Slow Boat Round Four Counties

2^nd to 16^th July 2011.

I've left this too long, and I need to catch up, so I don't intend to blether on so much about our more recent canal adventures... you wish!

Summer 2011 started back at Great Haywood, from where we set out on the original 'Slow Boat Under Birmingham' trip; a different boat, though – this year we have 'Lady Carol' (or Elsie, as I generally call her when swearing at her to go round a tight bend), 65 ft long with a hatch in her side through which shopping can be passed and swans can look for food, a freezer and a microwave, and some rather comfortable reclining chairs. Some of this year we'll – almost inevitably when the canal system is involved - be covering old ground (or water), as we follow the Four Counties Ring in a clockwise direction.

The first couple of days saw us skirting through suburbia, south of Stafford, where there is a mix of private moorings, back gardens, pubs and hotels and holiday villages, punctuated by ducks and a good number of rather deep locks. We decided to practise the 'stick the nose on the gate' system for going through locks, which keeps the boat reasonably stable with a minimum of engine revving and forward and back motion. In an 'up' lock, it keeps the rudder from getting bashed on the downstream gate, and in a 'down' lock, it makes sure you don't get hung up on the cill. You do have to watch for the fenders getting caught, but a sharp pair of eyes on the forward gate helps.

An overnight stop at Gailey allowed for a shore party trip to the Gailey Round Tower, before meandering through flat and windy land studded with motorways, the summit pound of the Staffs and Worcs Canal. By the outskirts of Wolverhampton, it becomes a bit more interesting, with the narrows of Pendeford Rockin' - only wide enough for one boat, so we went through in convoy – and the tight entrance to the Shropshire Canal at Autherley – narrow, under abridge and straight into a stop lock! Watered up just after the lock, and headed on through a quiet evening to find a mooring for the night, passing over Watling Street by means of the Stretton Aqueduct, through some deep and heavily wooded cuttings, full of bugs and badger diggings, to finally tie up at Wheaton Aston.

The following day was interesting and, on occasion, a wee bit dramatic. The first feature was Cowley Tunnel – only 81 yards, originally longer but it had kept collapsing (reassuring!) - the southern portal has brickwork, but as you go deeper it becomes a cut through the natural sandstone, which results in a rather lumpy and irregular profile (of both tunnel and any careless boater), and there are several places where it looks as if chunks have fallen from the roof....

A series of embankments carries us along, with distant views of the Wrekin, a faint blue rise on the horizon. Infant Yggdrasils tower over us in the deep cuttings, and we try to shed the convoy of boats – we pull ahead when it's clear but they catch us when we slow for moored boats. It rains, just to be helpful. Into the depths of Grub Street Cutting, we slip under Bridge 39 - supposedly haunted by a black, monkey-like creature, though we see nothing odder than ourselves – and head onward to Shebdon Wharf, where milk from the surrounding dairies used to be collected for the Cadbury's works.

The most impressive part of today's journey is through Woodseaves Cutting. It's around 2 miles long, almost sheer-sided with some dramatic evidence of recent rockslides. It feels like a trip through another world, travelling on tick-over so as not to start any more rockslides, and conversation is in hushed tones. Drew and I speculate what may lie beyond the trees, and being us, the speculation is of the ghoulish kind.... It LOOMS.. I can think of no other suitable word. Sheer rockfaces on either side, draped with long, liana-tendrils of ivy. Lush ferns spring from cracks in the rocks, and out of a grey mist a bridge towers overhead, a high arch, mostly concealed by trees, vaulting across the gap. It feels like passing the Argonath to go beneath it. The towpath is narrow, and so wet as to have duckweed.

We emerge at Tyrley Wharf slightly dazed, and decide we may as well go down the locks tonight. As Drew goes to open the Top Lock, the heavens open again. Gongoozaling boaters head for cover, and we send Mother below as we start down. At Lock 4, Drew points to some black and yellow tape on the lower gate – the handrail is damaged. 'Think I'll go round!' he says, rather than do his usual nifty hop between the two gates. Then he looks again.

