Home run

I've always thought of moorhens as being rather timorous beasties.

Those round Erin Mae at last night's mooring were clamouring like ducks to be fed and/or admired.

Perhaps birds have different cultures on different canals. The herons on the Shroppie all flap away once we're within 10 yards (only to have to repeat the manoeuvre 50 yards further on – birdbrain!), while some canals have herons that stay where they are as we pass – albeit a little nervously.

We were saying our good-byes, when the Little Chimney Company boat passed, but then moored up just beyond where we'd been. The tiller construction on the butty is positively splendid. I promised them an honourable mention on the blog tonight – nice to see you!

So we pushed on to Fradley Junction at our own pace – the first time we've approached it from this direction. The swing bridge to enter the basin is the easiest we've encountered all summer (and we've met a few!). Not even a locking mechanism to release.

Turning left we were on the first stretch of water that wasn't new to us since Wigan on 2nd July. And it wasn't long before a sight of the Rugeley power station towers told us we were getting near to base.

So – just one more night in the wild before we're back at the marina.

Wind, fire and train

You'd never know from most of the photos,

like that of the picturesque aqueduct over the River Tame,

or of the rather boring (IMHO) junction where the Coventry joins the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal at (you guessed it!) Fazeley, where we stopped for water.

It's nearly as famous as Braunston or Foxton, and no doubt the CRT yard and its environs contain wonders for those who like that sort of thing. For me it seemed an odd assortment of buildings, with a couple of nice signposts to make sure you don't get lost.

Why they needed two, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps one for the Coventry Canal, and one for the Birmingham and Fazeley.

But none of these photos can show today's most impressing characteristic – the wind. It was cold, it was strong and at times it threatened to sweep us into collision with boat or bridge or bank.

As if that wasn't enough, there's a significant stretch with "Keep Out" signs warning you that the wood on your left is an MOD firing range. Someone had written "Hare Krishna" at the bottom of this one, perhaps in an attempt to keep the balance.

The identity crisis of the two canals is resolved at Whittington, where a stone informs you that you are no longer on the B & F, but have re-joined the Coventry. There's a rationale for it all somewhere in the mists of history, a bit like the Oxford resuming its northwards run after being taken over by the Grand Union for a while.

For much of the ground (or water) we've covered today, Virgin and other trains have been a pretty constant companion. I don't know whether it's the West Coast main line or not, but it certainly sounds like it. The wind eventually persuaded us to pull over for the day at a very pretty spot. If I'd held the camera straight out of the side hatch instead of along Erin Mae's length, you could have seen the rail track about 200 yards away. We've decided we'll just get used to it. Between trains it's exceedingly pleasant, and the sun is shining.

Prescription

My best beloved was running out of the stuff that holds her together so, judging where we'd be and when, we rang our doctor's practice. They've been very good at faxing repeat prescriptions through to the pharmacy of our choice.

Around lunch-time today we moored up just above the Glascote locks in Tamworth, judging that to be the point offering the shortest (well, the least long) walk into the town. As small shopping centres go, the Ankerside is rather mediocre inside, but it has a very nice location beside, would you believe, the River Anker.

The park in front was being planted up with bedding to flower in February, though some of the violet primroses or primulas were currently in bloom. Crossing over the river to get there, we had a nice view of an older bridge.

We also had to pass the castle.

The park has some interesting information boards about what it would have liked to be here in the heyday of the Saxon settlement, and once the Normans had built their fortress.

One of them explained the herringbone structure to a wall as being to offer strength when subsidence is a possibility.

Well, that was enough history for one day. We were concerned to complete the present task. We found Boots, and the people behind the pharmacy counter were extremely helpful, located the faxed prescription and put it together. That was when we found that two items were missing.

We rang the doctor's, and figured out that the prescription had been two pages long (yes, I know, but some of them have very long names), and they seemed to have faxed through only the first page. They promised to send the rest, and we sat down to wait. Twenty minutes later I rang again to make sure I hadn't misunderstood – that they really were going to fax them through that afternoon. A hour later I rang again, and found that they had had to print off the second page again, which needed a doctor's signature, but it really would be sent when the interview with the current patient was over. Ten minutes later, the receptionist rang me to ask for the fax number again. Ten minutes later again, we finally had all the little capsules.

I learned today that, with the computerisation of the NHS, it ought to be possible to do all this electronically (I think, in this day and age, fax doesn't count as electronic communication). We'll have to make sure both we and our doctor's practice are properly signed up for it before next year's travels!

No Problem at Atherstone

As we set out, it really could not have been a better late October day for boating.

It was only just over a mile to the first of the eleven Atherstone locks, and there we came up behind Vic & Sue on NB No Problem, who must have overtaken us while we were visiting Nuneaton yesterday.

There was also an extra pair of volunteer hands. Joe said it was a pleasure to be out, and everybody we met seemed to feel the same.

Most of the locks in this flight are very pretty. A CRT guy said there has been talk of bringing all the side-ponds back into service, and that would add to the hydro-mechanical interest, as well as tidying up those that have been de-commissioned.

Meanwhile my best beloved was dividing her energies between chatting to Sue (and giving her a hand!) and working Erin Mae down the flight behind her, with a little help from yours truly.

She was very pleased, given the outside temperature on this sunny day, to have a reason to wear her nice, cool socks.

Cool not, you understand, in the sense of cold. That wouldn't have been very sensible at all.

Down the flight at last, we passed Grandon boatyard – another one equipped with a splendid clock-tower that can't tell the time. It was time enough, however, to moor up for the day shortly after, before hitting anything more urban.

