Newark to Stoke Bardolph

After a quiet stay in the peaceful surroundings of the King’s Marina in Newark for just over a week, ‘Futurest’ and I resumed our journey today.

It was poignant again having to say goodbye to Janis as she went off to work this morning. Over the last few weeks we had spent quite a lot of time together and undertaken many exciting quests during that time. It was sad to see her go but a new adventure was about to begin.

Sue, the lady who had agreed at the reqest of my friend John, the JP2 engineer, to tow 'Futurest' around to a yard on the Shropshire Union Canal where he could work on her, arrived at around nine o’clock and as soon as I had settled my bill with the warden Greg we breasted up and chugged gently out of the marina towards the Town Lock. I had my VHF radio switched on and was able to contact this lock and the three others during the day so that they had the locks open and ready for us to enter when we arrived.

‘Futurest’ breasted up with ‘Thea’ on the River Trent

Through the first two locks we continued breasted up together, with ‘Futurest’ made fast to ‘Thea’s port side. But after we had emerged from Hazelford Lock we decided that we might make better time if we were in tandem with ‘Futurest’ slipstreaming ‘Thea’.

This proved to be very effective from then on and we discovered that for the same number of revs on ‘Thea’s JP2, we improved our speed by one whole mile per hour on the original speed of 2 mph. It was a beautiful day; warm when the Sun shone frequently but chilly enough for us to don our fleeces when a cloud momentarily had him hidden.

A 'White' Heron?

Autumn was also visible in the number of leaves on the trees that were beginning to turn brown and gold. The air was calm and the river flat and glassy, reflecting the myriad of autumn colours in its depths. Waterfowl congregated in the mudflats and close on the banks of the river while the Swallows and Martins still dived and frolicked on the surface, as they had all summer, whipping up the odd insect from the surface with split second precision.  At one point there was a large flock of Egyptian Geese foraging on the bank. This species was most distinguishable by its brown back and exotic eye patches while soon after, I spotted a white Heron standing statue-like with its long black legs in the mud. It was about the same size as the common Grey Heron but with no crest. He or she was pure white with black legs and flew off as we approached in the same way as the more common Grey, with neck hunched back into his or her body.

It was altogether a magical day.

We covered seventeen miles altogether in eight and a half hours so we were ready to call it a day as we arrived at Stoke Bardolph Lock. The keeper let us through just before he knocked off for the day and we tied up for the night abreast of one another on the upper lock landing high above us.

The subtle intrusion of golds and browns in the surrounding trees

We had had a good first day.

The 'Hop Pole' to Newark on Trent

Having been to the top of the canal from Shireoaks and back with Janis and ‘Roots and Wings’, I left them there to return to Retford and the ‘Hop Pole’. Janis was having some more friends join her for the passage down to Retford. She would arrive at the ‘Hop Pole’ mooring on Wednesday evening and the following day she had volunteered to tow myself and ‘Futurest’ to Drakeholes Tunnel on the first of a four day passage to Newark.

Janis and I had a great meal that evening and I was able to thank Michael and his staff for their hospitality and friendly help over the last fortnight. It really is a splendid place to eat and drink and is always very popular. If anybody is interested in a good night out, their website for more details is as follows:

www.thehoppolepub.co.uk

Afterwards Peter and Jeanne came along so we could make our fond farewells. They’ve been so good, friendly and welcoming towards me and it was nice to be able to say farewell properly.

On the Wednesday that ‘Roots and Wings’ arrived at the ‘Hop Pole’, the canal pound was leaking badly somewhere and on that morning, when I awoke, ‘Futurest’ was high and dry with a definite port list. I was on to British Waterways immediately to tell them that I wanted to move off the following morning and bless them they worked solidly all day at the two pumps to bring water up from the River Idle that passes underneath the canal at Retford. By Wednesday evening the level was high enough for Janis and me to haul ‘Futurest’s deep drafted stern off the mud into the middle of the canal. It looked incongruous to see her there but the bow was still close enough for me to hop aboard. However we hoped that no other vessel would come by that night as they would not be able to pass ‘Futurest’s stern. It was impossible, come what may, to move it any closer to the quay.

