Through the tunnel at last

Thursday 3^rd September 2020

Up early, and we cast off and got under way at about 7am. The effort we had made yesterday in the rain now paid off, and we cruised down to the mouth of the tunnel with no problems, getting there right on 7:30.

Waiting on the tunnel mooring

On the way in

As it turned out we were the first to arrive, and we pulled forward on the mooring until we were at the tunnel entrance. A number of boats rolled up over the next half hour, about half a dozen or so. Eventually the tunnel keeper showed up, initially at a cabin on the other side of the canal, where he had a cup of tea and a cigarette before coming across a bridge. It was just after eight by then – he told us that he was about to be replaced by volunteers, so I suppose that he had no incentive to deliver customer care. Anyway he let himself into a door by the tunnel, and then emerged in a small craft which is used if anyone breaks down inside. After that he checked that we all knew the procedures, and we were free to proceed.

I was leading the convoy, which was slightly worrying, but we had to make a tricky turn to get into the tunnel mouth from the mooring, which took some time. That meant the boats were fairly well spaced out, and I did not feel I was under any pressure. Last time we went through, two years ago, I scraped the upper corners of our superstructure quite badly – the tunnel profile changes sharply several times, which makes it tricky. Perhaps I was going too fast then, so today I took it at not much above tickover, and I got all the way through without touching at all, except on the wooden rubbing beam where it narrows at the exit. The time didn’t seem much longer than on our previous trip, maybe a minute or two more in forty minutes overall.

On the way out of the tunnel, looking much more relaxed

Nice to be on the way again

It was raining, though not hard, and we pressed on towards Stoke – we were keen to reach Stone at least, to visit the M&S foodhall there and pick up supper. Loulie navigated for a few miles while I went below and had a shower – I had skipped that this morning to save time and get us under way quickly. About four miles after leaving the tunnel, in the centre of Stoke, we came to the first lock, and so began the long descent towards Shardlow. The Trent and Mersey Canal is one big humpbacked hill. From the tiny stoplock at Dutton it climbs through Middlewich and Sandbach, then up the 26 locks of the Cheshire Flight to the top pound at Kidsgrove. That runs through the Harecastle Tunnel and on to Stoke, and from that point it is all down hill to the eventual end at Shardlow and out onto the Trent.

There are five locks in Stoke, and then another fairly long pound as you leave southwards, past the Britannia Stadium. After the solitary lock at Trentham we stopped to give the dogs a very late breakfast, and then on to Stone. There are four locks in the Meaford (“meffud”) flight and then four more in Stone itself. This is a much more attractive town than Stoke – although it has a lot of industrial buildings, they are mostly 200 years old, from the heyday of the canals. Below the bottom lock we stopped on the water point and I topped up, because you always should, while Loulie went shopping.

On the waterpoint in Stone

We pressed on a couple of miles more after Stone, going down the solitary Aston lock. A little beyond that we found a very nice rural mooring near the tiny village of Burston. Across the fields on the other side of the canal there was a large but nicely proportioned Georgian farmhouse, and apart from that we were on our own. As we were sitting down before supper we were started by a knocking on the cabin window, which was on the off (canal) side of the boat. It turned out to be a swan, looking for bread, which we gave it. I assume that it has learned that knocking on boat windows has a good chance of producing food.

Mooring at Burston

TODAY: 10:45 HOURS. 19.3 MILES. 15 LOCKS.

Voyage: 26:10 HOURS. 50.1 MILES. 33 LOCKS.

 

Freeze Dried Skipper

Getting our own narrowboat has meant lots of changes and new experiences in our lives. Who, for example, would have predicted that Loulie would spend over an hour Googling to find out how much poo and other waste an average human produces each day. The answer is approximately 10 litres, if you need to know.

Early Morning Train

We were woken just before seven this morning, not by the trains but by the first passing boat of the day. We were in a great spot for the dogs, who could just be let off the boat with minimal supervision, and we had the usual game of musical breakfasts. Posie and Bridget dive into their food like Scooby-Doo with a plate of burgers, but Minnie is always slow, and Ruby nibbles at hers and then goes to push Minnie away. Minnie happily eats Ruby’s food, but at this point one or both of the Gobble twins finish theirs and try to push in on the food that has not yet been eaten. Unless she is protected Minnie will diffidently sneak off to see if there is anything left in any of the other bowls. By the end each dog has usually sampled some or all of the other bowls – except Bridget’s – nobody gets between Bridget and her food.

The stories of the day were Stoke, and Harecastle Tunnel. After a single lock at Trentham we started to approach the city, and the nature of the canal changed significantly. We went past a wagon works with hundreds of pairs of railway wheels lined up, and an estate with light industrial businesses. On either side there were high walls and fences, dilapidated and graffiti-covered, and derelict buildings slowly succumbing to weeds and trees. In the centre of Stoke the canal went up a flight of five steep locks, threading through canyons of brick and concrete. The railway quite literally runs over the top of one of the locks.

