Extricating ourselves from Falling Sands Lock without any mischief this time around, we were soon pootling into Kidderminster; a short stop to let the Captain hide under the cars in the 24 hour Tesco Superstore car park , and we were soon climbing up through Kidderminster Lock, with the impressive church looming into view.

Going down Kidderminster Lock used to be a surreal experience. The bottom gate is very (very) close to a main traffic light interchange on the Kidderminster Ring Road. The ring road crosses the canal on the concrete bridge in the photo below, which is a lot closer that the wide-angle picture suggests. Before you empty the lock, if you stand at the front of the boat  you can almost reach out and touch the traffic rushing past: it really is bedlam there with loads of pedestrians too.

Years ago, when the FO first came this way, as you sunk down you waved bye bye to the chaos, and when you emerged from the other end of the tunnel under the ring road, you found yourself in a different world. Right up close on both sides, tall carpet warehouses – largely out of use – loomed over you, and cut out all the noise. It was like emerging into a silent brick Grand Canyon, and an astonishing contrast to what was going on just behind you.

These days, most of the warehouses are gone. As you emerge from the tunnel the first thing you come across is a drive-thru MacDonalds. Followed by a large car park for the no-longer-in-the-high-street emporiums like Marks & Spencer, Next, Boots, Debenhams etc. etc.  Deep joy.

Falling Sands Lock is a pleasant enough spot if the wind’s in the right direction… it’s just next to the sewage works.  Setting off on the Saturday morning, we remembered the lock well, as we’d come to blows the last time we were here, a few years ago.

If you’re coming down from Kidderminster you approach the lock entrance/top gate on a bend. Concentrating on trying to get the boat approximately lined up with the lock, we failed to notice that the gate hadn’t opened quite all the way, and with a modest burst of power to straighten things up, firmly wedged the boat in the lock entrance.

The geometry was such that the front rubbing strake had climbed up on top of the top gate walkway, and despite much creative use of engine revs, barge poles, paddle manipulation and multi-lingual swear words, we were well stuck.

Can’t remember how we managed it in the end, but it took well over half-an-hour to extract the boat, and about the same to dig out whatever was stopping the gate fully opening in the first place. What jolly japes.

Coming up, we couldn’t help noticing that there were now three ways to cross the canal at the bottom of the lock.

The furthest downstream was accessed by the old and well worn stone steps; from the brickwork, the parapet had clearly been added later. There was also a rope slot down the middle. Then there was the metal walkway, clearly added later, that may have had a rope slot, now blocked up. And then there was the usual walkway across the bottom gates.

With some locks one struggles to find a single way across the bottom, so I wonder why they felt three were needed.

The rain cleared up, and the sun came out, so even though we knew the place well, an evening stroll seemed mandatory. It’s an interesting place to wander around: once upon a time a serious inland port with several large basins set above the Severn, it transmogrified into a tourist destination that fell on hard times. The Severn riverside is quite an attraction, and there’s a large public park and so on, immediately next to a sizeable funfair. And even though all the pretty lights were on, and it appeared to be open, we never saw a single person on any of the rides. The place was clearly aimed at day-trippers from the Midlands once upon a time, as most of the eating establishments are tea/ice cream related and shut at 16:30 – proper restaurants are few and far between. Early evening and the place was as quiet as a mouse. Mind you, it wasn’t much different at lunchtime in the rain, come to think of it.

The basins are full of narrowboats and river cruisers; the upper one with the CaRT facilities on the wharf is always busy with boats moving around.

Just across from there are some new-ish flats built around a previously abandoned basin. They’ve been there for quite a few years now, but not one of the private moorings was occupied. Mind you, a tiny stub pontoon and an anchored buoy at the other end to tie up to isn’t exactly our favourite kind of mooring, particularly when there seem to be a few unoccupied berths in the main basins.

Down on the river, The Tontine – now “luxury” flats – has long been a landmark when heading up river, announcing one’s arrival at Stourport. And our old friend from Gloucester Lock and Tewkesbury Edward Elgar was moored up where we’d been the night before. Good job we moved, then – he’s a bit bigger than us.

Coming up off the river,you have a choice: a large wide-beam lock up to the lower basins, then another up to the upper basins. Or a narrow 2-stage staircase lock to the lower basins, and another up to the upper. The broad locks use way more water, and a rumoured to be seriously hard work, so there’s quite an incentive to use the narrow option if you can. It just looks awful tiny when you try and squeeze a boat in!

And we couldn’t go without a picture of the old BWB HQ at The Wharf, and the famous Clocktower (still telling the correct time).