Day 1; Thursday 1^st September

Even though the Locks from Retford to the River Trent were all doubles we had to make fast ‘Futurest’ to ‘Roots and Wings’ in tandem for most of the time as the canal was never wide enough to enable us to navigate breasted up. Even in line ahead the going was slow as the channel was narrow and shallow. It was difficult for Janis to keep a line around any slight bend without catching the fifty seven feet of boat behind her on some shallow bank or other. However she soon mastered the completely new technique and soon we were hardly touching the sides.

We also soon developed a technique of breasting up in the locks, which worked most satisfactorily and before long were getting through the procedure within ten minutes. Luckily when we arrived most of them were in our favour, which helped enormously.

Negotiating a slight bend to Starboard

With crossed towing strops and buttons kissing

‘Futurest’ behaved beautifully

But it was a long day of eight hours and even though the weather was beautiful and we only had one lock to negotiate, it was quite stressful on our steep learning curve. We were glad to find a spare double length mooring available for us at Drakeholes Tunnel when we arrived there in the early afternoon. We made everything fast without having to let go our towing strops.

Day 2; Friday 2^nd September

We had another fine day on our hands when we left our mooring at 0830 on Friday morning. As the dappled Sunshine filtered its way through the green lacery of the trees overhead, we were unable to take in the full benefit of its beauty, as immediately we had to negotiate the right hand turn into the narrow entrance of Drakeholes Tunnel.

But Janis, by now well practiced in the art of getting ‘Roots and Wings’ and a fifty seven foot tow behind her around tight corners and into narrow entrances, had no problem at all in getting the whole contraption, which could behave like an uncontrollable bendy bus when it wanted to, past this first hazard without even touching the sides.

All we had time for was a quick lunch

By now we had discovered that ‘Futurest’ responded much better to the tow if we didn’t use her rudder. The large blade when used tended to throw ‘Roots and Wing’s stern well off line, making it difficult for Janis to get her to respond to her own steering requirements and hence keep everything under control. Apart from the most difficult manoeuvres, I kept ‘Futurest’s tiller lashed midships, after which she responded, like a wind vane, much more positively to the rudder controls of the tug.

We had a slow but steady day and passed through the four double locks, from in tandem to breasting up and then back into tandem formation with no difficulty at all. Ten minutes was all we required for the whole locking process. But we were happy though tired when we finally arrived at West Stockwith Basin at around three thirty on that sunny afternoon.

Both boats being the same length made it easy for us to breast them up securely for the forthcoming two days on the River Trent. A breast line from bow to bow and stern to stern plus a forward and after backspring from ‘Roots and Wings’ to ‘Futurest’s alternative mooring points a third the way from bow and stern, meant that the two little ships were hugging each other as close as Siamese twins. Though they would be able to pitch independently on the swell of the river they would never be able to range back and forth.

We went to bed that night, though a little fearful of what was to come tomorrow, nonetheless confident that we had prepared the ships and ourselves to the best of our ability.

‘Roots and Wings’ breasted up with ‘Futurest’ (just seen behind)

In West Stockwith Basin

Day 3; Saturday 3^rd September

Our biggest anxiety this morning was how would the breasted up rig behave in a tideway and respond to the tiller. Especially with a dead weight of twenty tons to port, would we be able to control the beast with only the small propeller of ‘Roots and Wings’ on the starboard side? She would obviously turn more easily to port but would we be able to control her satisfactorily when we wanted her to move to the right?

The quiet before the storm.

Just before setting off onto the Trent

However the time had arrived to find out.

At 10 am we let go. Quickly our fears were quietened to some degree as the two boats turned very easily to starboard and entered the double lock for our entrance onto the mighty River Trent. We felt much better already as our nerves ebbed with the draining waters of the deep lock.

Then we were away into the daylight of the vast river, feeling our strength and freedom as we turned easily to starboard in the murky brackish waters of the slack tide.

Excitement filled our veins and everything would be okay   ....   We would be okay!

Very soon, though it appeared when we looked at the water alongside that we were only moving at about one mile per hour, when lifting our eyes a little higher we noticed that we must have been on some kind of exciting roller coaster ride at the fair. When we looked at the river bank, it was flying past us at a frightening rate, with the help of the flood tide.

The dead tall rusty waterfront at Gainsborough rushed by in a matter of minutes and we managed, with extra power and moving in a crabwise direction, to steer a good course between the centre arches of the large ornate bridge. Quickly I noticed the water in full flood building up against the leading edge of the bridge buttresses and streaming down the side. I was glad we had taken care to avoid hitting this side on.

