Heavy locking

Setting off at half seven this morning got us to the foot of Braunston locks at eight. The Bottom Lock shop was open, but didn't yet have bread. We hung on to see if a locking partner would turn up and were rewarded with the appearance of Wegonen Dunnit crewed by Karen and Steven. They've been living on board since October last and were making their first long trip in their new boat, taking her to Crick to be the MCC/Stenson show boat there.

We soon fell into a steady routine and fairly flew up the locks. A couple of boats were just approaching the top as we rose in  the last one, so good timing all round.  Whilst Sheila steered through the tunnel, I got on with domestic chores below. I started a washload running and mixed up a bread kit, sun dried tomato and parmesan, which seemed like a good choice for lunchtime rolls.

Once they were rising in a warmed oven, I did the washing up.

By now we were approaching Norton Junction; Sheila made a neat job of the turn and I popped the rolls in to bake. They were done just as we reached the bottom of Watford. Here too we had good luck with our timing as boats were just starting to work up and the volunteer locky told us to join on behind.

After another good trip up the flight, we've tied in our usual pre Crick spot just beyond Bridge 8. The sheet is drying on the whirligig, we've had a chat with Susan at Braidbar about final arrangements for the show and Sheila is finishing off some below-mushroom drip catchers she's making for fellow Braidbar owner Martin.

Tomorrow, through Crick tunnel, fill up with water and find our mooring for the next few days.

Expect blogs when you see them for that time – the data signals are pretty iffy around the marina.

Into Rugby

Things actually worked out OK today, wow. I just love it when a plan comes together, though any resemblance to the A Team ends right there.

/wahaha

My repeat prescription was indeed waiting for me at the PO. After we'd collected it and whilst buying a traditional media item, we asked about the best place to catch the bus to Rugby (there are two services from Braunston to Rugby now). The assistant on the till said "Ooh, I'm not sure, it depends." Odd, we thought, but she was right. Let me give you the benefit of our experience:

The better service is the 12, not the 10. The 12 is like the old service which goes pretty well straight there, apart from a tour round a housing estate on the Dunchurch side of Rugby. The 10 goes a longer route via some of the local villages.

To catch the 12, either be at the bus shelter opposite the Wheatsheaf just on the hour or, if going straight from a boat tied on the towpath, catch it a minute or so later at the stop on the A45 outside the Boat House pub. There is a choice of stops to get off at in Rugby; if the bus is at all busy it will stop at all of them anyway.

Coming back, the 12 leaves at 13 minutes past the hour from a stand in North Street on the Clocktowers shopping mall side.

We'd got all our shopping done by half eleven and decided to get an early lunch. There's a good choice of eateries and we went for the Gallery Restaurant in the Clocktowers.

Bit of a mistake, frankly. We'd been attracted by the special choice of pork and stuffing bap or chicken and stuffing bap, with chips, salad and a drink. The place had all the ambience of a 60s bus station and when we tried to order, first the stuffing was off, then the pork was all gone.

So we both had a chicken bap without stuffing. The 'bap' was in fact a burger bun apparently made from cotton wool and the chicken was about as tasty. Still, the chips and salad weren't bad, but we won't be going back. McDonald's would have been better.

We did get through in time to get the 12.13, getting off in the village again and raiding the butchers. In a fit of enthusiasm, we walked back to the boat the long way, down to Butchers Bridge and along the towpath, with the result that we were very ready for a long sit down this afternoon.

No matter, that's us sorted – tomorrow, onwards to the Watford flight, and then arriving at Crick on Wednesday, after which this blog will become a bit erratic, I expect.

Oh look it's Braunston again

Yet again we found ourselves chugging along from Hillmorton to Braunston, this time in ideal conditions, warm, calm and sunny. A 7.30 start got us here between ten and half past; as we hoped, there was a space on our favourite stretch between bridges 89 and 90, so that we have the choice of the long walk to the village along the towpath to Butchers Bridge and then the slog up that footpath, or the quick walk up the fields to come out by the church.

We didn't get up Hillmorton quite as quickly as usual, as the pound between the top and middle locks was a good foot down, and I had to creep Sanity Again along, dropping into neutral from time to time whilst we ground over something below us.

