Hill

Napton-on-the-Hill – you'd imagine you were in for a long series of locks. Actually, the Oxford Canal circles around the village-on-a-hill, and the flight you then have to climb, still named after the village, is up a different hill altogether. But the Napton hill does offer some splendid vistas to its worthy inhabitants.

The windmill has sails, which is more than can be said for the one at Braunston (unless they'd been removed for maintenance).

The houses have a very pleasant prospect,

since I assume the hill the locks ascend hide the huge mountains of silt we passed a couple of days ago. Mind you, one of the houses seemed a bit brash, without quite the same touch of class.

While, down below, a couple of residents were making do with a definitely inferior brand of habitation.

For a boater, Napton-on-the-Hill is mostly something to be gazed at from afar. Its village store is excellent, but it's a long, hot walk up too many contour lines on a day like today.

Alternatives

This alternative summer lifestyle still includes showers and running the washing machine, so we stopped for water at the Marston Doles locks, as we had done on the way up. The bollards down this stretch are wooden and awkward. You have to work really hard to keep a handling line from the roof in place when it's under tension.

This was where, the other day, the 60 foot boaters had not read the notice!

While the tank filled I wandered down to see what was on the other side of the winding hole and had a surprise.

Connaught Historic Racing – definitely an alternative to Sunday's Formula 1. A few yards on the picture was filled out even further as I saw what was in the yard.

Tank filled, I went to set the lock and found it already being processed by a couple enjoying their alternative holiday.

Eight locks to do today, so we were glad of all the help we could get from boats coming up, or boats following us down, or the one volunteer we met along the way.

Halfway down the Napton flight we passed this boat. Why would I take a hasty snap backwards as I descended the next lock?

The reason is that the people under the bridge were the owners of the first dog I've ever encountered in a canal, taking either an alternative route to Fenny Compton, or an alternative method of keeping cool in the heat. I stopped, to avoid propellered dog, and they managed to haul him out by the collar!

Wind

Last night I'd been debating reversing to the Fenny Compton winding hole, past all the boats moored behind us. As against asking Fenny Marina, a bit further on, if I could wind (turn) in the marina (perhaps I could buy some fuel, to soften the touch of Bad Form). In the event, all the boats moored behind us had gone in the morning, so I reversed back to the hole. Which is where the fun started.

With the rudder, you can't move the bows of the boat across, of course, only the stern, and that's tricky, when the stern is under the bridge. Then I remembered what I'd seen an old boater doing at Hawkesbury Junction, and got the long pole off the roof. Standing at the front, it was relatively straightforward to push the bows across to the left. A combination of right-hand tiller and my best beloved pulling the stern line from the towpath brought the boat through the critical right-angle point. Fortunately only one boat was waiting to come through while this was going on – we'd picked our moment well.

Rushing somewhat to get Erin Mae ready for this manoeuvre, I had put the side panels of the stern cover on the roof, but not in their bag. As we got under way, the breeze got up, and got under the panels. It was precisely this scenario in September three or four years ago that we lost the last set of panels, blown off the roof as we came through Colwich. Happily, the wind today was nowhere near as strong, and my best beloved took over the steering while I nipped down the gunwale to fold the panels into their bag, and safety.

Reversing our route to Marston Doles, we passed again huge piles of spoil.

Fortunately it didn't seem to be dusty in the wind. We tried to think where it all might have come from – there was a clue on some of the machinery.

Now I can't believe that dredging even the Oxford Canal would produce this amount of silt. Could it be that this is the national centre for all silt-removers to send their product?

Towards the end of today's journey, we saw a strange sight across the field.

As we got closer, it was clear that this was indeed a narrow-boat.

Very strange – our canal guide doesn't mention a side-arm here.

Perhaps there was once a ditch filled with water, and the owner tried to wind, but got stuck. And over time the ditch got filled in. And the owner decided that a static pied-à-terre was better than no boat.

Or whatever!

Wibbly wobbly

This is the journey we made today, just over 7 miles along the Warwickshire / Oxfordshire boundary.

Following a contour means the canal definitely wiggles a lot! That means you regularly catch and lose sight of other boats.

