Caxton's Travels

Hurray! It’s the first day of this, our third boating holiday of the year. We moved on to the boat on Thursday evening after which we visited Daventry and did some shopping so that we were ready for departure on Friday afternoon. There was the small matter of me going to work of course so after getting up at six o’clock the following morning, I left Sue and went to Coventry. I was back at Braunston for a quarter past one where Sue was waiting with a tasty lunch consisting of fish, new potatoes and some mixed vegetables – delish!

We sat in the boat as it rocked in the wind, the rain came, light at first and then heavy with the strong wind behind it but we couldn’t sit forever so just after two, we untied and attempted to leave our mooring. As luck would have it the wind was blowing in the right direction for us so as Phoenix III nosed out into the marina, nature’s bow thruster worked its magic and pointed us in the direction of the bottom lock. When we reached said lock it was full and needed emptying. Once in it and with the water starting to refill the chamber we saw that another boat had arrived ready to begin the ascent. For reasons best left unsaid we decided that we would rather not work the locks with them and so we tied up between locks one and two and had a cup of coffee. Half an hour and three boats had passed before we untied and resumed our journey. The rain had almost stopped and so we made our way up the hill towards the tunnel. I have run out of ways to describe Braunston tunnel so I will keep it simple this time. We went in following a boat, we passed two oncoming boats, the first of which wanted to keep to the middle of the channel which is impossible in a fourteen feet wide tunnel! Some quick thinking by Sue who went to the front and pushed the bows apart saved the day.

When we left Braunston tunnel we entered a different land, one with blue skies, white fluffy clouds and sunshine. Had we just passed through a tunnel or through a wardrobe into a Narnia like existence? One of our new centre ropes had come undone in the fifth lock so as we made our way to Norton junction I retied both ropes and fixed them securely with a couple of tie-wraps.

We treated ourselves to a drink before we reached Buckby top lock, there was no one else around since the boat that we had been following had turned left at the junction so we were left to drop down through the flight on our own. Most of the seven locks were already in our favour, some even had the gates open but it was still a bit of a slog. The gates are big and heavy and they all leak which probably explains why there were restrictions here during the drought period which by the way included the wettest four months since records began!

We plugged away at our task and by half past seven we were tied up just below the bottom lock and outside Whilton marina. The vessel in front of our mooring? It was our old acquaintances Michael and Geraldine on The Cheese boat. It seemed impolite not to say hello and it would have been downright rude not to buy some of their excellent wares so we visited them and then returned to Phoenix III with three cheeses and a jar of chutney. Cheese, chutney and few crackers made for a nice supper which we relished as we sat and relaxed for the evening.

And that was it really, we had had a good start to our trip, we had found ourselves a nice mooring and although it lay between the M1 motorway and the west coast main line, the constant drone of the traffic soon became a soothing background noise interrupted now and again by the odd Virgin pendolino train.

Another Saturday morning on board Phoenix III, another lazy start for us. Coffee followed tea and then a light breakfast on the back deck before we started the engine and left our mooring. We had already seen a few boats on the move beforehand but once on the move we couldn’t believe how busy the traffic was. We pottered on and eventually reached the last winding hole before Napton bottom lock. There were no mooring spaces left before the winding hole and the only space on the other side was four boat lengths away. Nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say so we turned Phoenix III around and started the long reversing move that would bring us to our next mooring place. We were lucky in the sense that no boats approached us from either direction and the wind which was blowing quite hard didn’t trouble us too much. Maybe we should also give some credit to the R&D slipper stern which really does improve the quality of the swim and maybe I’m getting better at steering.
After tying up we took a walk up to the village shop before returning to the boat but not before we stopped at the Folly Inn for a quick libation. Returning to Phoenix III we sat on the bank before enjoying yet another al fresco meal. After that we sat inside, listened to music, knitted, blogged and had a drink or two, generally mellowing and chilling out on a beautiful August evening.

Only one week to go until our next holiday but with the weather nice and settled, we boarded Phoenix III and set a course for another weekend out on the cut. Straight away we encountered a Black Prince hire boat which for some reason was on the service point in the marina. It caused us no trouble as it shot out on to the Grand Union but the boat travelling from the locks towards the junction had to perform an emergency stop. We watched in disbelief as the episode unfolded and then after waving the shocked boat crew on, followed both vessels as they made their way in a northerly direction. At Braunston turn we lost the boat ahead whose crew saw fit to perform some sort of turning manouevre and that left us with the hire boat which now seemed to want to travel at tickover speed. We didn’t travel far, just an hour from Braunston and we tied up between bridges 99 and 100. Sue prepared a lovely meal which we enjoyed ‘al fresco’ on the deck where we remained until the sun sank a few hours later.