This one was proving to be a very swift flood tide.

For the next couple of hours or so we were unable to relax as the two little ships were flung along almost at the mercy of the river. We were continually struggling with both helms and frequent increase of power, to keep ourselves out of trouble. The strong to gale force wind from the south west increased the swell against us, breaking the tops with spray and both bows were beginning to pitch quite heavily into it sending the spray against the forward ends of the accommodation. Luckily our doors though far from being watertight were at least closed.

There were many bends and most of them were hairpins. The ones to the left were easier to power through with our tendency to go to port all the time. But the right hand ones we found to be much more difficult, with the surging tide trying to put us onto the outside bank of the corner while, to avoid this catastrophe, we clawed our way towards the spit on the inner bend where the swell was breaking like surf. However at fifty seven feet we didn’t have a lot of room to manoeuvre and we didn’t want to go aground on this dangerous middle bit either. To make matters worse the drooping foliage of willow trees overhung the outer bend by a good ten feet or more, so on two occasions ‘Futurest’s stern was being dragged through all this. There was a debris of green shrubbery everywhere and in one case the broken branch of a tree was jammed beneath the hatchway cover which had slid to in the mêlée. Luckily I had the good forethought to abandon the con and drop down into the cabin below, which by this time was looking like the interior of a conservatory with its myriad of green plant life all around me.

But we made it. Nothing was lost but Janis’s phone, which must have been swept overboard at some point. Neither of us lost our nerve and even though for safety’s sake, I had disappeared below, Janis stayed at the con and kept the power on and because of this eventually we pulled out of the bend beautifully.

But at one o’clock in the afternoon we were thankful to arrive at Torksey, where we turned around and tied up at the pontoon ready for the last leg of the journey the following day to Newark.

Day 4; Sunday 4^th September

This was our final day as Janis had to be back at work the following morning. But we considered that even with twenty miles to go from Torksey to Newark, with the flood tide urging us along as far as Cromwell Lock, the head of the tidal river, we would still be able to reach our destination later that afternoon.

And how different the passage turned out to be from the previous day. The flood began at 1230 and we set off then to catch the maximum benefit from it. But today the wind had dropped to a degree and the current was nowhere as strong as it had proved to be the day before.

Concentration towards the end of the day

We still had to concentrate but the excitement was different. We managed all the bends beautifully due to our growing experience as well as the less severe natural conditions. We were able to observe what was going on around more and actually saw a Kingfisher swoop from one overhanging willow to another keeping well ahead of us. There was no mistaking the flash of bright orange as he turned his underside towards us or the sparkling sapphire blue of his topsides. It was a thrill and a reward to see him in the afternoon sunshine.

I used the VHF radio to contact the lock keeper at Cromwell and gave him our ETA so by the time we arrived he had opened the huge gates of the massive lock to welcome us in. As we left he also called the keeper at Nether Lock to ask him to leave the gates open there for us. When we arrived he would have long since gone off duty.

It was a beautiful summer’s evening as we motored peacefully up the last section through Nether Lock and up to the King’s Marina entrance in Newark. We entered quietly and a small but appreciative audience of Mallards were there to watch us reverse effortlessly into the double finger berth that had been reserved for us.

Concentration mingled with contentment

As we tied up at 1940 the bright daylight was beginning to fade in favour of the purple twilight.

We were safe at the end of our most memorable voyage.

Shireoaks to the top and back (again!)

I apologise for not writing earlier about an adventure that began a week ago last Sunday, 28th August, but what with poor internet signals and events happening so quickly these days this poor writer could easily find himself way behind.

But at least I have a decent signal at present so I can put some photos on for a change, which will help where my memory has failed. Again for us the weather was splendid and we took some fine pictures.

Cobwebs at Shireoaks Marina

The Naturalist Photographer

..... and one of the pictures she took.

On the way up the flight

.... and looking back down.

Working the lock

The Beautiful Chesterfield Canal

The Skipper at the helm

'Roots and Wings'

Tuesday last was a beautiful day when I travelled by train from Retford to Newark. The journey only took a quarter of an hour and another ten minutes on foot brought me to the marina where Janis’s 57 foot narrowboat ‘Roots and Wings’ was moored. The idea was that I would crew for her and we would travel down that evening to moor for the night at Cromwell Lock, at the head of the tidal Trent, ready for a start the following morning at 0930. This had previously been arranged by Janis and the lock keeper so that we would arrive at West Stockwith Lock at low water about five hours later.

