Maesbury Marsh Music

Not "marsh music", you understand. The village is called Maesbury Marsh, and the music in the Navigation Inn was very much better than its brickwork (see yesterday's post).

There were traditional English tunes on 3 melodeons, Irish jigs from fiddle and flutes. Along with obligatory drinking songs and seafaring tales were some classy mining songs written by the singer himself (Alan  Stan, on the left below). I contributed a couple of items, and even managed to give the new accordion an airing with this very tolerant group. They really weren't quite as depressed as the photos make everybody look. Think of it as deep reflection and the corporate pain of shared social injustices, coupled with the effect of taking pictures indoors without a flash!

And then we got an invitation to go tonight for food and more music to the home of the couple who organise the session, along with our melodeon-playing boating friends Roger and Mirjana.

So far, a very good weekend.

Gently to Gronwyn bridge, Gronwen wharf

Even when roads are not far away, the Monty has the feel of being miles from anywhere.

You cruise along, often in your own little bubble / time warp, but usually with views through the trees of this fairly flat landscape to some small hill in the distance. It's unusual to meet other boats – the only two today passed us, going north, before we were out of bed! 

The lock-keeper told us yesterday that restrictions on going down onto the Monty are not so much because of the Llangollen losing water (which is what I'd imagined) and more because the Monty itself does not know what to do with a lot of water coming from above.

Conditions mean you travel slowly and, anyway, today our destination is not far and there's unlikely to be any pressure on mooring space. So we pushed on past Maesbury Marsh, under the lift bridge…

and winded at Gronwen wharf, which is as far as you can navigate. It seems it's Gronwen for the wharf, but Gronwyn for the bridge just beyond.

So now we are tied up, facing the right way for the return journey – but that's not till Sunday.

There's a folk session tonight in the Navigation Inn, and the prospect of something good from their excellent menu at some point during the weekend.

Hope both are better than the brickwork!

Moles, mink and memories on the Monty

For many years, in my study at Moorlands College, I had a picture of the New Forest snake catcher, given to me by a student who thought they saw a similarity to their esteemed tutor. Modesty (believe it if you will) prevents me reproducing the picture here. Suffice it to say he bore more than a passing resemblance to this character we passed yesterday, as we meandered quietly back to Ellesmere.

Today, having come down Frankton locks onto the Montgomery canal, we found the fruits of another catcher's labours.

The mole catcher was clearly concerned to demonstrate that he's worth what they're paying him – so 16 moles and two mink hung from the barbed wire. For those who know, it was gruesomely reminiscent of Duncton Wood.

We were also catching today – catching up with our friends Roger and Mirjana, in whose boat Jireh we first experienced the Monty 8 or 9 years ago.

They helped us (and the lock keeper) as we dropped down the flight which includes a staircase,

passing this garden which incorporates the dry dock where Tom Rolt's boat Cressy was converted for leisure use in 1929.

R & M then came to lunch. Hope to see them tomorrow night for some music-making at Maesbury.

Chirk castle delights

It was a long walk up to Chirk castle – 3 miles by the route they sent us on. If the signs had been clearer, we could have gone by the vehicular exit route, which is only a mile and a half – though it would have been pretty consistently and tiringly uphill. In the end it was worth every ache.

It's quite imposing as you approach from below, though in a friendly sort of way as most of the arrow slits have been replaced by paned windows.

Selwyn, standing guard, gave us a warmer welcome than the 2nd Sir Thomas Myddleton had offered the Royalist troops who took possession for a while. He found the castle difficult to re-capture because he didn't want to bombard the edifice his father had bought for £5000!

Part of the mediaeval fortress section survives. Sir Thomas's room:

The convenience stop / long drop.

Dungeon

with enticing designer staircase

and miscreant awaiting their just deserts (or just dessert).

The section converted for more regular residence has much in common with other National Trust properties – displays of period furniture, period art and laundry equipment. But some of the contents brought particular delight. The 1742 Burkat Shudi harpsichord:

The library had been intelligently stocked and is the subject of much conservation and care.

