Look before you leap

After our epic dash yesterday we had earned ourselves a leisurely start today, with not too far to go to reach home. Even the dogs seemed to realise this, and for the first time ever we were woken by the alarm at 7:45. It was another lovely day, and after breakfast we took the dogs for a walk down to the Bollin, where as usual Bridget chased at least 20 sticks (actually the same stick 20 times) into the fast flowing water. It doesn’t bother her at all, she seems to be excited by the moving water. The other Labradors got thoroughly wet too, and even Ruby toddled down the steep paths and back up again with no complaints.

Mooring at the Bollin Aqueduct again

We got under way at about 11:15, but within a mile we came to the Old Number 3 moorings, and the water point was free, so we decided to stop and fill the tank. There is a small group of about half a dozen boats there, and while we were filling up a supply boat arrived. This sails up and down the Bridgewater, providing coal, Calor gas and diesel – they have a little pump on the deck.

Workboat near the Old No 3

Soddum Hall

Water point at the Old No 3

When we had finished I took Loulie and the dogs across to the towpath side, and they got off for a walk. As I was slowly following them, the bow thruster suddenly started running, without me operating the controls. It kept running, with a loud howl, and it was forcing the bows to port across the canal. I reversed to bring the stern to the other bank, but we were now right across the canal with the bows up against a moored boat on the other side. I hurried along the side deck to the bows, opened the hatch to the thruster compartment, and turned the isolator switch. Fortunately I knew where this is – it is really for use when you are working on the motor, to isolate it and avoid any risk of shocks, but it came in handy to kill the motor in an emergency. Once I got the boat back in line and on the towpath side I had a look for any obvious faults but I could see nothing, and closing the isolator led to the motor starting up madly once more, so I left it off. The control panel on the poop rail shows that the motor is off, so I suspect now some fault at that end of the circuit.

Walking the dogs

Meeting a Jack Russell

Hesford Marine uses a beached boat as an office

At Oughtrington there is a bizarre collection of canal-side paraphernalia

I collected the girls and we went on into Lymm, where we moored for lunch, which I bought from a local bakery, hot sausage rolls and pies, very nice. After that we sailed on, under bright sunshine and with no wind, a great contrast to the gales and pouring rain we suffered going the other way last week.

At Thelwall we caught up with the supply boat again

Each time we pass Thelwall this cruiser has sunk a little further

We decided that Loulie would take the dogs back to the house up Keckwick Lane, so we could unload at the marina in peace. So I came in to the bank opposite the Daresbury labs, just under the bridge. However I was a little too impatient, and instead of reversing fully into the bank I jumped across the gap with the rope, to pull us in. However, rather like Loulie on the Home Run, my foot landed on a grass overhang, and slipped off. I might have got away with a wet foot if I had let go of the rope and used both hands, but I was determined to hold on and I slipped in entirely. Still holding the rope I swam a few strokes to catch up with the boat, which now stopped, bows to the bank, and then went to the bank and stood up in the water. The Bridgewater, unlike the Shropshire Union, has deep vertical banks, and I was about chest deep, and the towpath was at head height. I had a bit of a struggle to clamber out, because of the weight of water in my clothes and especially my shoes.

I still had the rope in my hand, so I pulled the boat in to the bank, as a large pool of water grew around my feet. Loulie was still on the stern deck with the dogs – she was trying not to laugh, they were wondering why Daddy was allowed to go for a swim while they had to stay dry. We now reverted to Plan A, she took the dogs home while I had a shower in the boat and a complete change of clothes. I then sailed down to the marina, where ironically I made a perfect entrance and moored on the dock with precision. I have been getting more confident with the navigation and manoeuvring during this holiday, and losing the bow thruster is not a problem, certainly when it’s calm. But I need to make the boat do more of the work, and not make up for a sloppy approach by jumping off and using physical force to pull her in.