The beautiful day turned into an equally impressive evening when we left the Kings Marina and motored quietly down to our destination. All was quiet and not another boat interrupted our tranquil passage.

However the moorings at the lock were nearly full and we had to be content with tying up to the high vertical landing at the entrance to the lock. But it was worth the climb up the tall iron ladder to see the magnificent sunset to the west.

The lock keeper was still on duty and he advised us that the neap tides were currently producing such a small range that we would not be affected by the swift tidal currents, which the Trent is usually noted for. If we left at 0930 the following morning we would be able to get to West Stockwith and be able to enter the lock at low water.

However on Wednesday when we set off very soon we noticed that the height of the river was much lower anyway and even though it was just on high water at Cromwell, this was about the same height as low water at spring tides. In parts the river was narrow making navigation that much trickier trying to avoid the numerous shoals that ‘Futurest’ and I never even witnessed on our passage.

I was also amazed at how easy accessing the West Stockwith Lock was. It was low water when we arrived but there was enough over the sill to enable us to get in. We gently hove to just off the west knuckle while I threw the bowline up to the Lock keeper on top. He then pulled us round and ‘Roots and Wings’ gently slid into the lock itself; easy as it could possibly be. Janis was disappointed in fact. After listening to my hairy tales of derring do and adventure previously, whilst struggling into the lock and needing to scrape along the eastern wall as well to do so, she had psyched herself up into having to brave all this and was consequently unhappy that the whole episode was so tame.

And then we were on the quiet Chesterfield.

It was all very similar to when I had entered two months before except that the exciting youth of springtime that had been in evidence everywhere had been exchanged for the happy contentment of late summer. The Sun still shone just as brightly but where there had been the vivid green upright storks of the rapidly growing crops, were now vast fields of golden stubble and the trees and hedgerows that previously had thrilled me in the dappled sunlight with their vibrant varying colours of green, now appeared a little bit tired with brown leaves appearing here and there, though promising of course a beautiful autumn.

We tied up at a quiet little mooring about half a mile before Drakeholes Tunnel as the Sun was setting and spent a very tranquil night there.

At five o’clock on Thursday evening we arrived at the ‘Hop Pole’ moorings to find ‘Futurest’ where I had left her a couple of days before. She looked a little sad and forlorn I thought as we tied up the young and vigorous ‘Roots and Wings’ next to her. Their noses were touching and one could have been forgiven if one had imagined them as actually kissing. 

Everything was precisely as I had left it when I went off last Tuesday and we would be together now for another couple of days.

Janis stayed overnight at the pub mooring and left early in the morning for Osberton Lock where she was picking up another crew member who would accompany her to Shireoaks. There, having deserted ‘Futurest’ for a second time, on Saturday I would rejoin ‘Roots and Wings’ for the trip to the top of the Canal and back to Shireoaks.

Up the pole at the 'Hop Pole', Retford

We are stationary again for a little while in the warm sunshine. One could even say we are marooned since we don’t have an engine that works. On the way down from Shireoaks, though the engine beat and performance was as good as ever, I noticed that ‘JP2’s exhaust was very wet and soon it was obvious that either unburnt diesel or even lube oil was being pushed out on the exhaust stroke.

At Shireoaks my good friend Peter joined me for the trip down to Retford and it was a very enjoyable run apart from the anxiety exuding from the funnel. I was sad to leave the marina that had been the happy home of ‘Futurest’ and I for a fortnight or so and was especially wretched to be leaving my co-workers on the ‘New Dawn’ Project. During my stay there I had made some very good friends. I tethered in the entrance while I made my fond farewells, gave David my communication details and promised to keep in touch with their progress via Christine.

Sunset at Shireoaks Marina

The Sun shone boldly as Peter, ‘Futurest’ and I wended our happy way eastwards through the small picturesque single locks towards the ex mining town of Worksop and on towards Retford.

I noticed there was less green silken weed this time and the going was much easier as a result. I only had to visit the weed box once to clear the propeller and we made good time, arriving at the Town Lock, Worksop for lunch.

While I made some sandwiches Peter hopped over the wall to the adjacent ‘Canal Tavern’ for a couple of pints of bitter. We were able to relax over a good lunch and enjoy our pints.

