Coming back to the car in Stafford this morning we popped down a short passageway to have a look at the bowling green we'd seen at the other end, and found ourselves in Victoria Park. It was unexpected, since our past visits to Stafford have generally been for shopping, and we've mostly seen either the shops or the sprawling housing estates. The park gives the impression of being quite small, though the council website says it is the largest of those under its care, and it wouldn't have been hard to find, but we never did until now. It lies alongside a stretch of the River Sow, over which a bridge built to commemorate the coronation of King George V takes the pedestrian to a riverside walk. My camera was in my bag, but I thought it would be difficult to take a photo worth publishing, so left it there – something I now regret. So a link to its community support group will have to suffice.
In addition to the bowling green, it has a sizeable glass house for temperate or tropical plants, and an octagonal (I think) aviary with an entertaining but somewhat bizarre mix of budgerigars, pheasants of one sort or another, and other flittery delights. There were faded, laminated sheets inside the cages, drooped beyond all possibility of being read to identify the species. But they didn't seem to mind, and continued to stalk and flitter, chatter and feed, variously ignoring or delighting in the human company.
In front of a tall hedge, supervising proceedings, was a statue of a man bearded suitably for the first decade of the 20th century, with a bowl in his hand. His somewhat faded appearance contrasted strongly with the colourful mass of begonias still displaying in the bedding areas. There were very few in the park on this mild October morning. Perhaps we'll return at a busier time and try to capture some of its essence with the camera.
Sunday, 27 October 2013
Saturday, 26 October 2013
Spit and polish
Taking an extra weekend on Erin Mae meant a slightly different schedule for getting her ready for winter. In spite of Captain Ahab's comment on the 17th about a "winterisation lite" (thank you, Cap'n!), we'll probably not be back until April, unless…
Anyway, we got the chance to give her a polish.
I like this photo. You can see the enhanced reflections in the sides of the boat, but you can't see the scratches and worn bits which are going to have to wait to next year! I was also pleased with the process. We took Erin Mae across to the service wharf for a final pump-out and to replenish the diesel lost from the drippy water separator. Returning to our birth I backed her in with nary a touch on either side, so we could wash and polish the right hand side. Then I backed out again, turned around and came back in bows first to do the left hand side. All that manoeuvring was done yesterday, in the calm, given the great improbability of accomplishing any of it half so neatly in today's wind.
Also yesterday Steve from Kings Lock Chandlery rang to check that all was now OK with the diesel leak, and to say that he would gladly supply me with the equivalent amount of fuel next time I was passing through Middlewich – no time limit. You're a gentleman, Steve!
I've never understood how the "spit" in spit and polish was meant to work. Did it soften up the leather or the polish a bit? Anyway, on the assumption that rain spitting down when you're polishing a boat is less than helpful, we kept an eye on the sky while we got the task done, and didn't take a coffee break until it was done. Whether the nanometer or so of polish that actually remains on the surface when you've finished stands any chance of surviving the storm we're promised for Monday is another thing altogether.
And Monday is the reason for the ellipsis at the end of the first paragraph above. Clive Penny is going to bring his device for doing a final check on the inverter. If he is still stumped, then we'll probably call it a day and spend the winter wondering what to do next. But if his diagnosis suggests an immediate course of action, then perhaps we won't be packing Erin Mae down for the winter just yet.
Anyway, we got the chance to give her a polish.
I like this photo. You can see the enhanced reflections in the sides of the boat, but you can't see the scratches and worn bits which are going to have to wait to next year! I was also pleased with the process. We took Erin Mae across to the service wharf for a final pump-out and to replenish the diesel lost from the drippy water separator. Returning to our birth I backed her in with nary a touch on either side, so we could wash and polish the right hand side. Then I backed out again, turned around and came back in bows first to do the left hand side. All that manoeuvring was done yesterday, in the calm, given the great improbability of accomplishing any of it half so neatly in today's wind.
Also yesterday Steve from Kings Lock Chandlery rang to check that all was now OK with the diesel leak, and to say that he would gladly supply me with the equivalent amount of fuel next time I was passing through Middlewich – no time limit. You're a gentleman, Steve!
I've never understood how the "spit" in spit and polish was meant to work. Did it soften up the leather or the polish a bit? Anyway, on the assumption that rain spitting down when you're polishing a boat is less than helpful, we kept an eye on the sky while we got the task done, and didn't take a coffee break until it was done. Whether the nanometer or so of polish that actually remains on the surface when you've finished stands any chance of surviving the storm we're promised for Monday is another thing altogether.
