Run Aground and a Haunted Cutting

We had set the alarm for 8am, but the dogs thought differently and we were up at 7:15. We had moored in deep countryside, no houses or traffic in sight, so I let the dogs loose out of the boat. However the Labradors all shot straight through the hedge and, looking through, I could see that what had been an empty field now had a herd of cows in the distance. I immediately called the dogs back; Minnie and Posie came right away, but there were some nervous moments while Bridget gazed at these strange beasts like a lioness assessing a herd of wildebeest. Fortunately in the end the lure of a tin of dog food for breakfast proved more powerful than her curiosity about these new creatures.

Girls in the front cabin in the morning

 We set off about half nine, but within the hour we moored on a water point in Market Drayton. We topped up the water, and I walked down into the town to buy a few things. It really is the land that time forgot – apart from the smallish Asda, I don’t suppose there is a building in the high street that wasn’t there before the war. There’s even a pill box overlooking one of the bridges – if the German had tried to invade by canal they would have been sorely disappointed.

After our lock marathon yesterday we only had the five-high flight at Tyrley today. The locks are close together with very short pounds, and at one a notice tells you not to moor in the pound because of a rock shelf, but to set the next lock and sail straight into it. At the fourth lock Loulie met some people, got chatting and forgot to drop the paddles on the lower gates. That meant when she opened the upper paddles the water was running into the top of the lock and straight out the bottom. Happily after a while an old gent who had been watching came over and asked diffidently if we would like him to lower the paddles so that the lock would fill.

Tyrley Locks

 Eventually, having figured out the modern technology, we reached the top of the flight and set out on a long flat stretch - we would not encounter another lock until tomorrow. However all was still not plain sailing, mostly because of the wide shallow shelf which protrudes several feet out from the towpath side along most of this canal. I put Loulie ashore with the dogs for a walk, and a little later moored again to pick them up. However I became stuck on the shelf and could not get off – even if you angle the bows right out, you have the stern stuck in the shallows, and the propeller just sucks you sideways back into the shore – it’s called the bank effect. The answer is to pull the bows back in, and then use reverse gear to pull yourself out and off. I should have known that, but I was stuck in a mindset which said a bit more power would push us off, and it took someone shouting from another boat to give me a pointer.

This whole stretch of canal was built by Thomas Telford in about 1830, and it has a series of high embankments, and narrow cuttings blasted through solid rock. The cuttings are very odd with high rock sides, lots of vegetation in the damp conditions, and occasionally a strange high bridge taking a lane across high above. Many of the cuttings are reputedly haunted, and I wouldn’t fancy walking through one at night. This canal was shockingly new to the Shropshire of pre-Victorian times and it changed their world as much as the internet has changed ours. The roads were hopeless, so all goods in and out came by canal, before the advent of the railways and even after. We passed the site of a factory built by Cadburys to gather milk by canal from all the farmers around and turn it into chocolate. The last boatload left there for Bournville in 1961.

Views from the deepest of the cuttings - Woodselves

After our experiences with the shelving banks we decided to find a proper public mooring for tonight. On these you have clean vertical banks and mooring rings or bollards. In the end we stopped at Gnosall, a couple of miles short of our target, but looking ahead on the map there were no more public moorings for a very long way. We were very pleased with the spot in the end – we are in a bit of a cutting a little out of the village, under a canopy of trees high above, which we can see through our glass roof (brag brag). Even better we have a good mobile signal, so I will be able to post yesterday’s blog as well as this one. I think this is because we have crossed into Staffordshire – clearly Shropshire was so traumatised by the coming of the canals that they have resisted every advance ever since.

The view upwards from the saloon tonight

The wine cellar

Today: 8 hours. 15.9 miles. 5 locks.

Voyage: 15.5 hours. 25.9 miles. 27 locks.