'The notice says “Wasps' Nest On Gate...”' he says, '...try not to hit it, I think!'

Right.

I steer slowly in, and sit at the top end of the lock, just clear of the cill.

He comes back again.

'Another notice. “because of the rock shelf, don't moor in the bottom pound. Set the lock and drive straight from one into the other.”'

Okay... so we go down Lock 4, and I sit in there, wondering about wasps, and hidden underwater rocky shelves, while he goes to set and open the next lock.

After a while I spot the nest – it's about the size of my fist, and in the hollow centre of the steel beam of the right-hand lock gate – when the gate is closed, it will be nice and snug inside the gate.
Right now, it's just about head height.

Drew starts raising the second paddle on the gate below, so I decide it's time for a cautious exit and cross the pound into the bottom lock. The sides of the pound are shallow and shelving,where the whole thing has been cut from the surrounding rock. He goes back to (carefully) close the wasps in for the night, and then we go through the bottom lock. There's a very strong surge of water just below the lock, which has carved out a hollow in the rock wall opposite – probably by flinging narrowboats at it, if our experience is anything to go by!

We moor up at Market Drayton, and I manage to splash hot oil up my arm while cooking dinner – ouch! The domestic battery is also looking iffy, possibly not charging properly....

After a replenishment run in the morning, we set off to do the Adderley Flight, and then moor up at the top of Audlem, ready to do that tomorrow. The shrieking spectre of Betton Cutting fails to show up, and it's another day of greenery and cows. The 240v circuit trips briefly while cooking supper. I think it's the alternator, linked to the panel light that doesn't come on at start and stop engines (my car did something similar.) Drew thinks that isn't logical. We shall see.

Next morning is Audlem Locks and my birthday. The locks are quite fun, apart from the chance of getting ducklings stuck in the locks with the boat – with no wish to make duckling pate, we have to keep shooing them out. We wanted to stop at the 'Shroppie Fly' pub, but the length of the boat plus others' shabby mooring means it's a no-go; if we have one major gripe (apart from people passing moored boats at too fast a speed), it's poor mooring – we often see gaps of 10 ft here and there between boats who have tied up one bollard apart – if they'd tie up with more thought, more boats could get into the short-term moorings. Ah well.

13 locks later, we tie up for a relaxing evening, with all but one of the flight done, and settle down to watch the first of the last Harry Potter movies, until the 240v circuit trips out completely....

We called the boatyard just before we set out, to let them know about the battery, and organised to meet at Hack Green, where the shore party want to visit the (not so secret) Secret Bunker.While we were waiting for the rain to stop, the engineer turned up, and – YES! – it was the alternator. One small connector rusted through and requiring replacement, and all is back to normal, and off they went to see the bunker. (I think I've seen enough bunkers to last a lifetime!)

Now, I am aware that we do come home with some odd souvenirs from time to time, but I think a training version of a geiger counter may be the weirdest one yet....

From a mooring at Hurleston Junction (by the turn onto the Llangollen Canal) we went through familiar waters along the Middlewich Branch. The chandlers at Venetian Marina has (oddly) turned into an antiques shop, but we could still get ice creams, and continue on our way to Middlewich. The exit onto the Trent and Mersey was congested, and followed by a narrow tunnel under a bridge and gongoozaler scrutiny into Kings Lock.


Tomorrow we're hoping to do 'Heartbreak Hill' (aka the Cheshire Locks) so a mooring near Wheelock is planned. The landscape is an odd mixture of rural and brownfield, where demolition rubble waits something to replace it, and an odd works producing great heaps of white powder – world's most obvious cocaine factory?

Sunday is a day of locks, in sunshine,showers and a downright downpour! Most of the locks are doubles, with a second chamber parallel to the first. This doesn't necessarily mean the second chamber is working, of course – one was full of concrete, several had missing gates, and one was a veritable nature reserve with meadowsweet and moorhens.