And Monday is the reason for the ellipsis at the end of the first paragraph above. Clive Penny is going to bring his device for doing a final check on the inverter. If he is still stumped, then we'll probably call it a day and spend the winter wondering what to do next. But if his diagnosis suggests an immediate course of action, then perhaps we won't be packing Erin Mae down for the winter just yet.
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
Diesel electric
No – I haven't installed diesel-electric propulsion, yet! But we've been having fun and games with both the diesel and the electric.
As I blogged back on the 11th October, my calculations about Erin Mae's electrical usage have thrown up some oddities that I find hard to understand. In particular, using the inverter to power the fridge overnight seems to drain the batteries far more than it should. So I called in the services of a boat electrician to do some diagnostics, and so far he's stumped. The fridge appears fine, but I think he's agreed with me that the Victron Phoenix MultiPlus (grand name) is inexplicably taking too much juice when under load. He's got a piece of kit attached to another boat at the moment that he's going to bring across after the weekend which will provide some more data. If it really is the Victron then (a) that would be very unusual, and (b) unfortunately, if you want to run complete tests, it seems they have to go back to Holland! So we shall wait and see.
It was when we lifted the engine cover to get at the batteries that I realised the floor of the engine compartment was flooded. That has never happened before. Then I realised that (tut-tut) I hadn't opened the compartment to do any routine checks since we had the engine service done in Middlewich at the start of the month (and fitted the charger gizmo), so it could have been there, or growing, for three weeks. But what had happened? Coolant / anti-freeze leak? No, that was OK. Water from the canal? No, wrong consistency. Ingress from the horrendous rain we've been getting? No, the drainage channels were clear. It was only when I reflected on why the flood was pink that I thought of diesel. Horrors! Leaking tank?
Anyway, I got onto Kings Lock Chandlers on the assumption that it had to have something to do with the service. Steve was very helpful, and today Keith drove down to sort it out. First he sucked out the diesel (20 litres, at a guess – ouch!).
Then it became apparent that this was the culprit:
It's a separator that allows any water in the fuel to sink to the bottom and be removed. The drain plug at the bottom was dripping fuel. So we sorted it out (that is, Keith sorted it out) and we shall keep an eye on it to check it remains sorted.
Some people buy a boat in order to have a project.
As I blogged back on the 11th October, my calculations about Erin Mae's electrical usage have thrown up some oddities that I find hard to understand. In particular, using the inverter to power the fridge overnight seems to drain the batteries far more than it should. So I called in the services of a boat electrician to do some diagnostics, and so far he's stumped. The fridge appears fine, but I think he's agreed with me that the Victron Phoenix MultiPlus (grand name) is inexplicably taking too much juice when under load. He's got a piece of kit attached to another boat at the moment that he's going to bring across after the weekend which will provide some more data. If it really is the Victron then (a) that would be very unusual, and (b) unfortunately, if you want to run complete tests, it seems they have to go back to Holland! So we shall wait and see.
It was when we lifted the engine cover to get at the batteries that I realised the floor of the engine compartment was flooded. That has never happened before. Then I realised that (tut-tut) I hadn't opened the compartment to do any routine checks since we had the engine service done in Middlewich at the start of the month (and fitted the charger gizmo), so it could have been there, or growing, for three weeks. But what had happened? Coolant / anti-freeze leak? No, that was OK. Water from the canal? No, wrong consistency. Ingress from the horrendous rain we've been getting? No, the drainage channels were clear. It was only when I reflected on why the flood was pink that I thought of diesel. Horrors! Leaking tank?
Anyway, I got onto Kings Lock Chandlers on the assumption that it had to have something to do with the service. Steve was very helpful, and today Keith drove down to sort it out. First he sucked out the diesel (20 litres, at a guess – ouch!).
Then it became apparent that this was the culprit:
It's a separator that allows any water in the fuel to sink to the bottom and be removed. The drain plug at the bottom was dripping fuel. So we sorted it out (that is, Keith sorted it out) and we shall keep an eye on it to check it remains sorted.
Some people buy a boat in order to have a project.
Thursday, 17 October 2013
Delaying the inevitable
I was quite glad when NB Two Jays overtook us just as we were getting ready to go this morning. It meant we wouldn't get back to Great Haywood quite so quickly. But these last two locks of the Staffs and Worcs don't hold you up very much anyway. So we meandered slowly past Baswich and Milford, so slowly in fact that the boat behind caught us up as we got near to Tixall lock.
