In or Out

"Better out than in" said some rude person, in a context that we shall pass over quickly. But nothing could be more true when Erin Mae's poo tank light comes on, as it did this morning. I'd noted on the way down a couple of weeks ago that there was a yard offering a pump-out more cheaply than anyone else I know and, lo and behold, not long after setting out this morning, we passed it.

I pulled over and a man on crutches came down the wharf from where he'd been enjoying a coffee with some of his colleagues. Yes, they did pump-outs and, yes, they were open, and he called someone down to organise it. That was when things began to get a bit complicated.

One of their own boats was moored up right where the pump-out apparatus was situated, and Erin Mae's pump-out port was on the wrong side. Their hose simply wouldn't stretch the distance. They suggested it would work if I angled Erin Mae right across the cut, completely blocking it to all other traffic, but I thought that probably wasn't the Christian thing to do. So we bid them a cheery farewell, left them to their coffee, and got it done later at Gailey, for an extra fiver.

In or out is, of course, the UK's decision of the week. I know we're not the only ones to have found the level of the debate deeply frustrating. We're used to politicians using cheap sound-bites, when they reckon those will persuade people to their position. But, with this once-for-all choice looming, such tactics have seriously cheapened the discussion. Un-nuanced figures statistics have been thrown into the arena from all sides, while words of warning get dismissed as scaremongering. Surely, a warning is usually about something scary – that is exactly the point, and to be considered, not dismissed.

In the end, I think it has to be about your vision of how you want relate to others. I would rather adopt an open-faced, inclusive and welcoming approach. In an inter-connected world, I can't see that retreating to the margins is in anyone's benefit. Boaters encounter many people who have themselves retreated to the margins, and the results are often not pretty. Are there things that are wrong with the EU? Absolutely, but I would rather see us working on them from the inside.

Will the world fall apart if we vote to leave? I don't suppose so. There may even be some positive aspects – though I don't believe the rhetoric about reclaiming this or that, and I doubt whether the government will immediately cut the tax on the red diesel for propelling Erin Mae. But it is working collaboratively that brings the biggest benefits to all. Issues need to be resolved by talking round the table, not by shouting through the window.

Sunshine and showers

There were two targets for today. The first was not to get too wet – boating in torrential rain is a limited pleasure. The second was to moor up somewhere with reasonable TV reception, so we could watch the footie. The weather forecast suggested the first target would not be reached if we set out too early. In fact, since we had good reception at Wightwick, we were tempted to stay put and avoid the rain altogether. But it seemed to cheer up about 11.30 so we decided to move.

The first bit was fine – and then the rain returned with a vengeance. We quickly shut the hatch to protect the kitchen area and steamed ahead regardless. After a while, and a thorough soaking, the rain stopped. We followed the charity boat NB Ernest Thomas II up through three locks, and by the time they came to wind at Aldersley Junction, the sun was shining again.

In need of re-stocking the larder, we stopped just beyond Autherley Junction, from whence it is a short walk to Morrison's at Pendeford. When we got back the sun was still shining, and an aerial test showed that all was well with the airwaves, so we've settled down for the night. Now all we need are victories for England and Wales. I have to put that last bit in since, come August, I'm expecting to become grandfather to a babe who will be half Welsh! Sunshine in large doses!

Fathers' Day

I thought we were onto a good thing – the Mermaid Inn at Wightwick has a link to some sort of gourmet club. The first three months' membership is £1 / month, and for that you get 25% off your bill for food and drinks. That sounded like icing on the cake for our combined Fathers' Day / best beloved's birthday celebration. Then I noticed that you had to tell them at the time of booking that you were a member – but I thought perhaps I could unbook and then rebook. Then I saw the exclusions – Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, December, and anything that wasn't part of an à la carte menu. That ruled out today's meal on at least two counts, so I kept my pound in my pocket. But lunch-time found us being greeted warmly at this easily-accessible and friendly pub.

When the starters came, they looked good and tasted delicious, while the rustic bread was suitably rustic. The roasts, on the other hand, left something to be desired in terms of presentation (messy), temperature (too low) and the over-cookedness of the veggies. The beef part of my "roast platter" was so tough as to be inedible, though the waitress unhesitatingly brought along an extra slice or two of pork to compensate. I always feel a bit cheated when a meal I'm paying somebody for is nowhere as good as what I could produce myself, even on Erin Mae.

But this is not a day to be sad! Hamilton finished fifth, but Andy Murray won at Queen's. It's raining again outside, but we're dry and comfortable in the boat. I don't really approve of Fathers' Day, since I think it was probably invented by the greetings card industry, but I remember my own father and what he was and did. And I think of all that being a father has brought me. It's a day to be grateful.