We set off early, hoping to get moored somewhere by the Harecastle Tunnel, and actually made quite a decent shot of it, with the help of a very keen bloke who whizzed along on his bike ahead of his boat and wife (and son, who rapidly lost enthusiasm for cycling). He was eager to get into the locks once we cleared, so aided with paddles and gates until the rain set in, where we lost him. Hoped to do some shopping around Lock 41, but it being 1615hrs on a Sunday and this being England, for some obscure reason the shops were shut, so we decided to go up and moor nearer the tunnel. The water is murky here – very orange, with iron particles from the water under the hill. As we ventured into the underworld below the various rail and road and foot bridges, we were met by the tunnel keeper – a very nice bloke – who said that for preference, he wouldn't moor up here, and suggested we went back a wee bit by the private moorings. If we were at the tunnel for 0730, he'd get us through with the first batch in the morning.

So we went backwards.

Sort of.

Narrowboats don't really like going backwards for any distance. Combine this with a strong water flow, and deep silt on the bottom, and you have the recipe for an awful lot of swearing from Drew.
And profligate use of the bargepole.

When we reached the tunnel (in time) there was already a boat ahead of us, and several more behind; nice tunnel keeper gave us a full briefing before setting us off into the darkness of the Harecastle Tunnel. It's 2926 yards long, and takes around 45 minutes to traverse...unless you are behind a boat which is zig-zagging, bouncing off the walls, coming to a virtual halt (looked like a group photo session), letting the children drive, dropping to tick over, hitting the 'bollards' in the tunnel, and causing everyone else to slow-speed-slow-stop as we followed. In some parts of the tunnel there isn't a lot of head room, which made things extra-interesting.

Breakfast and coffee was served at the first opportunity once we were back in the light, and an exceptionally helpful birdwatcher gave us directions to the supermarket, so our supply hunter/gatherer was sent off.

This side of the tunnel, we are in 'The Potteries' (Stoke-on-Trent seems to be an amalgam of towns rather than a place unto itself); sadly, much of the industrial heritage seems to have been lost to demolition – plaques mark the sites of famous potteries, and there are a few bottle kilns but seemingly little else. Got a pump-out at the Black Prince yard near Etruria, before heading up the Caldon Canal, which begins with some interesting wiggles and a sudden 2-chamber staircase lock, with huge gates. Planet Lock, which follows, is a mere baby at 3ft 10ins rise. The canal wends through the tended greenery of Hanley Park, beginning in a very urban setting, becoming quite posh with some nice waterside flats, before turning shabby-industrial and finally rural again, and all very winding and narrow.

After lunch, we dealt with the lift bridge, which like the one on the Llangollen, requires the boater to stop traffic. How a solo boater manages we still cannot figure, as you're on the wrong side with no way down to your boat – so having lifted the bridge, how do you get your boat through? Drew did traffic control, and I made a rather nervous pick-up on the far side once he'd lowered the bridge.

Stopped overnight at Milton, for a visit to the Abacus bookshop in the morning. Which is apparently excellent! While we were tied up, we encountered a passing family with a very enthusiastic small boy, who was getting excited over the boats. On seeing us, we heard 'Ooh! What a big boat!' and then, as he looked through the window at Mum, '..and it's got a GRANNY on it!!'

Cue collapse of crew....

The locks on the Caldon are stone rather than brick-lined, and there are a lot of mason's marks on the stones, which I decided to 'collect' as we went. Some stones are intricately worked, with patterned surfaces, yet the spend most of their time underwater. I can't imagine the same happening today. On advice from the bookshop owner, we took the main branch,encountering some annoyances in the form of a lot of insects (Drew took up 'cleg-dancing') and one Important Individual who stole the bottom lock at Hazelhurst, wasting an entire lock-full, despite shouts from other boats....prat!

Past the Churnet Valley Railway, with one engine in steam as we passed, and a forlorn dredger parked in the river where it met the canal, risking getting overturned if the river rose. A gorgeous, sunny evening, and as we couldn't get a mooring at the Holly Bush, pushed on up to the Black Lion at Consall Forge. We can't go much further, as the boat is too big to go through Froghall Tunnel, so we picked our way carefully past weir bridges, railway lines and under the platform to the winding hole by Flint Mill Lock. Moored below the limekilns at Consall, and Drew went to the pub, returning with a carry-out of 'Black Hole', a rather molasses-y dark brew.