It was lunch-time, so we called a halt at Tixall Wide. Perhaps we could stay the night. Mo and Mike on NB The Great Escape hooted as they went by, just as we had done to them a little earlier. In the end, we decided just to do it, so we crept at snail's pace past the multitude of moored boats on the cut into and away from Great Haywood junction, and turned very slowly into the marina and around to our mooring.
Connected the hook-up. Now there's a novelty: no electric problems to worry about for a little while. In fact, first thing this morning we rang a boat electrician recommended by the chandlers, and will probably meet up on Monday to see if we can work out what's taking all the juice. Meanwhile it's autumn spring-clean time. Spruce up everything we can in preparation for six months away.
Perhaps there might be time for just one more little excursion before winterisation…
It was lunch-time, so we called a halt at Tixall Wide. Perhaps we could stay the night. Mo and Mike on NB The Great Escape hooted as they went by, just as we had done to them a little earlier. In the end, we decided just to do it, so we crept at snail's pace past the multitude of moored boats on the cut into and away from Great Haywood junction, and turned very slowly into the marina and around to our mooring.
Connected the hook-up. Now there's a novelty: no electric problems to worry about for a little while. In fact, first thing this morning we rang a boat electrician recommended by the chandlers, and will probably meet up on Monday to see if we can work out what's taking all the juice. Meanwhile it's autumn spring-clean time. Spruce up everything we can in preparation for six months away.
Perhaps there might be time for just one more little excursion before winterisation…
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Happiness is a journey…
…not a destination
So says the birthday card my best beloved blessed me with on Monday.
But at the start of today, journeying was the last thing on our mind. It was a day for getting up late, putting the heating on, having toast and marmalade as well as muesli for breakfast, and then moving quickly on to coffee time. The Met Office had promised us heavy rain, and that was what Penkridge delivered. The MO had held out hope of a less wet afternoon, but we weren't holding our breath.
And then it came – blue skies and even some sunshine. So we said our farewells to Penkridge and moved to the lock. Underfoot was evidence of the massive acorn harvest there's been.
When we opened the bottom gates I tried to say farewell to Penkridge properly, but had to do some serious engine work just to get Erin Mae out of the lock. As we emerged, the reason became apparent. The water level in the pound was way down, judging by the marks.
I can't think there's been a water shortage after this morning! Perhaps someone had left all the paddles open at the next lock.
So the journey continued, to somewhere in the middle of very little. We've seen a pair of large birds of prey in the field opposite, and my best beloved thinks they might be marsh harriers. If they are, that's a first for us, but the bird book is inconclusive about whether their distribution makes this identification unlikely.
I suspect we will finally reach our home mooring at Great Haywood tomorrow. Happiness probably entails being content with destinations as well.
So says the birthday card my best beloved blessed me with on Monday.
But at the start of today, journeying was the last thing on our mind. It was a day for getting up late, putting the heating on, having toast and marmalade as well as muesli for breakfast, and then moving quickly on to coffee time. The Met Office had promised us heavy rain, and that was what Penkridge delivered. The MO had held out hope of a less wet afternoon, but we weren't holding our breath.
And then it came – blue skies and even some sunshine. So we said our farewells to Penkridge and moved to the lock. Underfoot was evidence of the massive acorn harvest there's been.
When we opened the bottom gates I tried to say farewell to Penkridge properly, but had to do some serious engine work just to get Erin Mae out of the lock. As we emerged, the reason became apparent. The water level in the pound was way down, judging by the marks.
I can't think there's been a water shortage after this morning! Perhaps someone had left all the paddles open at the next lock.
So the journey continued, to somewhere in the middle of very little. We've seen a pair of large birds of prey in the field opposite, and my best beloved thinks they might be marsh harriers. If they are, that's a first for us, but the bird book is inconclusive about whether their distribution makes this identification unlikely.
I suspect we will finally reach our home mooring at Great Haywood tomorrow. Happiness probably entails being content with destinations as well.
Tuesday, 15 October 2013
Textures
I've always loved October. Partly because it's my birthday month (the rationale for our rather pricey food at the Fox and Anchor last night), and partly because it generally signalled the start of the hockey season (no longer, alas). Less tangibly, the mix of autumn in the air, the colours, the smells and the continuation of the hedgerow harvest resonated with more philosophical thoughts and feelings about how fruitful suffering and even death can be. Even wrote a poem about it once!
