To Burton and back to Branston

27th & 28th March

Yesterday dawned bright and breezy as we made a prompt start with a bit of boating to do. First thing was the run down to the water point, where we started the tank filling and a wash load running whilst I nipped into the village to get a paper.

The tap was running quite slowly, so there was still plenty of time left when I got back, then it was off down Alrewas Lock and onto the river section. The GPS showed us touching a ferocious 5.5 mph as we shot downstream, Sheila leaning on the tiller to bring us round into the side stream that leads past Wychnor moorings.

The wind gave her a bit of a problem whilst waiting for Wychnor Lock to fill, but we were soon away on the plod to Barton Turn Lock, with the A34 roaring beside us. Below the lock we found two refugees in the shape of Montmorency and Wild Orchid, both boats formerly in the habit of spending a lot of time at Alrewas before the imposition of 48 hour mooring there.

As we came out of the lock, Ami Bovard appeared coming the other way, and we had some shouted conversation in best boating style as we crossed. The female half of her crew was in particularly good form on the subject of the Alrewas moorings – she reckons that the whole point of the exercise was to move Montmorency on.

This seems a bit of an odd way to go about it. The relevant Acts give BW the power to surcharge an overstaying boat, and if necessary to cancel its licence and remove it from the water. So why go to all the hassle of installing totems and signs through the village just to move one boat on?

Tatenhill Lock was soon passed, Sheila having to show particular skill in the cross wind to get through the narrow bridge on the way. At Branston, Jambus was struggling to get into the lock, and indeed it wasn't straightforward for us either. Branston Lock is particularly exposed. and the lock landing was downwind.

In the end, I took the short shaft and, standing on the bank, held her bow out whilst Sheila drove Sanity into the lock. It's one situation where you might think a bowthruster would useful, but frankly I doubt if the typical bowthruster would have the power to hold the bow against such a strong wind.

When using the shaft like this, it's important to push against the hull, not the cabin side. I usually rest the end on the top rubbing strake, the one that goes the length of the boat. That way, if it slips, it slips down into the water, and not up onto the shiny paintwork or worse, through a window. The other crucial thing is to keep your centre of gravity over the bank, not the water, so that if something does slip, you don't disappear into the cut.

Arriving at the Morrison's mooring we had lunch, then went shopping. The Bluetooth mouse has been getting a more and more cantankerous of late, sometimes refusing to switch on, or switching off in mid session. It's innards are getting plastic fatigue, I reckon, so we called into Currys to see if we could find a new one.

All the cordless mouses they had were not Bluetooth, but used a receiver plugged into a USB port. I don't see the point of this, as it still blocks a port. Back at the boat, after we'd had a good go round Morrison's, I did some net browsing and found a Macally mouse which was just what we needed.

It was soon ordered, from Qfonic, a store I'd never heard of, but who accepted payment via Google Checkout, so I felt reasonably confident in ordering from them. It's going to be delivered to Elanor's, and hopefully will arrive before we leave the area. That reminds me, must tell Elanor it's coming.

The other main excitement dusing the afternoon was me showering (yes, again). I'd just got settled in to lathering up when I realised there was no raucous buzzing from round my feet, and the water wasn't disappearing down the plughole.

A quick shout to Sheila and she went and checked the distribution board, and soon found that the breaker for the shower pump circuit was a) out and b) wouldn't stay in.

I managed to shower without totally filling the shower tray, then, once dried and dressed, took the pump apart. As I suspected, the impeller had lost one of its little wings, which had then jammed the pump. Fortunately, we had a spare, so I put it in after only a few minutes creative swearing. (Pump impellers are one of those things that either slip in sweetly at the first attempt, or else resist arrest for ages.)

After that, it was a case of refixing the pump to the wall, another source of A-level cussin', and all was well again. After about half an hour of lying on my back with the loo pressed into my kidneys, I felt I needed another shower, but refrained from taking one. One can have too much of a good thing.

Today we had a relaxed start, as we only wanted to run down to Shobnall to see if they would refund our money on the leaking water pump. You can tell Sanity is nearly six years old, the stuff we've had to replace recently. Whoever buys her next year will be getting a boat set up for at least another five years without having to do a thing to her, we'll have replaced it all.

The good folk who run Shobnall made no bones about taking the pump back, though they reckoned it was unusual for a Jabsco to fail like that. I bought the filters and oil for Sanity's next service, so they had some money back from me, and after our usual natter about boaty things, we came back to Sanity.

After a cup of coffee we winded in the mouth of the basin and came back to Branston Water Park. We got here just in nice time for lunch, and plan to stay here tomorrow.

We've been researching local geocaches. There's a whole new series around Fradley, but it looks as if the one here has been muggled. No matter, we'll go and see if we can find it tomorrow morning early before many people are around.