments, who at 18:45 were still doing the very good value fixed-price lunch menu offer. Sometimes you just have to take the knocks…

A Most Excellent Balti Blow-Out

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We’d had a loose arrangement to moor overnight with Excellence Afloat at Valley Cruisers’ wharf just on the outskirts of central Stratford (IYSWIM), but had failed to get back in touch with the chap who’d said it would be OK. So, with some trepidation, on Sunday morning we moved less than a mile down to their wharf, where the place looked closed, there were loads of seemingly permanently moored boats, a few unoccupied hire boats, and the only space seemingly available was on the public water point. We tied up, and deciding that if nothing else we’d take on water, even though diesel was a more pressing concern, let alone catching up on the laundry.

Wandering along the line of boats, a friendly chap with a paintbrush came up and said “Can I help?”, so we did the “David said we’d be able to moor here tonight with an electric hook-up – is he around? He’s not answering his mobile.” routine. “That’ll be because he knows I’m here…”

Seemed he was in Coventry, but our new friend said, “Anyway, I’m sure it’ll be alright… just wait a bit while I move that boat there, and that one down there, and that one into the covered dock… then you can slide in there and…” and after some considerable shuffling involving several other chaps who appeared, we were tied up, hooked up, the washing machine was running, and there was a promise of diesel in the morning, so all seemed well. Except that our friend, who’d run around sorting all the moorings out quickly so he could watch Lewis Hamilton in the Spanish Grand-Prix then spent the afternoon looking miserable because Hamilton took out Rosberg and himself on pretty much the first corner. So we’re told.

Meanwhile Biggles seemed quite happy, despite the fact that there were seven dogs running around the wharf, including a lurcher, a recently retired greyhound, a whippet and a bichon frise. Definitely time to practice his whippet baiting techniques. The sizeable mongrel that smelt his food, jumped aboard the front from another boat and rapidly emptied Sir’s food bowl got a shock when Sir, asleep on a chair near his food, woke up, stretched out and smacked the dog around the head with extreme prejudice.

A quick wander later on to get some milk found – less than ten minute’s walk away – a pleasant looking Balti House with a special offer: a starter, a main course, a rice dish and a nan all for £9.95. It seemed rude not to eat there! It was a different menu to the full a la carte one, but perfectly comprehensive; the food was excellent, we felt more than stuffed, and still had a Peshwari Nan left over to take home for tomorrow’s lunch. The Maître D admitted that the portions on the special were slightly smaller, for which we thought “Thank Heavens” before tottering off back to Song & Dance to sleep it off.

The next morning Mr & Mrs David turned up, along with some returning hire boats to turn round; it was all a bit chaotic but we were diesel-ed, pumped out, bought some new fenders, had managed to get most of the washing dry, and were ready for the long haul (1 mile and 2 little locks) into the middle of Stratford by lunchtime. Although his diesel was a bit expensive, it was only after we had left that we realised he didn’t seem to have charged us for the mooring and hook-up. Excellence Afloat indeed!

Nearly Lost in Lowsonford

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Leaving Biggles and the chief cook on the boat at Kingswood Junction, a Sunday afternoon train fiasco got the First Officer home eventually; the deluge back at home was fortunately not so bad ‘oop North. Returning on Tuesday afternoon too late to cruise far, and with all options requiring a serious lock flight, we did the obvious thing: retire to The Navigation for dinner.

We’d decided to head down to Stratford-upon-Avon, and made a loose date at a boatyard on the outskirts for a night’s mooring with an electrical hookup, so we could do some much needed washing. But they didn’t want us to arrive on Friday or Saturday (hire boat turnaround days), so it looked like a slow cruise down the pleasant South Stratford Canal.

