Sound and vision

Here at last ... as threatened promised ... the all singing, all dancing video footage of Warrior's engine in action.

It doesn't actually do it justice of course; that's probably down to your speakers. It sounds much nicer, bigger, butcher and louder in real life.

Sebastian (the artist formerly known as Baz) very kindly edited the video for me, but I'm not allowed to say so, as I wouldn't let him fiddle about with it nearly as much as he would have liked to (that's what GCSE Media Studies does for you). He has, therefore, asked for his name to be removed from the credits.

Enjoy.

Newhaven tonight

I was struck on the way home from the station, at about half past six this evening, by the lovely pink sky over the river - then I remembered that for once I had a camera on me. So here it is. Sun setting at six thirty (and that's British Summer Time, not real time) - can winter be far behind?

We've been having some half hearted musings about whether we could take Helyn up the Ouse to Lewes before we sell her. It's seven miles, and apparently navigable if the tide's right (highish, I suppose); there's a slipway down at the yacht club (and another one I believe at Denton Island, which is on the left in the picture); the biggest question is how powerful an engine you'd need... and whether we would ever actually get round to it. We ought to really, didn't we.

Well done chaps

Well, it was a pretty big clue. Yep, I've got to have Hawkesbury, the last Large Woolwich built for the GUCCCo, because, officially, its butty was the last Large Ricky, Hale; my namesake. I say officially, as it's quite possible they never actually worked together. They may have done though, and someone with more time and resources than me could no doubt find out.

Hale, I assume, has gone the way of most wooden boats - though if anyone has any information about when or how or anything else about it, I'd love to know.

The lovely photo was shamelessly ripped off from A Canal People, the collection of Robert Longden's photos edited by Sonia Rolt. There's another one featuring Hale (I think in GU livery, though it's hard to be sure), paired with Halsall (close!) tied up outside the Greyhound along with an FMC pair. So, as Andrew points out, at Hawkesbury, if not with Hawkesbury.

A Canal People is a great book by the way. I bought it in a remainder shop years ago, without really realising how wonderful the photos were until later, when I got keener on old boats. I see that Amazon have it in hardback ... Mine's a soft cover and I certainly didn't pay twenty two quid for it!

OK, here's a clue...

My motor

So why, of all of them, has this got to be the one for me?

Pictures of boats

On the basis that just what the internet needs is more pictures of narrow boats, I've been uploading some of the boat pictures I took between Atherstone and St Ives - here. (The one at the top isn't one of them, but is the best I can find on this computer.) There are, I'm afraid, still more to come, but it's a slow old process.

Today we're going back to Ramsey to see old Warrior again, and to bring back all the dirty washing. I'm taking the video camera with the intention of recording the engine at long last, although whether my technical abilities will be up to the task remains to be seen. Won't even try to post from there, so hopefully will be back Monday.

A strange end ...

Thank you Andrew - following on from yesterday, Andrew of Granny Buttons has sent me a photo of the 'Rebekah' floral display. Apparently is was created by Roger Fuller and named after his daughter ... so does that mean that this (now sadly neglected)

is also Roger's work?

Finally, reading between the lines at Canalworld, and casting my mind back to last summer, if you look past the heffalump in the foreground here, I think that's Alt behind. How many more do I have to collect now before I can send off for a badge?

No one likes us

We don't care. Well, they wouldn't, would they, being boats.

To return to the theme of blue tops, in which I got mildly involved having seen a few on our recent travels ... I can see why they don't inspire passion. They're not beautiful, they weren't even liked when they were new because apparently they swim like pigs; it's a bit of a mystery why BWB commissioned them in the first place, as late as the late fifties, when they already had more boats than they knew what to do with. They don't even qualify as historic craft for current BW licencing purposes. Many if not most of them do survive, albeit with varying degrees of mutilation. As I said previously, I don't believe I've seen a fully restored one; Anne, pictured here last August, is perhaps the closest.

Yet it would be sad if they all disappeared or changed beyond recognition. Anne is not as original as it perhaps looks, for it was one of two of these boats built to have its engine externally mounted on the stern. The other was Lee, whose owners we met in Cambridge and again at St Ives. Lee does still have an externally mounted engine (albeit not the original Harbourmaster), but Mark and Toni are planning to change that soon, although they aim to keep the wheel steering. You can't blame them, as there's clearly a reason why only two boats were built like that and it never caught on, but it's still a shame.

Mark kindly gave me a couple of photos of Lee to post here. Here it is as they bought it, an effluent boat on the Thames,
And here it is with their new cabin on it. The engine is in that big box on the back.

