We were now on familiar ground and the mere fact of repeating a section of canal already traveled after so many new stretches generated a sense of winding down and moving into the home straight. Well, it did for me, not so sure the feeling was shared by the captain who happily pointed out that at Fazeley Junction we had an unexplored section of the Coventry Canal to travel.
How could I have forgotten.
With warm sunshine now more common (surely not some summer at last?), we wandered along for an alfresco coffee at the old British Waterways works at Fradley Junction, now so much quieter after a busy weekend. Refreshed we set off down the Coventry Canal to Whittington where in the blink of an eye it morphs into the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal - I could try to explain but I got quite lost in the Nicholson guide and lost the will to live.
Having not done any decent lock flights for quite a while now (to quote Kathryn Tate - was I bovvered?) a good walk was required to maintain our exercise levels so we stopped just south of Coton and headed in the direction of Tamwoth where its castle was our objective. And what a delightful walk it was. We crossed huge water meadows full of waist high grasses and wild flowers wafting in the gentle breeze and creating that lovely whispering sound so redolent of long, lazy childhood summers. We followed the river Tame into the town centre and walked around the beautiful gardens of the Norman motte and bailey castle. Having enjoyed the meadows so much we decided to go back the same way rather than do a loop to bring us back to the boat along the towpath. And this time we were entertained by dozens of swooping swifts as they fed along the river bank and over the meadows. Nothing quite like a proper English summer.
Leaving Tamworth through its two locks we passed a pristine boat whose helm commented on Fandango, "Hudson isn't it?". Having been educated in a lock outside Skipton on the pedigree that our dear Fandango enjoys I confidently answered "yes, it is". "Dropping in to see her maker are you?" he replied. And so I learnt that at the top of the Glascote Locks is the Hudson boatyard whose location I mistakenly shared with the captain who insisted we stop and pay a visit.
They certainly saw us (Ros) coming. Letting them know how much she was loving our rented Fandango, we were instantly seen as prospective customers and given a comprehensive, but I must admit gentle and amusing, guide of boats under construction. The groupie-in-chief was in heaven. Learning the history of Fandango including how my nemesis, the four poster bed obstruction, was conceived she began designing her own boat with our charming boat builder. Custom made, we saw how personal foibles could be accommodated and all for a mere £95,000 basic or £115,000 deluxe version. I smiled sweetly and guided my salivating wife out of their clutches.
At Fazeley Junction we stopped for a quick shot of Tesco which was packed with the staff from the nearby Drayton Manor Park (ah, happy memories) dressed in the uniform for the area of the park they were working in - lots of Thomas the Tank Engine types for some reason - and all purchasing their lunches. Suddenly on the Coventry Canal again (no, I don't get it either), we passed south of Tamworth towards Atherstone, our location for the night.
Atherstone was the home of one of Ros' oldest college friends and she had vague memories of a visit some thirty years earlier where a photo opportunity featured a lock. This stimulated a desire for a reunion with two of the three college flat mates who were within striking distance, one of whom had so far steadfastly resisted a visit - mentioning no names..... After much texting, emailing and message-leaving it was sorted and we could look forward to said reunion just beyond Atherston at Harsthill.
As we climbed the ten locks into Atherston I asked a passing boat what it was like. He wasn't too complimentary seeing it as some kind of indictment that he'd been unable to find a Tesco, Sainsburys or Asda in the vicinity on his iPhone so we were pleasantly surprised when we discovered an old fashioned high street complete with butchers, bakers and a real iron mongers shop topped off with an attractive market square that backed onto the parish church. But it's real claim to fame was probably the best launderette so far encountered. Not only were its machines very good, it offered free tea and coffee and very fast wifi providing something to satisfy both of us!
Before leaving Atherston we took Phoebe for a long walk on one of the town trails. This took us up the hills through beautiful beech woods to the Mancetter quarries where the diorite they mine here is used in tarmac to make it far quieter. You suddenly come on this moonscape with its turquoise blue pools and pyramid piles of stone. Poor Phoebe had a bit of a shock when she brushed against an electric cattle fence and not quite understanding what had happened did it again with an enormous yelp.
It was a quick hop to the attractive Hartshill Yard where the canal had once passed right under the toll keeper's house to guarantee collection and now home to a violin maker. Ros' former room mate, Annie picked us up here and we set off for dinner with the Bairstos (the reluctant visitors, oops I gave it away) who had pitched their camper van at a nearby site. Now, I may have complained about the size of Fandango but believe me she is a mansion in comparison to a camper van. It was a very impressive piece of kit though and the addition of an awning and a tent enabled Al to host a splendid supper in great comfort. But you do forget you're only inside a bit of fabric where your (loud) conversations carry all over the campsite. And as for the adjoining loo tent...... nuff said.
Due to join us the following day for a "cruise", plans had to be rapidly rearranged when Nigel had to depart last minute for his son's dining in night in Hereford. All that packing up, another reality of camper vans. We can just weigh anchor and head off - careful there, you're sounding like a narrowboat enthusiast. But at least we extracted a promise to join us the following day. What some people will do to avoid a narrowboat experience!
Another ten lock-less miles saw us pass Nuneaton and Bedworth to reach Hawkesbury Junction where we had to do a tricky 180 degree manoeuvre under a fine sweeping cast iron bridge to pass through a stop lock and join the Oxford Canal. Also known as Sutton's Stop after the name of the toll clerks who worked here, its a busy spot with plenty of permanently moored boats and a canal side pub perfect for patrons to watch out for near and not-so-near misses as the many boats pass. Sadly the engine house once used to pump water into the canal from a well is now boarded up, its atmospheric steam engine called Lady Godiva, having been relocated to Dartmouth Museum.
We decided our reluctant visitors needed the full narrowboat experience so awaited them at the foot of the only three locks in the twenty three miles we would cover till we rejoined the Grand Union at Braunston. In scorching sun they walked along the towpath to join us at the Hillmorton locks with their two black labs in tow and proceeded to earn their bronze badge operating the interesting two parallel single locks - albeit with the help of the volunteers. And then it was just a matter of taking turns at the helm as we gently cruised through the open countryside peppered with ancient ridge and furrow fields to Braunston, a highly popular and well-known canal centre.
We were fortunate to find a mooring and met Nigel who had gone ashore earlier to cycle back and collect the camper van in which our guests insisted on sleeping rather than experience the delights of Fandango's flexible dinette. Now why would that be - reading my blog perhaps?
Full English breakfast the next morning set them happily on their way as we began our mission to find somewhere on this very rural part of the Grand Union with a TV signal so we could watch the Wimbledon finals.
Failure was not an option.
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