Where Has All the Water Gone?

 

Another beautiful day heralded the arrival of our friends Helen and Alan from Cambridge. Before their arrival we wandered round the town and noticed how many of the "alternative" types we saw including a very tough looking lady vicar who climbed into her Land Rover Defender clearly equipped for serious off roading. You've gotta love the CofE.

As a regular reader of my blog (brownie points earned there then), Helen had noted the approval meted out to guests arriving with goodies and was determined not to be dissed in any subsequent blog. So depositing her M&S cool bag on the boat we were treated to lovely wine, biscuits, cake and some bottles of single hop beer from Brouwerij de Molen. Alan does a local radio food programme and has clearly been doing his research so the beer was delicious and unlike anything I'd tasted before.

We set off further up the narrow Pennine valley on this challenging canal with its oh so difficult locks (as our poor guests found out when struggling with the stiff paddles) and arrived at Todmorden where we moored for the night. In search of a pub for an evening meal we weren't having much luck when we passed a very nice restaurant called Hartleys. To our surprise the owner was quite happy to allow well behaved dogs (naturally that meant Phoebe who proceeded to behave impeccably) so we enjoyed one of the best meals out we have had on this trip.  And so reasonable. Todmorden got the thumbs up.

 

Although not as photogenic as gentrified Hebdon Bridge, the town had benefitted greatly from the philanthropy of the Fielden family and boasted some outstanding buildings. These provide a vivid illustration of the concentration of wealth that industrialists of the 19th century accumulated and chose to display in civic and domestic architecture. Most striking was the enormous and elaborate town hall. This Italian renaissance style building with its pedimented front originally sat astride the county boundary between Lancashire and  Yorkshire - sadly moved with local government reorganisation.

With 18 locks to go till we reached the summit it was time to get going. Our first lock had a guillotine electric gate and beyond this was a quarter mile stretch of canal sitting at the foot of the "Great Wall of Todmorden". This enormous brick was towered over the canal and was built to support the railway embankment. The locals claim that more than four million bricks were used in its construction.

Well, we had plenty of time to count them all for, dear reader, this was our first experience of a serious water shortage.  Slowly making our way out of the guillotine lock we gradually ground to a halt as we realised the canal was at least 18 inches below its proper level and Fandango became stuck fast in the muddy bottom . Ros was on the towpath as she had been walking ahead to the next lock so she carried on and tried letting a lock full of water down. It made no difference of course so the three us sat midstream unable to move or reach the bank unless we fancied wading in the muddy waters. Even the gangplank wouldn't reach.
 

And guess what we were sitting opposite? The local micro brewery offering free tasters to passers by - talk about torture.
 

An emergency call to the Canal Trust lead to a promise of assistance. About an hour later we got a call saying help was on its way. After another hour or so we noticed water beginning to flow past us and we were delighted to see the friendly faces of the lock keepers we had met at Sowerby Bridge who had been up to bring water down from four of five locks up the canal. Finally afloat we gingerly made our way to the next lock relieved to leave that towering brick wall behind - and I made it three million nine hundred thousand and eighty six bricks by the way.

 

After a further eight locks we stopped at Walsden to say farewell to Helen and Alan who took a train from the adjacent station back to Hebdon Bridge to collect their car. More happy guests who had survived the squeeze in their "double" bed.

The following morning we took a walk up the hills and onto the moors enjoying the far reaching views back down the valley. We walked the Salter Rake Gate, an ancient stone packhorse track that was once used to transport salt from Cheshire to the Pennines. We met a chap in his garden who was terribly chatty and very amusing about his neighbour who insisted on flying the Yorkshire rose flag even though he was convinced his neighbour's house was actually in Lancashire. Local government boundaries eh?

We set off again but had not gone far when entering lock 35 we were again confronted by an almost empty canal. This was becoming difficult and alarming. Before we had a chance to ring the good old emergency number we saw a Canal Trust worker who had arrived at our lock. He gave us the whole story. 

 

 It appears the guillotine lock at Todmorden was leaking badly and had been draining the system. There was a work party complete with barge en route and he was bringing water down with him meaning we could hopefully make it to the summit. And after a feel scrapes we duly did get to the summit where guess what, there was an abundance of water and the next fifteen locks were all overflowing.  

 

And they said the Rochdale was tough. Respect please.

The next 26 locks and 11 miles were not that inspiring and did not have the attractive open countryside of the eastern side. We passed Rochdale and its smart new canal channel built to accommodate the A627M to moor at a spot recommended as safe before we began the accompanied descent into Manchester the following morning.  The captain had been very efficient and had reserved our place for 9.30 meaning an early start if we were to cover the 3 miles to our meeting point.

We were hoping it would be a drier, more pleasant entry into Manchester than the last time.