Boating single handed makes you learn fast. From then on I made sure the boat remained against the side of the lock the whole time and if the bow drifted out when I got on, I corrected it by pushing against the lock wall from the stern.
Down the main flight I worked two locks ahead, making sure they were full and a gate opened. Once I entered the second I walked back to close the gates left open when exiting the locks, then prepared the next two ahead. It worked well, progress seemed fast. Fast it wasn’t!
“Have you been going through locks since I last saw you?” a voice called out. I had been. I was the only boat moving all day and no luxury of crew to open and close gates.
The locks around bridges were popular haunts for sightseers and picnickers alike. A mother walked her toddler up to boat. “Look, there’s the lounge, and here’s the dining area. This is the kitchen. Can you see the saucepans? It’s just like a small house. And what do you think is through this window. It’s the bedroom,” she said in an ever rising voice. I became used to
being the centre of attention whilst cycling around the world, and this is no different, but I can see it wearing thin over time. To be honest I didn’t particularly mind, but I wonder what she would have said if I had stuck my nose up against the windows of her house and said, “And this is the lounge. Look, they are all sat around watching the television. It’s just like a large boat.”Lower down the flight the locks became spread out and too far to walk ahead and open gates. I soon decided tying up before the lock was wasting time, so nosed up to the lock entrance, walked the gunwales and tied up with the bow rope, then once the lock was ready I pulled the boat in by hand.
I made it through in six hours and thought it went very well. When I cycled I travelled slowly, deciding walking was too slow for me, yet in six hours I had travelled two miles. Walking is so fast.
I stopped for the weekend in Warwick, basking in the unseasonably hot sunshine. Two miles further on are the boat hirers Kate Boats. From there hirers head out with gay abandon. I am moored on a straight, but was still alarmed by the speed they passed, zig-zagging along the way. I watched as one made for the narrower bridge at full speed. I could see they were off course, in line for a collision with the tow path. At the last second the tiller was pushed hard to the right sending the boat careering for the bridge and the crew scurrying for cover before they became crushed along the side. At no point was the speed ever reduced. It’s madness! If I weren’t a boat owner I would probably find it funny, but it’s only a matter of time before I become a victim. I don’t understand it. Would the same people hire a car if they couldn't drive, then head down a motorway over the speed limit, swerving around without ever taking their foot of the accelerator? No, they wouldn’t. I know they are unlikely to harm anybody, but when they are in control of 20 tonnes of steel, they really should at least try and think about what they are doing. Throughout the afternoon there was a steady flow of Kate Boats.
The following afternoon brought a steady flow of Napton Hireboats. These guys now had a day of experience under their belts (and probably their first collisions) so were slower and much more proficient. As I sat reading in my conservatory I knew they were on their way long before they arrival as the canal would start to flow towards the lock as they filled it.
I wandered around Warwick checking out the castle and some of the old houses. I enquired at the church about ringing. “Yes, they will be ringing tomorrow. They are very good and will be pleased to see you.”
“Ooh! If they are very good they wont be pleased to see me I can assure you.”
“I live nearby, so if I hear a bum note I will know it’s you.”
Are little old ladies wearing blue gowns and crosses around their necks, acting as bouncers on the church doors, allowed to use the word ‘bum’?”
Dodgy areas for mooring are always referred to as ‘bandit country’ by fellow boaters as they warn me where not to stay, but I am quickly learning that swans are the real thugs along the canals. As I sit minding my own business they come up and stick their heads over the side hissing aggressively in that menacing, “Giss a bit of bread,” tone. I was saved by somebody in the apartments opposite when the resounding ‘splat’ of piece of Mothers Pride hit the surface from high above, giving me enough time to lock all the doors and close the windows.
Departing Warwick was a whole new boating experience. Before Warwick I had then canal to myself, the only boat in the Hatton flight. This week however the schools are off and the canal is full of families on boats. All but one of the locks today I shared with other boats, meaning I had a crew by default. Progress is so much quicker when you motor into open locks and motor straight out. Busy canals are not like busy roads, the locks spreads everybody out, so as two boats come out of a lock two go in, there are never boats behind and the next boats coming the other way are a further ten minutes apart. For the first two locks I shared with Martin and Cari who I had seen a number of times before. I stopped to fill my water tank while they stopped at Tesco and we never saw each other again. I teamed up with another couple and we flew along. When the locks were close together we exited and entered the locks side by side so save time.
I stopped the night at Long Itchington, I really didn’t fancy the next flight of ten locks, my crew continued. For me there is no rush, they will still be there tomorrow.
As I prepared the first lock of the day another boat arrived. They were Marian and her daughter Ruth, also new to boating and sharing a lock for the first time. Progress was again swift, though we weren’t as swift as the working boat and butty behind us, they were really fast. Once out the top of the flight we split up, so I let the working boats though at the next flight and they were out of sight before I had left the first lock. Another boat arrived and joined me, a tour boat with lots of eager faces, though useless as a team. All six of them waited for the boat to exit until I pointed out the next lock, just a few yards away, needed setting and the top gates closing.
“The top gates aren’t open are they? Why do people leave them open?” they moaned rather than getting on with the job in hand.
Their minds were elsewhere, “I need a fag!” was the phrase I kept hearing.
No comments:
Post a Comment