Southwards now, despite a small sandbar, and a kingfisher by the Knypersley feeder, and the efforts of the 'Martha Gingers' who dillied and dallied about in front of us, going Very Slowly, wrapping themselves in the foliage (which cleverly meant that we ended up operating the lift bridge again) and then messing up going through the staircase...this combined with a bloke who drove straight into the bottom of the staircase without checking if anyone was queuing to come down... result was an hour on a boring bank waiting, and staring at the backs of terrace houses.

Left out of the Caldon, into the top of the Stoke Flight (a Very Deep Lock). The canal goes under the main Crewe-Stafford railway line, where the metal siding on the bridge has been shaped to allow lock operations, and alongside the A5007 which leads to the M6. Chugging alongside the rush-hour traffic and backed-up lorries is rather odd. Then we were out again into a more rural setting, and a gorgeous blue-sky-and-sunshiney evening, the sunlight through the leaves and long grass, gleaming off the towers of the incinerator....

Next morning it was off through Trentham Lock to moor up for a visit to the Wedgwood Factory, and a selection of trophies – small black bowls, a Turkish coffee cup, a lovely blue-bead bracelet, and a couple of creations, Drew having made a small blue beaker and decorated a flower pot, both of which will be sent on when fired.

More locks through the afternoon, and a mooring close to the pub.

The plan to moor for the last night at a decent pub, followed by a short hop on the last morning came to naught, a combination of shabby mooring, too many boats, and a long queue at Weston Lock following a technical hitch culminating in a total lack of mooring between our overnight stop and the Great Haywood base. We could have gone through to Tixall Wide, but it seemed that everyone else had the same idea, so Drew went down to the boatyard to see if we could get in there.

Which we could.

So we did.

Easier said than done, admittedly, with a lot of traffic at the junction, but thanks to the 'Ezekiel Dane' we got round and moored up for the final time.

Very odd, being in the yard overnight, but at least there wasn't the need for an early start!

136 miles, 135 locks, 8 lift bridges, 2 tunnels....

As usual, a map of our trip is here!

Slow Boat in the City - Part 2

15 July. Sometime today, we will have to turn round, but we’d like to see how far we can get! We’re heading deeper into the urban zone, beginning with Sale, and suburbia starts to blur into one long stretch of canal and back garden, with boats in various states of repair. At Stretford, we come to Waters Meeting – not far from Old Trafford – and a piece of modern sculpture almost hidden from view. Really urban now – towering piles of containers, and wharfsides, the old Pomona Lock, derelict sites and modern apartment blocks.

We make it all the way to Castlefield Junction and Quay, pretty much in the heart of Manchester, under a network of bridges which I find utterly fascinating.

Even here, nature is existing side by side with man – a young heron stalks fish from the canal bank, unconcerned by our passage.

We can’t go any further – from here it’s the Rochdale Canal, which requires negotiation with British Waterways – sounds fascinating though! So we turn round, and head back south, and the inevitable end of the journey. We make it as far as Moorefield Bridge, just beyond the lights of Daresbury


16 July. Another tunnel morning, and fine-timing! After successfully sliding through with few hold-ups, we stop at Anderton again, to take advantage of the shower block, and visit the Lift shop, before heading for Middlewich once more, by way of the Canal Craft shop at broken Cross, where Drew buys a traditionally painted stool.

As we go through Big Lock, we’re helped with the locking by a chap we met over a week ago, who just happens to live nearby. There is a moment of faintly hysterical hilarity as we rise up through the Middlewich Locks to come face to face with what I can only describe as a daisy-chain of dogs…
Back on the Middlewich Branch and the deep Wardle lock proves to be awkward, throwing us against the forward gate despite my best efforts to hold the boat in the middle of the lock; I am reassured by the lady in the lock cottage that this always happens, and just to let the bow sit against the gate. We moor up a short way after, below Bridge 30, and have fish and chips for supper.


