2 July
We had a quiet night last night, as expected, once the aircraft had stopped zooming in and out of Coningsby. I'd loaded some new books onto the Sony Reader, but otherwise it was a "do not much in the heat" sort of evening.
This morning, I was awake before Sheila, after we'd both had another heat disturbed night, and started trying to read one of the new books. The reader promptly froze, and only restarted after a bit of sulking. I had the same response with one of the other books, so left it until I could seek advice on the MobileRead forum.
I took an hour to run up to Kirkstead Bridge, though the wildlife watching wasn't a patch on yesterday's. We tied here around half ten, and after a restorative glass of squash, I walked the mile into Woodhall Spa for a paper and a loaf of bread.
The main entertainment on the way was the sight of a sign advertising ferrets for sale "for work or pet".
Back at the pontoon, things were enlivened by the arrival of the little steam launch Pod's Puffer. We had a good natter to her crew, who then went off to rendezvous with siblings, having first explained the difference between Tattershall and Kirkstead to them over the phone.
However did we manage before the advent of the mobile phone?
They were not long back from the pub when Copper Dragon turned up again, so we had another good natter with them.
It's still very hot, so not much more to report: the Reader is functioning again, after the deletion of the offending books, but I've not got to the bottom of the problem yet.
Showing posts with label Kirkstead Bridge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kirkstead Bridge. Show all posts
Thursday, 2 July 2009
Friday, 26 June 2009
Up to Fiskerton and down to Kirkstead
25th & 26th June
It was a lazy start yesterday, as we only planned to go to Fiskerton Fen. We had the usual fun at Bardney Lock with its top gates leaking furiously (though we've since found the answer; see below).
At Fiskerton, we found a couple of other boats already there, and indeed there's been rather more traffic on the river in the last couple of days.
A visit to the hide showed that things hadn't changed much on the lake, the only additional bird being a solitary lapwing mooching about. We couldn't stay long in the hide, as a barn swallow had built its nest in the eaves, and was reluctant to come in and feed its young whilst we were there.
Outside, there was a goodly number of LBJs (little brown jobs) but none of them would stay still long enough to be identified.
Back at the pontoon, we were joined by Copper Dragon from Skipton, and its steerer, Big Alf, readily admitted to knowing our friends Roger and Margaret Millin. Indeed, he described taking them to a folk club, so an unusual man in more than one way ;-}}
We'd visited the butcher at Bardney before setting off, so were able to have a chicken leek and sweet corn pie with salad for tea.
These pies are like supermarket pies in the way the wedding vow of an eighteen year old bride standing in front of the altar next to her one true love is like a politician's campaign promise.
(I've been reading Raymond Chandler.)
Today we had another relaxed start on another fine day. Sheila winded Sanity just upstream of the mooring pontoon with little difficulty (though 70' would be trickier), and we pottered back down to Bardney. A friendly boater gave us a hand with the lock, which was much appreciated. It was full, so he opened a gate for us, and then, once Sanity was dropping in the lock, told Sheila that he'd close up for her, thus avoiding the hassle of re-boarding the boat from the high walls below the lock.
It started leaking furiously through the top gates again, whereupon he walked back up to them and flung himself at the balance beam. The gates promptly clicked together and the leak stopped. Another useful lesson learnt.
We'd planned to stop at Southrey, but when we got there, the short pontoon was filled by a narrow boat and a wide boat. Sheila asked the steerer of the narrowboat if we could tie alongside, and he readily agreed.
He described himself as Mad Fred Reed, and for the hour we were there, never stopped talking about his exploits crossing tidal waters in his boat, his legal tussles with BW and the BBC, and the fact that he was disabled by virtue of only having 30% lung capacity.
After giving him a cup of coffee, we frankly couldn't face any more, and decided to go on to Kirkstead Bridge. On the way down, since lunchtime beckoned, we revved up to 1600 rpm for a while, and did 6.3 mph. The engine started to run a tad warm on this, a problem we found on another hot summer on the Great Ouse. It's when the river water is warmed up, it doesn't cool the skin tank quite so well.
