Pirate

We had the best of the day as we set out reasonably early from Bramble Cuttings.

So did this happy chappie, who we mistook for an Aylesbury duck until we got closer. He was relaxing among a group of duck friends.

Coming up past the Lion Salt Works I once again failed to get the camera out in time to record the developments being made in what is becoming a visitor attraction – really must remember next time. However that meant the camera was out (just) to snap NB Houdini – notable for being the boat I just managed to avoid being blown into when trying to moor below Middlewich Big Lock two nights ago.

On we went round the corner, testing the zoom on the parish church across the fields at Great Bedworth.

Then past the Anderton Boat Lift (stopping for water but not, this time, to enjoy the delights of the River Weaver into which it drops you). And so onto a narrow, shallow section before the two tunnels. And here he was, in front of Towpath Cottage, in all his glory, parrot 'n' all.

He was not, however, the biggest pirate in this stretch. Coming towards us fast through the narrows was the first of a small convoy that had come through the tunnels. He had no intention of stopping, though I judged that the canal at that point was not wide enough for three boats. I'd already halted when he collided with Erin Mae head on. Not a pretty experience, and his partner had hastily disappeared inside in some embarrassment. I reversed back to let him and the others past at a point where nothing was moored up. He clearly felt I was being rather foolish. I held my counsel.

The Barnton and Saltersford tunnels are both intriguing in that, from one end, you can see the other, only to find it disappearing from sight as you negotiate the bends. What fun those navvies must have had, giggling about what they were doing to generations of boaters. After all that excitement we proceeded steadily until we caught up with…

The dog summed it up. It looked as though she was under instruction until she hitched herself up and sat on the roof for a bit. We slowed to tickover, bided our time, counted our blessings, and hoped they weren't going to take the last available mooring at the spot we had earmarked for tonight. Thankfully they pushed on (if that's not too dynamic a word) and we got in on the rings at Dutton Bank, looking out over the bit of the Cheshire countryside that got inundated from a breach on the canal a couple of years ago.

Not a pirate in sight.

Short leg

No, we haven't taken to playing canal cricket (apologies to those for whom cricket is part of an alien world). We decided to make just the very short journey from our somewhat crooked Middlewich mooring…

to one of our favourite spots.

It's only about a mile out of Middlewich. On the way there's a short aqueduct over the river, innocuous until you meet someone coming round the bend as you're getting ready to cross.

And then you come to Croxton Flash – one of the very shallow lakes in this area formed by subsidence from the old salt workings.

The last time we were here it was covered with wildfowl. This time there was just a lonely family group of geese on the opposite bank.

Bramble Cuttings is a lovely spot to park up on a sunny day.

There's room for only a couple of boats the size of Erin Mae, and I'm always surprised when we manage to get a mooring. Since we were last here they've added the name sign (above), a rather nice chair and this bird-table.

Thing is, bird tables need to be tended. I just don't see the wonderful people who have created this spot coming down every day to add titbits to it.

On the other hand, my best beloved does a very mean titbit for our lunch.

Thing about this is, the washing just has to be put out first! On a day like this, it will be dry in no time. And the other thing about a day like this is that you can afford to do just a short leg, because at 2 in the afternoon the new solar panel is pumping over 20 amps into the batteries, so they're getting charged without cruising, in spite of having run the washing machine.

It's nice when it all comes together! And it's nice sitting in the sun, gently playing my guitar to my best beloved without invading too much the auditory space of the people next door.

Backwards

You could take a photo of Erin Mae going backwards down a lock, but it's only the eagle-eyed who would spot that she wasn't rising – assuming that the paddle gear was in the picture. So there didn't seem a lot of point in taking that photo today. But backwards down Wardle Lock we went.

We'd thought we'd wait to set out until the weather cleared up a bit, as was promised for about mid-day. The plan had been to go up through the next lock, travel the three miles to the winding hole, turn around and come back past our mooring spot, carry on down to Middlewich junction and turn left for Manchester. By the time we felt like be-stirring ourselves, a string of boats had gone up, and we were told we would be about tenth in line for the lock. And that was just on the upwards leg.

So I decided to have a go at reversing back to Wardle lock. It was just under half a mile, and entailed traversing four bridges before the lock, plus the one at the junction. I'm happy, proud and relieved in equal measure to say that it went rather well, and on the way I learned the technique of using the long pole at crucial points to keep on line – narrowboats have a mind of their own when going backwards. The main concern was the health of one boating couple coming the other way, who couldn't quite believe what they were seeing as I beckoned them through a bridge. It was also fun to see the look of surprise on the faces of the boaters waiting to come up Wardle Lock as I emerged backwards, first from the lock and then from the bridge at the junction.

In the end we probably saved ourselves 3 hours by this exercise. We had to negotiate the traffic jams at Middlewich Narrowboats, and get down three more locks. On the way we stopped for water. There were a couple of rather backward boaters tied up at the water point above Big Lock.

You're not supposed to obstruct the point in this way. The couple in the grey boat had a licence from the Bridgewater Canal, and perhaps don't know the etiquette in the main network, but "The King" ought to have known better. Anyway, we tied up alongside him – he wasn't there – and got our water. Tonight the wind has got up and we've moored up a hundred yards below the Big Lock, in a slightly awkward corner spot. So we're hoping we're not going to bang against the bank all night.

Middlewich reflections

Apart from Lindisfarne, the two musical highlights of the Middlewich Festival, for me, came yesterday. First was folk trio "Molly on the Run" from Scania, which may or may not be a part of Sweden – nobody seemed to know. Don't ask me where their name comes from, either.