I began to think that Sheila was going to have to run some water down from the pound above, but we just made it over the cill and into the lock.

On a more positive note, the collapsing bridges, 79 and 80, now look very much better thanks to the combined efforts of the CRT contractor and WRG. It's a good prognostication for future collaborations, hopefully.

Apart from popping up into the village for bread and stuff, we've been alternately relaxing in the sunshine on the bow and doing a bit of internal boatwork. This latter involved removing two of the mushroom vent covers and four cupboard door knobs which either hadn't been lacquered at all or where the lacquer had worn off.

Sheila blazed away with the Brasso getting them shiny again and I then applied two coats of Incralac to keep them that way.

Tomorrow we'll collect my repeat prescription from the Post Office here, catch a bus into Rugby to get it filled and do a bit of other shopping in the big metropolis.

Short run to Hillmorton and a bit of hard work

…for once, I know. It's a disgrace, our leisurely lifestyle, but we don't care.

/wahaha

First off a big hello to the chap off Saunter Together, who said as he walked past our mooring at around eight "Don't claim a six o'clock start this morning!". It transpired that yesterday he'd noticed our ad for the ebooks in the porthole, looked us up on the web and discovered this blog.

It is good to meet other boaters though my maunderings here.

Not long after we'd chatted to him we set off for our run to the foot of Hillmorton, arriving a bit sooner than we'd planned after just 90 minutes. It didn't matter, there was a load of space before the bend, as usual. CRT are busy extending the piling what's more, so it'll be even easier to get in here this year.

On the way we passed Waiouru at Brownsover and had a brief exchange of hellos with Tom Jones. He reckons they'll be catching us up soon, so we'll finally get a chance to have a chat instead of just exchanging remarks on each others' blogs.

Less good was the apparently injured juvenile swan we saw on the aqueduct over the River Avon. It was writhing around a bit and walking even more awkwardly than swans usually do on dry land. I gave the RSPCA a call to report it.

I've learnt a new word from the World Wide Words website today: Palpebrous. It means having prominent eyebrows, which in turn means me.

We were all sorted and cup of coffee drunk by half ten, so we turned to and washed and rinsed the starboard side of the cabin before lunch. This is one of the last opportunities we'll have to do that as the towpath will be on the other side for most of the rest of the trip.

After lunch we stirred ourselves again and polished what we'd washed as well as the bow flashes and the slide at the stern.

We are now possessed of a strong feeling of achievement.

We're also knackered.

/blur

Fellow Braidbar Owners Derek and Eleanor are heading our way, moving their boat Mi Amigo to Crick where she'll be available to view as they'll be selling her at the end of this month. When they get here we'll give them a hand up the locks; they need to be in Braunston tonight for family reasons.

(later) As I was editing this, they showed up and we did indeed see them up the locks. Mi Amigo's details are on the Braidbar website here.

Newbold Rendezvous

What's the plural of rendezvous?

Yes, I do know, really…

Whilst hanging about waiting for the arranged one with the Ocado delivery van (David in the Courgette, this time) who should turn up having been in the pub for a couple of lunchtime pints, they said, but Ken and Bridget off Waveney. Regular readers will recall that they spent the winter moored on Finch pontoon just up from us on Grebe; we had a happy time (most of an hour) chatting.

This was just as well as David was a bit late, we being his last drop of the day. Nonetheless he was mega helpful, as the Ocado drivers almost always are, and trucked our stuff through the bridge hole and down the towpath to where we were tied.

This made a good finish to a day that had gone largely to plan: a later start then a steady plod through Stretton Stop and All Oaks Wood to tie in Newbold. there's a load of tree felling going on in All Oaks, mostly beech by the looks of it.

There was a good bit of room when we got here at half ten, but it's all filled up as the day went on. It's often busy here, but if you can turn up in decent time there's usually a space – we've never been unable to find somewhere but then we usually arrive before lunch, of course.

As forecast, the weather has turned chilly again; I just hope that yesterday afternoon wasn't all the summer we're getting.

We're indulging in fish and chips tonight, then a really relaxed start tomorrow, as we've only a couple of hours to do to the foot of Hillmorton.