Doing the washing up (so as to use some hot water from the calorifier) and easing the throttle back to 1200 allowed things to cool down again.
Here the pontoon was quite busy, but we got in with no trouble: it's filled up since. We've had a walk into Woodhall Spa for shopping, a chat with some folk on a cruiser we met here last time, and are looking forward to a quiet evening.
Tomorrow we'll go on to Tattershall for another rendezvous with the kids.
It was a lazy start yesterday, as we only planned to go to Fiskerton Fen. We had the usual fun at Bardney Lock with its top gates leaking furiously (though we've since found the answer; see below).
At Fiskerton, we found a couple of other boats already there, and indeed there's been rather more traffic on the river in the last couple of days.
A visit to the hide showed that things hadn't changed much on the lake, the only additional bird being a solitary lapwing mooching about. We couldn't stay long in the hide, as a barn swallow had built its nest in the eaves, and was reluctant to come in and feed its young whilst we were there.
Outside, there was a goodly number of LBJs (little brown jobs) but none of them would stay still long enough to be identified.
Back at the pontoon, we were joined by Copper Dragon from Skipton, and its steerer, Big Alf, readily admitted to knowing our friends Roger and Margaret Millin. Indeed, he described taking them to a folk club, so an unusual man in more than one way ;-}}
We'd visited the butcher at Bardney before setting off, so were able to have a chicken leek and sweet corn pie with salad for tea.
These pies are like supermarket pies in the way the wedding vow of an eighteen year old bride standing in front of the altar next to her one true love is like a politician's campaign promise.
(I've been reading Raymond Chandler.)
Today we had another relaxed start on another fine day. Sheila winded Sanity just upstream of the mooring pontoon with little difficulty (though 70' would be trickier), and we pottered back down to Bardney. A friendly boater gave us a hand with the lock, which was much appreciated. It was full, so he opened a gate for us, and then, once Sanity was dropping in the lock, told Sheila that he'd close up for her, thus avoiding the hassle of re-boarding the boat from the high walls below the lock.
It started leaking furiously through the top gates again, whereupon he walked back up to them and flung himself at the balance beam. The gates promptly clicked together and the leak stopped. Another useful lesson learnt.
We'd planned to stop at Southrey, but when we got there, the short pontoon was filled by a narrow boat and a wide boat. Sheila asked the steerer of the narrowboat if we could tie alongside, and he readily agreed.
He described himself as Mad Fred Reed, and for the hour we were there, never stopped talking about his exploits crossing tidal waters in his boat, his legal tussles with BW and the BBC, and the fact that he was disabled by virtue of only having 30% lung capacity.
After giving him a cup of coffee, we frankly couldn't face any more, and decided to go on to Kirkstead Bridge. On the way down, since lunchtime beckoned, we revved up to 1600 rpm for a while, and did 6.3 mph. The engine started to run a tad warm on this, a problem we found on another hot summer on the Great Ouse. It's when the river water is warmed up, it doesn't cool the skin tank quite so well.
Doing the washing up (so as to use some hot water from the calorifier) and easing the throttle back to 1200 allowed things to cool down again.
Here the pontoon was quite busy, but we got in with no trouble: it's filled up since. We've had a walk into Woodhall Spa for shopping, a chat with some folk on a cruiser we met here last time, and are looking forward to a quiet evening.
Tomorrow we'll go on to Tattershall for another rendezvous with the kids.
Labels:
Bardney,
Fiskerton Fen,
Kirkstead Bridge,
Southrey
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Back up the river, and a family cruise
23rd & 24th June
We've spent the day with the offspring on board, so I suspect this is going to be a short one, on account of wanting to go and lie down quietly for a bit.
Yesterday we set off after I'd been to the 24 hour Asda for a paper and bread, and had a brilliant run on a scorching hot day. On the way, the river passes close to RAF Coningsby, which hosts both the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight and two squadrons of Typhoons, the Eurofighter. Some of the latter were being taken round for circuits and bumps, at one point crossing over us at around 100 feet. They are pretty noisy, and look really quite large from underneath.
