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.