Before leaving Manchester we visited the artisans market just up from the basin. We were among the first to visit so had our choice of the wonderful goodies the sellers had put out to sample. Pity I'd had breakfast as there was plenty to taste. Armed with tasty bacon, delicious sausages and very unusual cheese we returned to Fandango and set off down the Bridgewater Canal for the second time. But this time we would turn left at Waters Meeting to head south.
Opened in 1765 the Bridgewater was probably the first "modern" canal in the British Isles. Built by the Duke of the same name, he employed the soon to be famous James Brindley (he of Brindley Square in Birmingham) who engineered a lock-less contour canal. The coming of the railways did not initially affect this wide waterway and it was bought as a going concern by the Manchester Ship Canal Co in 1885. When we had turned right at Waters Meeting on the section leading to the Leeds and Liverpool Canal we had crossed a Ship Canal Co improvement, the Barton Swing Aqueduct, a steel trough closed by gates at each end that pivoted on an island in the ship canal. It carried commercial traffic until 1974.
How peaceful to navigate 23 miles with no locks. The weather was fine and we took it in turns to helm and relax. Well, I relaxed in the bow and Ros got busy polishing the abundant supply of brass on Fandango - this has become a real mission for the captain. It must be listening to the tales of our chammy tech son who had honed his polishing skills to perfection on his super yacht in the Mediterranean. And how impressed we were with the water quality for we could see the bottom of the canal quite clearly and there was an abundance of lilies and irises on the banks.
Our first stop was Dunham so we could visit Dunham Massey Hall - yes, some of you may groan but yet another National Trust property! An 18th century house once the seat of the Earl of Stamford it had possessed the largest collection of Hugenot silver in Britain until an indebted gambler from the Earl of Warrington line who had inherited disposed of much of it. Still a sumptuous collection though filling a large room in the house, efforts are being made to reacquire long sold treasures. Amazingly, a number of people have donated items back to the Trust when they heard of their attempts to reassemble the collection. But it was the garden that was a treat. Considered one of the north west's finest plantsman's gardens we enjoyed a guided tour with one of the professional gardeners, a statuesque rather scary looking woman with cropped bright orange hair who of course turned out to be a sweetie.
Oh for a garden where the deer don't eat everything you try to grow!
Feeling my bike must be lonely now it was the only one aboard I decided to cycle ahead to Lymm, a recommended stop for its attractiveness and good moorings. Ros was coming into the town when she had her first verbal abuse to "slow down" from a moored boat. Now Ros does not speed and never goes more than at tickover pace past moored boats so this was a bit rich, especially as it was physically impossible to go any slower in gear. When she told me about the incident I went back to check the boat out and what irony, it was a boat I had passed on my cycle and had noted how much wash she was making as she passed a row of live-aboard boats. I resisted telling the woman of her hypocrisy.
Lymm was indeed a very affluent, attractive town and although the pub we ate in was dog friendly and very comfortable the food was pretty dire. My risotto was so stiff it almost needed slicing. And being oh so British we didn't make a fuss. Stupid.
Passing the outer suburbs of Warrington at Stockton Heath we headed out of town in search of a quiet rural mooring to enjoy the sunny evening. We found one near Moore and were entertained by the horses and riders being schooled in a ring below us in the fields. How excited the other horses got as they whinnied and raced around the field much to Phoebe's consternation.
Speaking of Phoebe, we met more Americans this time on their seventh, yes seventh narrowboat holiday, who came ooohing and aaahing in our direction at the sight of Phoebe. The main couple were on a five week holiday being joined for one week breaks by relatives and friends. Exhausting.
Next day it was my turn to helm for, guess what, another tunnel. Yes, my favourite. This time it was Preston Brook Tunnel a low, narrow black hole of 1239 yards. You would have thought that as a seasoned narrow boater by now I would have taken this relative midget in my stride but for some reason I found it really intimidating and difficult to hold my line. I did manage not to hit the walls with precious Fandango but I emerged very stressed and relieved to pass the helm to Ros.
Emerging from Preston Brook we were through a stop lock and into the Trent and Mersey Canal. Designed to stop rival companies stealing each others water it required no effort there being no difference in levels.
Within a few miles it was the captain's turn to take us under. This time the timed entry Saltersford Tunnel, feared as it is crooked and you initially can't see the other end, and then the Barton Tunnel. But hey, the first was a mere 420 yards and the second 572 yards - easy peasy.
And so to one of the waterways iconic feats of engineering - the Anderton Wheel. This amazing piece of machinery was built in 1875 to connect the Trent and Mersey to the flourishing Weaver Navigation 50 feet below. As built, it consisted of of two water filled tanks of 250 tons counterbalancing each other in a vertical slide resting on enormous hydraulic rams. It suffered numerous problems not least because salt in the water clogged the rams so these were done away with in 1908 to be replaced by electrically driven counter weights. Closed in 1983 due to serious deterioration it was restored after a public appeal and reopened in 2002.
We could have used it to travel down to the river and bizarrely, its free if you just turn up but £5 if you book ahead. But such a diversion didn't feature in the spreadsheet so we made do with watching the tourist boat and a narrowboat swop places. Fascinating.
We really must visit the Falkirk Wheel.
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