Navigation on the canals isn’t normally all that hard, but Kingswood Junction is – as far as canals go – a complicated affair. The Grand Union Canal and the Stratford Canal both run approximately North/South, and at Lapworth they come within a few yards of each other, and Kingswood Junction joins them together like the cross-bar of an H, so even that shouldn’t be too hard. Hence we were somewhat bemused after locking down quite a long flight of locks, to notice we were passing through Bridge 19. (Pretty much all the bridges are numbered, and wear their badge with pride: it’s how you know where you are!) This revelation gave the Captain a nasty shock, as we shouldn’t have been anywhere near a bridge 19. Much looking at the maps and scratching of heads, and we decided to continue on through the bridge, where we discovered that we were where we thought were: some hero had attached the upstream number plate upside down. Another small drama resolved…

Mooring up just short of Lowsonford Lock, opposite the Fleur de Lys pub, Thursday morning was memorably sunny and warm. Lowsonford has one of those aforementioned barrel-vaulted roof lockkeepers/lengthsmans cottages: this one is relatively intact, and you can rent it from The Landmark Trust should you feel inclined.

The Landmark Trust got Anthony Gormley to knock up some commemorative statues for them: this chap’s been peering into Lowsonford Lock for the last year, and is due to to be taken away in a day or two: a shame, as he looks rather fine where he is.

BIggles insisted on taking pictures of the crew posing with the metal chap.

Pottering on down the Stratford Canal in glorious sunshine, we were somewhat bemused by one lockkeeper’s cottage solution to people peering in their window: one way mirror glass. Shades of interrogation rooms on the TV.

A feature of the Stratford Canal are the narrow bridges (no towpath through the bridge – it goes around the outside) with two cantilevered bits nearly meeting: you can walk Dobbin round the bridge and drop the rope through without unhitching. Actually most of the gaps have closed or been blocked up, (Elfin Safety?) but this one near our eventual overnight stop at Preston Bagot is still intact. And the bridge has its number plate on the right way up too.

And if we nearly got lost in Lowsonford, we did get lost in Preston Bagot. Mooring about a mile down from the main road, we struck out across the fields (public footpath, the map said) for a meal at The Crabmill. Let’s just say that after a memorable meal, we took the “long” way back to the boat, along the road and towpath…

A Brief Diversion

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Sometimes on the canals one needs to make a detour in order to stock up on essentials. Lapworth/Kingswood Junction is a lovely spot, but a bit bereft of serious shops. For logistical reasons (one crew member was nipping home for a couple of nights to sort out matters medical and dental) we needed to be moored close to Lapworth station on the Saturday night in order to catch one of the few Sunday afternoon trains. With serious lock flights in both directions on the Stratford Canal, the best option looked to be to head up to the bottom of the Knowle flight of locks on the GUC where there was room to turn the boat round, then walk up the locks into Knowle, rumoured to be a proper-job shopping town. That was the “plan”.

Setting off on Saturday morning, we idly wondered at the carefully half-painted King’s Arms bridge, and soon reached Knowle bottom lock.

And it was there that Plan A foundered. Yes there was room to wind the boat round, but there were no moorings apart from a long line of fully occupied permanent ones: not a visitor mooring in sight. We’d have to head back down a mile or more to find anywhere suitable, which didn’t bode well for substantial shopping trip.

It was only noon, and the Knowle flight of 5 wide locks were all close together, so we thought “****er it” and went for Plan B. After all, how long would it take us experienced crew to nip up the flight. An hour? Well, it took about an hour and half, and sure enough, there weren’t any useable moorings at the top, so we continued on around Knowle town to the other side where we eventually found somewhere. It was 15:00 before we got to the shops, 16:15 before we got back to the boat and discovered the nearest winding hole wasn’t big enough for us to turn…

Continuing up the GUC, under the M42, we eventually managed to turn round somewhere near Birmingham Airport, got back to the top of the Knowle flight about 18:15, and – needing to be at the very least below them by Sunday morning – finally moored up at about 19:30.

There’s nothing like a quick shopping expedition to cheer one up. And that was nothing like a quick shopping expedition.

Biggles Goes Boating

… or a right Song & Dance.

Category Archives: Boats and Boating

The Storm Clouds Gather Over a Large Jigsaw Puzzle

The Incredible Hulks

The Milk Run

Standing at the Crossroads

Gloucester Here We Come

Ding Dong… Avon Calling

Stratford-upon-Avon

A Most Excellent Balti Blow-Out

Nearly Lost in Lowsonford

A Brief Diversion