Two little piggies…

…went to market. Market Drayton, that is. We'd always planned on doing some shopping in this decent town, even though it's a bit of a walk to the centre. Well, standing at the tiller is not very conducive to doing my 10,000 steps a day! First we had to get there. It was a bright, sunny morning, but the sun don't shine much in Woodseaves cutting.

I had the impression that they've trimmed the greenery since we were last here, but it was still rather tight for the hire-boat we met coming the other way.

They were sufficiently nervous for one of them to step off with the centre line, but there was actually more room than they realised. I executed a little manoeuvre as they came through and they were surprised there was so much space. This picture is a first for me – I hit the video button by mistake, and found out tonight how to extract a still frame from the resultant movie. The difference in resolution is significant.

Next up were the five locks of the Tyrley flight. I hit the wrong button again!

These are noticeable for (a) the very attractive top lock, and (b) the shallowness of the pounds between the locks, so that trying to get into the side is fraught with peril. The knack is not to exit one lock until the next one is open. As it happens, there was a stream of boats coming up the flight, so this was straightforward and we had a lot of help with the gates and paddles.

We tied up shortly after at Market Drayton and walked into town. We'd taken our Ikea trolley but bought more than we'd thought we were going to, and the bags we had to carry got heavier by the minute as we walked home. A restorative cup of coffee was followed by an afternoon snooze that extended until there didn't seem to be any point in trying to take Erin Mae further tonight. It's going to be nearly twenty locks tomorrow as we head to Audlem for the weekend, so an early night might be called for.

POIs

I think I've snapped Bridge 39 on the Shroppie every time we've been this way.

Like everybody else. No-one seems to know why there's an old telegraph pole on the mezzanine floor, but it's a great talking point. Less well known is Loynton Moss which you can reach on foot by the path which rises on the other side of this bridge, or the one at Bridge 40. It's a spectacular and isolated wetland site where all sorts of life abounds, including the world's reserve supply of mosquitos. Once bitten, you might well itch to return, but you will also itch to get away.

Beyond Bridge 40 in this extended cutting is an off-side site in the woods which has been pretty much the same for the last 8 years. A couple of boats, not in the fresh flush of youth, and one or two road vehicles.

I'm insufficiently versed in car identification to know which model this is, but it is obviously still someone's pride and joy, even if it has not moved from this spot for a number of decades. It's impressive that the tyres do not appear to be flat.

There are other particular points of interest in this long lock-less stretch of the Shroppie. Perhaps I'll photograph some of them on the way back next week.

Thinking like water

I suppose gravity and surface tension are what mostly influence where water gets to. When fixing a leaky window, you have to imagine every route by which rain can get from the outside of the boat (Good!) to the inside of the boat (Bad!). That would seem to be (a) the edge of the window frame, (b) structural failures in the window frame, and (c) the holes for the screws attaching the frame to the hull. For the last week I've been going to sleep with images of the frame in my mind, tracing possible paths for the liquid enemy.

You also have to know what is available to keep the water where it should be. The canal forums are full of dire warnings about the horrors of silicone sealant, and the canals are full of boat windows treated by people ignoring that advice. Erin Mae's window had obviously received some attention from such people, who were not among those I thought of most favourably as I tried to remove the stuff. However, a suitable sealant applied in the right way has its advantages, and I decided on a belt and braces approach. First I used a self-adhesive neoprene tape.

Along the sides and the bottom I ran the tape along the edge – with care it was relatively easy to run it around the bottom corners. On the top edge I left a 2 mm gap, to fill later with sealant, and then went round all the screw holes, piercing the tape with a darning needle to facilitate the passage of the screw. Then it was time for the Sikaflex 221. It's a polyurethane adhesive / sealant.

I put a bead round the sides and bottom of the frame, in the space just inside the tape, and then inserted the frame into its position. I put a bead of Sikaflex along the top of the frame above the tape and began to tighten the frame.

I'd always felt it should be quite straightforward to seal the sides of the frame, and to locate and fill structural defects. It was the screw holes seemed to be vulnerable. I had already put a dollop of silicone grease into each screw hole, and now I put a dollop of Sikaflex on top of the hole as I inserted the screw. As it was tightened, the screw bedded down onto the sealant, hopefully making the whole thing water-proof.

Now in spite of its superiority (IMHO) to silicone, Sikaflex 221 has a tendency to get everywhere and stick to everything. I discovered that although soapy water is good for creating a smooth edge, a paper towel full of soapy water tends to smudge it rather than clean it off. My technique had also left black smudges around the screw heads. The technical data document advises that once it has cured, it can only be removed "mechanically".

I shall be able to cover the mess in the channel (more about that another time). But getting it off my fingers has been an interesting experience.

Something in the air

Wheaton Aston has one good thing going for it – Turner's garage on the bridge sells diesel for about as cheap as you can get it. It's self-service on their little wharf, once you've told them you're there so they can turn the pump on. Sometimes you see warnings about dodgy diesel, but we've never had occasion to regret buying it there.