Arriving at Kirkstead Bridge, we sat about in the heat, reading and trying to find the energy to do much else. Some entertainment was provided by a pair of Great Crested Grebe, who went through a perfunctory courtship display, then built a rather sad version of a floating nest. Then they climbed up on it and consummated their relationship with a lot of squeaking.
How touching we thought. Sadly, this morning the nest was in the possession of an extremely stroppy coot, who was pulling it to pieces. It looks as if the Grebe had failed to apply for planning permission...
For the rest, it just got hotter and hotter. I had an extremely cool shower, and a couple of other boats arrived to share the pontoon, in addition to a short visit at lunch time by Ina Maude, last seen on the Trent, and a cruising companion of theirs. They only stopped long enough for a quick pub lunch and were off again.
This morning we had a chat to one of the cruisers who'd stayed the night, a local moorer from Bardney. He told us that many people are lured into buying into the mobile homes at Tattershall on the weekends, when Coningsby isn't flying, on the basis of how quiet and rural it is.
Then at 0800 hours on the first Monday they are there, here come the Typhoons...
Today we were joined by Graeme, Cathy and the grandkids at ten, and set off for a cruise up to Bardney Bridge. This went very well on another brilliant day. On arrival, we ate lunch, including an excellent quiche made by Cathy (what a daughter in law!). The afternoon ambled by, although a fair amount of exercise was to be had keeping Daniel company on his explorations. It's just amazing how much energy a two year old has.
He's a bright kid, too. Last time he was with us, he was standing on the pontoon next to Sanity when a big river cruiser went by.
"Boat" he said, pointing at it. Then he turned and pointed at Sanity: "Proper boat".
That's my boy.
We've got another ten days or so to potter about here, which will be no hardship. Already we've seen a pair of Pochard on the river between Anton's Gowt and Langrick Bridge, by the trig point on the western bank, and Sheila spotted a Barn Owl hunting the same bank near the 45 K marker.
More puzzling was a family of duck near the 38 K mark. Brown in colour, shading from dark brown below to almost black on the back, and with a white base to the beak. On seeing the boat, the ducklings all dived to hide, whilst mum swam off and left them, presumably as a distraction.
We shall have to try for a photo next time we're down there.
Tomorrow we go on to Fiskerton Fen, before winding and heading in easy stages back to Boston.
We've spent the day with the offspring on board, so I suspect this is going to be a short one, on account of wanting to go and lie down quietly for a bit.
Yesterday we set off after I'd been to the 24 hour Asda for a paper and bread, and had a brilliant run on a scorching hot day. On the way, the river passes close to RAF Coningsby, which hosts both the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight and two squadrons of Typhoons, the Eurofighter. Some of the latter were being taken round for circuits and bumps, at one point crossing over us at around 100 feet. They are pretty noisy, and look really quite large from underneath.
Arriving at Kirkstead Bridge, we sat about in the heat, reading and trying to find the energy to do much else. Some entertainment was provided by a pair of Great Crested Grebe, who went through a perfunctory courtship display, then built a rather sad version of a floating nest. Then they climbed up on it and consummated their relationship with a lot of squeaking.
How touching we thought. Sadly, this morning the nest was in the possession of an extremely stroppy coot, who was pulling it to pieces. It looks as if the Grebe had failed to apply for planning permission...
For the rest, it just got hotter and hotter. I had an extremely cool shower, and a couple of other boats arrived to share the pontoon, in addition to a short visit at lunch time by Ina Maude, last seen on the Trent, and a cruising companion of theirs. They only stopped long enough for a quick pub lunch and were off again.
This morning we had a chat to one of the cruisers who'd stayed the night, a local moorer from Bardney. He told us that many people are lured into buying into the mobile homes at Tattershall on the weekends, when Coningsby isn't flying, on the basis of how quiet and rural it is.
Then at 0800 hours on the first Monday they are there, here come the Typhoons...