Back in the days when we kept Phoenix III at Hinckley, we very often laughed at the queuing traffic on the A5 as we passed underneath the Lime Kiln bridge. As we enjoyed an unhurried start to our weekend, we would raise a glass to those poor unfortunates crawling along, maybe going home, maybe driving a delivery truck but in any case they were stuck in their world, the world that we had just escaped from. Nowadays we keep our boat at Braunston which means that we have to endure that traffic with the rest of them before we can begin our weekend escapes. This friday was a little worse than most, the M1 being closed near Northampton and the M6 suffering heavy congestion, both conditions forcing traffic on to the trusty old A5.

It was lovely to wake up and see blue skies above us for a change. It was only eight o’clock but we could hear the sound of the boat expanding as the sun warmed the steel, this is the first time this year that we have heard the noises that we would normally associate with summer. The two fishermen who we had seen setting up camp the evening before were just starting to pack up their stuff, it had been a long night for them made worse by the fact that they had caught nothing. We left our mooring just before nine and made our way back to Crick tunnel pulling our raincoats on as we went, the weather hadn’t changed but we knew that we would be in for a drenching as we passed through the tunnel. Crick tunnel is dead straight so it is possible to see the other end as soon as you enter it. Normally it is possible to gauge the distance traveled by comparing the size of the two tunnel mouths but today it was different and it took me some time to figure out why. The sun was shining at the southern end which reflected on the water just inside the end of the tunnel, creating an oval of light which was twice the size of the portal. This gave the illusion of being closer to that end even though we hadn’t reached the half way point. It was still chilly when we emerged from Crick tunnel but it was sunny and dry which was all that mattered. We checked in with the lock keeper at the top of the Watford flight and were delighted to discover that we could start our descent straight away. With the staircase lock mantra ringing in her ears, “red before white, you’ll be alright”, Sue worked us down through the seven chambers. We had been lucky with our timing as there was already a queue forming at the bottom. By then it had just gone ten thirty and another forty five minutes would see us back at Norton junction where we turned sharp right past the small toll house there. We followed another boat into Braunston tunnel and made the slowest progress of all of our subterranean trips that weekend. We met a narrowboat and a cruiser on the way through before we reached the other end. We caught up with the lead boat and joined them for the duration of the descent of the Braunston flight. They had an experienced crew of three and with enough traffic coming up to make the locks easier for all, we cleared the bottom gates at twenty past one. We were back on our berth in the marina by half past, our trip back from Crick had only taken four and a half hours, one less than the outward journey. We did think about washing the boat but grey clouds were beginning to gather and a few spots of rain warned us against getting the cleaning materials out. We had a superb home made cottage pie for lunch before packing up and returning home. Our weekend trip was voted a success by both of us and so all we need to do now is to plan the next trip out.

Unlike living in a house, one can always tell when it is raining in a boat because the raindrops make so much noise. It was raining at five o’clock and at six, the dawn chorus adding to the cocophony of noise in between those hours.A sudden unexplained rustling in the trees wakened us fully just after six but then we slept on until half past seven when it was time for our customary early morning cuppa. It was still raining when we untied and left our mooring just before nine o’clock. It was drizzly, the sort of rain that we know and maybe almost love in Britain. OK, maybe that’s taking it a bit far to say that we love it but maybe it’s fair to say that we don’t mind it since without it we wouldn’t have this green and pleasant land in which we live. We made our way to Watford locks passing Watford gap services on the M1 along the way as well as passing under the west coast main line. Once clear of these noisy distractions we reached the bottom of the lock flight. We pulled up and Sue went off to find the lock keeper. She returned with the news that there was a boat coming down but that we would be able to pass through the bottom lock. She had endured some mickey taking by the lock keepers because she was wearing a yellow sou’ wester, they may have laughed but this gift of a hat is extremely effective at keeping the rain out,thanks to Mark for the gift. Our ascent of the staircase didn’t seem to take too long but it was still raining when we reached the summit and then passed under the motorway. Miraculously, the road noise seemd to disappear immediately once we had passed under the M1. The canal landscape is already rural from the motorway to the southern portal of Crick tunnel. We passed a boat which had just emerged from the darkness and then it was our turn to sacrifice ourselves to the tunnel monster that is the southerly canal entrance to Crick. After we emerged back into the daylight we passed under two bridges and then turned around before mooring just outside the marina. We took a break for an hour before we walked into the village where we discovered that it was the village scarecrow weekend and we saw a few examples of celebrity scarecrows as we made our way into the centre of Crick.