An excellent mix of Celtic, Apallachian and Nordic tunes, with some songs in Swedish which (probably just as well) we didn't understand.

The headline act on the main stage in the evening was "Ward Thomas", twin sisters from Hampshire who sing country – they're just back from some production sessions in Nashville.

They were sensational. But almost more enjoyable (again, for me) than the girls themselves was their backing trio, and especially the guitarist and the bass player.

They were not sensational, because they're not paid to be – that's the girls' job. But their professional and musical excellence set up the whole thing. The way they interacted was great for a musician to watch. Especially intriguing was the way the bass player's stance, mannerisms, technique and general look reminded me of our own son Nº 3, who is himself a professional bass player. It was uncanny – at times I thought he would come over afterwards and say "Hello, Dad".

This morning we joined in the Christian celebration on the festival site, as did a local choir to lead the singing, many local school children who'd been rehearsing a worship song with British Sign Language,

and the Middlewich mayor, who read a passage from the Bible.

Afterwards we popped into the parish church which had been transformed, as it was two years ago, into a labyrinth presenting episodes from the Bible's story. Each section had been developed with the help of children from local primary schools – an immense amount of work and a lot of creativity had gone into it all.

The Sunday afternoon concert on the main stage was very popular, though it did not have much that would obviously fit the "Folk" tag. One of the stars was Thom Kirkpatrick, a local lad (well, Northwich).

He does a one-man band thing, with a loop machine which enables him to sing or play something and then have it repeated ad lib while he plays or sings something over the top, building up layer upon layer. Technically it was great fun and required a huge amount of concentration to create, stop or re-start the loops, which Thom passed off lightly. But, as it happens, he also has a great voice, so the whole thing was much more than a techno-fest – it was actually very rewarding musically. Just the sort of thing to appreciate in small amounts, since each song inevitably follows a similar sort of pattern.

So we've come away feeling that we've had a great deal of live music, though not a lot of the more traditional genres. Most of it has been hugely enjoyable, and rapport between the artists and the all-generation audiences has generally been excellent. Thumbs up to Middlewich.

Unbalanced

Two or three years ago we acquired somewhere a plastic box which had previously held some sort of cattle feed supplement. It has served us well for holding mooring pins, windlasses and so on, and also for holding us away from the bank when there’s a bit of a shelf. Our mooring at Middlewich is shallow, so the box was called into action. I fastened a rope around its middle (it’s a rectangular shape) and hung it down from Erin Mae’s side, about half-way along.

But when we got up this morning my best beloved decided she definitely did not like the tilt we were experiencing, and I found the box had wriggled free from its line. Not only was it no longer holding us away from the bank, it is now probably contributing to the detritus underneath the boat, holding us up at the sort of angle where the kitchen drawers slide out under their own weight. I haven’t managed to locate it yet, so (a) we may continue to be unbalanced, and (b) we may have lost the box – which would be a shame, both for us and for the canal.

Last night’s festival concert was good fun. A local band played a mixture of bluegrass, country and jazz, with some funky banjo and mandolin work.  Then “Headsticks” played an aggressive set with lots of energy.

For my taste, however, they didn’t get it right. They started with Mississippi Burning, and had some other protest-type songs with some interesting ideas and lyrics, but in between numbers the lead singer was jollying us along, asking us if we were having a good time, and telling us all we needed to do was be nice to each other and have some respect. It failed the coherence test.

Lindisfarne were on good form. Powerful harmonies, good singing and instrumental work, and a good rapport with the crowd.

Definitely not unbalanced. Unlike us.

FAB Festival gets going

It was down to the Big Lock again this afternoon, where we finally caught up with Captain Ahab (aka Andy Tidy) peddling his Wildside wares from The Jam Butty.

We've exchanged comments on each other's blogs before, but never actually met, so it was really good to stop by and take a while to chat – business not being exactly manic on this first afternoon.

There was a string of business plying their trade along the towpath,

including this one, specialising in doggie pictures!

Now we've come and secured our pitch on the grass in front of the main stage for tonight's celebratory concert, kicked off by the band that kicked off the first festival 25 years ago – The Middlewich Paddies.

They're making a good noise as I write. You'll see from the backdrop that we're in for a treat later on with Lindisfarne winding up the evening's entertainment.

It's under way!

Gathering

We were so glad we got to Middlewich yesterday. There's been a constant stream of traffic past us for most of the day. Not all the boaters were looking for moorings for the festival weekend, but a good many were. Most will have had to tie up a good way out of town, except for the few who managed to book a mooring prior to the event. Mind you, even then we've heard tales of boats that have been on the same site at this event for the last however-many years being completely resistant to the idea of having to move simply because of the technicality that someone else had booked their spot.

In the afternoon we walked down to get a new fuse for the shower pump from those nice people at the Kings Lock Chandlery.

It only cost me 25p. I'm going to remember Little Rich's trick with the paper clip, should it ever blow again. He put it down to "fuse fatigue", and the pump's been working fine, so I'm expecting it all to be OK for a long time (note to self: keep the filter in place over the shower plug-hole to stop hair reaching undesirable parts).

One of the boats that had come past us earlier was Captain Ahab on Wand'ring Bark with The Jam Butty in tow. We all waved and said hello, and as part of our walk we went down to the Big Lock area to see if we could spot him and Helen. The boats are gathering!

However, we didn't see them immediately and we were on a mission to Lidl and Morrison's, so it will have to wait till tomorrow. That's when the festival proper kicks off – looks like being a great weekend if the skies can refrain from throwing it out.