And the bridges always seem to come on corners, even more than usual.

Odd things catch your attention as you travel: A wigwam / tepee with outside facilities,

an observer of the wibbly-wobbly traffic,

and the site of the mediaeval village of Wormleighton.

Not a lot to see, you might think, but the surface of the field is definitely wobbly-wobbly where ancient structures lie beneath.

After these last two days on the top of the world, the wharf at Fenny Compton, with moorings, pub, boaters' facilities and winding hole feels like a definite metropolis.

View from a side hatch

We decided to take a day off in this quiet spot, with a gentle view across the fields from the side hatch.

A few boats have come past today, including two that have tied up in front of Erin Mae, but hardly enough to disturb the peace. The sun came out to defy the Met Office forecast and it's been a warm afternoon, though no doubt it will be chilly enough tonight to warrant a fire again.

I was making a cuppa just after 4, when NB An Unexpected Journey came past the window, slow enough for me to grab the camera.

What the steerer thought of me clicking him from the side hatch, I can't think. He perhaps thought I thought he was doing something he didn't oughta. But then he probably doesn't know that I'm compiling a list of Tolkien-themed boat names. Or that, even though he's the 29th, he's shot to the top of this alphabetically-ordered roster.

Ain't misbehavin'

It's a great mooring between the two bottom locks of the Napton flight. In the morning I took a bag of rubbish down to the disposal point by the bottom lock, and found four lockies, presumably at least three of them volunteers, standing around doing nothing – very few boats on the move.

I had a bit of chat with them, and then suggested that if they needed something to do to keep the cold and the boredom at bay, one or two of them might like to help my best beloved and me through the six remaining locks of the flight. They looked at me as though I was on another planet! I took that as a No – but it's the first time I've been surprised by anything except the outstanding helpfulness of "volockies".

So we took off up the flight by ourselves, encountering good help on the way from other boaters coming down. Up the Napton locks, and then on through the two Marston Doles locks, where we wanted to take on water. A hire boat was on the point, engaged in using the hose to wash bird poo off the roof. I told them we were coming up – but they were still on the point as we came out of the lock. My power of suggestion was obviously not working this morning. Eventually they finished up, and moved on, but only about 5 yards, tying up still overlapping the water point bollards. As I moved in and connected our hose, I pointed out that they weren't supposed to moor there, but they said they were waiting to turn the boat. After a bit it occurred to me that they had a 60 foot boat, and the guide shows clearly that the winding hole is for 50 foot boats or less. So I checked with them whether they knew how long their boat was, and if they knew about what this winding hole would allow. Mutterings inside the boat endued. No photo – that would be unkind.

We carried on out into the countryside, being surprised, this time, by a herd of water buffalo, definitely behaving', doing what water buffalo do, though not normally in the wilds of Warwickshire.

Is that the local source of mozzarella cheese? A little later, we were able to tie up at the first stretch of armco, in a beautifully isolated spot which will do us very nicely.

And after about half an hour, the hire boat which had been unable to wind came by, at a very sedate, well-behaved tickover. I wonder when we'll see them coming back.

Quiet

After all the activity of the last two days, both ours and that deriving from the multiple marinas and hire bases near Napton Junction, today was definitely to be quieter. On the way to the Napton locks we met only one boat, which unfortunately, politely giving us room on a corner, ran aground on the outside of the bend and had to spend a little while reversing off! The canal here meanders round the hill on which Napton-on-the-hill stands, so there are some fine views up it, including one of the windmill. We couldn't tell if it is in any way functional, or just a Jonathan Creek-Style residence.

We brought the water in the first lock up to level, for a boat coming down to use, and then went up to moor on the right hand side between the locks.

 It's a very nice spot, with a fine view back to the village in spite of the greyness of the day, and we were looking forward to a nice, quiet afternoon, perhaps incorporating a snooze.

Then the boat behind started his engine, presumably to charge his batteries. Some engines are relatively quiet and unobtrusive on tickover. Not this one! It was so rattly I thought for a while it was an old generator. So much for a peaceful afternoon. Mind you, my best beloved still went off to the land of nod regardless. I did other things.