So our journey to the deep North is over, and it’s been fun, and also an education. I doubt we will go down the Rufford branch until we are ready to cross the Ribble, but we certainly want to do the Liverpool Docks journey – we met several people who had done it and told us it was brilliant. The mooring near Gathurst was excellent, a lovely spot with an Indian takeaway in walking distance. We still need to find somewhere amenable to moor on the Leigh branch, otherwise we have to make the long dash through Manchester and Wigan on a single day. And we have also learned that there’s no diesel in Wigan, and that we should fill up whenever we get the chance.

Today: 5.5 hours. 13.3 miles. 0 locks. 0 bridges.

Voyage: 53.7 hours. 121.7 miles. 30 locks. 26 bridges.

Running the Gauntlet

Having the dogs with us constrains the places we like to moor – specifically towns and cities where we can’t let them out of the boat without their leads. This means both Wigan and Manchester are big no-go areas. In addition we don’t really enjoy mooring anywhere on the Leigh branch, either of the Bridgewater or of the L&L. The banks are very high and steep, and in general it doesn’t feel friendly. So we were reluctant to make a short trip through Wigan and then stop very early. On the other hand we couldn’t just do a normal run, as that would mean mooring somewhere in Stretford or Sale. So we decided to try for the double jump, and see if we could blitz through both conurbations and get out into the country beyond Sale. That would also give us an easy trip home tomorrow.

It was a beautiful clear day, and in late October that meant a frost, with ice on the woodwork of the stern, and mist rising from the canal as we set off, a beautiful sight. We made a good start, getting up the first two locks with no problems, and as we approached the third, after Wigan Pier, a C&RT workman, who was doing some maintenance on the lock, waved us in and worked the whole thing so Loulie didn’t even have to get off.

We did the final lock upwards in Wigan, and then came to the junction and turned down the Leigh branch. Now we were going downhill, and after dropping through the first lock with no trouble, we came to the final one and found a widebeam just going in ahead of us. Although it is a double width lock it can’t take anything else alongside a widebeam, so we had to wait. Loulie took all four dogs and walked on ahead, while I waited for them to finish, and then worked Eileen down on my own. It’s the first dock I have done solo, and it is fine as long as you take care and think things through, but there’s no doubt it takes longer.

I then set off in hot pursuit, and picked up the landing party after a couple of miles. We were going as fast as we dared, and we caught up with the widebeam at Planks Lane lift bridge, where they were about to go through. As the wife was working the bridge and he would have to pick her up after closing it we asked if they minded if we passed by and headed on, as we were in a hurry.

Now there were no more locks or bridges ahead of us, and virtually no traffic, so it was just a question of keeping our speed as high as we could. The canal on this branch has high, concrete or metal sides, so the usual concern about creating a wash and damaging earth banks does not apply. The main cause of delay was moored boats, where we had to slow down, of course. At first, looking at our Pearson’s Canal Guide it seemed we had far too much to do, based on his time estimates for each page of the route. However it turned out that he had been far too generous with his estimates and we were taking much less time than forecast, so we could still just make it if we hurried.

We came through Leigh, then through the open countryside until we reached Worsley, Barton and Trafford Park. We arrived at Watersmeet a little before five, and now we were confident that we would at least reach the countryside, if not our preferred spot by the Bollin Aqueduct. Sale is long straight and boring, and the Sale Cruising Club occupies a large percentage of the bank, obliging us to slow down often. Eventually we got through and out into the open as the sun slipped below the horizon.

We still had about twenty minutes to go, but we resolved to reach the Bollin, and the twilight was OK for navigation, especially as there were no other boats. Still, we had the headlight on by the time we reached our mooring point, and tied up. It was about 6:40, and we had covered 28.9 miles, easily our best for a single day. Scrambled eggs and bacon, both from Yates Greer, rounded off a tough but fun day.

Today: 9.7 hours. 28.9 miles. 6 locks. 1 bridge.

Voyage: 48.2 hours. 108.4 miles. 30 locks. 26 bridges.

