Zen and the Art of Duck Racing

First a big hello to the mysterious and beautiful stranger at Thurlwood Lock, crew of Cheeky B (I can take a hint ;) ), who reads this blog. It's always good to meet a real reader!

We were just coming to the end of a good morning's boating at the time, and were feeling pretty weary as a result. We'd set off at seven from the Crows Nest mooring, and by just gone eight were making a start up the serious bit of the Cheshire Locks. Known as Heartbreak Hill, though we quite enjoy them it is a case of one darn lock after another for five hours.

We'd toyed with stopping below Thurlwood, but the mooring didn't look very inviting and the rain was holding off, so we carried on to one of our favourite moorings at Rode Heath, just before the Broughton Arms. I scurried off to the shop here, but had to be content with an Observer, all the Indies having gone.

No matter, a change is good for you, and it was something to read as I guzzled a late lunch.

The pub is having a bit of a do for the Bank Holiday, including a duck race. We'd heard of these, but hadn't yet seen one, so it was an education. It all took quite a while, hence the title of this post, but was a good laugh all round and no doubt raised some dosh for charity. I was first made aware that something was going on when Sheila said that the boat two up from us had chucked a pump out hose across the cut. In fact, it was a length of fire hose, and after a bit a boxful of plastic ducks was thrown in in front of it:

On your marks

Now, I'd always assumed that you did duck racing on a river, where the flow will move the competitors along, but in this case, they used mechanical means, in that the fire hose was flapped up and down to create a current of sorts:

Giddyap!

It wasn't wholly successful for quite a while, and large contingents of ducks lurked by the side of the boat or on the opposite bank. We also wondered what would occur if anyone worked either the upstream or downstream lock, since the direction of the race was upstream. There was also the possibility of a boat appearing, when sure enough:

Oh oh...

The crew were persuaded to hang on for a bit whilst the ducks ambled towards the finish line, that is, the bridge hole:

Final furlong

You can just see the equivalent of the chequered flag in the shape of a huge landing net, which duly scooped the winner from the water.

We'd also wondered what the result would be if the local swan family took exception to all this, but they prudently confined themselves to demanding sandwiches with menaces from the spectators.

We've now got a disco in full swing in the pub garden, with a DJ who seems to be channelling Jimmy Savile, but as it's a Sunday we're hoping it won't go on too long into the night.

If the weather proves as stormy as the forecast, we'll use our day in hand to stay here tomorrow, moving on to above Church Locks on Tuesday, and rendezvousing with Peter and Jan at the Bleeding Wolf in Scholar Green on Wednesday lunchtime.