Lunchtime in Worksop

It was when we left Town Lock that I noticed the wet exhaust but as I have already mentioned the engine beat was as perfect as always and we hadn’t lost any power, so it seemed right to carry on.

We tied up at the visitor moorings near to the Forest Lock toilet and shower facilities and spent a very quiet pleasant night surrounded by deep green forest.

In the morning as soon as we were under way I optimistically thought that the exhaust was back to normal but the black liquid carbon soon began to show again covering everything, including Peter and I, with a greasy black coating. When we arrived at Retford our faces looked as if we had competed in a nineteen fifties Grand prix at Silverstone.

But we made it safely and since Peter knew the licensee of the ‘Hop Pole’ he arranged for us to moor at the pub mooring for a few days, while I was able to sort the engine problem out

Peter at the Helm

It’s a very good and remarkably quiet mooring here with 240 volt hook up positions and a fresh water point is also available. Toilets can be used inside the pub. The food is delicious and the surroundings, which have all just been refurbished, are relaxing and luxurious. There is also extensive comfortable seating at tables beneath large umbrellas outside. They also host outdoor events and last Thursday near the large car park a marquee was erected for a wedding reception on Saturday evening. Though there were lots of people around accompanied by loud music from inside the tent, I was completely unbothered and slept very soundly through the night.

We arrived on Tuesday last and straightaway I phoned my old friend John in Staffordshire. John is a ‘JP2’ wizard and made no objection to coming all the way from his home to help me out on the Thursday. I am so glad I knew him as there are no boatyard or engineering facilities available anywhere on the Chesterfield Canal. The situation could have been quite bleak for us had John not been able to come.

The ‘Straddle Warehouse’ at Worksop

He was here at 8 am on Thursday bless him, and it didn’t take him long to check that the timing and the fuel injectors were all okay. But he ominously noticed that there were shards of white metal on the oil filter and on removing the crankcase cover it was soon evident that there was a lot of play on the forward big end. On dismantling it we found that the bearings were badly scored and would need renewing for a start.

By lunchtime he had put the cover back on and soon he was on his way home to try to find replacement bearings, assuring me that he would report as soon as he had any news. This morning he has phoned me to say that he cannot source them anywhere but in the meantime we have decided to somehow get back to the Shropshire Union Canal, near his home, where he has excellent boatyard facilities to make further investigations. We are in the process of making towing arrangements at the moment.

My friend Janis is bringing her boat ‘Roots and Wings’ from Newark onto the Chesterfield and as a matter of fact I’m off to Newark tomorrow to come down with her. Bless her, she has offered to tow me through the tidal section of the Trent up to Newark on her way back. There I can wait in the marina for the next towing phase, which should be easier without the tidal factor. John says he has friends coming from the Chesterfield all the way to the ‘Shroppie’ shortly so things seem to be turning out okay for poor ‘Futurest’ and I. What could have been a very bleak and serious situation has turned out to be much less of a challenge already.

Luckily I have all the time in the world at my disposal and this therefore is no constraint whatsoever. I seem to be very blessed with everything.

New Challenge

I’m not very well at the moment! In fact I feel proper poorly! The Skipper hadn’t noticed anything was wrong either until our recent passage down from Shireoaks Marina to Retford, when at Worksop I began spewing from ‘JP2’s exhaust a greasy black liquid carbon substance which apart from anything else began making such a mess of my beautiful paintwork.

It was accompanied by blue smoke which was a bit ominous since normally, if there is any at all, it is always of a pure white shade.

We arrived at Retford on Tuesday last and passed through the Town Lock but finally the skipper and his friend Peter, who had crewed most gallantly for us all through the passage, tied me up at the pub mooring at the ‘Hop Pole’ at the eastern end of Retford. And here we’ve been ever since with me feeling very sorry for myself.

But he’s good the Skipper, when he needs to be, and straightaway he contacted his friend John in Staffordshire, who is an expert ‘JP2’ engineer. John arrived on Thursday and after spending a couple of hours investigating, with the Skipper actually getting his hands dirty too (surprise, surprise!) he discovered that the big end on the forward cylinder had a lot of play on it. John dismantled it to discover that it was badly worn and the bush would need to be renewed. And because of the oil escaping from the exhaust he reckoned that the piston and cylinder too would need a thorough investigation at the very least.

