History

After several holidays in hire boats, we were keen to take the next step and buy a boat of our own. We thought it would be many years before we could afford it, perhaps by way of a timeshare first. However in 2017 my mother Eileen Secker sadly died at the age of 89. Her legacy enabled us to think about getting our dream boat straight away, and after flirting with the idea of a new build we decided to find a second-hand one which suited us, and where someone more experienced had made sensible choices. Eventually we found the Silver Kroner, bought her and renamed her in honour of Eileen, who would have very much enjoyed the joke embodied in the name.

Tuesday, 16 October 2018

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.

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