Finally, the boat I spotted at Bill Fen has been identified by Lyn Shotbolt (and confirmed by the good posters of Canalworld) as Axe.

A former butty, Axe now has a very nice traditional style counter stern; its old butty rear end (under the name of Rebekah) is now a floral display in Stone, where I saw it last year but failed to take any pictures.

You want photos?

Oh boy, have you got photos. I've only just recovered from uploading them to here. This collection represents about a quarter of what I actually took, but you're not missing much. I will however at some point get around to doing another album for all the pics of nice and/or interesting boats we saw - they didn't really seem to fit within the record of the trip. Don't judge the quality too harshly - they're essentially snapshots, not works of art. Webshots keep changing the format of the site; I carefully filled in captions to about a third of the pics, but you can only read them if you scroll down the screen, and they're not displayed at all in a slide show.

Ramsey Hollow Bridge

Ramsey Hollow Bridge was in the (waterways) news last year. It spans the Forty Foot, and, until last December, had headroom of about 5', or 1.5m. Low, even by Middle Level standards. Last December, a team of Royal Engineers, funded largely by the Peterborough IWA, raised the bridge by nearly a metre to open up a 'cruising ring'. We noted the bridge with interest as we sailed easily beneath it. We assumed, that had it not been for last year's efforts, we would have had to find an alternative route.

Not so, we subsequently learned. When John Shotbolt built Warrior for the Middle Level, he not only made the boat short enough to go through Welches Dam Lock, but also low enough to go under Ramsey Hollow Bridge, and he and Lyn cruised the Forty Foot many times. Once, Lyn told us, as a result of going too fast - and so raising the front of the boat - they had scraped the bridge. And the evidence is still there to be seen.

Now that's what you call a low bridge.

Boating boots

Getting dressed up for work yesterday I picked my shortest skirt, in order to show off my lovely brown legs - the first time in my adult life, I believe, that the backs of my legs have been brown. Unfortunately, the pleasing golden glow stops dead at the ankle, giving the impression that I have found a very subtle version of this year's must-have footless tights.

This is because whatever the weather, I will not boat in anything other than my trusty boating boots. Tried and tested for comfort, flexibility and non-slip qualities, these DMs that I got in a charity shop in Huddersfield are unbeatable. From the flooded towpaths of Atherstone to the mud of St Ives, they've seen me through it all. You can't beat a good pair of boots. Wherever you are, whatever's wrong with your life, put on a good pair of boots and you're standing on solid ground, and you've got a friend.

Shock to the system

Brought to you from the 1619 (delayed) GNER service frm Peterborough to Kings Cross.

Yes, we are very sadly on our way home. When I was a child, my parents had a set of very modern fab and groovy Mappin and Webb stainless steel cutlery. The thing about it was that the handles were hollow, so it was relatively lightweight, but we never noticed because we were used to it. Well, we never noticed except when we came back from holiday (Guernsey, ten days, twice a year from birth to 1975), when we would go to have our dinner and find our cutlery hands sailing into the air. The moral of this tale (which I absorbed at a very early age) is that when you go into a new environment you subconsciously expect everything to be different, so it doesn't strike you as strange; it's when you return, expecting things to be familiar, that they strike you as different.

Which may be why Peterborough station seemed so utterly, utterly horrible this afternoon - the cars, the bus and coach smells, the crowds of people. The stuff of everyday life (I work in London, for heaven's sake) rendered completely alien by a month away from it.

Where's Warrior?

Can you spot Warrior in its new home? Not so new really, but its birthplace and first home. I think we're going to be just fine here. Coming home tomorrow, but it won't be long before we're back for a weekend (to collect the washing), hopefully accompanied by Carl and Sean and their caravan. Oh yes, and Baz, maybe, if he doesn't have any more pressing musical engagements. And Christmas on the boat? A definite yes, this year. Booking form for next year's IWA Festival? Safely packed - almost definitely going to use it.

When I get back (straight to work on Monday) it might take a few days to sort out a. the photos; b. my head, before I get round to posting again, but there are plenty of pictures that I haven't used yet which all have their stories or polemics so that'll keep me going for a while.

It has been a great trip, a brilliant experience, and an extraordinary month. It seems like we've been on the boat forever, and that we've been away no time at all. Yet when I look at the photos of us on the Oxford, say, I can scarcely recall being there, let alone that it was less than a month ago.