Today we were joined by Graeme, Cathy and the grandkids at ten, and set off for a cruise up to Bardney Bridge. This went very well on another brilliant day. On arrival, we ate lunch, including an excellent quiche made by Cathy (what a daughter in law!). The afternoon ambled by, although a fair amount of exercise was to be had keeping Daniel company on his explorations. It's just amazing how much energy a two year old has.
He's a bright kid, too. Last time he was with us, he was standing on the pontoon next to Sanity when a big river cruiser went by.
"Boat" he said, pointing at it. Then he turned and pointed at Sanity: "Proper boat".
That's my boy.
We've got another ten days or so to potter about here, which will be no hardship. Already we've seen a pair of Pochard on the river between Anton's Gowt and Langrick Bridge, by the trig point on the western bank, and Sheila spotted a Barn Owl hunting the same bank near the 45 K marker.
More puzzling was a family of duck near the 38 K mark. Brown in colour, shading from dark brown below to almost black on the back, and with a white base to the beak. On seeing the boat, the ducklings all dived to hide, whilst mum swam off and left them, presumably as a distraction.
We shall have to try for a photo next time we're down there.
Tomorrow we go on to Fiskerton Fen, before winding and heading in easy stages back to Boston.
Labels:
Bardney,
Kirkstead Bridge
Monday, 22 June 2009
A family Sunday, then on to Boston
21st & 22nd June
One other bit of wild life news I missed out from last time: on our approach to Burton Waters, we saw a black swan. Now we've seen these before, particularly on the Great Ouse, but this one was hanging around with a full family of mute swans. Normally the mute cob would drive off any other adult swan which started lurking about the family like that, but in this case there was no hassle at all.
Back to yesterday: after a quick paper and milk shopping trip, we ran back down river to Kirkstead Bridge, having agreed to meet Cathy, Graeme and the grandkids there in the afternoon. On some stretches the water was totally calm without any sign of other boats, fishermen or any other description of river user, and this on a fine Sunday in June.
I took the opportunity to do some speed trials, winding the engine up by 100 rpm at a time and observing the effect on our speed. Normally you can't do this because the comparatively narrow and shallow channel of a canal imposes restrictions long before you've reached the boat's design maxima.
Sanity is, if anything, a touch overpropped, with a 19" x 11" Crowther. It means that the engine doesn't work very hard at any time, and on this occasion, 1500 rpm was the effective top speed. We were doing 6 mph over the ground, with very little flow on the river to help, and the prop was just starting to cavitate.
Discussions about prop performance on canal boats often confuse cavitation with ventilation of the prop. The latter is far commoner, usually because the stern isn't ballasted deeply enough, so that air gets drawn down into the flow into the prop, reducing its efficiency.
That certainly wasn't happening here; the stern was digging down far enough that the fenders were starting to drag in the water.
Cavitation is when the water can't get past the swim fast enough to feed the prop. The pressure in front of the prop falls so low that first air starts forming bubbles of gas, then the water itself starts vapourising. There's a distinctive noise and shuddering, and of course the boat doesn't go any faster for faster prop revs. Having demonstrated these facts to my satisfaction I throttled back to around 1300, at which we were making 5 mph and everything felt comfortable.
There was plenty of room at Kirkstead when we got there, and various other boats came and went during the day. We had an interesting chat with a guy involved in the Sleaford Navigation Trust; he advised us not to attempt the Kyme Eau at this time of year, as it has completely weeded over. Apparently the Trust is thinking of buying a weed cutter boat, so that folk can explore the four miles that's currently open in the summer rather than in the window in April and May between the water levels being reasonable and the weed filling the channel.
The kids duly rolled up just after lunch, and we had an excellent family afternoon in the hot weather. The moorings have a shelf of grass about half way up the flood bank that's been mown, and makes a great place for a picnic.
It was a quiet night last night, and this morning we decided to do the whole run down to Boston. We got away early and Sheila mainly steered. This is a really quiet bit of river. Not possibly to everyone's taste, I admit, being pretty straight with high flood banks on each side, but there's a lot of bird life to observe, and as I said last time, it's just very relaxing to chug steadily along.
