Descending into the City

Technology. Why is it that I can be such a Luddite? And why am I having to write about the frustrations of computers in two consecutive blogs?

 I had felt the creative juices flow after my 'Welcome Detour' blog and had written 'Northward Bound' the following day. Well that was actually 6 days ago and in the meantime I have been failing to connect my iPad to the wifi I was so proud I had established through the magic of tethering to my smartphone. I have been sitting watching that wretched circle whirl pointlessly every day since in the vain hope it was just a poor signal. Even a visit to a coffee shop with free wifi had met with the same result. Despite trying everything I could think of in the settings of iPad and phone - nothing, rien, nada.

And then a city with an Apple shop and bingo. Embarrassment reigns as the bright young thing said "have you tried shutting the browser and starting  again?". Of course I hadn't - far too advanced it would appear for this technophobe as that simple, and in technicolour hindsight obvious action instantly reconnected me.

Back to the blog.  

Now began the long hard slog into Manchester. People we had spoken to had talked of the rough areas by the canal where yoofs were not averse to lobbing the odd brick or reject supermarket trolley at you or even nipping into your boat and pinching any handy valuable. Not what your average narrow-boater wants to hear,  so the captain planned our journey with military precision with the objective of a safe marina at Droylsden the night before we began the final 18 lock  decent into central (safe) Manchester.

But that was yet to come and before that enticing challenge we enjoyed the beauty of the Marple flight of 16 locks which contributed 214 feet of our long descent into Manchester. These locks have an unrivalled setting in an excellent combination of built-up area, parkland, giant beech and chestnut trees and steep hillsides with some wonderful restored small mills now used for posh offices or canal side apartments. At its foot the canal crosses the River Goyt gorge in a dizzyingly high aqueduct but with an even bigger railway viaduct alongside. 

You have to be in awe of some of the engineering feats our forefathers undertook with none of the computer aided simulation we have today. And they made so much of  it all pretty too!

Even more exciting, we passed through the Hyde Bank tunnel, atop of which sat the former home of MN, Fandango's proud owner and Ros was able to text MN a photo to remind him of the beginnings of his love affair with all things narrow boaty. Aaah.

We made the safe haven of Droylsden marina just before 6pm after a very long day and Ros negotiated an admirable reverse into our designated slot. The marina manager clearly loved to chat and so the captain and he swapped canal stories whilst I did emails. Being in the city again we were suddenly aware of all its noises - sirens, motorbikes, general traffic - but it also had a large Tesco just across the road so it wasn't all bad.

I awoke to a decorated boat interior wishing me a happy anniversary. Horror! In my total narrow-boat-induced somnolence I had forgotten our 31st wedding anniversary. Captain was very forgiving and her disappointed a little sated by my quick and surreptitious trip to Tesco's for their finest bouquet. Phew....

The early start down the dreaded locks saw us squeak ahead of two other boats who like us had heard you needed to be away to miss the potential vandals who were at their best in the afternoons. And what hard work those wretched locks were. It was pouring with rain, the worst Manchester kind, persistent and unrelenting, and every paddle and gate had an anti-vandal lock adding to the time and difficulty of getting through. But hey, no vandals in sight, in fact no-one in sight, hardly surprising given the wintry conditions. 

It took a gruelling five hours to do the 3 miles but as we approached our destination of Piccadilly Basin the rain eased and the sun came out. A bit earlier would have been nice. We found a suitable mooring but soon discovered this part of Manchester was not like Birmingham with its canal side pubs, restaurants and coffee shops. All very clean and nice but sterile. 

Ros was quickly on the phone and before you could say Happy Anniversary, she'd booked herself a hair appointment at her favourite hairdressers, Vidal Sassoon, who "fortunately" had a branch in the city and even more "fortunately" had an appointment in 20 minutes. Guess that made up for the absence of a present. Phoebe and I accompanied her to their smart premises across town and then went exploring taking in the beautiful Victorian merchant houses and banks. Looking so much better with a bit of sunshine it brought back many memories of my regular visits to the city for board meetings as they prepared for the 2002 Commonwealth Games.  

What a transformation that event had made to the city. The whole area around what had been the athletics stadium and now home to Manchester City FC had finally got its tram connection (sore point, not delivered for the Games) and new shops, apartments and additional sports facilities were in place. It looked and felt a real success story.

Unable to find a suitable restaurant within striking distance of the boat we made do with a Marks and Spencer ready meal by way of celebration - deluxe of course and accompanied by some fizz. 

A memorable and happy day. Cheers.