17 July. Our last full day of cruising, and we plan to be almost back at the boatyard tonight. Back across the Cheshire plain, with the deep locks, and we find ourselves wishing that we’d found somewhere to do a second pump-out. There is the expected queue at Cholmondeston Lock, and a short visit to the Venetian Marina shop; no chance for the pump out here, we’ll have to make it to the morning! The weather seems to have settled into a routine – clear and sunny mornings, clouding over by mid-day and throwing it down in the afternoon, and today is no exception; it’s coming down in stair rods by the time we moor up for the night back on the Shropshire Union proper at Calveley, and do our packing.

18 July. All that remains is the last couple of miles and the Bunbury Staircase; we moor up at the yard by 9.00 am as required, and then it’s just emptying our gear from boat to car, and final handover stuff in the office (and complementary coffee, which was nice!) End of the journey, all 202 miles, 64 locks, (182 lock gates) and 329 feet and 5 inches up and down again, time to download all the photos, and figure out our next trip!

a couple of collections from the trip....

boat names

boat dogs

and for the interested, a Googlemap of the entire trip is here

Slow Boat in the City - Part 1

12 July. North! At least as far as Barbridge Junction, where we swing onto the Middlewich arm of the Shropshire Union Canal, (a low bridge marks the turn, and it’s a blind corner –lovely!) The locks along here are extremely deep, and can apparently get very busy – they take ages to fill, so the boats back up waiting. There are a couple of big marinas as well, so it gets pretty hectic at weekends. We make our way to Middlewich – a pretty sharp turn with locks involved. By the time we’ve navigated our way through the town, negotiating the masses of moored narrowboats at the yards, and stopped for water, we’re ready to stop for the night. Mooring is just before Big Lock (and it is!) and the conveniently placed Big Lock Pub. Of course we did, and very good it was too.

Big Lock pub, Middlewich

13 July. Now we’re on the Trent and Mersey Canal, and the first task of the day is Big Lock. Fortunately there’s someone else to go through with (it’s one of the double-width ones) and we’re away up towards Manchester. Some interesting features of the canal here are the flashes beside the channel (keep to the marked bit!) where there are the rusting remains of scuttled boats from the fifties. Many have been raised and restored, but some are beyond help.

derelict in Billinge Green Flash

The landscape takes an industrial turn after we go through Broken Cross, the canal passing under the pipes of the ICI works, where an unexpected club mooring makes things interesting.
After passing the Lion Salt Works (seen on the BBC’s ‘Restoration’ programme, we have lunch at Marbury Country Park, before going a little further to moor up at Anderton, where the shore party investigate the Anderton Boat Lift.


14 July. Timing is the thing, heading north from the Anderton lift. There are tunnels, and they are on a timer…first comes Barnton, and then Saltersford – you have a twenty minute slot between the hour and twenty past going north, and then it’s a two hour run to Preston Brook tunnel if you don’t want to wait around. There are no towpaths in the tunnels, and it’s easy to imagine the old boatmen ‘legging’ their way along while their horses went the airy route over the top. Passing the Black Prince boatyard is a bit of a squeeze, too. Just before Preston Brook is Dutton Stop Lock, with a grand fall of six inches…not so much a lock as a water control mechanism, but it seems very strange going through the motions for such a small change in level!

Dutton Stop Lock

Preston Brook Tunnel is impressive, with an almost cathedral-like space below the second airhole from the west; we emerged to find ourselves now on the Bridgewater Canal, and after passing under the M56, we head further north, past Daresbury ( a very modern ‘innovation campus’). The canal is wide, and although Mum’s search for a post office is in vain, the scenery’s not bad. There are no locks, and we chug peacefully along some way above the Manchester Ship canal.

Lymm (above) seems to be almost all marina, with a boat at the bottom of the garden the order of the day. We finally moor up at Little Bollington, on a windy canal bank.

Slow Boat in the Sky - Part 2

Yes, well…before this year’s holiday overtakes us I reckon I’d better finish writing about last year! Where were we?