And again

Day 27 (Thursday August 30th)
Well Creek to Forty Foot Bridge
via Popham's Eau, Sixteen Foot Drain and Forty Foot Drain

These waterways are marked on the map. They are entirely and officially navigable (albeit weedy). So how come, Messrs Imray, Laurie, Norrie and Wilson, the heights of the bridges aren't given? Huh? The heights of the VERY LOW chimney-eating bridges of the Sixteen Foot? (Famous last words: 'If it's not marked then it's at least two point fo...' CRUNCH!!!)

For readers' information, I'd reckon (without taking any responsibility whatsoever; remember, water levels can go up as well as down) you'd need an air draft of around 1.8 m or less to attempt that particular drain. You might not want to though, as I have to say, even to a lover of navigable drains such as myself, it's not very riveting, especially as the weed made the going very slow. It was a sad journey too, as it marked very nearly the end of our trip, which I have to say has been surprisingly brilliant.

We stopped for one last night at the George pub at Ramsey Forty Foot, as Jim was suffering serious chip deficiency. We dealt with this by having dinner there, then waited until the morning to make the final leg back into Bill Fen, so that we could be shown Warrior's winter berth. Of which more later.

Down the drain

Day 26
Earith to Well Creek
via the 100 Foot Drain (New Bedford River): 22 miles; 4 hours 8 minutes

Today at last we braved the 100 Foot. We first got the idea when it looked as if the Ouse might still be blocked by the derailment and that would be an alternative route to the festival. As it turned out, the Ouse was open to navigation in time so we came that way. But we were quite taken with the idea of the 100 Foot (well, I have always been taken with the very idea of navigable drains, and Jim pricks up his ears when he hears the word tidal) so decided to come back that way. I think it's meant to be a bit trickier the way we did it, because you have to go against the incoming tide, but it wasn't at all difficult.

You have to get the timing right; leave too early and you meet the tide too near the sea so it's too strong (apparently there's quite a big bore); too late, and the water's too low by the time you get to Salters Lode, the lock that leads back onto the Middle Level. But just ring up the Salters Lode lock keeper, tell him what day you want to come, and he'll tell you what time to leave. He told us nine o'clock, so of course we left at eight thirty. We knew there were other boats intending to make the trip, and were quite nervous of not being able to get straight into the lock and having to hold off in the tideway. We were glad we'd left early, but in the end not for that reason.

We saw no one else on the 100 Foot; we knew of one boat which left before us (hello Grumpy Bear!), but they weren't going through Salters, but through Denver Sluice and back onto the Ouse. It wasn't frightening; but it was interesting. Despite being straight, and described in the books as featureless, I thought it was lovely. There were lots of birds, and for the first time we realised we should have brought the bird book. The tide wasn't really noticeable, except for the fact that our bow wave got bigger, then diminished, despite no change in engine speed; and then the muddy banks became higher and higher as the water level dropped. At times though I could swear I could smell the sea.

The tide was much lower when we got back to Salters Lode than when we left there last week, and the mudbank outside Denver Sluice was clearly visible. We had no problem turning into the mouth of the lock, and nestling there while the gate was raised, then in we went; the water level dropped by about a foot, the gates were opened, and we were back on the Middle Level. We tied up at Well Creek (just under an hour further on) and waited for the other boats to come by; the lock keeper had told us that he was expecting at least seven.

It was a good few hours before any arrived, then there must have been about a dozen in convoy; I think they had come all the way up the 100 Foot like that (some of them at any rate). So that's one reason I'm glad we left early; we had it all to ourselves, in all its marvellous empty vastness. The thing with Salters Lode is that only boats under about 56' can be locked through; we were a fairly snug fit. Anything longer has to wait for the window when the tide is level with the water on the Middle Level, and then they open both ends at once and boats come straight through. So that would be why the long ones all came at once, but I'm still not sure why a lot of shorter ones were in the convoy too. Nor can I imagine where they'll all be mooring tonight ...

We're aiming to get back to Bill Fen tomorrow; it'll be a good day's travelling, via the Forty Foot Drain, Popham's Eau, and the Sixteen Foot Drain - a different route to that by which we came.

Goodbye St Ives

Day 25
St Ives to Earith
approx 6 miles; 5 1/2 hours ...

The festival was operating a booking system through St Ives lock for boats leaving the festival. Very efficient! St Ives lock takes three narrowboats fairly easily, as long as one of them isn't quite full length (we fitted in the side bit easily). There was no booking system for the next lock, Brownshill Staunch, which takes one boat, or two if they're short (being a frustrating 13 feet wide). So we got through St Ives at our allotted time, but still had to wait two and a half hours at Brownshill. Never mind.