Tonight we've ended up on the 48 hour moorings at Wheaton Aston, because by the time we'd done what we needed to do it was a bit late to be pushing on down the cut. Several years ago the lock here was our first serious experience of doggy do danger. So we're always on the look-out for the stuff. Today it caught me unawares on Turner's wharf, which meant I had to walk back to the water point to clean my shoe – this is the main disadvantage, I think, of a nice deep tread on trainers.

Now apart from risks underfoot, this mooring seems OK – reasonably quiet, trees around but not overhead. But there is a definite whiff of something in the air. My best beloved is sure it is the pervasive odour of the doggy droppings with which this place is forever associated in our minds. I'm not so sure, and think it's more likely to be a smelly local plant – something like flourishing currant in your garden, which is best admired from a distance. Whatever, we shall not be sorry to get away first thing in the morning.

Slowly, slowly

Last night we watched the first episode of BBC's new Sunday night drama Bodyguard. During the first 20 minutes our hero responds stage by stage to a security incident as it develops, making it up as he goes along, in the light of his experience and intuition. That's how it feels as I continue to work on our leaky window. At least, the "making-it-up-as-I-go-along" bit does. My experience is limited though growing and, as for the correctness of my intuition, we shall see.

Each stage seems to present a new challenge which it seems wise not to ignore. The fact that the pieces forming the mitres of the top corners of the window frame were not firmly fixed to each other struck me as a Bad Thing. My first attempt at fixing them was 50% successful. Today I sorted out the one where glue on its own had failed, using the technique that had worked on the other – re-tapping a worn screw hole so that the angled sections were pulled together, with some epoxy glue between them to strengthen and seal.

The good people at Oxley had had to work hard on Friday to get all the screws that secure the window frame to the hull back in place – it was the four screw holes down the right hand side of the window that were out of alignment. I suspect it was partly this that caused the problems with the frame in the first place, by pulling it out of shape and breaking the top corners. So – what to do? I decided, wisely or not only time will tell, to enlarge the holes in the frame downwards, so that the screws will go in straight.

It was only a millimetre or two, but obviously leaves a much bigger hole for water to get behind the frame. That will definitely need sealant, but I was planning in any event on finding a way to seal all the screw holes, not just the enlarged ones.

Another day has passed. This job is taking a long time. What's that about catching monkeys?

Less said

Today was not a day to write home about. Rain and wind, then wind and rain, which all rather discouraged our thoughts of cruising into Brewood and walking the half-mile to join with the parish church for worship. Instead we caught up, via the internet, with what had gone on in our own church down south a couple of weeks ago. This afternoon I cleaned up the inside of the window frame that I'm hoping to re-insert tomorrow. That involved removing old silicone sealant, which is always a thankless task. But I suspect that bits of old silicone would have an effect exactly opposite to that for which they were originally squeezed into position, making the window more, not less, liable to the ingress of water.

One bright note, however. We were passed last night by NB Pippin, travelling south.

We'd seen this boat before, but it had never occurred to me that this is the nickname of Peregrine Took (from Lord of the Rings) of whom it could never be remarked that he "said less". It is therefore worthy of inclusion in my list of Tolkien-themed boats, and I won't hear of any objections that it might instead be a type of apple, unless originating with the boat's owner. So Friday's edition lasted just two days, and here's the update.

Arwen Evenstar
Aragorn
Bilbo Baggins
Brandywine
Earls of Rohan
Frodo’s Dream
Galadriel
Gandalf
Goldberry
Hobbit
Lord of the Rings
Lóthlórien
Many Meetings
Pippin
Riddles in the Dark
Rivendell
Shadowfax
Silmaril
Smaug
Strider
The Arkenstone
There and Back Again
Thorin
Tom Bombadil

Window-fixing

This was meant to be a window-fixing day. Yesterday we called in at Oxley Marine to sort out two problems – a window screw-hole that had been drilled out too much, and a lack of alignment of some of the others. We got there about 9.30 and Dave started to look at what could be done.

Unfortunately, Dave was feeling sick as a dog, and eventually had to retire to his bed. Phil, who has done some work on Erin Mae before, was down in our neck of the woods for the Dorset Steam Fair. So that left Orph, the owner, to take over.

He tapped the over-sized hole to take an M5 screw, but we'll have to live with the mis-alignments and simply find the best order and technique to put the screws in when we finally replace them. So we came up to a favourite mooring short of Brewood, hoping to be able to work on the window today. The weather wasn't too good for that, but anyway I decided to try and do something about the loose top corners first.

The self-tapping screws holding the angle were both loose in their holes, so I re-tapped them, fitted M4 machine screws and used epoxy glue in the mitre. The screws at the other corner seemed just about OK, but the mitred flanges were slightly out of alignment, so I glued them with epoxy, and hopefully keeping them clamped overnight will mean the fix is permanent.

First time I've done anything like this. The test will be when I try to fit it all back in the window-hole.

Playtime

Coming down to Penkridge on Wednesday we passed an off-side site where someone has created the most amazing play area.



There's a climbing frame, a tree house, an engine, a play-hut and so on. Strangely, we've never actually seen any children playing on it. This time, however, NB Tom Bombadil was moored alongside.



