New waters

New to Sanity Again, anyway... Sheila had a cunning plan which, like many of hers, involved starting early. Actually, we had time to get breakfast before setting out before half seven. Sheila had figured that as it is about an hour from Sutton's to Marston Junction, we'd get there soon enough that no one would be about to see her make the turn onto the Ashby.

It's a tricky one, not unlike Norton in that the canal you are joining runs back towards you, so that the boat has to turn through more like 120 degrees than 90. I had time to get the washing machine going between Charity Dock and the junction, just (it involves adding nine two litre jugs of hot water to avoid the washing machine heater coming on). When we arrived at Marston, CRT were much in evidence working on the towpath edge, with workboats tied on both sides of the opening through the junction bridge.

Despite this audience, Sheila did her usual excellent display of boat handling, I'm pleased to say. It took several reverses to get Sanity Again's bow lined up with the bridge hole and the ex-stop lock narrows beyond, but she did it without touching anything. One of the CRT guys was most impressed and commented on her control.

One up to the women steerers amongst us!

The contrast between the two canals is amazing. One moment you are on the post industrial Coventry and the next it feels completely rural, staying that way for miles and miles. I really don't know why it's been so long since we visited.

Mind you, it is at its best on a fine summer's day like today. The canal winds a good deal, but unlike the Caldon, which was built narrow, the Ashby was intended to be a wide beam canal so the curves are much gentler and the sight lines through the bridges much better. Of course, since the planned junction with the Trent was never achieved, only narrowboats ever used it and the entry is definitely just seven foot wide.

We'd planned to moor at Bridge 15 near the A5, but found a good length of Armco just after Bridge 13 and stopped there. You can just hear the traffic on the M69 in the distance, but it's largely drowned out by the bird song, especially the skylarks.

We took a walk after lunch to try to find the deserted village of Stretton Baskerville* but the footpaths didn't actually reach it. Back at the boat we had some recovery time then turned to and did some sweeping out and mat cleaning. The patent silicon bristled brush we bought at Crick proves to be brilliant at getting the dog hair out of the mats, I'm pleased to say.

As the forecast tomorrow is pretty grim, we'll sit tight and press on into darkest Leicestershire on Sunday.

*Village names are amazing hereabouts; Sheepy Magna anyone?