Bidding farewell to our chums at Cropredy, we headed off up the Claydon Locks aiming to reach the summit pound of the Oxford Canal. The Claydon Locks had been closed or heavily restricted recently, but we found no evidence of problems on the way up.

However… the outlook was grim, with sunny spells and wintry showers forecast,. and it was <expletive deleted> cold. We thought we were going to bimble up to the summit pound, not mount an assault on Everest.

Even the buzzard  was keeping his head down.

With lowering skies and proper snow starting up, it seemed a good time to just pack it in, singing

Boating in the snow
Just boating in the Snow
What a glorious feeling
You should give it a go

… and watch Gene Kelly tap dance down the towpath.

Saturday morning, big town centre nearby… must be shopping!

When we were heading down the canal to Oxford, there was large, comfortable looking and seemingly quite new armchair floating in the basin by the lock, rather in the way of boaters. With no habitation or even parking conveniently close by someone must have gone to some considerable effort to donate it: we were looking for the matching sofa, to no avail. They’re a bit odd that way in Banbury – Oxfordshire’s take on NfN?. We were quite pleased on returning that there was no sign of The Spanish Inquisition at all let alone the comfy chair.

Moored up in Castle Quay shopping parade, the chief cook was only yards from Marks & Spencer, Holland & Barrett, all your favourite mobile phone shops, and the Saturday market where a young, handsome (apparently) and smooth-talking Frenchman sold the chief cook some astonishingly expensive and smelly cheese. Not wishing to stay in town on the Saturday night, we headed a bit further uphill near to Great Bourton lock. We felt marginally sorry for Dink & Malc, who – seemingly as always – were sitting in their conservatory, waving to all and sundry passing down the canal. In the last few months, next to their abode has grown a positively enormous rectangular warehouse/box/monstrosity which goes on for hundreds of yards overlooking and dwarfing everything. Progress!?

As our “planning” in Oxford had got as far as heading North a bit, we’d decided to stop over in Cropredy on Sunday night while one of us repatriated the car on Monday, and the other caught up on a fortnight’s washing and drying. Oh the glamour.

So a quick cruise into the Marina (who were pleased to see us) – felt almost like home. And once again, the only bird we noted as we passed Peewit Farm was a Curlew who put on a lovely loud low pass over the boat for us. We had seen a lone high-flying Lapwing the other side of Banbury, but none near their namesake farm.

By the time the washing and driving chores were sorted, it was a bit late in the day to head off cruising, so we stopped another night, and got our exercise for the day walking to the comfortable Brasenose Arms for dinner – it’s rapidly becoming a favourite feeding station. They’ve got a very comfy sofa…

Leaving Dashwood’s lock on a much gloomier and colder but dry Thursday morning, we ambled along back through Heyford, then up through Somerton Deep Lock for an overnight stay. Stopping at Heyford for provisions we had coffee in the Oxford Narrowboats cafe, where David Dares (a significant player in the hire boat world hereabouts and on the K&A) was in serious discussions with two chaps from the Canal & River Trust. Wonder what was being discussed…

Friday, fairly miserable weather again, and the by-now familiar run through Aynho and its lozenge shaped weir lock onto the Cherwell again, then back up past the Pig Place (nowhere to moor). We had vaguely thought we might make Banbury for a Friday night on the tiles, but the weather was closing in, and misjudging it slightly, packed it in for the day by Biggles’ swimming pool just outside town, when it was already starting to rain significantly.

During these two days, we’d come to realise that it was not only the bird life that seemed to be much more prevalent this year, but also the bees. We were frequently buzzed by large bumble bees, and can’t recall really noticing any in previous trips.

And although the weather was a bit dour and cold, we had a splendid flypast by a low-level Curlew (now worryingly on the red list), and a ten minute period when a Kingfisher kept sitting on its perch until we got very close, then zoomed down the canal for just a short way before posing again. They really are beautiful birds.

Another first for us on the canal system was a lone Common Sandpiper, as well as a heron dive-bombing the water from the air like a tern or a gannet. We also saw one landing on the water and paddling around like a duck. Odd herons they have around here!

Monday morning saw a fairly leisurely shopping expedition round Banbury, then an undemanding meander through the outskirts for lunch at the place Biggles decided to swim the canal this time last year,  followed by moving gently on to a reasonably civilised mooring place just opposite the Pig Place in fairly unremarkable weather.