We wandered around the many stalls on the village green and after buying a couple of sandwiches we walked on to the Red Lion where we had a drink before visiting the local Co-op. On the way back we re-visited the village fayre where we bought some cheese before we returned to the boat. We sat on the back deck and enjoyed the afternoon sunshine before resigning ourselves to an evening inside as the rain started to fall again.

It wasn’t a great start to the weekend by any means. We had decided to stop taking any notice of the BBC weather forecast after it became clear that they were incapable of giving anything close to an accurate prediction. However it wasn’t the weather that caused the initial problem but a simple question of logistics. After travelling to Basingstoke during the day I returned to Hinckley where I collected Sue and all of the things that we would need for our weekend trip. We drove to Braunston village where we picked up some provisions at the local shop before making our way to the marina, as we turned off the main road we realised that we had forgotten to bring the keys to the boat so we had little choice but to return home for them, adding another fifty miles to the day’s travelling. It was half past five when we finally got to the boat but it only took us another fifteen minutes to get ourselves organised and leave the marina. It was just after six when we entered the first of the six locks at Braunston. The rain started by the time we were leaving the second lock and by the time we reached the third the rain was torrential, almost tropical given the temperature. We only passed one boat coming down the flight and we were following another so it took us somewhere around ninety minutes to reach the top of the flight. The boat in front of us tied up once it had cleared the top lock so we passed it and made our way to the tunnel mouth. The northern portal of Braunston tunnel yawned and then swallowed Phoenix III for a while before spitting us out at the other end some forty minutes later. It was still raining when we emerged back into the daylight but we carried on undaunted until we reached Norton junction where we turned left as we had done almost two years earlier. We carried on until we passed under bridge 2 where we pulled up and moored for the evening. Sue had lit the fire after we left the tunnel so the interior of the boat was cosy and warm when we stopped and ate a delicious bowl of chicken curry. We settled in our reclining chairs and promptly fell asleep and when we awoke it was nearly midnight so we quickly climbed into bed where we could resume our slumbers.

I’m puzzled, well puzzled and suspicious really. The last weekend in May is tradionally the spring bank holiday and the weather is usually rotten. This year it was a beautiful weekend but by a strange quirk of fate it wasn’t actually a bank holiday. This weekend, the first weekend in June is the bank holiday and it is a two day holiday to celebrate the Queen’s diamond jubilee. Needless to say, the weather has followed the holiday rather than the date and so it has come to pass that we have yet another soggy bank holiday in store.

Regardless of any weather conspiracy theories, today was the beginning of our summer holiday so despite the rain we readied ourselves for an early departure. The sky was grey and the air was damp when we fired up the engine and edged our way out of Braunston marina. We both felt rather glum as we pottered along on our journey north up the Oxford canal. The forecast gave us little to look forward to but we pressed on anyway. This trip is a sort of pilgrimage in a way, it is the route that we planned to take last year and indeed we were taking until we suffered gearbox failure at Peel wharf, Fazeley. So the trip has to be done, we have to lay this particular ghost to rest.
We endured the drizzle which wasn’t a problem and we got a bit wet but nothing serious at all. When we eventually reached Hillmorton we found ourselves third in a queue of boats waiting to descend the locks with another pulling in behind. We made reasonable progress, crossing with a couple of boats on the way up but nothing particularly notable.
Once clear of Hillmorton we started to make good headway through the fine rain which countinued to fall on us.
We encountered a steady stream of boats, many of them hirers but all of them well behaved. The rain gave up after we passed through Rugby and so it was that we carried on towards Stretton Stop the home of Rose Narrowboats. We caught up with an inexperienced crew near All Oaks wood and watched in disbelief as they veered from one side of the canal to the other. We passed them just after we exited the boat yard and then left them behind as we made our way towards Ansty.
The rain dried up completely although we never saw any sunshine as made our way along the Oxford canal before joining the Coventry canal at Hawkesbury. Our only notable encounter was with debris floating in the water as we travelled through Nuneaton but it was a quiet journey otherwise. Just before seven o’clock we found a mooring near Springwood Haven, home of the Valley Cruise hire fleet. We tied up and had our evening meal before retiring for the evening. Our holiday was well underway and we hoped that our progress would continue to be unhindered by the poor weather which was being forecast.