From behind a camera, cruising gently up the Staffs and Worcs, October presents its own challenges. This is a season for textures, rather than colours.
There is colour around, of course. Leaves turning from green…
the redness of hawthorne or rowan berries, and rose-hips.
And some of the ducks are splendid, even if this isn't really the season for impressing the ladies.
The warmth brought a number out to play – we passed Mike and Mo on NB The Great Escape (that's to say, they were coming the other way!) and then had a natter with Chris and Elizabeth on NB Kia Kaha, tied up in front of us tonight in Penkridge, and enjoying reading in the afternoon sunshine. Nice to meet you, folks – hope it happens again.
Textures – it's got more than just visual connotations.
From behind a camera, cruising gently up the Staffs and Worcs, October presents its own challenges. This is a season for textures, rather than colours.
There is colour around, of course. Leaves turning from green…
the redness of hawthorne or rowan berries, and rose-hips.
And some of the ducks are splendid, even if this isn't really the season for impressing the ladies.
The warmth brought a number out to play – we passed Mike and Mo on NB The Great Escape (that's to say, they were coming the other way!) and then had a natter with Chris and Elizabeth on NB Kia Kaha, tied up in front of us tonight in Penkridge, and enjoying reading in the afternoon sunshine. Nice to meet you, folks – hope it happens again.
Textures – it's got more than just visual connotations.
Monday, 14 October 2013
Eighty percent
To get a localised weather forecast, I've switched from the BBC weather section to the Met Office website. In either you can enter a location, and they seem know about most places – or you can enter another one in the area. Here's the top part of the page for Wolverhampton for tomorrow:
Quite a lot of detail, so I've zoomed in on a part.
This tells me that for the first hours of the day the "Precipitation Probablity" is 20%. For today, for a large part of the period we wanted to cruise, it said the "Precipitation Probability" was 80%. Worrying! But what exactly does it mean? That it would rain for 80% of the time? That we would get 80% of the rain we normally get, for 100% of the time? Or in total during the day? That it would be raining over 80% of the length of canal? Since this is statistics, it could presumably mean any, all or none of the above. It might have been a completely dry day (in fact, a 20% chance of that, I think – some people have a flutter on the Grand National with far worse odds).
It's the same when you get those cheery chappies on the BBC weather gallery, telling you about the chance of a shower. But they do also normally translate it into everyday terms – should you take your brolly? In our case today it meant that once breakfast was over it was straight into full-weather gear. It was bound to rain. Truth to tell, it already was.
As we came down past the Wolverhampton Boat Club, we passed another Tolkien-inspired name, and this time I was quick enough with camera and reverse gear to get the photo.
My problem is that I don't remember any such exact reference in The Lord of the Rings. They were the Horse Lords of Rohan, or the Riders of Rohan (as I recall). They also carried the name Eorlingas, after Eorl the Young who brought his people to Rohan. But perhaps this is just the boat-namer playing on ideas and words. If anyone can suggest any different, by all means do so. In the meantime, let's be generous, so that now the list reads:
Arwen Evenstar
Aragorn
Bilbo Baggins
Brandywine
Earls of Rohan
Galadriel
Gandalf
Goldberry
Hobbit
Lóthlórien
Many Meetings
Shadowfax
Smaug
Strider
Quite a lot of detail, so I've zoomed in on a part.
This tells me that for the first hours of the day the "Precipitation Probablity" is 20%. For today, for a large part of the period we wanted to cruise, it said the "Precipitation Probability" was 80%. Worrying! But what exactly does it mean? That it would rain for 80% of the time? That we would get 80% of the rain we normally get, for 100% of the time? Or in total during the day? That it would be raining over 80% of the length of canal? Since this is statistics, it could presumably mean any, all or none of the above. It might have been a completely dry day (in fact, a 20% chance of that, I think – some people have a flutter on the Grand National with far worse odds).
It's the same when you get those cheery chappies on the BBC weather gallery, telling you about the chance of a shower. But they do also normally translate it into everyday terms – should you take your brolly? In our case today it meant that once breakfast was over it was straight into full-weather gear. It was bound to rain. Truth to tell, it already was.
As we came down past the Wolverhampton Boat Club, we passed another Tolkien-inspired name, and this time I was quick enough with camera and reverse gear to get the photo.
Arwen Evenstar
Aragorn
Bilbo Baggins
Brandywine
Earls of Rohan
Galadriel
Gandalf
Goldberry
Hobbit
Lóthlórien
Many Meetings
Shadowfax
Smaug
Strider
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