Heading up towards the West Mids plateau

19th & 20th July

Yesterday we had only a short run to do, and planned to moor at Hanbury Wharf for the night. Knowing that the shortish length of mooring there might well have been full overnight, we didn't want to get there too soon, so made a relaxed start.

At Tibberton we were surrounded by the bright yellow of Viking Afloat hire boats, some of whom had arrived quite late the night before and had had to make do with very informal moorings indeed. It must be a problem for their hirers, especially those who can't get away from the base until later in the afternoon – Tibberton is the first decent opportunity to stop, as I commented last time, and the slog up out of Worcester must make a bit of a baptism of fire for the first time hirer.

The canal around here is very undermaintained, with substantial reed beds growing on both sides for much of its length. Considering that this is part of one of the more popular cruising routes, the Avon Ring, this seems a bit short-sighted of BW. During the morning I did spot my first water vole of the year swimming along; I wonder if their presence accounts for the reluctance to cut the reed beds back?

I got some photos of the problem (though not, sadly, of Ratty), and I'll try and include one in the next photo gallery. Speaking of which, we are presently in a decent connection area, and planning to stay where we are tomorrow, so don't hold your breath, but I might be able to do something about getting photos published in the next 24 hours.

We got to Hanbury Wharf after an hour and a quarter's boating, just after 10 o'clock. After a cup of coffee, we walked down into Droitwich, admiring the progress that's being made on the restoration of the Junction Canal as we went. After shopping in Waitrose, we slogged back up the hill to Hanbury, taking about half an hour to do so.

Sheila's suffering from a heavy cold at the moment, so our rate of travel was a bit reduced, but even for the fully fit it's quite a climb, on a par with some of the routes back from the shops on the Macclesfield. Those of a weaker constitution would be well advised to take a taxi back to their boat.

Sheila had discovered from a useful website, www.recycle-more.co.uk, that there was a council waste and recycling centre just up the road from our mooring, so after lunch we went round there with our accumulated glass, cans, plastic and cardboard, planning to do a second trip with the waste oil from the last change and the dead starter battery if it didn't prove to be too much of a trek.

It was a bit of a hike along the approach road, but on arrival at the gate we were greeted by two guys in high vis tabards, who informed us that pedestrians were not allowed on site, on health and safety grounds. We expressed surprise (this is an edited account of the exchange) and they so far relented as to let us slip in to dump our stuff.

This is the first time we've been refused entry in this way. OK, you are mixing it with folks driving cars about, but most other such places manage the risk with marked out walking routes and the like, and the hazard can't be any worse than that posed by supermarket car parks, filling stations and other such areas where folks on foot and those in cars have to use the adjacent space.

We didn't go back with the oil and battery, so they are still decorating our well deck. No wonder people take to dumping them wherever they can get away with it.

Today was a sunny morning first thing, and we both woke early and felt like getting some quality boating. We were away by 7.15, and were soon at the foot of the Astwood flight of six locks.

There we had a chat with the lady lockie, who came and recorded our name and number, and pointed out that the last Black Prince boat down had left all the bottom gates open. Our good luck, but not popular with her because of the risk to the levels of any of the pounds where the top gates were leaking.

We'd already noted this boat, as they'd spent the night tied on the lock mooring below the bottom lock.

At the Stoke flight I took over locking to give Sheila a break. She drew the short straw on this in a sense, as the pound between 24 and 25 was very low. We crossed in it with an OwnerShips boat, Rodbaston. As he left 25, I warned him that the pound was down, but this didn't deter him from charging down the centre of the channel, so that his wash pushed Sanity sideways onto the mud, where she stuck fast.

I ran some water down from the pound above, which fortunately was quite full, and Sheila finally got going again with a judicious use of going astern to unstick from the mud, then gently easing forward into the channel.

We got to the Queen's Head mooring between the Stoke and Tardebigge flights at 10.15. There was just one other boat tied there, and we pulled up behind her, thinking that the German Shepherd looking at us from its stern was familiar. It was indeed Ben, and the boat Nackered Navvy.

After we'd tied up, sorted the fenders, stopped the engine and had a natter with Ben, Roger and Susan finally realised we were there, and came out for a chat. At that moment the lockie came down the flight on his powered grass cutter, so the discussion became general, with some advice from him about the state of the flight above.

We weren't planning to go any further, so it didn't affect us, but Sue and Roger were soon on their way. We may well not see them again for some time, as our routes diverge after Kings Norton.

A fellow moorer at Hanbury Wharf had told us of a walking route to a Morrison's supermarket near here, so after coffee I thought I would try and find it to buy a Sunday paper. The directions as I had recalled them were a touch too vague, and the promised ten minutes turned out to be more like half an hour.

As I came back up a steep field, I was able to see that I had been on a long detour. On getting back to the boat, we had a look on the net, and found via Google maps that I had indeed taken the wrong footpath. We think we've worked out what the route should be, so we'll try it tomorrow, and I'll report back next time.

We're going to stop here and celebrate our wedding anniversary tomorrow (it's 37 years since Sheila made the awful mistake), so I should also be able to report on the quality of the food at the Queen's Head next time, as well as how we get on going up the Tardebigge 30.