It rained all of last night, heavy rain battering down on the roof of the boat amplified every so often with the addition of big drops falling from the trees overhead. We awoke periodically through the night and still the rain fell heavily.
We decided to just get up and go regardless of the weather so an hour after setting off we reached Atherstone top lock. The first two locks were against us as we followed a Viking hire boat down the flight and at the third we crossed over with a boat whose lockwheeler informed us that the boat behind them had a film crew with them, making a piece for an episode of BBC1’s ‘The One Show’ to be shown in July. At lock 4 we were approached by a crewmember from the boat being filmed who asked us to be patient with them because the filming was delaying their entry to the next lock. Given the inclement weather we were not really interested in hanging around while filming went on. We exited lock 4 and made our way to lock 5 where the film crew stood recording the aforementioned boat as it entered (badly as it happens) the lock chamber. As the boat left the lock we were filmed entering it but whether we make the final edit remains to be seen. After enduring some friendly banter from Sue, one of the film crew declared that it should be she who they should be filming.
After lock 5, the locks of the Atherstone flight spreads out into three pairs of two so we just plodded on down them getting wetter and wetter as we went. We had to fill each one as we were still following the same boat and there were no flight ascenders to ease the passage. Until we reached the last lock, the chamber was empty and although we reached the lock first, we could see a boat approaching from below. Sue opened the bottom gates for the boat which was duly driven in. At this point she realised that the steerer was on his own and although he thanked her for the gatework, he obviously thought that she was going to work the lock for him – nice try captain but no cigar this time! Returning to Phoenix III, Sue left him to his own devices but after a comfort break returned to open the top gate once the lock had filled.
We stopped briefly at the service station ten minutes below the bottom lock before pressing on to Alvecote where we moored for the evening. The rain became heavier than it had been all day during the last hour but it wasn’t too cold so after tying up we got inside and ate dinner.
The weather outlook is poor for the rest of the week but tomorrow should be dry so we intend to press on to Curdworth or thereabouts.

The sun was shining over Alvecote when we awoke this morning, a welcome sight after the previous day’s rain. We weren’t very enthusiastic about the next part of our trip, today’s forecast was reasonable but the following days only promised more rain, not ideal for a trip through Birmingham. After a cup of tea we were up and ready, leaving our mooring opposite the Samuel Barlow pub. We passed the working boat ‘Emu’ which we had seen leave the mooring opposite the previous evening only to return at a quarter to one this morning. Once underway we had an easy passage to the two locks at Glascote, like the Atherstone eleven these too are slow to fill. We were soon through and on our way to Peel’s Wharf just beyond Fazeley junction where we emptied and filled according to the various necessary services. We didn’t need to stay long having topped the water tank up the day before and after winding at the entrance to the wharf we turned right on to the Birmingham and Fazeley canal. We sailed past the point that we had stopped at last year when we discovered that we had gearbox trouble and on to Fazeley Mill marina where we reversed in and filled with diesel for the rest of our trip. With the boat made heavier by eighty litres of fuel and the wallet made lighter by a similar number of ‘sovs’ we moved off and were on our way once more.
In no time at all we reached Curdworth bottom lock, the point where our ill-fated cruise ended last year.

This year we were up and through the lock in a few minutes and therefore on to new waters with Phoenix III. With the exception of a couple of showers, the weather has been kind to us today and the eleven locks of the Curdworth flight seemed almost effortless. We reached the village of Curdworth at about quarter past two and tied up on the visitor moorings there. We travelled the same amount of time as we did the day previously and yet yesterday seemed a much longer affair but that’s the difference between travelling in the rain and travelling in dry weather.
We were heartened to discover that the forecast for Tuesday has improved so we are going to take the Grand Union route straight through Birmingham and aim to stop at Catherine-de-Barnes tomorrow evening. It will be a relatively long day but by the time we stop we will have Stratford-on-Avon firmly in our sights. After we had sorted all of that out we decided to explore the village but unfortunately we didn’t get past the White Horse where Sue dined on Haddock and I had Rump steak. We returned to the boat just after five and relaxed for the rest of the evening.