No fuel like an old fuel

Our plan today was to refuel in Wigan, and then press on to somewhere on the Leigh branch for the night. However when we started to search for places to buy diesel, it became clear that there was nowhere on our route, all the way onto the Bridgewater and down past Leigh. So we would not get a refill today. The gauge was on the top of the red, and we thought that we would probably not run out before we got to a diesel point on Thursday. But only probably – until we actually run out we will notknow exactly where zero is, and we have already noticed that when we fill the tank the gauge only shows ¾, so we are not wholly trusting. We would be nervous all the way to getting refilled, and we would also be reluctant to run the engine to give us power at night. Without the alternator the lights would get steadily dimmer, and the heating would cut out. So in the end we decided to go back to Burscough, a couple of miles behind us, where the map said we would find diesel.

Views of Parbold

One of the things you discover on a canal is that the direction you are pointing matter hugely. The boat is longer than the canal is wide almost everywhere, so we couldn’t just swing round and motor back to Burscough. First we had to go forward a couple of miles to Parbold, where there is a winding hole. I did try in a couple of places where the canal looked wider, but as soon as you start to swing the boat around you realise that you have no chance. After turning in Parbold we came back on our tracks, reaching our overnight spot after about an hour. We went on into Burscough (through two swing bridges) and past the end of the Rufford Branch. We passed a huge old building, a mill of some sort, which has been renovated and turned into apartments – it looked very good. In the centre of the town we came to Burscough Canal Services, a very small business which could, however, sell us diesel. They don’t have a pump, though, they would have to pour it out of plastic 20 litre containers. And could we wait while he went to buy a funnel, as he had mislaid his?

Ainscough Mill

Burscough Bridge

Burscough Canal Services

I walked to Tesco to do our shopping while we waited, and when I got back he had started filling. It took 100 litres, and we had a good chat with the man while he was doing it. He is semi-retired and works for this business, which has two working boats which go up and down the canal with diesel, Calor gas and coal to supply boaters, especially liveaboards.

After we left him we were, of course, pointing the wrong way. The first winding hole was a couple of miles away, through two more swing bridges. Loulie took the dogs off to walk down and work the bridges, then they waited while I went a bit further, turned and came back to pick them up.

Now we were heading towards Wigan, but it was several miles and more bridges before we finally arrived where we had begun this morning, about five hours earlier. We continued through Parbold, and came to the first lock of the day, a deep 12-footer at Appley Bridge. We worked through that, and then the final swing bridge. Here Loulie got off again with the dogs, and I went on ahead, eventually reaching Dean Lock, under the shadow of the M6. I worked this mostly on my own, though another boat coming down arrived as I was filling the lock, and helped with some of the final bits.

The Douglas Valley

The others arrived as we were finishing, and we went on, though not very far, just through the village of Gathurst and half a mile beyond, where we found a very nice mooring in the trees and alongside the Douglas River, another paradise for the dogs. I walked back and explored Gathurst, which I have seen hundreds of times from the M6, and I found there was a nice-looking Indian restaurant beside the bridge – it used to be the Navigation public house. We ordered a takeaway and I walked back to collect it – very nice.

Wednesday Night's Mooring

An oak on the bank opposite.

Exhausted

Today: 7 hours. 15.6 miles. 2 locks. 9 bridges.

Voyage: 38.5 hours. 79.5 miles. 24 locks. 25 bridges.

Tough Locks, Spaniel Peril and Late Night Sailing

The dogs were a little earlier today, just after seven, but we had our usual leisurely start and did not get under way until after ten. The first task was the bridge beside which we had moored and then we headed north towards the end of the branch. At the next bridge, which also had the remains of an old lock, the nature of the canal changed. Apparently from this point on it follows the old course of the River Douglas – though the river itself still runs in its in its new course just to the east. The canal looks just like a river here, winding about between rushy banks, with no towpath at all.

Our mooring beside swing bridge 9

The canal near Tarleton looking more like a river.

After a couple of miles of this we came into Tarleton, the end of the line. We moored just short of a boatyard there, and walked with the dogs down to the end where a major lock gives access to the tidal Douglas, and thence to the Ribble. The engineering is on a much larger scale than the inland waterways locks we are used to, and it should be a dramatic trip when we finally make the crossing to the Lancaster Canal. Several of the craft moored around the end of the canal are clearly seagoing craft, yachts and small old-fashioned motor boats.

The final swing bridge just outside Tarleton.