Colour-coding

The Bratch being what it is, with hidden side-ponds as reservoirs between the three locks, you have to be careful about the order and timing as you operate the paddles. It's the only structure we've encountered so far where they are colour-coded – blue for the paddles on the top gates, red for those on the bottom gates. You can maybe just see the paint in the photos.

It doesn't do to think too much about the weight of water held above you as you come in from below.

We were assisted (and supervised!) by Andy, a CRT volunteer. As ever, he was cheerful and helpful and made sure we didn't drown. Thanks, Andy, you're a star!

So we've made good progress retracing our steps northwards, in spite of having to get down the weed hatch at one point to remove bits of plastic bag and half a ton of grass cuttings from around the propellor.

I told this little fella what had been happening, as we passed, but he seemed to have his mind on something else.

Flood

Last night I felt Erin Mae was listing more than would indicate a full poo tank, so I checked the mooring lines. Sure enough, the canal level had risen and the lines had tightened, holding down one side of the boat. Slackening them off restored equilibrium, and we had a good night. The purpose of coming up the Stourbridge Canal was to cruise the arm that goes into the town centre – a section we'd omitted three years ago. So we set off, and found ourselves behind a boat belonging to a local college, giving students an experience of something or other.

Like ourselves it turned right at Wordsley Junction, where the Town Arm leaves between the bridge and the first lock of the Stourbridge flight. We followed it slowly down a section that didn't really match Nicholson's description. There was indeed a mooring by the Tudor crystal glass works, but it was decrepit and uncared for, and there was little sign of life in the dilapidated buildings backing onto the canal. Perhaps the fronts are more inviting, but the whole place reminded me of pre-renovation Stoke and did nothing to inspire a visit. So we pushed on to the town centre.

We passed a couple picking up litter as they walked and, near the centre, found a volunteer team out doing some serious clearing.

Once we reached the basin, the reason for their activity became clear. With all the rain, the Stour had burst its banks yesterday, cascading into the canal basin and flooding it to a depth of several feet. Although the water level was now back to normal, its colour was muddy yellow, and it was not a pretty sight. A number of people were in clean-up mode.

Only one boat appeared to have suffered from flooding – it was unfortunate that it was moored on the left at the point where there is triple parking on the right. We were asked to go very carefully past it – they feared that a bit more movement might sink it completely. We did so, and went on down to the winding hole by the building that Nicholson's did get right – the bonded warehouse that is now the headquarters of the Stourbridge Navigation Trust.

On another day we might have explored the canal shop there, but we think they may have been under water last night and there was naturally little sign of them wanting visitors. We felt for them, but there was nothing we ourselves could do, so we winded and retraced our steps to the Staffs and Worcs.

St George and the Dragon

We tied up last night an hour or so out of Stourbridge itself, and thought we might have cruised in this morning. But (a) we slept in – all part of the recovery process, and (b) the weather forecast didn't exactly encourage an unnecessary move. And in addition (and the least of all reasons, of course!) we've got reception in this spot and the England were playing Wales at the Euros. As a result, we've had a quieter day, apart from a bout of baking and a couple of hours of nervous tension until England won the match St George beat the Dragon with a minute to spare.

So, with the rain keeping us in, I thought I'd put up a couple of pictures from yesterday of Hyde lock – the first one as you come up away from Kinver.

It's a picturesque spot, but what makes it rather special are the garden gates to the dockside cottage.

Not a wasted trip

The phone call from Mr Wilson Jnr didn't come last night, so we assumed that was that and we would have to find some other way of repairing or replacing our pram hood cover. When the morning's rain stopped we walked into Kinver village to post our referendum votes, bought a few groceries, and had a slightly early lunch before packing up to make our way back to Great Haywood. We needed to turn Erin Mae, so sauntered down to find the winding hole south of Kinver. It wasn't quite where the guide implied, but was worth the wait. Winding hole with summer house and floral border!

Coming back to Kinver lock, what should we see but NB Matthew Flinders, which occupies a marina berth just three down from Erin Mae's. They must have arrived while we were winding.

We drew attention to ourselves, but nobody appeared, so we pushed on up the lock. Another boat was coming the other way, and my best beloved got chatting the way she does, with the subject turning to boat covers. It transpired that just yesterday they had had a cover mended by Wilson's, and they gave us Keith Wilson's mobile number. We rang him – and he said he'd be with us in 5 minutes!

It seems that Keith himself, having been simply an employee and not a director of the company that defaulted, had been able to set up on his own account. He had absolutely no obligation, of course, to do anything about our cover, but it was something he accepted. He took it away there and then, repaired the section where the fabric had torn and had it back with us after an hour. I think that deserves an honourable mention on this blog – accepting corporate family responsibility when he didn't have to.

So our trip down to Kinver was not wasted, after all. We've started the return journey, but are taking a slight detour to see Stourbridge, since we didn't go up the Stourbridge Town arm when we passed three years ago.