They say that the early bird catches the worm, well we were certainly early this morning, completing our checks and setting off at 6.30. With an hour before the Minworth locks we took the opportunity to have breakfast on the go. Unlike the other early birds we don’t really like a vermicular diet so we had crumpets instead.
We soon reached the locks and quickly made our way up and through the three chambers. We enjoyed the solitude of our early morning cruise and made good progress to Aston junction where we turned on to the Grand Union. We slowed only to pass a couple of boats moored outside Star City otherwise we continued to make good time on our way to the Garison lock flight. We shared the lockwheeling during our ascent of the five locks before turning left to the bottom of the Camp Hill locks. The approach took us by surprise and with the gusting wind at the junction, it took us a few minutes to get the boat under control. We then discovered that the pounds were short of water and the bottom lock had a paddle that wouldn’t close properly. As usual, determination and boater co-operation saved the day and with the assistance of the boat in front, the first that we had seen on the move, we made our way up the flight. Our progress improved with each lock and at the fourth lock we met Barry who helped us up through the remaining three locks after we removed a fender and rope that we had picked up on the prop. Barry told Sue that he was retired and kept himself fit by travelling to various parts of the Birmingham canals to help boaters up and down the locks.
Once clear of the top lock we headed out of the city in the direction of Solihull. We picked up some more rubbish on the prop but that was our only hinderence, we passed only a few boats on the move and even fewer tied to the bank. There weren’t too many people on the towpath but we still had time to have conversations with a group of cyclists, four youngsters in their early teens and another half a dozen in their late teens. We didn’t experience any trouble at all as we made our way along a route that has a poor and in our opinion undeserved reputation, sometimes referred to as ‘Bandit Country’.
By two o’clock we reached Catherine-de-Barnes where we tied up on the visitor moorings. A walk to the shop followed by an excellent meal in the Boat Inn opposite rounded off the day, the rain came on but we didn’t care since we were warm and dry on board Phoenix III.
It’s true that the Grand Union route through Birmingham isn’t the prettiest of waterways, much of it is lined by trees and the rest of it is industrial in its nature but we have no complaints about our journey through the backwaters of Britains second largest city.

We awoke just after 5am to blue skies and fluffy white clouds so we decided to get up and make the most of the weather. The usual checks and the customary cup of tea first before setting off at ten minutes to six. We had no sooner rounded the first bend on our journey from Catherine-de-Barnes when we encountered a BW barge untied and blocking the canal. Sue moved forward and pushed it to the side with a pole and we were soon on our way again.
It took us an hour to reach the locks at Knowle, the first wide locks of our trip. Before descending we took on water as well as empting the toilet and disposing of our refuse. Sue had already washed all of the laundry while we had travelled so we really needed a lot of fresh water to fill the tank but we were soon on our way again. Our early morning trip had been very rural by comparison to the day before’s journey and now that we were at the top of the locks, the countryside fell away before us to reveal a beautiful view of South Warwickshire.
Our passage through the locks wasn’t an easy one, the south-westerley wind had free reign across the exposed hillside and it made hard work for both of us as we descended. We were glad to see the bottom lock but not so glad to see the Alvechurch hire boat tied on the bottom lock mooring effectively making it impossible to exit the lock and pick up the lock wheeler. The crew, a middle aged couple seemed surprised when Sue knocked on their boat and insisted that they move off the mooring – their defence? There was no sign to say that they couldn’t moor there. Common sense was clearly absent but they moved off but only as far as the water point opposite.
It was just after eight o’clock when we left Knowle locks continuing our cruise on the Grand Union and heading for the junction with the Stratford canal. On paper it looks like a complex affair but in reality it’s a very picturesque area and very soon we were in the first of the eighteen narrow locks that we hoped to pass through during the day. It remained windy and there were the sometimes fierce by-washes to contend with but with a steady stream of boats climbing the hill our progress was relatively quick or at least that’s how it seemed. Eventually we reached Wootton Wawen where we moored temporarily in the basin while we wandered off and found the farm shop near bridge 53. We availed ourselves of a few delicacies before returning to Phoenix III a short time later.
We found our exit from the basin blocked temporarily by a boater replenishing his water supply while sitting in the small aqueduct there.
A short while later, the blue sky which had been our backdrop all day became very black and heavy rain began to fall. We were just approaching the Edstone or Bearley aqueduct at the time and there was already a boat on it coming towards us so I pulled over to the non towpath side. This was the only place to keep the boat under control while the oncoming boat passed by. As I approached the bank I could see that there was a second boat following the first. Standing on the bank it was impossible to see if there were any more boats on the aqueduct so I asked the steerer of the second boat if it was clear behind him. He gave me a blank look so I repeated the question to which he replied, “Not really, I don’t think so”. His vacant look made me think that he still didn’t know what I was asking so I asked him if there was a boat behind him to which he answered, “There was one, but that was around the corner”. I was just about to scream at him something to the effect of, “Will you just turn around and take a bloody look behind you”, when Sue appeared and said that she had looked from the front and the aqueduct was clear. She had been inside preparing dinner and heard my questions and realised that I was getting no joy from the brainless boater. I bet he still has no idea what was going on.
We ended our journey at Wilmcote where we tied up for the night and apart from stopping to remove a sheet of plastic from the prop ten minutes before we reached our destination, the last part of our journey was straightforward and uneventful.
After dinner we took a short walk to the village station to check out the train services and also ended up walking to Mary Arden’s house. Mary Arden was Shakespeare’s mother but there seems to be some confusion over which house she actually lived in. Tomorrow is forecast to be heavy rain all day so if that happens we might take the train somewhere. We are only about five hours from Stratford now so it looks like Friday morning will see us making the final leg of this part of the journey.

