Kinver blues

We'd planned our present trip months ago, with the intention of combining at least a nice run down the Staffs and Worcs with getting Wilsons, the manufacturer of Erin Mae's pram hood cover, to look at the material, which is showing early signs of undue wear. We'd rung them at some point and they'd said to call in as we were passing through Kinver. It was when we got to the Bratch a few days ago that the volunteer lock-keeper told us that Wilsons had gone into administration, a warning repeated by Mike in a comment on this blog a day later. Such an event would obviously render useless the 5-year warranty that they'd given.

Their boat furniture business is a separate company and, ringing them, we got through to Ralph Wilson who said he would come and see if there was anything that could be done. But when he'd seen it he said not. A problem with stitching could perhaps have been managed by the furniture people, but this was basically a fabric failure. As I write, based on something Mr Wilson Snr said, I'm awaiting a possible phone call from Mr Wilson Jnr, whose boat covers company it was that failed. I doubt if there's even a partial solution to our particular issue, but we shall see.

Meanwhile, my bout of something disagreeable is not our only recent experience of coping with ailments while boating. My best beloved has been having some dental issues and a root infection decided to flare up. Being out of shouting distance of your own dentist is discomforting when that sort of thing happens. We looked up Kinver dentists on the internet and, yesterday afternoon, on our walk to the High Street, called in to see what might be done. The result was an 8.30 appointment this morning, a very helpful consultation for just £25 including an X-ray, and an antibiotic prescription to calm things down till we travel back home in a week and a half. Very nice service!

So we're surviving these present troubles – just part of the Erin Mae experience. Rough with the smooth, and all that. If it gets really bad, I can always get the guitar out and seek a bit of 12-bar solace.

Mostly quiet on the Western Front

Finally resuming our journey to Kinver this morning, we found we were virtually the only boat on the move. Just this lone encounter with a quartet of hirers as we neared our destination.

It was also, fortunately, much quieter on my own personal Western Front, even though last night was not entirely tranquil. We decided my body jolly well ought to cope with the rigours of a few hours' boating. The Met Office couldn't seem to make up its mind whether we were going to face fierce, thundery downpours or merely a bit of cloud. Whatever, we weren't going to drown and, anyway, it's my best beloved's birthday! So we had to do something.

This part of the Staffs and Worcs is delightful. We've been on a section where the canal is also the River Stour, so at every lock there is a means of taking the general flow of the water down the necessary drop.

The conduits are mostly round or octagonal, though we found one designed slightly differently.

Along this stretch is Stewponey.

Wikipedia hazards a couple of guesses as to the origin of this name. What seems certain is that it was the name of the ancient inn that was here, passed on to become that of the local area. On and on a bit, and you come to Dunsley Tunnel which, at 25 yards, must be a challenger for the shortest tunnel on the network. Approaching from the northeast it looks like a wide brick bridge.

Halfway through, and then looking back, it's clear how the red sandstone was indeed tunnelled out.

So, in due course, we came to Kinver and tied up on the visitor moorings. A walk up to the Post Office furnished my best beloved with various happy mementos of this momentous day. We have also made certain unexpected discoveries and arrangements, but I think reporting on them can wait until tomorrow.

Sick

Generally I don't do sick. Must be all this clean living. But in the middle of Friday night my stomach began to heave – I  think that's enough detail! By Saturday morning I felt as you do when you've been up half the night, and went back to bed. It rained most of the day so it wasn't as though we were longing to be cruising the final few miles to Kinver. From time to time I would emerge and try to do something, before deciding that I needed to be in bed again. Nothing to eat apart from a poached egg and a small piece of toast in the evening. Most of it stayed down.

I could sense another restless night coming on, so made up the bed in the dinette. At 8 o'clock I felt OK to watch the first part of the England game, but by half-time was so zonked I turned it off and went to bed, and the night was much as anticipated. Today has followed much the same pattern. I can't remember the last time I found Test Match Special too exhausting to listen to! Half an hour, and then I needed to sleep for a while.

All very odd, and I don't know what's causing it. Writing this post is going to need some more horizontal recuperation in a minute. On the bright side, we've been stuck in one place for two days under rather gloomy conditions, which is exactly was was needed to test the new electrical configurations in the wild.

Poppy fields

We wondered at first whatever the helicopter was doing. As it came low overhead it threw up fifty times as much grass cuttings as a CRT strimmer, and blew a fender off Erin Mae's roof. It was as it landed in the field opposite that we realised it was an air ambulance, and that there had been an accident on the road bridge just back from where we had moored at Wightwick. We heard later that, sadly, there had been a fatality.

After that it was a quiet night (apart from watching more referendum debate on Question Time), and this morning we continued on our way to Kinver. As red as the ambulance, though of a slightly different shade, was a field of poppies.

