Anchor

Yesterday I mentioned the Anchor Inn, between the Shebdon embankment and Grub Street cutting. Coming in this direction you encounter it suddenly as you emerge from a bridge hole, so you have to be prepared if you want a photo. I was prepared, but once again had the wrong settings on my camera and had to quickly adjust. So this is not quite the picture I was planning, but it will do.

It was open as we passed it on our journey north-west last week, with people enjoying a drink at tables in the garden. But that was the only time we've ever seen it functioning, though other bloggers have occasionally mentioned stopping and enjoying the facilities. Mostly, nobody seems to understand the economics of this pub's survival, but are glad it's still going.

We've dropped our own anchor (as it were) at the High Onn wharf where we stopped last week and inserted the window I'd had out. That meant ignoring Norbury Junction and Gnosall, where we typically might have stopped in the past. But it's been nice to find a couple of different anchorages on the Shroppie this time around.

Along the way

In view of the rain promised from mid-morning, we set out from Market Drayton just after 7.30. The Tyrley five (sounds like a 60s band!) no longer hold the terror for us that they did six years ago, but the cheeky chappie you pass as you approach the first of the locks still hasn't caught anything.

At the water point at the top of the flight we tried to fill the tank, as we wanted to run the washing machine, but the pressure was minimal and we gave up after about 15 minutes. On the moorings just above the locks is NB Spirit of Phoebe, who would appear to have been a hobbit.

The rain duly came and we decided to tie up at a spot marked in Nicholson's guide as being the location of the Wharf Inn, one of two isolated inns along this stretch about whose continuing existence reviewers have often marvelled. We shall pass the Anchor tomorrow – last week as we came by was the first time we'd ever seen it actually open. But as for the Wharf Inn (not to be confused with the excellent Wharf Tavern some miles back), it is, alas, now merely a private residence (at least, that's what the notice on the door said when we went to look). It's called, unsurprisingly, "The Old Wharf" – probably a very useful name when you come to sell the property.

The wharf itself is a new mooring for us, and very nice too in the sunshine that eventually came out, though that was a little late for me to continue with any of the painting tasks I have planned. And we may not have much time for painting stops over the next few days, either. Our journey to Fazeley will need to be interrupted when we pass our marina next week – this morning's muesli interacted destructively with a rear right bottom tooth filling. We'll have to call in, pick up the car and pay a flying visit to the south coast.

Pork pie

We heard about the pork pies from a boater coming the other way at the bottom of the Adderley flight. It was a nice day for boating, sunny but with a nip in the air as we set out from Audlem.

Astute readers will note that Erin Mae's chimney is now in place – September has struck!

Starting up the first few locks of Audlem flight we said farewell to a couple of people who had been at the folk session on Monday night. We had 18 locks to do today, so it was good to find a few boats coming the other way, sharing the task of working the gates. One of the nicest sights is of a boat emerging from the lock you are about to enter!

But what about the pork pies? There was a big box of them on sale at the top lock of the Adderley flight – home-made at the farm through the fence and absolutely excellent. Having done our 18 locks we were ready for some sustenance, so they came at exactly the right time. My only regret is that I didn't get a photo of ours before we consumed it. I suppose we also ought to regret the amount of saturated fat and processed meat product that found its way into our bodies – probably about a month's allowance. I consoled myself by thinking of my father, who absolutely loved pork pie!

A couple of other things of interest on our way back to Market Drayton. First, a flock of sheep with black feet and black faces.

They were all heading back towards the Cheshire boundary, so no doubt that's where they belonged, in black and white country. I suppose the breed is called "black-faced sheep" or something similar. If our friend Iain had still been with us he could no doubt have told us, being something of an expert in such beasts.

The other point of interest was NB Radagast.

That's three new boats so far on this trip for my Tolkien-themed boat name list, which hits the 25 mark.

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

More practice required

We had a great time, as usual on our once-yearly visits, at the folk session in the Shroppie Fly in Audlem last night. In addition to the usual range of instruments, one guy had a Celtic harp. A long time ago I'd thought about acquiring one of these, until I found out what it would cost. I took along my guitar and piano accordion, but it wasn't my best performance – what with the other things going on with Erin Mae I've not been doing enough practice. I played Phil Cunningham's Kimberley's Waltz on the accordion, and the hurdy-gurdy player joined in and carried on with a repeat when I'd finished. So I put down the accordion and picked up the guitar to accompany him on that. It worked very well – perhaps we'll do it again when we're next up this way.

Today we got as far north as we shall go this trip. A mile out of Audlem is Overwater Marina, where the chandlery stocks Andy Russell's Gunwhale Black.