An early finish at Ansty

We slept through the alarm this morning; it's been a long time since that's been possible…

It meant that we were not underway until nearly half six, dear oh dear. It was, however, another glorious morning, cool at first but very sunny. Sheila's been steering today whilst I got on with the cabin jobs, including running yet another washload (we're still catching up after getting well behind whilst on the dock) and keeping the Squirrel lit to finish drying yesterday's batch.

I had just the one lock to work, Sutton's Stop, whilst Sheila gave a master class in working a seventy footer through the 180º turn of the junction. She did have to use reverse once, but then even the old working boaters regarded Sutton's as a challenge in a single motor, being very prepared to run a line to the bollard on the inside of the bend to help the boat round. Ironically, working round with a pair was much easier, as the butty's bow could be used to push the motor's stern round.

Sheila decided that Ansty would be a better mooring than All Oaks Wood/Brinklow for getting the whirligig out, it being so warm and sunny by now. We only just found a mooring, squeezing into a bare 70' length opposite the pub garden. The bridge that gave so much trouble two years ago has still not been reinstated.

It belongs to the pub and I'd have thought that it would be in their interest to put a new footway deck across; the abutments look quite sound. It would make it an easy walk from the visitor moorings to the pub, whereas the route back to the road bridge and into the village a) is much longer and b) goes past another pub.

Heigh ho, I guess if they were going to be sensible about it they'd have kept the original one in good repair, rather than have BW (as it was then) do a compulsory demolition job on it before the span fell into the water.

It's clouded over a bit during the afternoon, but not enough to stop us sitting out on the towpath for quite a bit of the time.

I've even been getting some sun on my lower legs and feet again…

/blur

Tomorrow, a slightly later start at seven, aiming to arrive at Newbold between ten and eleven to maximise our chances of getting a good mooring. We've got an Ocado delivery booked for the two till three slot.

Entertainment last night and a soggy day's boating

As I expected, we had a very good meal at the Samuel Barlow last night, as well as entertainment. This takes a number of forms in that pub: first off there are always a few dogs about, last night including one of those cheeky terriers that comes and stares at you. It looked mostly like a Dandy Dinmont and clearly had a very high opinion of itself.

Next comes the chat from the bar staff who are both friendly and helpful and finally there's always your interview with the chef patron, who seems to have dedicated himself to supporting the popular image of Aussies everywhere.

It was after we'd scoffed our grub (slow roast breast of lamb for Sheila, smoked haddock and cheese fishcake for me) that he emerged from the kitchen for a natter. In the course of this he vouchsafed that:

• They don't serve starters because "this is a pub, not a bloody restaurant"
• He plays golf on a Monday, so they don't open that day, except for Bank Holidays.
• After golf, he goes and gets drunk, so "to be on the safe side, we don't open until four on a Tuesday"
• They don't serve sandwiches, "Because I can't be bothered" (actually he didn't say bothered, but this isn't an 18 rated blog)
• "I go to Portugal to play golf in January, so we don't open at all"
• The dog menu of two kinds of meat is available every day, free, though donations to the RSPCA are encouraged
• Each September (the 14th this year) they make an attempt on the Guinness Book of Records for the most pub meals served to dogs in one day. Last year they served 151 dogs, who each had a meal of roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding.

We got there at six last night and only just got a table – in future we'll book by ringing 01827 898 175.

Despite all that, we still got up at six this morning and were boating by quarter past, using our usual routine of Sheila starting off and me relieving her after I've eaten. The weather wasn't too bad at first, but deteriorated as soon as I'd taken the helm, so that it was really quite unpleasant on the approach to Atherstone, wet and windy.

After that it picked up a bit again. We passed the flotilla of four boats from Strawberry Island Boat Club who'd tied between locks ten and nine. They set off to chase us up the flight, but we soon got ahead and didn't see them again until after we'd tied for the day.

All the locks were with us, so it was just on ten as we cleared the flight. I nipped off to get a paper from the local shop as Sanity Again rose in the top lock, leaving Sheila and the volunteer locky to see her through.

The moorings at Hartshill were deserted, the first time I've ever seen that, I reckon, and we've come on just a bit further to the Anchor, by which time I was feeling cold and weary.

The Squirrel's blazing away now and the sun is managing to peep through; there's some hope of a pleasant day tomorrow, though still quite cool.