The Silence is Broken

Anybody there? 

If so dear readers, apologies for the long silence. Not sure why either for as I look back over the past week and try to recall what has kept me so busy that I was unable to find the time to write a small blog I find myself at a foggy loss. So complete is my amnesia that I was forced to try and write down a retrospective diary of exactly where we've been and what we've been doing. And boy has that been hard. 

Is this some symptom of prolonged exposure to narrow boat life where your brain kicks into neutral as you idle gently along those meandering waterways and where the only active stimulation is the infrequent lock? 

Or is it that my tolerance of sardine life has reached such a level that I am becoming impervious to those early challenges and frustrations of a physically constrained life that provided such fertile ground for my musings? 

Whichever, I am back having felt the need to update you all on our progress around the Avon Ring which is the part of the canal system we have been exploring.

I left you at Worcester, a fine city I discovered, home to a magnificent cathedral with a history full of intrigue and national influence that I for one had been totally ignorant of. So travel really does broaden the mind you see. It was also within striking distance of my sister in law in Monmouth who decided to pay us a visit one evening and join us for dinner. Anticipating a welcome diversion from a land lubber I had quite forgotten that I would find myself in the company of another narrow boat groupie. 

My vicar father-in-law really had done a great job on both his daughters inculcating such an enthusiasm for this form of transport and I know he would have been proud to see them both sharing such squeals of delight as Ros showed her sister round our boat and pointed out its fine features. I had no idea I had such an experienced and "well canaled" relative who had so regularly holidayed aboard these narrow beasts with family and friends. Booked in for a return over the bank holiday I knew I'd be able to disappear into my newspaper or book as the pair of them excitedly navigated whatever part of the system we happened to be on.

And so we left Worcester and joined the river Severn. Great excitement, as this was a sizeable piece of water and we were headed downstream and so could race with the flow at a magnificent 6 or 7 miles an hour. Such fun!  River travel feels so different; the helm is more responsive there being much more water beneath the boat and the water itself so much more alive. But we also saw the effects of the recent floods with enormous gashes of erosion to the river bank and the odd boating casualty including a 70 foot narrow boat casually discarded vertically up a twenty foot bank.  

A similar sight awaited us as we arrived at Tewkesbury where a forlorn narrow boat lay on the yard of the mill some 15 foot above the water. We discovered from the lock keeper that its owner was a well known licence avoider who also had no insurance so had simply abandoned his boat for others to sort but it provided a vivid reminder of the power of rivers in flood to destroy. Perhaps those gentle 3 foot deep canals do have something going for them after all?

We paid our additional licence fee to navigate the River Avon (this section of the the Avon is a separate charity) and were joined by two more house guests for the weekend.  Old sailing friends from Newton Abbott who parked their car, climbed aboard and gamely launched themselves into a weekend of narrow boat fun and games. 

Games began almost immediately we left when trying to head upstream under the ancient King John's Bridge with its nasty blindspot. Here we met a couple of boats coming downstream and waited patiently for them to pass. We then saw no ships, heard no ships and having sounded our horn began to proceed. Well, of course we met another boat approaching the bridge from upstream who clearly hadn't sounded his horn (protocol you know) and being a swanky gin palace had no intention of giving way. Being already under the bridge I as helm decided to proceed anyway only to receive glares from my captain (those proceeding downstream have priority you know) and some rather unpleasant expletives from the heavily tattooed driver of said gin palace. Me, prejudiced?

I still think it was questionable that I was in the wrong as it was a damn sight easier for him to use his gas gussling V8 engine and bow thrusters than it would have been for me to try and stop and then reverse the hulk that is a 57 foot narrow boat. But I took my dressing down from the captain with equanimity and handed the helm to our guests. Grrrrrr.

 And what a lovely section of river we travelled. The river meanders in gentle curves through beautiful countryside with attractive villages and some magnificent waterfront homes.  It's locks are bigger and able to take two boats but we saw no one. Painstakingly restored and maintained we met volunteers who had adopted a lock and lovingly cultivated its gardens for 35 years! Still enthusiastic they were less than impressed with the Trust that had made great play of awarding them a 25 years service medal. 

So after an overnight stop at Pershore where we imbibed of delicious micro brewery beer and hearty pub grub we arrived at Evesham where we bid farewell to our guests as they taxied back to Tewkesbury and thence home to a proper double bed.....