Milepost in Stoke

 

Scenes along the Stoke canal

At the top of the flight is Etruria Junction, where the Caldon Canal takes off east towards Leek. But we had other things on our mind, as we were looking for a pumpout station. We had noticed that the gauge on our waste tank was above half way, having started at zero, so we probably would not make it all the way home. There were a few pumpout locations marked on our maps, and the first one was the Black Prince base at Festival Park Marina. We stopped, but the one person there had just gone for his lunch, and there was another boat already waiting, so we decided not to waste what might be a couple of hours. We were told there was another place not far north so we pushed on.

We left central Stoke, and came to Middleport where there is a pottery with an impressive bottle kiln, one of several which can still be seen along the canal, although a century ago there were hundreds. This one was hosting a travelling exhibition of the poppies which started out a few years ago cascading down the side of the Tower of London. In this case they were in a stream down the side of the kiln – very impressive, though sadly we got only a sudden glimpse and didn’t have time for any photos.

Bottle Kilns - but no poppies

After Middleford was Longford, where we pulled in again to get a pumpout, but the guy there told us the machine was bust, and also told us, with little obvious sympathy, that there wasn’t another one until the other side of the tunnel.

The tunnel in question is the Harecastle, one of the wonders of the canal network. It is nearly 3000 metres long, and takes forty minutes or more to traverse, under the control of gatekeepers. As we approached it started to rain heavily, and it took me a while to notice the keeper signalling me to pull over on the “wrong” side as six boats were about to emerge. That meant that I had to leap out hurriedly and rope her into the bank, against a squally wind which had sprung up along with the driving rain. Happily Loulie had the presence of mind to duck down into the dry cabin, from where she was able to record my struggles.

Boating in the rain

Once the southbound convoy had emerged we were able to start, but the keeper gave me a briefing first. The tunnel has a variable profile, and gets very low near the middle, so people have hit their heads and even been knocked off the boat. I was told to use a torch so I could see the roof after the boat lights (in the bows) had passed, and Loulie was told to keep checking I was still on the boat. The dogs had to stay below, and she stayed with them, to avoid incessant barking.

To allow motor-powered boats to use it the tunnel now has a forced draft ventilation. After you enter they close doors behind you and turn on enormous fans which cause wind strong enough to make your eyes water. Of course I was soaked through already, so it was a little chilly, to say the least. Ahead is pitch black at first, beyond the range of your headlight, but soon a tiny dot appears, and grows, very slowly. Every hundred metres there are arrows on the walls, indicating the distance to the nearer exit, and it was very discouraging, after what seemed like hours but was probably 10-15 minutes, to see an arrow pointing backwards 1000m. You have to concentrate hard to keep the boat in the middle – if you start to veer you either slide along the walls or bounce from side to side. In the light of the torch there is a lot to see in the tunnel – orange stalactites where water has seeped through the ironstone rock, streams pouring out of holes in the wall, straps and supports to keep the rock in place, and the abrupt changes in profile – I really did need to keep a good lookout and duck at times.

North exit from the Harecastle Tunnel

It was a relief to emerge at the other end, especially as it was bright sunshine again, shining on the orange water which has come from those ironstone seams. We dropped down a couple of locks as the Macclesfield Canal branched off – it goes to the left, then turns and crosses above the main line once that has dropped far enough, quite an impressive junction. Here there was a CRT (Canal & River Trust) station, so we stopped for a pumpout – only to be told once again that it was broken. The next one is in Middlewich, which is why Loulie consulted our manual to check the tank capacity, and then Google to see how long that would last. The conclusion is that we should be OK.

Mow Cop from the Red Bull locks

We had reached our day’s target in Kidsgrove, but there was no good overnight mooring, so we dropped down the three locks of the Red Bull flight, with Mow Cop looking down on us, and we found a very snug mooring near the village of Church Lawton. I took the dogs for a walk after supper, through a field of maize. They loved charging through the crop, especially Bridget. You couldn’t see her, but you could follow her progress by the noise, and by the waving of the tops of the stalks as she rampaged through.

Mooring near Church Lawton

We are in a steep part of the canal, dropping down to the Cheshire plain, the equivalent of Audlem and Adderley over on the Shroppie. Our plan for tomorrow only covers five miles, but there will be twenty locks in there. We hope to reward ourselves with a meal out in Wheelock.

Why doesn't she hurry up and serve our supper?

Today: 7 hours. 14 miles. 12 locks.

Voyage: 46.5 hours. 85.3 miles. 67 locks.