Seeing them through the trees out of the corner of my eye (all attention on my steering, of course) I'd taken them for a long, brightly-coloured industrial building, until my best beloved said "Did you see those poppies?" My incredulity was matched by her desire for a piccy, so I pulled over and walked back to see. She was quite right!

On to the Bratch – this extraordinary feat of water engineering that has three locks very close together, with the pounds between only a few yards long, but leading off to hidden ponds where the water is stored as you move up or down. It's a most attractive and well-kept site, and a favourite place for students of industrial architecture to visit.

It's a bit more complicated to operate than normal, so Philip was on hand to make sure we did nothing disastrous!

He also gave a welcome helping hand with his windlass as we dropped down over 30 feet.

This morning Erin Mae was dry even though it had rained very hard in the night. We travelled in the dry,  but it's hot and muggy and pouring again as I write.

Reversing

The turn on to the Shroppie under the bridge at Autherley junction is very sharp. We managed it perfectly, only to find there was a crew-less boat in the stop-lock – she'd been dropping off rubbish while the water went down its normal 6 inches. So I reversed out of the bridge-hole to let her emerge. We were only going up there for water – Nicholson's Guide says the next water point down the Staffs and Worcs canal is a long way away, and we were needing to fill up, but the only tap at the junction is about 50 yards up the Shroppie. This can make taking on water a long procedure. The stop-lock often has a queue, and today was no exception, and then the next winding hole is about two miles further on.

Although, as I noted yesterday, we're in no particular hurry, I decided I wouldn't go up and wind. Instead, I reversed back to and through the stop-lock. There's a boat-hire agency here and lots of people doing things, but we managed to negotiate the space between the various boats and emerge with them, and Erin Mae, unscathed. Very satisfactory!

Back on track we stopped at Oxley Marine to get some machine screws replaced in the back-door lock. We hadn't met Dave (who did it) before but I was kicking myself afterwards for not having got a photo of him doing it. It seems mandatory for all the engineers at Oxley Marine to have long white beards. Orph and Phil have them and Dave's, if anything, is the longest of the lot. I wanted the evidence on the blog! That's twice in three days I didn't think quickly enough about getting out the snapper.

No particular hurry

We're heading for Kinver to get Wilson's to look at the pram hood cover. But we're in no particular hurry. So we allowed a few boats to pass as we packed up this morning, and then followed them at a leisurely pace. It was all very pleasant. The only excitement was at one of the bridge / sharp bend combinations on this stretch, where a 35-footer was approaching far too fast what was, for them, a blind corner. I saw their bows appearing, slowed and tooted. They slammed on the brakes, slid to the outside of the bend and didn't seem very aware of the difficulties with the angles they were creating as we came through. La-de-da and lackaday – what did it matter on a nice, sunny morning?

In spite of going at a relative dawdle, we nearly caught up the boat in front as they were about to enter the quarter-mile narrows on the run down to Autherley Junction. We'd noticed when they passed earlier that they had a Silsden boat – we got to know their base in Yorkshire pretty well last summer.

They're a long way from home if they really are hiring. But perhaps they bought a retired boat and hadn't yet got round to removing the Silsden Boats plaques on the side. Anyway, they and we came through the narrows without meeting anything coming the other way. We needed to visit the supermarket, so tied up on the armco just beyond bridge 67.

I still remember finding this spot the first time we came this way. We could hardly believe we were in Wolverhampton!

There's a large area of grass and trees between the canal and the Pendeford estate – it's all very pleasant. So after a walk to Morrisons and back we ate some lunch in the shade of a tree – and then the downpour came. It was all positively Brazilian and we felt justified in deciding to stay put. After all, we're in no particular hurry!

Not going anywhere

We slept well in this delightful, quiet spot and, having thought about it briefly, decided we should stay put for the day. We could relax, and get a few jobs done, and the evening meal was already in the fridge. It wasn't long before we were joined in our solitude by a visitor.

It turned out he'd brought his missus with him.

All very idyllic it was, but the peace was about to be shattered!

Such canoe-groups have become commonplace around this time of year. I'm sure parents who want to argue for the right to take their children out of school during term-time for a holiday could use them as evidence for something. You hear them long before they come round the corner.

The teachers would no doubt argue they are learning, though they might find it hard to specify exactly what. One child here was undoubtedly learning to swim – all part of the serendipitous activity of a school trip.

I don't think anyone could argue successfully that they were learning team-work. This photo (from Erin Mae's side-hatch) needs a sound-track – they were lined up across the cut, completely blocking the navigation and not going anywhere as two narrowboats approached, one from each direction! They were, however, having a stunningly enjoyable time. I expect that, for most of them, it beat the socks off learning how to spell leptospirosis.

Now they've just retraced their steps and, I have to say, they went past much quicker than the first time. Perhaps they did learn some team-work after all.

And peace reigns again.