Oh yes, moored up at Llangollen, listening to Barbara Dickson…

8 July. Next morning saw a shore party heading off into the town to have a look at what was happening – dancing in the streets, and plenty of music. Back on the boat, the sounds of the Eisteddfod drifted across from the festival ground, all the international competitors taking part in the various competitions. The horse-drawn barges clip-clopped past on their way to the waterfalls, and the day was spent just chilling out, and looking at where our boat might take us over the next week or so.

round the town, and the horse-boats

9 July. Another high-in-the-sky day, with the excitement of crossing the aqueducts again. One thing about doing an out-and-back route instead of a circuit is you get a second chance at the photographs… there was the usual throng of boats at Trevor, though fortunately not so many dayboats causing chaos, and we waited to get into convoy across the Pontcysyllte. More tunnels and the Chirk aqueduct, and we were back to locks and an over night stop (and dinner) at the Jack Mytton pub.

on the Ponte (Drew)


between the tunnels.



10 July. The main aim of today was to get a pump-out. (Oh the romance of boating!) We found a helpful boatyard at the Blackwater Marina, and once that was done, took a side-trip up the Ellesmere Arm for some lunch and to replenish the stores. The highlight was Vermeulens’ Delicatessen, which provided a wonderful selection of delights; we’d recommend anyone taking the trip to make appoint of stopping and shopping! Drew made a very elegant three-point turn of the boat up by the new wharf (much to the disappointment of the gongoozalers on the bank) and we headed off again, through the open farmland and mosses to our overnight mooring at Grindley Brook, ready to tackle the staircase in the morning.

Ellesmere and around

11 July. Tonight finds us back at Hurleston Junction, in almost the same place as we spent our first night, planning new explorations. Farewell to the Llangollen Canal. We’ve got almost another week, and we’ve covered the ground (or water) we’d planned to do – so where now? We’ve done the countryside – how about some urban landscapes for a change?

Slow Boat in the Sky - Part 1

First part of the holidays – Bunbury to Llangollen.

It’s holiday time again. After tackling the Broads last year, we figured it was time to go back to the canals. With only three of us, we thought it prudent to try to find a route that wouldn’t have too many locks on it, so the Llangollen canal looked perfect. It also has the added lure of the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, another masterpiece by Thomas Telford. Something we hadn’t thought about, of course, was that every year, at the beginning of July, Llangollen is the site of the Eisteddfod… quite what this would mean in terms of moorings and how busy the canals would be, we would have to see. It always helps to have more than one plan…

4 July: Bunbury to Hurleston Junction. Having picked up the boat (almost identical to the one we had two years ago), the first thing was to turn it round. First find your winding hole… (it’s pronounced ‘wind as in weather’, rather than ‘wind as in wrap up’) At this point, the rain starts. After a few close encounters of the branchy, leafy kind, we manage a several point turn, and head back past the boatyard to Bunbury staircase lock. This is the first one we’ve done that is wide enough for two boats; always an advantage if you can find another boat to accompany you – more people to work the locks! The weather improved, and it’s a short trip today, being late afternoon already, so we chug along down the Shropshire Union canal at between 3 and 4 miles an hour to a overnight stop at Hurleston Junction, just below the first flight of locks on the Llangollen canal.



5 July: Hurleston Junction to Willey Moor Lock. So the first thing we were faced with in the morning was a set of very narrow locks (Drew had been to investigate last night, and reported one boat that tried several times but eventually gave up!) and Mum’s first go at wielding the lock handle. Up we go, because from here it’s climbing all the way to Wales. The canal is fed by the River Dee, so there is quite a strong flow of water, which tends to push the boat around a bit; fortunately it’s a gently meandering route across the Cheshire plain, between herds of cows, who take a vague interest as we pass.



It’s pretty quiet, with a few locks, and the real excitement comes at Wrenbury, where we meet our first lift bridge. These require winding up for the boat to pass, and then one has to retrieve the crew member who must wind the bridge back down to cross and rejoin the boat. Even more exciting is the bridge in the middle of Wrenbury, which carries the main road. First, stop the traffic! It’s controlled by lights, like a level crossing; fortunately it’s also electrically powered. It’s quite a sharp turn round the corner, but I manage it without my usual pinball approach to locks and other narrow things!