However there are no engineering or boat yard facilities of any sort on the Chesterfield Canal, so what the ‘Old Man’ is arranging is for me to be towed around to the Shropshire Union Canal where John lives and has all the facilities he needs for making me better. It’ll be a long and tedious journey perhaps; one that I shall have to suffer patiently. But adventure is what the Skipper likes and I know that everything will be good in the end.

Safe though sadly feeling sorry for myself at the 'Hop Pole'

The 'New Dawn' Project

While marooned here, very comfortably I have to say, while my heel is repairing, apart from cleaning ship and doing all the normal husbandry jobs that need to be done, I am finding plenty of time to explore the area around. The railway line runs almost parallel to the canal from the small sleepy hamlet of Kiveton up at the end, right the way through to Retford with a station at every location. Consequently I have been frequently to Retford shopping as well as going to see my nurse at the hospital there.

When going to the latter I always take with me my bike as well as my back pack with all my keys and cards in, as it would be some way to walk otherwise from the railway station to the hospital. The pack is also useful for any shopping I might decide to buy while I’m in Retford. On one of these occasions however I left my pack on the train when I alighted at Retford with my bike and it was taken all the way to the terminus at Lincoln. Luckily at the Hospital I met my good friends Peter and Jeanne and the former kindly took me all the way to Lincoln and back in his car to retrieve my belongings; all intact, good fortune would have it.

Yesterday I ventured to Worksop for the morning, taking my bike with me again as the station was about a mile from the town centre. I found it to be a very ancient town with narrow streets, now pedestrianized which possessed one or two very old buildings. However I didn’t find it in the same class as say Stratford-upon-Avon. It all looked very run down and neglected. I don’t know what industry there is now, but of course the largest employer by far twenty years ago was the coalmining industry of which nothing now remains. The whole area around, including Shireoaks doesn’t appear to have recovered properly yet from this catastrophe.

But the loveliest part of Worksop by far for me was the remains of the ancient Norman Augustinian priory, of which the church, which was reprieved from demolition during the Reformation, is now used by the local Anglican Parish. It has recently been renovated very tastefully to blend in with the original Twelfth Century architecture. It is not a large church as some of the contemporary abbeys are but has an attractive and untouched, if weathered, west end with twin towers, which makes it rather like a miniature Westminster Abbey.

Unfortunately Worksop has a bit of a reputation for unsociable behaviour and as I was about to find somewhere outside to chain my bike up, a lady approached me and said that it would be safer for me to take it inside the church with me and that it would certainly be alright to do so. I was most grateful for her advice but it felt very incongruous to be wheeling a bike with me inside the church. But there’s a first time for everything I suppose.

Afterwards I enjoyed a bowl of tomato and basil soup in the Queen’s Head with a pint before returning to the ship.

However my big task while here in Shireoaks is to help with a very worthwhile undertaking, known as the ‘New Dawn’ Project, where a group of Chesterfield Trust enthusiasts are making a replica of the unique ‘Cuckoo’ boats that up until the nineteen fifties used to carry all the local coal and agricultural cargoes up and down the canal and the River Trent. The boat will be called ‘Dawn’ but unfortunately there is nothing left of these wooden boats now except one or two memories, a very limited amount of old photographs and a small wooden model.

Fortunately David, a man about my own age, and a competent boat builder also has a great knowledge of how these boats used to appear. So relying on his memory for I don’t think any plans have survived, one or two volunteers including himself arrive every morning at the temporary enclosure within the marina and with David’s advice exercise their varying adze-ing or block planning skills to prepare all the parts ready for putting together. It is certainly a labour of love for all, as no modern machine tools are allowed so all the rough sawn timber has to be cut and smoothed down to their respective dimensions by muscle power alone.

I’m thoroughly enjoying the three hours work every weekday morning where everybody is so enthusiastic. A lot of the volunteers are approaching ‘middle age’ like me so we have to pace ourselves to make sure we can last out the morning. But it’s a very cheerful gang that toils with lots of yarning and happy memories of different times as you may imagine.

I love the work too, as it helps me feel a little more justified at being tied up for a fortnight or more at a ‘twenty four hour only’ visitor mooring. Not that the moorings are busy but it still helps my conscience to think that I’m able to do something valuable while I’m here.