Tuesday and another amble to moor up just above Dashwood’s Lock, a pleasant spot in the middle of nowhere – after the busy-ness of Heyford Wharf, and before the excitement of Somerton and its Deep Lock. Wonder if Dashwood’s Lock is named after Peter Dashwood, a long time stalwart and regional coordinator of DEAFASS – The Dance Earnestly and Forget About Song Society?

Wednesday morning dawned bright and sunny: not a bad view from last night’s bedroom.

The trees are just starting to bud their leaves, the hawthorn’s showing white flowers, the fields of rape are pretty green and only just hinting at the garish yellow to come, while the sound of birdsong is everywhere – dawn chorus, dusk chorus, dinner-time chorus – you name it.

The weather was so pleasant that even the Captain came out to sniff the air before casting off. And walking up to the lock, we found some more knitted flowers on the lock balance beam: there were single ones on the Napton Flight heading uphill from Braunston to Cropredy last autumn, for no obvious reason. Clearly they’ve been breeding.

Buzzards seem to have been breeding too, because we always seemed to be in sight or earshot of one or two: if you click on the picture of Biggles on the roof to enlarge it, the small flea that looks bound for his ear is actually a Buzzard in the distance.

But although bright and sunny, it was cold… and nothing like the hot sunny weather at this time last year, when the deck chairs came out.

And as we travelled these fairly rural chunks of Oxfordshire, it looks as though the mild and wet winter has had a major impact on the bird life. Flocks of House Sparrows (often rare these days) seemed to be chittering in every hedge; we’ve never seen so many Robins chirping away, while the constant chiff chiff  chiff of the misnamed Chiff Chaff was ever-present (perhaps it’s an Oxfordshire dialect), and the unmistakeable cry of the Green Woodpecker came every few minutes. No Kingfishers spotted as yet, but some Kestrels, a Sparrowhawk, cormorants a-plenty and, of course, a Heron or three. And just passing through Somerton, we saw our first Swallow of the year. Heard plenty of Wrens too, but spotted only a very few. Compared to travelling this way at the same time last year, it really was a remarkable difference.

And so a satisfying few days meandering ended up in the busy waterway metropolis of Thrupp, and dinner at a favourite pub The Boat Inn. Can’t be bad.

Friday, and we’d planned on a quick shopping trip into Oxford to stock up on some provisions… but a late start and the discovery of a lovely deli / coffee shop / bistro in Jericho meant that we didn’t even get properly started on the shopping until nearly lunchtime. And standing in St. Giles we bumped into an (84 year) old friend / morris groupie who lives in Laleham, but for some inexplicable reason seems to be trying out all the pubs in Oxford. Someone has to do it I suppose.

A long natter took us up to lunchtime, then after that the chief cook went mad in Oxford’s splendid Covered Market, so by the time we got back to the boat it was past three o’clock (on a warm and muggy…). You have to go quite a way from central Oxford up the canal to find some more decent moorings as the council seem to have solved their housing crisis by allowing permanent residential boats on the towpath all the way out past Wolvercote. It was too late to leave, so we just had to stay, and try out that nice Bistro for dinner. Ah well.

Leaving early on the Saturday, rather than just head up the heavily scruffily populated canal, we decided to take the scenic route: DOWN Isis Lock onto Sheepwash Channel and The Thames, along through Port Meadow, UP Godstow and King’s Locks and onto Duke’s Cut, then DOWN Duke’s Cut Lock into Wolvercote Junction and immediately back UP Duke’s Lock onto the Oxford Canal proper for a well earned lunch. A boat equivalent of a Roller Coaster.

Anyway, it was cold, and on the open plains of Port Meadow, it was jolly windy. We didn’t see any other boaters moving on the river, apart from dozens of rowers and their attendant coaches going every which way, making that stretch more like Dodgems than a Roller Coaster. Why any self-respecting student want to get up early on a Satrurday, then freeze to death rowing around  a cold windy river in shorts and a T-shirt is beyond us.

The only thing of note was a fine row of riverside willows… well they were rather fine when we were last here in April, but they seem to have been pollarded with extreme prejudice.

Back on the canal it was more sheltered, and we finally made camp at Thrupp in time for tea and a cake at Annie’s Tea Room, a local institution. With too much fresh food on board, and having dined out the previous two nights, dinner at The Barge Inn was vetoed by the chief cook. Shame.