The chief cook needed to leave the boat and Biggles for a few days next week, and head for Essex (don’t ask…). The plan was to head up to Worcester via Tewkesbury and Upton-on-Severn over the next few days, moor up in a boatyard near Worcester station, and despatch her off. The bo’sun and skipper could then spend some quality time together catching up on the – by now – large backlog of laundry.

A phone call to the Upper Lode lockkeeper at Tewkesbury first thing on Thursday morning elicited the response that there were no problems as far as he could see, and he’d be expecting us. He said he didn’t know what the Gloucester lockkeeper was on about. So we waved farewell to Gloucester Docks, locked down onto the Severn rather more quickly  than  we’d locked up, and pointed Song & Dance uphill.

With miserable-ish weather, the only possible mooring for a pub lunch-stop full of other boats, not much to see, and a fairish flow on the river, it took what seemed an awfully long time to grind all the way up to Upper Lode. There were very few other boats about, and a lot of debris coming downstream: leaves, twigs, logs, branches, even most of a tree, so the helmsman/woman/cat had to concentrate all the way.

Another call to the Upper Lode lockie shortly before arrival had it all set up waiting for us, and once again it seemed a huge lock, just for a foot or so difference in level.

Then, as we crossed past the upper weir entrance towards the junction between the Severn and the Avon, a huge salmon leapt totally clear of the water. Twice. Quite a spectacle.

We locked up onto the Avon so the Skipper could meander round his favourite mooring spot, and Nic the Avon Lock lockkeeper said she once had a narrowboat arrive with a salmon stranded and expired on top of the cratch. The boaters were squeamish, but it was still nice and fresh, so Nic had it for her tea.

Leaving the hulks behind on the Friday morning we were soon back at Slimbridge, and had a lovely day wandering around the various hides. We still felt there were parts to which we’d not done justice, so we had another wander on the Saturday. This time the FO took a camera, but even when fairly tame, getting decent photos of the critters isn’t always easy.

A pretty comprehensive guide as to what’s at Slimbridge can be found at this site, but here’s a few of our photos, in an attempt to make bird identification and nomenclature a little easier.

This chap (or chapess) has orange-red legs. It’s called a Redshank.

The female of this pair (the second photo) looks vaguely like a Redshank, but when the male gets excited he sprouts a large ruff of feathers around his neck…

The birds are called Ruffs.

This pretty little chap has a white face and whistles cheerily and continuously as he goes about his business. It’s called a White Faced Whistling Duck.

These ducks come from India, and run around upright in small gangs like they’re in the Olympics. They’re called Indian Running Ducks.

In a completely different vein, this goose has black bars on its head: it’s a Bar Headed Goose, while the tall chap with stilt like legs and black wings is called a Black Winged Stilt.

In a staggering demonstration of lack of imagination, this bird is a Black Necked Swan.

And finally, a hard one. This sizeable bird has a notable crest, and is known for screaming so loudly it can be heard 2 miles away. Apparently it’s a Crested Screamer.

So that’s all clear, then.