Last night we spent the evening just chatting and listening to music until quite late. After two early starts it would have been easy to be tempted into having an early night but that would have just led to another early morning and since the plan was to have a non-boating day it wasn’t what we wanted to do. When we finally awoke properly around eight o’clock we realised that the forecast heavy rain wasn’t happening so we decided to abandon our plan to catch a train to Leamington or Banbury. Instead, we quickly got dressed and started the engine with the intention of getting to Stratford. It was exactly nine o’clock when we left our mooring at Wilmcote with just three and a half miles between us and Stratford and of the course the small matter of sixteen locks to negotiate!
We reached the first of those locks within ten minutes and discovered that like most of the rest it was set against us and the chamber needed to be filled, we were obviously following someone else down the flight. We quickly developed an efficient method of working the locks whereby I drove into the lock and closed the top gate and paddles before opening the bottom paddle. Sue meanwhile prepared the next lock before returning to open the bottom gate of the lock that I was occupying. By the time she had closed the gate and paddle I would be in the ready-prepared lock below and the process would be repeated. We traveled through eleven locks before we met anything coming up but our efficient method of working had meant that we had worked the eleven locks in just over two hours.
The rain still hadn’t come to much by the time we reached the last four locks by which time we had dumped the rubbish, emptied the toilet and topped up the water tank. We used the services at the boatyard recently acquired by the Nuneaton company, Valley Cruises and had a chat to the manager. We mentioned that we had seen the feature on the UK Boating programme and he said that we were the first people that he had met who had actually seen it. As we approached the first lock we were asked to wait while the emerging boat turned so that it could reverse along the cut to its permanent mooring. There were three generations on board but the boat clearly belong to the grandma at the tiller. The wind had whipped up to the extent that I was struggling to hold Phoenix III against the bank but ‘steering grandma’ turned perfectly and proceeded to reverse her boat the four or five hundred yards to her mooring.
We pushed on, quite excited at the prospect of being able to find a mooring in the centre of Stratford. It was probably the anticipation of it all but the last four locks seemed to take longer than expected. Just after one o’clock we emerged under the last bridge and popped out into the basin itself. Sue got off the boat and walked round to find a vacant mooring and returned a few minutes later having identified an empty pontoon. Rather than attempt to turn and reverse into the space in the strong gusting wind, we drove in nose first and tied Phoenix III to the relatively short pontoon. We had no sooner secured the boat when the heavens opened, our timing had been almost perfect again.
We had a celebratory drink to toast our arrival in Stratford before walking the short distance to Barnaby’s fish restaurant for a delicious plate of cod and chips.

We’ve done no boating today, instead we’ve had a wander around the shops of Stratford in the rain. Later in the day we ventured out again and this time found an excellent toyshop called much ado about toys, easily the best shop that we had been in all day. We ventured past the boatyard on the river and bought a bag of coal before returning to the boat where we lit the fire and watched a DVD.

At seven o’clock we saw the ghost tour guy waiting impatiently for some customers to frighten with his stories and by eight o’clock he had managed to gather half a dozen of them before heading off into the fading light of the evening.

At nine o’clock we could hear music and so we headed in the direction of nearby Cox’s yard where found a blues band playing, it was good but a bit loud so we left and since the weather had improved decided to take a walk around the town for an hour before finally returning to the basin and Phoenix III.

I awoke at 4am to hear the same heavy rain that had awoken me at 2am, this time I didn’t get back to sleep. Sue woke up at six so tea followed coffee followed tea as we discussed our travelling plans for the coming days. We eventually decided to leave Stratford after a cooked breakfast which we did just before eleven. High winds didn’t prevent us executing a neat set of maneouvres before leaving Bancroft basin by way of the bridge exit. A couple of minutes later we were starting our ascent out of the Avon valley as we entered the first lock. Along the way, Sue steered through a group of ducks, five drakes and one duck to be precise, the female jumped on to the roof of Phoenix III, clearly unhappy at the attention being paid to her by the five drakes. She remained on board for a hundred yards or so before jumping to the safety of a boat tied to the bank.
Despite the wind and the water gushing from the lock by-washes, we had soon reached the top of the fourth lock and approached the Valley Cruises boatyard. We were unable to stop at the water point but managed to get on to a vacant private mooring that meant we could empty the toilet (in the Elsan of course, not on the private mooring!)
Our next stop was to be just after bridge 63 beyond the next lock, half an hour away. When we reached the water/rubbish disposal point there was already a boat there filling his tank. No problem with this of course but there was another cruddy little boat moored just behind fouling the mooring while he worked on the interior of his vessel. There is only one tap here so we didn’t actually lose any time in waiting but it is so annoying when some boaters show a complete lack of consideration for others using the facilities. Eventually we were able to move into position and top up our tank. As we left, we gave full thrust to our prop and ensured that Mr Selfish got a taste of life on the ocean wave for his behaviour. Beyond this point the locks are quite close together and we shared the lock work as we climbed our way up the hill towards Wilmcote. We only met one boat coming downhill and that was near the bottom of this section. We didn’t see anyone except walkers until we met our next boat but that wasn’t until we were about to leave our last lock of the day, he was of no use to us but at least he would have a fairly easy passage down to the bottom.
We reached Wilmcote at half past three, four and a half hours after we left Stratford, the early morning rain had given way to grey cloud which in turn had given way to blue skies and high white clouds. After mooring close to where we had stopped only two days earlier we took a walk to the village to explore. We found a shop which despite it’s diminutive size seemed to stock everything possible. One of the village pubs was closed but we took time to stop for a drink at the Mary Arden Inn, this being the village where Shakespeare’s mother lived. Afterwards it was back to the boat where we have been able, finally, to sit and eat our evening meal outside on the back deck.