Tarleton Lock, down into the tidal River Douglas and then to the Ribble.

There was no obvious winding hole, and I tried swinging the boat around where we were moored, but it was just too long. Happily a chap from another boat came along and told me there was a wider spot a little further down towards the end, so I motored down there and turned carefully. There was not much to spare, about six feet, and you certainly could not turn a 70’ boat there. But we were OK, and we set off back the way we had come.

Sheep watching us turn at Tarleton.

Some odd - and very tame - geese we encountered at a swing bridge

After we had passed last night's mooring Loulie took the dogs off for a walk, and I moored at a C&RT service area. This is unmanned, but your C&RT key allows access to a water point and rubbish skips, as well as toilets and showers. There is also a pump-out station, for which you need a prepaid card - fortunately we had bought one on our Home Run in August, so I went ahead and did my first solo pump-out, which actually went very well. We weren't anything close to full, but we were going to have to get it done some time on the voyage, so it was an opportune moment.

Our original plan was to go down the main line towards Liverpool for a bit, before turning for home, but as we worked our way up the Rufford locks it became clear that we would be struggling to get on to the main line at all, before dark. As we found yesterday the locks are very heavy, and all the padlocks and handcuff locks mean that you can waste ten minutes easily just opening and closing these security devices at each lock. We were also held up a bit when a man came to ask us if he could borrow our boathook to fish out a spaniel which had got into a sluice channel which runs around the lock, and couldn’t get out. He was just a passer-by himself, helping the two women who owned the spaniel. I went to look, and the dog was not in danger of drowning – the water was only about two feet deep, but it was down a steep overgrown bank, maybe ten feet high. And it did not want to be rescued – it kept dodging away from attempts to hook its collar. We tried offering it treats, and we were contemplating sending our Labradors down to show it how to get in and out, when it was finally hooked and dragged out, very muddy but otherwise unharmed and looking pleased with itself.

Yesterday we had help from C&RT volunteers at the three top locks, but by the time we arrived today they had gone home. The top lock itself has only one working sluice on the bottom gates, which Loulie was unable to work, so I had to get off to turn it. When Loulie was re-locking the handcuff on one of the upper sluices she dropped the handcuff key into the canal. We have a spare, but I decided to try out my fishing magnet, which I bought for just such an occasion. Rather to my surprise I lowered it into about four feet of water, and when I pulled it up, there was our key, nicely attached.

It was after 6pm when we worked our way out of the top lock, and we decided that we didn’t even have time to go to the shops. So we turned east on the main line, and in the gathering dusk started looking for somewhere to stop. This stretch of canal has inclined banks, not vertical, so there is an awkward shelf almost everywhere. After trying a couple of spots, and going through two more swing bridges, we finally had to settle for a mooring on a bend – not bad in most respects, except that we are three feet out from the bank. For the first time we have used the blue plank that we carry on the roof as a gangplank for humans – the dogs of course have their own which we use at every mooring. But the gap is too wide for us to jump reliably, especially in the dark, and Loulie is reluctant to reprise her triumphant dive into the Shropshire Union.

Late update - I spoke too soon. I took the dogs out for their final tiddles, with the three Labradors on leads so they can't run off - and all wearing their illuminated collars as well, in case they get loose. Ruby was not leaded up, she won't go far. So I walked up and down, and got them to do their business, and then persuaded them to walk back along the gangplank onto the boat - tricky because they have differing levels of confidence. Anyway I got all three down the stairs then turned to deal with Ruby. She had paused on the bank, between the two gangplanks, and then suddenly to my horror she gathered herself and jumped for the boat - falling short by a long margin. I reached forward and grabbed her collar as she went under, and dragged her up and eventually onto the boat, though she was wriggling and tangled in weed. At first she seemed reluctant to stand up and I thought she was seriously hurt, but in a minute or two she recovered, and indeed started to charge around the boat madly, wiping her ears on the blankets and clearly no worse for her third lifetime fall in the canal.

Today: 7 hours. 10.1 miles. 7 locks. 9 bridges.

Voyage: 31.5 hours. 63.9 miles. 22 locks. 16 bridges.