Rude Awakening

Sunday 6^th September 2020

Willington is a nice enough village, a commuter spot for Derby with a station in the centre. But the inhabitants all seem to take an early Sunday walk along the canal, usually with their dogs, or talking loudly. So quite early on we abandoned any idea of a Sunday morning lie-in, and got up. Loulie took the dogs ahead along the canal for a walk, and I cycled back into Willington and went to the Co-op to get food for a couple of days.

 

We set off at about 10:30, and cruised in a fairly leisurely fashion to the first lock of the day, at Stenson. The locks from this point onwards are double width, and we shared this one with a boat belonging to a young couple, who had bought her cheaply to do up. Unfortunately the engine was very rough, and I was standing right beside the exhaust in a cloud of blue smoke.

 

They let us go first out of the lock, and they must have moored up somewhere because we never saw them again. We carried on to the next lock, Swarkstone, and stopped just short of the lock landing on a water point, where we filled up – though I think it is the slowest fill we have ever had, it took nearly an hour. Swarkstone is an interesting spot – just before the lock a short arm branches off to the north. It is filled with moored boats now, but this used to be the start of the Derby Canal, which wound its way up to the city and then turned east, eventually meeting up with the Erewash Canal near Long Eaton. It is abandoned now, but there are proposals to reopen it, which would make a very interesting alternative route.

 

We did the Swarkstone Lock alone, which wasn’t much fun – the big locks down at this end of the Trent and Mersey are quite rough with sharp undertows, and it is difficult to keep the boat from rattling around. After that was done we carried on for a mile or so, looking for a mooring – it was only mid afternoon but we had had a long day yesterday. We tried one spot, but there was a nasty shelf, so we carried on to a spot called Weston Cliffs, where the canal had been cut on a shelf, with a steep rise on our right, and a sharp drop behind the towpath to the left. It must have been spectacular when built, but now heavy woods disguise the steepness of the hills, especially above us, though we could hear a dog barking, apparently from high in the air.

Moored at Weston Cliffs

I went for a run, back along the towpath, 2.8 miles measured with my smart watch. Loulie took the dogs for a walk – she found a cycleway crossing the canal, that used to be a railway. It took her down to a bridge across the Trent, which is much bigger here.

The Trent near Weston Cliffs

Bridge over the Trent

TODAY: 5:00 HOURS. 7.0 MILES. 2 LOCKS.

Voyage: 31:10 HOURS. 57.1 MILES. 35 LOCKS.