Varnish

Well, here's the second coat of varnish.

There were fewer bugs and bits of dust than I feared, so I gave it a very gentle rub down with 320 grade paper before today's coat. I found the easiest way, and best for my back, was to do sections starting by the control column, so that I could rest my left hand on the rail as I moved around. Looking out this afternoon from Erin Mae's interior to the sunlit back deck I can see all sorts of things in the air that I hadn't noticed earlier. So there might be bits of debris for tomorrow's final rub down – we shall see. But I doubt there's anyway you get a perfect surface when painting or varnishing a boat out of doors, at whatever time of year.

In spite of the sunshine there's been a real nip in the air, so I've had the fire gently going for most of the day. It's been really nice to have the combination of fresh air from the open side-hatch and the warmth from the fire. My best beloved also prepared some most delicious home-made soup and soda bread for lunch. We are well content!

Not going home

Keith Wilson indicated that he's due in Great Haywood on Tuesday, so that's when we need to be back in the marina for him to measure up the pram hood cover for new side panels. This meant we could turn left at the junction and head down to Tixall Wide (again!) to enjoy the environment and do some maintenance.

I'd been trying to ring Harworth Heating, who know all about stoves like Erin Mae's Squirrel. Tying up at Tixall I finally had a signal strong enough to do so. The issue was that the exploded diagram of the stove I downloaded from their website shows a couple of washers to be used when changing the glass, as I did last week. But the person I spoke to couldn't see them on her diagram at all, and even said that the part number shown was not on their system. Eventually it transpired that two diagrams, both presumably supplied by the manufacturer Mørso, had conflicting info, one with the washers and one without. A fitter who happened to be in their office said not to worry about them, so I won't. I just don't want the air conductor (which I had mistakenly referred to as a baffle) to fall off!

This afternoon's warmth provided good conditions for varnishing the wooden rail on Erin Mae's stern, so I set to with sandpaper and brush. There didn't seem to be many insects around or dust in the air, but the new surface looks spotty in the evening light. I'll rub it down in the morning, get a second coat on, and see if that does any better.

Meanwhile this is a good place to moor up, very peaceful, with a red sky promising a nice day tomorrow.

Demosthenes

We moored up last night about half a mile short of Haywood Lock, overlooking the Shugborough estate. We've often dropped in there for coffee, or to stroll around the house or grounds. Today, whatever your sociopolitical predispositions may be towards big country houses, it looked splendid in the morning sun.

By the time we got there it was half-way between coffee time and lunchtime, so we had not just coffee and cake, but one of their home-made tomato and basil sausage rolls as well. It was scrumptious!

As visitors to Shugborough Park will know, there are various follies and towers dotted around the grounds, mostly inspired by Thomas Trail's visits to Mediterranean parts in the early 18th century, and financed by his brother George's plundering of Spanish ships laden with gold from the New World. In our previous wanderings there were one or two of these architectural wonders that we'd never located, in particular, the Lanthorn of Demosthenes. Since it was an excellent day for a walk, we determined to find it.

Demosthenes was a statesman and orator of ancient Athens and, among other things, ran a Theatre. The edifice on which this was modelled is the Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, which you can read all about yourself. The version at Shugborough appears to be missing most of the tripod which should sit on top, to support a flame-carrying bowl. Since such a tripod and bowl appears to have been the original monument's raison d'être, this is a bit of a pity, but perhaps the National Trust are doing something about it. They've certainly been hard at work in the interior of the main house since we were last here, creating an exhibition space celebrating the lives and work of the Trail brothers.

Walking to the Lanthorn, we passed Hadrian's Arch on its hilltop, so visited that on our way back.

Probably when they built this, you could see the house down in the valley. The trees that have grown in the intervening years obscure the house and the arch from each other, but both the arch and the view are impressive.

It was hot walking today, and we were glad to get back to Erin Mae and have a cuppa. But the sunshine meant we got a load of washing dry and that I shan't need to run the engine to charge the batteries. It's quiet on this stretch this afternoon.

Spode

To the boater, Spode normally means a stretch of the Trent and Mersey between Rugeley and Kings Bromley. The canal passes Spode House, which was linked with the Spode family of pottery fame. Then, coming towards Rugeley, you enter a narrow stretch which, inconveniently, has a bend at one end so you can't see what might be coming the other way.

