Midsummer's Day was not a case of flaming June, except in the pejorative sense – the forecast had been for wet weather getting wetter, and that's what we got. We set off around eight, planning to be at the narrows of Pendeford Rockin' by nine. In practice, it took more like an hour and a half. It's not like us to take longer than the Pearson's guide predicts, but there was already sufficient traffic about that blind bridges had to be approached with caution, and there are a number of longish bits of offside mooring to be crept past.
On arrival at the start of the Rockin' we could just see a boat coming towards us, so I hovered for a few minutes whilst he cleared the narrows and then went in. At least we had his assurance that there was no one close behind him.
(A propos of nothing, on Sanity we refer to a boat creeping along in front of you as a snail, and a boat crowding up behind as a porpoise – see the end for an explanation.)
By eleven o'clock we were at Compton, and worked down the lock whilst conversing with Sue Burchett, Nackered Navvy being tied above the lock. The night before the starboard gas cylinder had run out for the second time, so when we stopped at Lime Kiln Chandlery for diesel I asked for a replacement, but they were sold out.
70 litres at 77.9 ppl later we pushed across to the visitor mooring between the lock and the bridge, and went shopping, stopping briefly to chat to Sue again, who was just returning with her load.
We got supplies to see us through to Kinver, where there's a better range of shops, and went back to the boat just in nice time for lunch. In the afternoon, we discovered a problem with mooring at Compton – the phone signals were very poor indeed. I couldn't get online to any useful purpose – the modem would make the connection and then drop it again, and only the Sony Ericsson phone, which is our most sensitive in poor conditions, could get a Vodafone signal.
It was thus a quiet afternoon of reading and writing (but not fainting in coils - sorry that's anticipating the bit at the end).
After dinner we went back up to Nackered Navvy for a couple of drinks and a lot more talk. Sue and Roger are an endless source of entertaining anecdote about previous IWA Nationals, and many other things.
This morning was dry, but very windy. With Sheila clinging grimly to the tiller, we set off for the top of the Bratch, via the two Wightwick Locks, Dimmingsdale, Ebstree and Awbridge. Highlight of the trip was a flock of swallows swooping about the boat below Awbridge, a few of whom perched on an overhanging branch on the offside as we went by, giving us the most amazing close up of them.
Mooring was tricky, and we had a certain amount of debate about whether to stop by the cricket field and risk a ball flying over the hedge, on the bend at the start of the visitor moorings, or on the straight bit with some willow trees directly opposite swaying and shedding chunks of branch over us.
As Sheila was steering, it was her call, and she opted for the trees. This felt a little nerve wracking, so when the boat behind pulled out, we thankfully moved back out of range.
In the afternoon we took a walk down the flight with the camera: here are a few representative frames:
Looking up the flight
Is this a tree? I don't think so - it's a phone mast.
Sanity on the safe(r) mooring
Warning sign at the Cricket Club - why not just put some netting up?("Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail."
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)
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