As a result though we missed the tide for the 100 Foot Drain aka New Bedford River (but 100 Foot Drain sounds so much more exciting, don't you think?) which we were hoping to tackle today, and have had to find a mooring in Earith. The EA 48-hour moorings have a considerable overlap with the pumpout (which we made enthusiastic use of) and waterpoint (ditto), and were getting quite crowded, so we have moved up a little further to the Crown pub, where we will have a drink later (and maybe even some food at its sister establishment) to justify our presence.

Earith has one small shop with a good range of Colmans sauces and little else, but it does include a post office so I was able to post my mother her birthday present. Late again, but the way I look at it, it's just prolonging the excitement.

And we saw the famous Earith seal! She did a little leap and a splash, just for us, and was gone again.

I do not have high hopes of the Crown public house, but having looked through the (uPVC double glazed, Venetian blinded) windows I did see London Pride, so maybe all is not lost. It's a mooring, anyway.

Nicely spliced!

This morning I actually went to the festival properly. It was less muddy today - and people seemed more sensibly shod. Those inside did seem to be enjoying it. I found a few things (mostly books, and a DVD) to spend my money on, but I was just thinking that I wouldn't really have paid £8.50 for the experience, when I ran into Jim. He was carrying (quite proudly, I think) a piece of hairy rope with a loop in it. 'Did you splice that?', I cried. 'Yes', he said, smugly.

Well, one thing I have always wanted to be able to do is splice (the other is crochet, of course), and have never managed to work out how to do it from a book, but he said it was easy, so off we went back to the Guild of Knot Tyers stand, where a very patient man showed me how to do it. And it is easy, once you know how. That's my effort in the photo. I only hope I don't immediately forget, but I have bought a book to remind me.

So, three cheers of today to the Guild of Knot Tyers (Sussex Branch, as it happens). Three boos of the day to Towpath Talk, who offered me a free copy of their newspaper and then gave it to me in a plastic carrier bag.

Now I'm a blue top too!

I went and did my stint handing out brochures at the entrance. It was, at last, very hot and sunny, but the field was of course still very muddy - sticky mud now, rather than the liquid variety - and I was made by much of the paying public to feel personally responsible for it.

Funnily, given how I've been complaining about some of the volunteer workers and the organisation here, as soon as I put that blue T-shirt on I fely honour bound to defend them. Some hardy souls, on seeing the mud, simply took their shoes off (Glastonbury veterans, I guess). Others, showing great dedication and initiative, sped back into town to buy up St Ives' entire stock of wellington boots between them. But some people turned up n the most absurd, ridiculous footwear for walking around a show, even if the ground had been bone dry. I had one person complain to me that when they complained about the mud, another volunteer had said 'Well, don't go in then'. The other volunteer in question was, of course, Jim - but it seemed a reasonable point nonetheless.

After completing our stint we went for a quick look at the festival itself, mainly looking for lunch. We were overjoyed to see that the Kent and East Sussex Canals Restoration Group were once again running their Indian food stall, where we will lunch every day from now on. Then we had to come back to make the kebabs for the barbecue. I'll go back and have a proper mooch about tomorrow.

To make our day complete, we received a visit from Granny Buttons' Andrew.

Barbecue with Lee

Remember Lee, the converted blue top we met in Cambridge? Well, they're here, and Toni and Mark came by and invited us to a barbecue this evening. I made some of my famous (well, not really, but they should be) vegetable kebabs and off we went. We had a lovely evening with a gang of the Cambridge boaters, most of whom had brought their boats. What a lovely community it must be there.

Mark took me on board and showed me Lee, which was lovely. They did the conversion themselves, having bought it with an open hold and an EA (well, NRA I suppose) cabin. It still has its engine (albeit not the original Harbourmaster) mounted on the stern. They bought it from the EA, who had previously been using it on the Thames to empty the effluent tanks of lock keepers' cottages. How splendid to get a boat straight from working like that, and to know that bit of its history.

Mark showed me photos of them bringing it from the Thames to Cambridge, and I'll post some when I can. The best thing about this whole lark is the almost instant friendships (and of course emnities) that you can make - without worrying about how you're going to sustain them, or whether you want to.

As we walked back from the barbecue just now, past all the other people's barbecues, already knowing so many people to say hello to... the full moon was rising over the festival site, and the smoke and/or mist was hovering a few feet above and around the edges of Hemingford Grey meadow... magical.

That's my space and I'm having it!

We asked for an inside mooring, and when we were lucky enough to get one, made sure to arrive good and early. Not so the boat in front of us, which arrived yesterday; insisted on their allocated inside position, and made five other boats move to let them in. And they had a bowthruster.