"Uisce Donn Salach"
is a 'working' title.
for Muddy Brown Water
is a 'working' title.
for Muddy Brown Water
Leaving the chandlery mid-morning on
Sat. Jan.28th 2012, my mobile buzzed.
SWMBO was 'passing through' en-route
from Essex to somewhere oop North and
had pulled in at New Inn to see Pentargon.
I was able to bring herself and her nephew
for a little drive towards Braunston Tunnel
In the event we did not get far due to a contrary breeze and a deadly chill factor.
I might mention that was the only time, to my recollection, that my beloved sailed
on Pentargon, but she did later paint the
interior beautifully and has always supported my escapades.
Back to New Inn for something to chew on.
I refuse to call it a lunch: no surprise they closed down subsequently after animated conversations with HMRC. New Inn was a classic case of mismanagement which could not organise a piss up in a brewery even while having a pub to start with. Onwards by sat-nav to Braunston with two cars to position mine for the next leg. The nice, quiet car-park of the Admiral Nelson was looking good, a secluded pub halfway down the Braunston Flight. Wife took me back to the boat at Norton Junction so I could position it forward towards my new parking spot and it is now almost 2.30pm. I am going into logistic detail here not because it is interesting but because, outside London, a high percentage of boaters who live on their boats, and some who don't, have a support car. Complex navigation incorporating road miles, canal miles and buses is part of the deal. Wife and nephew stayed overnight in an adjacent hostelry rather than barge on to Sheffield. I got the boat through the tunnel before dark, parked it below the top lock, walked to my wagon and drove to their Hotel. We all had dinner and I soaked away the bitter cold in a hot bath before driving back to sleep in the cold dark boat in my ocean gear. Sunday would be the second day of the rest of my new life and I was freezing.
Sat. Jan.28th 2012, my mobile buzzed.
SWMBO was 'passing through' en-route
from Essex to somewhere oop North and
had pulled in at New Inn to see Pentargon.
I was able to bring herself and her nephew
for a little drive towards Braunston Tunnel
In the event we did not get far due to a contrary breeze and a deadly chill factor.
I might mention that was the only time, to my recollection, that my beloved sailed
on Pentargon, but she did later paint the
interior beautifully and has always supported my escapades.
Back to New Inn for something to chew on.
I refuse to call it a lunch: no surprise they closed down subsequently after animated conversations with HMRC. New Inn was a classic case of mismanagement which could not organise a piss up in a brewery even while having a pub to start with. Onwards by sat-nav to Braunston with two cars to position mine for the next leg. The nice, quiet car-park of the Admiral Nelson was looking good, a secluded pub halfway down the Braunston Flight. Wife took me back to the boat at Norton Junction so I could position it forward towards my new parking spot and it is now almost 2.30pm. I am going into logistic detail here not because it is interesting but because, outside London, a high percentage of boaters who live on their boats, and some who don't, have a support car. Complex navigation incorporating road miles, canal miles and buses is part of the deal. Wife and nephew stayed overnight in an adjacent hostelry rather than barge on to Sheffield. I got the boat through the tunnel before dark, parked it below the top lock, walked to my wagon and drove to their Hotel. We all had dinner and I soaked away the bitter cold in a hot bath before driving back to sleep in the cold dark boat in my ocean gear. Sunday would be the second day of the rest of my new life and I was freezing.
An lá arna mhárach
"Covering four miles that first day, including a terrifying 2000yd blunder through Braunston Tunnel, the boat was moored below the top lock overnight. On the morrow's heavily misted dawning, I descended the rest of the Braunston flight to the centre of the canal universe. The arrival went totally unnoticed even by a Muscovy duck. Having tarried awhile fornenst the Stop House, I joined the North Oxford to proceed in the direction of Hillmorton. 2012-01-29 11.55 0519
The departure also went totally unnoticed, unless some finely-tuned ear heard the distinctive sound of a Lister SR2, on the mildest of tick-overs, traversing a deserted village shrouded in mist. That afternoon, after some parking practice, I tied up at the end of the Barby Straight
2012-01-29 11.13 0511
2012-01-30 10.09.06
2012-01-10 12.37 DSCF0408
In the evening of that second day I mused over the enormity of what I had achieved, in an alien environment, during the first two days of what was to become the next twelve years of our futures together. Fifty years of sea-sailing had not prepared me for this.
2012-01-30 10.09.06
2012-01-10 12.37 DSCF0408
2012-01-29 11.13 0511
2012-01-30 10.09.06
2012-01-10 12.37 DSCF0408
In the evening of that second day I mused over the enormity of what I had achieved, in an alien environment, during the first two days of what was to become the next twelve years of our futures together. Fifty years of sea-sailing had not prepared me for this.
2012-01-30 10.09.06
2012-01-10 12.37 DSCF0408
Single handedly, Pentargon had been taken out of a marina, moored overnight and slept in by candlelight and without any heat. On the following evening, the Braunston tunnel had been shot and Pentargon had tied up in the gloom below the top lock. Early on the Sunday morning, the remaining five locks had been had been descended and the Oxford with its funny bridges had been tackled, to moor late that afternoon on the Barby Straight close to Hillmorton. 48hrs after leaving land and entering the cut, the skipper was freezing but ready to meet the people at Grantham Bridge Boat Services the following day and be in and out with a new bottom by the end of the week.
CANAL TIME
The following day, I would be introduced to CANAL TIME ... Hillmorton dry dock would feature prominently in the next four months of my life and the thus-far alien concept of canal time would become the new normal. I would have my exits and my entrances and one boat in its time played many parts ... as did its skipper. Periods when I was in and out of the boatyard and on the adjacent cut contributed positively to the subsequent life and times of the Springer over the next ten years. 2012-03-01 08.19 F0724 Between February and May, CANAL TIME became an inescapable reality I learned to live with as Pentargon put on weight by replacement of the bottom with 6mm plate laid on by a master fabricator 2012-03-31 413 11.24
FINDING A FIX This chapter ties in with "Archimedes" 2012-02-22 12.29 gauging
FINDING A FIX This chapter ties in with "Archimedes" 2012-02-22 12.29 gauging