There are more lift bridges to follow, though these are hand-wound, and we hopscotch along sharing the work with another boat. Tonight’s mooring is at the pub beside Willey Moor Lock, which also provides a convenient place for dinner and a pint or two.

6 July: Willey Moor Lock to Hindford. We start the day with another interesting set of locks – the Grindley Brook flight and staircase. Fortunately, there is a cheeky lock-keeper to assist and co-ordinate the boats going up and down, and we get through without incident. It’s a pretty place, and I would have taken pictures, but I was a little occupied with boat-handling. We moor up at the top of the locks to water up and have coffee, before heading onward.



There are more lift bridges to come as we pass Whitchurch, and start out across one of the largest lowland raised bogs in Britain, the Fenn’s, Whixall and Bettisfield Mosses National Nature Reserve, and we cross and re-cross the border between England and Wales several times.



As we approach Ellesmere, the weather decides there is not enough water around already, and it begins to pour with rain. Leaving Drew to steer, Mum and I take refuge in the cabin and peer out at the passing greenery.



There’s still plenty of daylight, and after Ellesmere, we pass through more peaceful rural scenery, slowly drying out as the sun comes back. We pass the entrance to the Montgomery Canal at Frankton; we thought about going up there, but it requires booking to pass through the locks at a particular time, and we’re seldom that organised. Add to that a comment from another boater that midge numbers were astronomical in the upper reaches, and we figured it was one to miss. Mooring was at Hindford, not far from the Jack Mytton pub.



7 July: Hindford to Llangollen. Only two locks today, and then there are no more until we meet these coming back. That’s not to say there are no interesting features today! There are lift bridges, tunnels, narrowings, busy boatyards and delinquent dayboats ahead, not to mention two aqueducts…

First there is Chirk Aqueduct.



This has a wide stone cladding, and runs beside the railway bridge, and goes almost immediately into the Chirk Tunnel. We emerge from the dark into a deep cutting, which leads into Whitehouse Tunnel.





Before the Big One – the Pontcysyllte itself – we have to navigate narrows before the village of Froncysyllte, where moored Waterways Board boats make things even tighter. Fron also has a lift bridge, and a lot of folks watching to see the boats go by.



Now comes the hairy bit… unlike the aqueduct at Chirk, Telford’s masterpiece has no stone cladding. The canal crosses the valley in a lead lined iron trough, and it feels a little like we are hanging in the sky. It is, of course, a difficult thing to take photos of. You’re on it, and there are very few ‘long’ views as you approach. It’s an astonishing thing. Eighteen stone piers hold up a thousand feet of waterway, up to 127 feet in the air. You have to cross in convoy, because once you’re on, there’s no going back.





We moor up at Trevor, so Drew can go back and take some more photos, and to look for postcards. While we wait to head up the last, narrow bit of the canal to Llangollen, we watch the antics of the dayboats. They don’t seem to recognised that it takes time to manoeuvre a narrowboat, and they don’t go backwards with any ease or grace; as a consequence there is often a little conflict when the space gets tight. Like going under a bridge on a corner…..



The canal runs halfway up the valley side, with glorious views away across to the Welsh mountains. It’s green and lush, with overhanging trees, and as we approach Llangollen, it gets narrower, with one-way working at some places, where the canal has been cut into the rockface. It’s busy, with a lot of boats strung out along the canalside moorings. There are a couple of places left in the marina, though, so we pay our mooring fee and pass the middle of the town, the slate rooftops below us.



We moor up, not without incident; the boat is heading beautifully towards the pontoon when a sudden gust of wind hits the slab side of it, and shoves us irresistibly into the side of another moored boat. No damage to either, and apologies seem to suffice. The Eisteddfod ground is only a couple of hundred yards away across the canal, and we have dinner listening to Barbara Dickson in concert. A fine evening, and a free gig… I’m not complaining! And it’s my birthday!