Now that is highly appropriate, as Tom is one of the really playful characters in Lord of the Rings. You can understand why he was left out of the film trilogy, but he sits alongside the Ents as something ancient, deep and different. And now, happily, he can be added to my list of Tolkien-themed boat names:

Arwen Evenstar
Aragorn
Bilbo Baggins
Brandywine
Earls of Rohan
Frodo’s Dream
Galadriel
Gandalf
Goldberry
Hobbit
Lord of the Rings
Lóthlórien
Many Meetings
Riddles in the Dark
Rivendell
Shadowfax
Silmaril
Smaug
Strider
The Arkenstone
There and Back Again
Thorin
Tom Bombadil

Purpleness

It wasn't so much that we were partly under a tree at Penkridge last night. It was more that we were under a few or a flock of some avian species (probably wood pigeons) who had been gorging themselves on blackberries, elderberries, damsons or something of that ilk. In the morning a section of Erin Mae's roof was liberally coated with a glutinous mess of purple poo. Must have been the roughage.

We set out before they could add to their offerings, and reached Gailey in good time, where we'd planned to get a pump-out and fill the water tank. So the hose was applied to the roof as well, though I also needed to use a scrubbing brush to clear the mess completely. Then we settled into the long lock-free stretch down to Autherley Junction and tied up at Pendeford in a spot which we've got to know well.

A phone call to Oxley Marine confirmed that they'll be able to do something to help with our window fixing screws first thing in the morning. The Met Office say it should have stopped raining by then, so we're looking forward to getting the window fixings fixed. I suspect, however, that their preferred solution will entail drilling a new hole and filling the old one, which will leave me with several more days' worth of primer, undercoat and topcoat before we can finally put the window in place permanently.

And then we'll need to have a look at the next one.

Penkridge

Bank holiday weekend coming up, and I can't remember whether Oxley Marine are open for business on Saturdays – could have rung to ask, but didn't. So we're needing to put in fairly long days to get to them by Friday morning, and have come down from Tixall Bridge to Penkridge today. We've tried to be gentle with Erin Mae through the locks – one rather enthusiastic paddle-lifting at the weekend created a very swirly current in Tixall lock, the one that looks the most innocuous of all, and put a large scratch on my newly painted gunwale.

I thought at first it had gone all the way through to the metal, but closer examination suggests the whitish epoxy undercoat is still intact. This will give me some practice in the restorative work which was one of the reasons for painting the gunwales black in the first place.

Today we made the link between Penkridge and the River Penk, having identified that as the name of the stream that goes under the bridge at Radford Bank in Stafford. Wikipedia says that the river gets its name from the town, rather than the other way round. We've often walked down from the canal into the town, but I can't remember ever seeing the river flowing through it. One day we'll go and find it. This time we are on a mission and won't be hanging around in the morning.

On the move

As we were ensconced at Tixall Wide a couple of weeks ago, getting to grips with the bodywork / painting jobs I've finally started, our friends Mike and Mo on NB The Great Escape pulled in just behind for the last night of an epic voyage with their cruising club. We hadn't seen them for a long time. Mike made tea and then sat and played his oud, while we yarned about this and that.

Meanwhile I'd done the repairs and some painting on a good-sized panel around the window that I'd removed because it was leaking.

Although the window looks as though it's back in place, it's only fixed in loosely, and a tarpaulin is ready to come down when rain threatens. One of the screw-holes that had to be drilled out is now too large and we're going to see whether the good people at Oxley Marine can sort it out as we pass in a couple of days. Then the window can be fixed permanently.

Immediate travel plans were modified following an email from our friends Iain and Glenys, visiting from Australia. They had a fun few days on Erin Mae five years ago, and we've repeated the experience this last weekend. It was great to see them. Now we've finally set out down the Staffs and Worcs canal. It was after lunch before we could get away, so we've done just one lock and have tied up before the hump-backed bridge at Tixall where all the cars sound their horns. I hope the owners of the very splendid house opposite our mooring have triple glazing to keep out the noise.

It's nice to be moving, and it will be interesting to see how we balance the travel with the painting and window work.

Credit card

Erin Mae has an electric hook-up when in dock, with a meter on a post on the jetty, controlled by a credit-card-sized smart card. Credit can be transferred between the meter and the card, keeping our investment safe from other people's cables while we're out travelling. As we left our mooring on Friday, I remembered that we hadn't transferred the credit to the card and probably should. We came to a halt and went to get the card from where I knew it to be. Could we find it? Not then, nor when we ransacked the boat for it yesterday afternoon.

So this morning we walked the mile or so back to the marina from Tixall Wide, where I've been teaching myself painting and associated skills. We had showers and then I confessed to Doug in the office that I'd lost our card, expecting to have to pay for a new one. But no! It was with a collection that various boat owners had left with them over the winter, just in case extra credit needed to be added during the dark months. I'd completely forgotten that we'd been among them.

Doh! But at least the meter is now empty, the card is in the right place, and we've had a walk we wouldn't otherwise have had.