The Final Countdown

Well I did it, I fitted the new water pump myself, and the boat is still floating. I guess it must have been a success.

Christine came all the way down from Glasgow to join me for a few days, my last chance to benefit from an experienced boater before I set sail alone. We met on the Grand Union Canal on one of my trips roaming the canals, looking for people to talk to, people to learn from before I jumped in with two feet (no, not like Cathy!) During her stay I thought about how our paths came to cross. It could be narrowed down to cycling up a hill in Istanbul, about 3 years ago. Had I been an hour earlier or later that day, we would probably never have met and it’s unlikely I would be living on a boat, for that is where I met Judith and Andre from Germany. We spent three months cycling together, then when

I returned home they came to England for a cycling tour. It was during our tour in the UK and crossing over canals that put the idea into my head. Thinking about it, Christine could probably quote a similar story about how she came to be moored up beside the Grand Union that day. What are the chances? It’s fascinating how paths come to cross, but on the other hand if I hadn’t spoken to Christine, some other poor soul would have been bombarded with questions from some weird guy on a bike, so perhaps is not so fascinating after all!

Anyway, we departed Saturday morning making our way north along the Staffs and Worc Canal. Beyond Wolverley I was treading new water (no, not the way you are thinking Cathy) and onto my first tunnel. Christine was at the tiller and took us through slowly and it was only when I took the boat through a tunnel that I realised how slow the boat goes. The tunnel was narrow, not much wider than a lock and unlike the wider canal, there is nowhere for the water to go, so the boat has to force its way through the water.

The canal at times was very narrow, one bank being sheer rock, red sandstone, a feature of much of the waterway. The day ended with rain, so neither of us were sorry to finally moor

up for the night using the chains to attach us to the metal pilings along the bank.

The morning greeted us with heavy rain. A lie in was called for. It did the trick, by the time we departed the rain had stopped and before long the sun broke through, shining down on us for the rest of the day.

We passed Stourton Junction, described in my book as being ‘in every boaters top 10 list of junctions.’ It stormed into my charts, straight in at No.1, probably helped by being my first junction. Come evening my stove started to play up, bad news as it had dropped to -4 degrees the night before. As I crouched down in front of the thing to Christine’s laughed.

“I have pictures of me doing exactly the same thing,” she told me. “It’s known as praying to the God of Fire.” Hmm, I don’t usually use such strong language when I am praying. May be I should for we got it working again.

After Swindon came a couple of staircase locks before we had to turn around at Wombourne sadly leaving the lovely looking Bratch locks for another day.

Heading back we were racing through the water (no, not literally Cathy,) progress downhill through the locks seemed much quicker. We reached my favourite junction much earlier than expected, so turned off along the Stourbridge Canal, straight into a series of four locks taking us up to 19 for the day. We were working well as a team which may have explained the increase in speed.

We arrived at Wordsley Junction, causing Stourton Junction to tumble from top of the pile to the very bottom, it’s now my least favourite junction.

Our last night was spent at Kinver, a village raved about by boaters and receiving high praise from books and magazines. I took a walk to the centre. It was okay, I couldn’t get excited about it. From there we cruised easily back to Stourport, before long entering familiar territory. Whilst stopped in Kidderminster for lunch a passing cyclist wanted to speak to us,

“I wouldn’t stop here for the night. The estate just over there is really rough, drug addicts live there and they come down to the canal at night, sometimes causing trouble.” I already knew Kiddy had a bad reputation, probably why I have never seen a single boat moored in the town. “A young girl hanged herself from the tree there last week.” I had seen the flowers and when I last passed a group of people were stood there hugging. It’s sad.

Having covered the ground a few times already it made me realise why so few boats go out for day trips. There are only so many times you can chug along the same stretch before it loses it appeal, making the longer trips into the unknown far more desirable.

So thanks to Christine, my learning period is over, the few days out were definitely beneficial to me as I now feel I have the confidence and enough knowledge to venture out alone, in fact I relish it. During the coming week I will leave Stourport for good. I have enjoyed my time here, but it’s time to move on, the adventure is about to start for real. Hopefully the blog will become

more interesting and I will try to update it more often. I can’t wait to tell you all about my disasters, there are bound to be a few.

Chris came over to visit during the week, just for the evening. We paid a visit to the Angel, (no Cathy, not my Guardian Angel.) It has a large room with a pool table which I have never seen anybody in. We changed that by having a few games and jolly good fun it was too. I am sure Chris wont mind me telling you the score was 9-1.

Stourport has come alive this weekend, helped by the excellent weather. Boats are on the move, those moored up are receiving their first visits from their owners since the winter, the streets are busy, people are walking along the river and filling the fairground, it’s taking on a very different feel. It’s all adding to my excitement of making a move. I will be sorry to say goodbye to the friends I have made here, but I am sure I will see them again in August when I return to put the boat in dry dock for blacking the bottom.

I said farewell to my Quaker friends yesterday, I shall miss them. It was the perfect place for me, all the men are called John. It makes life so much easier!

I have added a link for photos should your be interested or just have some time to kill. I'll add a new folder each month.