It was good to wake from a deep sleep, uninterrupted by rain. We weren’t in a hurry to set off despite knowing that we had a long day with a lot of locks and all uphill of course. The visitor moorings at Wilmcote are shaded by trees but we could see the blue skies overhead and when we stepped outside, the air felt warm. We left Wilmcote at twenty past nine and started our trip with a forty minute cruise in the sunshine until we reached the first lock of the day. We saw all of the interesting points that we noted on the way down but enjoyed them more in the calmer, drier conditions. We passed over the two aqueducts, large and small and then resisted the temptation to stop at Wootton Wawen for a visit to the farm shop.
At one lock we caught up with an Anglo Welsh boat, crewed by a Welsh couple funnily enough. They knew what they were about but were so slow because the woman didn’t like to cross the lock gates so they were filling the locks on one paddle only. Then there was the difficulty in picking her up from the bank as she would prefer to get on in the lock and leave the top gate open. They told us that they hoped to stop at Lowsonford so we knew that we only had to endure their slow progress for a short while. Two locks up and we saw a couple inflating a canoe which they then lowered into the water just in front of the Anglo Welsh boat. They were going to go up through the lock with the narrowboat, a move which Sue advised them against but they insisted that they had done it before. Anglo Welsh tied up outside the Fluer de Lys pub so we said goodbye and wished them well. They’re heading for Tardebigge so good luck with that!!!
It was another two locks up before we found the canoeists again, they were eating a sandwich and as we approached they grinned and said “We survived!”, obviously feeling triumphant after Sue’s warning. “Yes”, said Sue, “And now you’re blocking the lock mooring. You’re not very good at this, are You?”. Luckily for them they didn’t ask to share with us otherwise they would had a flat refusal and an explanation about how sixteen tons of steel and a blow-up boat don’t mix at the best of times, let alone in a lock with thousands of gallons of fast moving water – health & safety is paramount!
That was our excitement over for the day and after that we made steady progress up to Kingswood junction. There were enough boats coming down the flight to ease the work by either swapping over in the pound or having the locks in our favour. At four o’clock we reached the top where we topped up the water tank and emptied the toilet before making the two turns which took us back on to the Grand Union again. We traveled on to Turner’s Green where we tied up for the evening just before bridge 63 adjacent to the Tom O’ the woods pub.

No Boating today, fire lit watching rain save for a couple of hours having lunch at the Tom O’ The Woods.