The mooring in Boston hasn't improved in four years, with very short and high finger moorings, but there's plenty of room, and you just have to tie using the bowline and centreline reversed in spring fashion, so that the bowline stops the bow from riding up onto the grass bank.
The other thing to mention is that, despite what the signs say, the first night is free. After that it's £6.45 per night, so no big encouragement to hang about. There's an Asda within easy reach, just on the other side of the river from the moorings, and the rest of the town isn't far away either.
We've spent the afternoon wandering round, viewing the Maud Foster Windmill and the like. Tomorrow we'll head back to Kirkstead, for a planned boat trip for the family on Wednesday.
One other bit of wild life news I missed out from last time: on our approach to Burton Waters, we saw a black swan. Now we've seen these before, particularly on the Great Ouse, but this one was hanging around with a full family of mute swans. Normally the mute cob would drive off any other adult swan which started lurking about the family like that, but in this case there was no hassle at all.
Back to yesterday: after a quick paper and milk shopping trip, we ran back down river to Kirkstead Bridge, having agreed to meet Cathy, Graeme and the grandkids there in the afternoon. On some stretches the water was totally calm without any sign of other boats, fishermen or any other description of river user, and this on a fine Sunday in June.
I took the opportunity to do some speed trials, winding the engine up by 100 rpm at a time and observing the effect on our speed. Normally you can't do this because the comparatively narrow and shallow channel of a canal imposes restrictions long before you've reached the boat's design maxima.
Sanity is, if anything, a touch overpropped, with a 19" x 11" Crowther. It means that the engine doesn't work very hard at any time, and on this occasion, 1500 rpm was the effective top speed. We were doing 6 mph over the ground, with very little flow on the river to help, and the prop was just starting to cavitate.
Discussions about prop performance on canal boats often confuse cavitation with ventilation of the prop. The latter is far commoner, usually because the stern isn't ballasted deeply enough, so that air gets drawn down into the flow into the prop, reducing its efficiency.
That certainly wasn't happening here; the stern was digging down far enough that the fenders were starting to drag in the water.
Cavitation is when the water can't get past the swim fast enough to feed the prop. The pressure in front of the prop falls so low that first air starts forming bubbles of gas, then the water itself starts vapourising. There's a distinctive noise and shuddering, and of course the boat doesn't go any faster for faster prop revs. Having demonstrated these facts to my satisfaction I throttled back to around 1300, at which we were making 5 mph and everything felt comfortable.
There was plenty of room at Kirkstead when we got there, and various other boats came and went during the day. We had an interesting chat with a guy involved in the Sleaford Navigation Trust; he advised us not to attempt the Kyme Eau at this time of year, as it has completely weeded over. Apparently the Trust is thinking of buying a weed cutter boat, so that folk can explore the four miles that's currently open in the summer rather than in the window in April and May between the water levels being reasonable and the weed filling the channel.
The kids duly rolled up just after lunch, and we had an excellent family afternoon in the hot weather. The moorings have a shelf of grass about half way up the flood bank that's been mown, and makes a great place for a picnic.
It was a quiet night last night, and this morning we decided to do the whole run down to Boston. We got away early and Sheila mainly steered. This is a really quiet bit of river. Not possibly to everyone's taste, I admit, being pretty straight with high flood banks on each side, but there's a lot of bird life to observe, and as I said last time, it's just very relaxing to chug steadily along.
The mooring in Boston hasn't improved in four years, with very short and high finger moorings, but there's plenty of room, and you just have to tie using the bowline and centreline reversed in spring fashion, so that the bowline stops the bow from riding up onto the grass bank.
The other thing to mention is that, despite what the signs say, the first night is free. After that it's £6.45 per night, so no big encouragement to hang about. There's an Asda within easy reach, just on the other side of the river from the moorings, and the rest of the town isn't far away either.
We've spent the afternoon wandering round, viewing the Maud Foster Windmill and the like. Tomorrow we'll head back to Kirkstead, for a planned boat trip for the family on Wednesday.
Labels:
Boston,
Kirkstead Bridge
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