14 locks later

Last night was the first of the current hot spell when we suffered badly disturbed sleep. Ironically, part of the problem was noise, not something we expected in peaceful Rode Heath. First off there was the bunch of drunks staggering back to their boat after midnight loudly discussing something or other and trying to sing.

Later on, a fox could be heard prowling around and, probably as a result, a swan started making the most amazing grumbling, growling, honking noise.

We finally managed to drop off again, but were awake well before six. At least that meant an early start in the coolth just before seven, Sheila steering and your correspondent locking. It’s one of those routes where it’s hardly worth the lockwheeler getting back on board at all. I did so briefly between Thurlwood and Pierpoint, taking the chance to start a washload, but otherwise I walked from Pierpoint, through Hassal Green and Malkin’s Bank to Wheelock.

By the time we were in the Wheelock flight boats were coming the other way quite steadily, and I didn’t have to turn any of today’s 14 locks.

Arriving at Wheelock at ten, we had no bother getting a mooring, though there’s now a complete line of boats from the water point to the lock landing. At least everyone seems to have moored as tidily as they can, so that there’s no wasted space.

We’ve had to lurk inside the boat pretty well all day; it’s just too hot outside to be comfortable. During lunch we were further encouraged to do so by an inebriated gentleman sitting on the towpath near the bow, clutching a can of super strength something or other and conducting a long running conversation with himself, at times quite aggressively and at others with a distinctly lachrymose tone.

As he was sitting in the full sun, we kept an eye on him in case he collapsed and needed medical attention, but after a bit he got up and wandered away again.

Tomorrow we’ll sit tight for a day, taking in an Ocado order in the morning. Then on Monday we’ll be off once more, down to and through Middlewich, stopping for diesel and a pump out on the way, probably ending up at Bramble Cuttings.