And so the day we had been waiting for finally dawned, our descent of the Hatton flight was upon us at last. We left Turner’s Green at a quarter to eight but not until I had fallen off the boat and on to the towpath with a pan full of ashes in my hand. Three injuries although none serious – shins, hands and pride of course. Sadly no video footage to send to ITV for £250 from You’ve been framed.
We made Shrewley tunnel by eight thirty where we saw the unusual tunnel built to the side for horses to pass through, presumably an oversight when the boat tunnel was being built.
We reached Hatton top lock at nine o’clock and after we used the services there we started our descent, twenty minutes later. We could see no other boat in sight and with the first two locks against us, felt that we were in for a difficult morning. After three locks we had the assistance of a volunteer, Eddie, who was litter picking on the towpath. Eddie opened a couple of gates for us once we had prepared the locks ahead. After six locks we realised that we were catching up with another descending boat and by the eighth we joined them for the rest of the journey. The boat was hired from Valley Cruises and was crewed by a couple in their sixties and their nephew who we think was around fifty. Ideally we would have preferred a crew of half a dozen energetic teenagers, if that’s not a contradiction in terms but we had what we had and that was it. Our new companions seemed to bring us luck in that we started to meet some boats coming up the flight which of course helped our progress down the flight. The lady on board stayed on board, only emerging to show off the sweatshirt that she wore emblazoned with the slogan “Tea lady”, a title that she didn’t live up to but that was a good thing because it allowed us to give her some stick the details of which are a bit to much to go in to. It all added to the ambience of the morning and distracted the lock wheelers from noticing the physical demands being made of them.
Just after twelve thirty we exited the bottom chamber where we left our lockmates behind. I had ‘phoned Ian at Saltisford an hour earlier to check that we would be able to moor in the arm for a couple of nights so we carried straight on under the bridge to find our mooring. Although this was by no means the end of our trip it was the end of our travelling on new waters, from here on in we would be on increasingly familiar territory.
It’s only our second time here, the last was almost two years ago but there’s something about the place that personally I just love.
After mooring we showered and then walked into Warwick for a look around. After trying unsuccessfully to buy two coffees in Caffe Nero we walked around the corner and went into the local Weatherspoons where Sue had a coffee and I had a pint of Stella. While we were there, who should walk in but the owner, Tim Martin founder and CEO of the company. Sue engaged in conversation with the main man, who incidentally also drank a pint of Stella, before leaving him to get on with his inspection of the premises.
We made our way back to Saltisford by a circular route of Susan’s choosing where we settled for the evening in front of an open fire. This all sounds very cosy of course but with only nine days until midsummer’s day, having to light a fire is not very good at all.

We had a good sleep last night and didn’t stir until after seven o’clock this morning. The sky was blue with the odd cloud but before we ventured out, Sue did the washing and made us a bacon sandwich while I booked our winter sun holiday. When all of our chores were done we walked to Warwick railway station and caught the train to Leamington Spa. We took a look in the shop at the Pump Room before wandering over to Jephson Park where we had a look in the tropical house before heading up into town.
Looking for a place to have lunch, we stopped at The Lounge which is almost opposite the Town Hall. We were not disappointed, the food was good, the service great and all set in a clean and well decorated room.
We returned to Warwick after a little walk around the shops and then we walked back to Saltisford stopping at the Punchbowl pub and Sainsbury’s.
When we got back we discovered that another boat had tied up alongside us for the night. Sue took in the washing which was dry by then so we poured ourselves a drink and sat on the bank in our camping chairs to enjoy the early evening sunshine.

Another solid night’s sleep for us both followed by a cooked breakfast set us up for our departure from Warwick. We were ready to leave by half past nine and with a bit of assistance from the couple on the boat tied to us, we were off. Chugging past the residential moorings we waved goodbye to Ian the site manager and then left the arm, turning right towards the two Cape locks. After descending into the pound which stretches for around five miles through Warwick and Leamington, we plodded on through the conurbation, stopping only once near bridge 41 to visit the local Co-op. Eventually we reached the first of the locks which would lift us out of the Avon valley and it was here that we encountered some workmen, chest high in the water doing some reinforcement work on the canal bank.

The locks are more spread out than on the Hatton side of the valley but they are just as big and require the same amount of work so it is easy to underestimate the effort required to climb the hill particularly since we were on our own and the wind was gusting quite strongly. We shared the work as morning gave way to afternoon and before we knew it we were in the Bascote staircase lock which would be the last one of the day for us. Once through, we carried on to Long Itchington where we found a mooring just before bridge 25 and only a hundred yards from the Two Boats pub.

After more torrential rain during the night and with more forecast for Saturday we decided to end the holiday by travelling back to Braunston today. There was of course the small matter of the Stockton locks to deal with but we started them at 8.40 and left the top one just ninety minutes later. Not bad going considering that we didn’t meet anyone coming down until we were half way up. The run between Stockton and Braunston is now as familiar to us as the Ashby is around Hinckley.
The wind starting whipping up as we approached the three locks at Calcutt and we had the first heavy shower of the day as we left the top lock.
We had sunshine and showers all the way back to Braunston but it wasn’t too bad at all. The only event of note was a noisy military plane that flew over us between bridges 107 and 108 at a height of no more than a hundred feet.
We were concerned about the return to our berth in the marina with the strength of the wind that was blowing but we needn’t have been worried because our pontoon was completely empty leaving us plenty of space to pull in nose first.
We cleared a few bits and pieces into the car and left for home but we will be back living on board ready for the historic boat show next weekend.
So that was it, we had finally completed the Warwickshire ring with a trip to Stratford thrown in for good measure. The weather was mixed but we still had a good time as we completed our 127 mile, 164 lock trip in just 59 hours.