However, for me, the star of the show was this 1882 Broadwood grand piano.

In its time, it has been played by George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Noël Coward and Winston Churchill.

And now by yours truly.

Chirk duck

Never seen it quite like this before. Thinking we'd visit Chirk castle tomorrow we came north, yet again, and moored up in the cutting just after Chirk tunnel (that's now 7 times across the aqueduct and through the tunnel). We walked into Chirk to get fresh veggies for tea. It turned out the Co-op was just over mile away at the other end of the town, so we had a bit more exercise than we'd bargained for. When we got back, guess who had turned up to take us under their wing.

Later they returned, making "Feed me" signs through the kitchen window

Both of them were rather heavy with egg, we think, though the father was nowhere to be seen.

And now, just in case any readers don't know the Pontcysyllte aqueduct which got a mention yesterday, here's what it looks like as you approach it (and yes, there are only about 2 inches separating you from a 125 foot drop on the left hand side).

And here's a view down into the valley as you get near the other side.

But no photos can do justice to the sheer terror of being there and trying to control Erin Mae, with a strong current coming at you and a gale force cross-wind. Four times in three days. No wonder we needed a lie-in this morning.

Aqueducts and tunnels

Chirk aqueduct, Chirk tunnel and Whitehouse tunnel 6 times each in four days. Pontcysyllte aqueduct 4 times in the same period. Is that something of a record?

Record or not, it was busy enough to mean no blog posts! Brother and sister-in-law arrived on Thursday morning, and we all headed off to Llangollen. As expected, the weather was horrible, and hearts are in mouths as you look down 120 feet from the aqueducts, but there's very little that can happen. Especially with Erin Mae slowing down so much in the adverse current. By evening the rain had relented enough for us to eat out at the Bridge End Hotel. Next morning we had a dry walk to the Horseshoe Falls and back, before the return journey to our Lyon Quays base, and Ivan and Irene left for their caravan again.

The next morning (Saturday) nephew David and family arrived from Chester, where we'd had such a great day last year. Lewis and Charis learned a new knot and renewed their acquaintance with the tiller bar. Once again we travelled over the aqueducts and through the tunnels, this time threading our way through the stacked Anglo-Welsh boats at Trevor to wind Erin Mae in the hole beyond. Alas, by now there was a procession coming across the Pontcysyllte, and we must have waited more than half an hour before we could start back. Because of the conditions I'd removed the chimney and its rain hat. Needn't have bothered. A gust blew the rain hat off the roof and into the canal while we were crossing the Chirk aqueduct, so that's another contribution to some chandler's pension fund.

Back at Lyon Quays overnight we awaited the arrival of long-standing friends Steve and Una, accompanied by Joel and Ruth. We hadn't been sure we would go out, but by now we needed a pump-out, so off we went up-stream again to Chirk marina. Time constraints meant winding before the Pontcysyllte this time.

A great few days catching up. Tying up for good home-made grub, nattering inside or out as you travel. Opportunities for others to enjoy some of the fun of boating, and a bit of time just to be, together.

We shall sleep well tonight. In spite of the entertainment at the third wedding in so many days at the Lyon Quays who have proved so welcoming.

Donegal sky

We've made it to the Lyon Quays Spa / Hotel, just before Chirk, where we've arranged to meet my best beloved's brother and sister-in-law tomorrow and take them for a sleepover. Unfortunately they appear to have brought the Donegal sky across with them. A poet friend of mine wrote of Donegal: "This is my magic ground". She would spend summertime there, loving the colours and the contrasts, and never mind the rain. That, after all, is a part of its character and charisma.

But as we look at the forecast for tomorrow, the question will be whether we  tackle the Pontcysyllte aqueduct, 330 yards long, 126 feet above the River Dee valley, with Erin Mae 2 inches from the drop on one side, when the BBC website is promising strong winds and heavy rain. We might be tempted to spend the day in Chirk tunnel!

For tonight, the sky has cleared, as it does in Donegal, and it's a fine evening. Supper's in the pot.