There's only room for one boat and, unlike the narrows near Autherley Junction, there are no passing places. So, if you're fortunate enough to have a crew member, they get off and go to check all is clear – or to have a chat with the crew member of the oncoming craft.

Once through the narrows, you come to the Spode long-term moorings – here seen looking back from Erin Mae, with the bridge from which we had emerged in the background..

Normally, at this end, there is an odd life-sized figure on the bank, and I thought I'd take a photo of it as we passed. But it wasn't there! It's been in the same place every time we have come this way, until today. However, 100 yards further on we found it.

The figure is holding some sort of light. Its gender is indeterminate, and I can't decide whether it's meant to be a witch, or Scrooge's associate Jacob Marley, or simply an old person in their night attire. And why it should have been moved to someone else's plot 100 yards along was not at all clear. Perhaps the people who moor here take it in turns to host this character. It did strike me today that it might be one of Tolkien's blue wizards that we discussed yesterday, a little lost and trying to find his way home.

So much for Spode. There are unfriendly moorings on the towpath side – a concrete edge and no rings. You never see anybody moored up there. But today, for whatever reasons, there was a flotilla at anchor as we neared the end where the canal turns sharp right through a bind bridge hole towards the Ash Tree pub.

Blue wizards

Following yesterday's post and Kath's comments about the colour of NB Mithrandir, I tried to remember whether there was a blue wizard in Gandalf's order. On a page in the Tolkien Gateway website I found that there were, in fact, two.

"Alatar and Pallando, also known as Ithryn Luin, the "Blue Wizards," went into the East and do not come into the main tales of Middle-earth."

The webpage gives a little further info about them, for those who might be interested in such things. We are not told whether, like Saruman and Gandalf, they acquired other names among men and elves. I doubt whether I shall find a narrowboat named "Alatar" or "Pallando", even a blue one to match the wizard.

Well, today we definitely did not go into the East. Somewhat prosaically we have sauntered back in a sort of north-westish direction to territory we are well acquainted with, in the hope of eventually arranging with Keith Wilson to have our pram-hood restored to its former glory.

Mithrandir

J R R Tolkien had an extraordinary talent for naming. There are countless words and names in Lord of the Rings, in one of the languages he himself invented, which, once you have assimilated them, never seem anything else than utterly appropriate for the object or person in question. At Fazeley, for an enjoyable weekend with other members of the BCF, we came across this boat.

Mithrandir is an Elven name for Gandalf, which translates roughly as "Grey Pilgrim", "Grey Wanderer". It's not used a lot in the book(s), but both as a description of Gandalf and on the tongue it feels perfect. The first syllable "mith" means grey, and is also found in the word "mithril" – the silver grey metal of which was made the coat of mail that Bilbo was given, and which he passed on to Frodo.

Why, therefore, NB Mithrandir should be painted blue is a mystery! But it is yet another to add to my collection of Tolkien-themed boat names, which has now grown by three this year.

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

Bitumen

Having got the new glass for my fire in place, I was very pleased to get a fire going, after a few days without. All went well for the first half-hour, but then I noticed it was getting difficult to see the flames – the glass was blackening up on the inside. I'm used to cleaning soot off, so the next day I got out the cleaner spray. Nothing had prepared me for what I found on the glass.

It was covered in a bituminous deposit that the spray didn't touch, not even with a hard scrub with paper towel, cleaning cloth or nylon scrubber. It seemed like volcanic rock! In the end I took a Stanley knife to it and managed to cut pieces off, scrape by scrape.

I've been trying to think where it came from. The obvious source was the smokeless fuel, but this was from the end of a bag of Supertherm which had given no trouble before. The only new thing introduced to the fire was some copper grease I used in the holes for the screws holding the glass in. But there was nowhere near enough of that to have created this mess.

Eventually I had cleared about half of the deposit before we really wanted to have the fire going so I left the rest to another day. My chief worry is not the time expended, but that I might be leaving scratches on the glass that will make it more susceptible to breaking.

However, this weekend we are at Fazeley for a BCF get together. Peter of NB Sonflower assures me that (a) the deposit has definitely emerged from the fuel, and (b) it will eventually burn off if I get the fire running hot enough. If he's right, great. But I hope I don't burn out the sitting area doing so!