Andy is a boat painter in the Manchester area, and his proprietary gunwale paint is excellent even if (IMHO) he should have used his spell-check for the label. I may be short of practice on the instruments, but I've been making up for it on paintbrush and roller. So we needed some more, and Overton Marina is about as far south as it is sold. It was very convenient to get a tin this way – I had to pay for delivery on the first lot when I ordered it on the phone.

So at the marina we turned around and will make our way steadily to Fazeley over the next couple of weeks, getting more painting practice as the weather and the timetable allow.

Looking forward to the music

The Met Office's promises of rain were more than fulfilled at Audlem. Since Erin Mae's toilet is working fine again there was no need to find an engineer at Overwater Marina, and we stayed put for the moment. We'd have been coming back to Audlem anyway, for the folk session tonight in the Shroppie Fly.

It wasn't an entirely inactive day. Bits and bobs and interior cleaning. Once the rain stopped I went out to fix the rubber screw cover in its channel in the re-fitted window. I did the top section, but before inserting the section that covers the sides and bottom decided to provide extra insurance against water ingress through the four screw holes I'd enlarged, with some of Captain Tolley's Creeping Crack Cure. This aqueous silicone suspension is supposed to find its way by capillary action into the smallest crevices that rain might penetrate, and set to give a flexible seal. My previous experience with it is not all that positive, but I suspect I was trying to use it for gaps too large to be susceptible to its charms. Running it onto the spaces I've already sealed with Sikaflex, just to make sure, may be unnecessary but can't do any harm. I've at last been able to remove the tarpaulin from where it has been sitting ready to drop over the window. Hopefully this is now one window that is completely water-tight.

So the day has passed and the music is coming. We're looking forward to it.

Sunday solutions

We went to join with Audlem Methodist Church for worship this morning – a friendly bunch of people. In a context significantly different from our own church, I was struck by the organ pipes.

I've always thought of such pipes as being more or less monotone metallic (or wood), but our journeys on Erin Mae have quite often taken us places where pipes have been decorated in most interesting ways. From a distance, these looked rather like pieces of Wedgwood pottery.

We returned to the boat before going down to lunch in the Shroppie Fly, because we had two poo-related matters to deal with. In the first place, the towpath curse had once again struck my trainers – this time a deposit fresh this morning right outside our door. But we had further woes in relation to our own loo. Those of a delicate disposition should read no further. Since last night the pump had been refusing to clear what was in the bowl. With no resolution this morning I called Overwater Marina where we'll call in tomorrow. Workshop lead time is apparently 3 weeks, but the marina office said to ask first thing whether they'd do an emergency job. Next I checked the internet for service engineers and spoke with a very helpful guy who indicated that he might be able to drop in tomorrow if we had no alternative – but it would be expensive. He also made some suggestions about things I could try, involving wiggling brushes around, etc. I had no suitable brush, but I did have a long-handled paint-roller handle, which I thought might just boldly go…

After five minutes of wiggling, the blockage (for such it was) cleared, and we now have our loo back in service. Quite a relief!

This rather unusual Sunday afternoon, in which I retained a sense of normality by following the Formula 1 and the Test Match, was rounded off with epoxy glue, which I applied to the one of the two parts of my re-fitted window that still concerned me (the other is another slightly over-sized screw hole).

I couldn't (or, rather, didn't) do anything about the silicone placed along the inner part of the mitre by someone else, years ago. However, I wanted to make sure that that there were no gaps in the glue I'd used further out towards the apex when tightening this corner earlier, so I fed some over and into the joint where it will hopefully provide a permanent seal. It's not very pretty, but it will all look better when I replace the rubber insert in the channel, and paint over the bits of Sikaflex that have marked the red paint.

Too much excitement! We've discovered that the folk session we plan to go to at the Shroppie Fly is now on a Monday. By tomorrow night we should have recovered sufficiently to be able to thoroughly appreciate it.

All downhill

The sun had come out by the time we got to the bottom of the five locks of the Adderley flight this morning.

That corner ahead is a delightful spot to moor up if you want to remain incommunicado. There's no TV signal and no mobile signal! Last year, trying to post an entry for this blog, we walked half a mile into the village and wandered down a street, open laptop in hand, until we found a BT hotspot from some resident's wifi.

You can tell you've come to Cheshire, the black and white county. Even the cows are black and white!

Another mile, and you reach the start of the Audlem flight. We came down 11 of the 15 locks today, tying up in a spot we haven't moored before, because someone had said you get caught on the shelf.

But the rings were good, so we tried it and it all seems fine. An ideal spot to do a bit more work on the window I've re-sited. I've now put the final coat of varnish on the inside, so the curtains will be able to go back up tonight.