The locks had taken quite a while, but there was time to do some boaty jobs before having a cuppa. Then the sun told us that would do for today.

No problem at all!

Farewell to Nuneaton

A student of mine in the 90s came from Nuneaton, and our tutor group went to work for a week with her church on a special project. We thought that, passing through Nuneaton today, we should pay a visit to the town, and revive some memories. And anyway, we had an important letter to put in the post.

I have to say that I come away from this town with less happy memories than I approached it. First up was the walk into the centre. Nicholson's cheerfully talks about good moorings at Bridge 20 giving access to local services. I know that narrowboat steerers often don't get enough exercise, but I'm not sure that I appreciated today's recommended 2 miles being all along main roads from the mooring to the centre and back. Second was the centre itself. No doubt Nuneaton is a delightful place to live for various reasons, but the centre of the town is surely not one of them. The fruit scone my best beloved enjoyed in Debenham's café with her coffee was extremely good – and that was the highlight of our visit.

The third reason for the perturbations in my mind was the carpet which wrapped itself around Erin Mae's propellor as we attempted an escape. I envisaged five hours with a Stanley knife, but fortunately it responded to a good bit of pulling and pushing from within the weed hatch. I wanted (a) to get a photo, and (b) to remove it from the waterway before it ensnared some other boater, but on perceiving my intentions it sank away out of sight, to await the next approaching set of stern gear. I have to say that Nuneaton's waters were the most chock-full of rubbish we've encountered for a very long time.

The canal north of Nuneaton, however, was very pleasant. There were rather a lot of moored boats, some of them in awkward places, but we weren't in a hurry, having decided to tie up for the night before reaching the Atherstone flight of locks. Along the way is the CRT dockyard at Hartshill.

It lies between two closely adjacent bridges, and Nicholson's, unusually, advises the boater to slow down to appreciate the clock tower, "the mellow architecture and old dock". It certainly did look good – would be even better on a sunny day, no doubt.

To finish off the day we've found a really nice mooring just south of Mancetter, one of the sites touted as the place of Boudica's last battle. Here's a view through the side-hatch.

And here's another – there's even some blue in the sky though the photo doesn't show it well.

Ah! That's better. Memories of Nuneaton thankfully fade into the past.

Sorry, Michelle.

Hawkesbury Junction, with No Problem

Having met the last Coal and Diesel boat in the middle of Braunston tunnel, we met NB Auriga coming round a very sharp bend, and towing a 70 foot barge behind herself.

I caused Rick some palpitations by immediately slowing up, instead of getting out of his way – it was only afterwards that he realised I wanted to buy some solid fuel. I'm experimenting with different types, so I bought some Pureglow – it was a pound cheaper than Supertherm. But it'll be a while before I burn it. The last fuel I bought, I realised afterwards, isn't registered as smokeless, so I want to use that up before we get back to base.

After that it was only a little way to Hawkesbury Junction, where the Oxford canal terminates. It has a stop lock, which typically have only the slightest of level change, if any at all, and were installed where one company's canal joined another's. Water conservation these days means anti-vandal devices on a lock's paddles. When the canals were built it meant the Acme Canal Company's water stayed in the Acme Company's canal, as much as possible.

As we pulled in to join the queue for the lock, we realised we were passing NB No Problem, with Sue and Vic on board. Sue gets credit for jump-starting the canal blog phenomenon, and maintains the Boaters Blogs website, as well as her own blog. Our paths had not crossed before, and we were delighted to pull up and chat for a while as we waited to go through. I understand that my picture of Sue is almost unique, in that she's not wearing her pink cap!

It was great to meet you, Sue. Thank you for coming out to chat. Hope it won't be so long till the next time.

The junction at Hawkesbury sees the two canals running parallel to each other, and then linked at the basin.

It makes for a very sharp turn, but there's plenty of room, both in the basin and through the bridges, to be able to make it gracefully. A couple of miles up the cut is the junction with the Ashby Canal, with a much narrower turn.

We'll be up there sometime but, for the moment, we're heading by stages back to Great Haywood.

Shortly before the end of the Oxford Canal, we passed this sign on the bank. We wondered what the voles think about this all-day breakfast advert for the local mink population. Poor Ratty!

Sidearms

I think the North Oxford Canal must have a licence to bear sidearms.

It reminded us of parts of the Shroppie – long stretches with embankments and cuttings rather than locks to negotiate the undulations of the landscape.

The only tunnel was totally unthreatening.

The only warnings were about a couple of underwater obstructions, and the need to limit speed so as to avoid creating more.

Actually the biggest obstruction was when we came to the Rose Narrowboats yard.

They've got to be moored somewhere during the winter months, but this apology for a swing bridge will be stopping traffic all year round.

However, the feature of the canal that stood out was the regular occurrence of sidearms.

Many of them were spanned by footbridges made by Horseley Iron Works.

 They were mostly short arms, leading to a wharf,

or a boatyard,

or a small marina.

 The bridge above simply spanned a winding hole, whereas that by Rose Narrowboats played a significant role in their business plan.

Towards the end of our journey, we came across the shortest of all (apart from the winding hole), protected by a makeshift plastic boom, and guarded by a flotilla of the local aquatic population.

It's been enjoyable to cruise this section of the North Oxford. But it has also been very chilly. So we were quite glad it didn't take quite as long as CanalPlan had indicated (I really did slow down for the unstable cutting – honest!) and that we could get a fire going, and a warming cuppa, having tied up at Ansty.