Back to the Ship

At 8 am on Tuesday morning Alex gave me a lift to Bath from Malmesbury. He had to be at work at nine so I had to leave that early in order to get a free lift to where I was due to catch the train home.

I had time to buy breakfast first before I caught the train at ten thirty for Bristol Temple Meads on my way back to Wolverhampton. Then I caught the bus for the short journey to Brewood after which I had the two mile walk along the towpath, under the A5 Aqueduct and into the boat yard, where ‘Futurest’ was still waiting for me where I had left her, with her 240 volt umbilical cord still attached.

She looked most forlorn bless her, like a very patient dog awaiting its master’s return. If she could have spoken I’m sure she would have said something like “Welcome home Skipper. I’m so very pleased to see you!” She had that terrible hang dog look about her. I can’t really describe it, as it was just a feeling I had, prompted probably by my acute feeling of guilt at leaving her for so long with nothing positively decided.

Everything on board was exactly as I had left it over a week ago. The electricity was still on and the batteries well charged. A nice cup of tea was just what I needed after my long journey.

Later on I phoned John the engineer to let him know I was back and he invited me kindly to his home nearby and volunteered to collect me the following morning. I would then be able to see the poor state that he reckoned ‘JP2’ was in and be able to discuss what remedies were available to put things right.

However the following day the antidote that I chose for overcoming the engine problem was not one that I had even contemplated the day before.

John’s bungalow, where he lives with his wife Carol, was beautiful and set among trees (and falling leaves at this time of the year, much to his disgust) in the charming Staffordshire countryside. His adjoining workshop was like an Aladdin’s Cave of engineering delights of specialist tools and vintage marine engines all in various states of undress. And there, covered by an old piece of plastic tarpaulin was my ‘JP2’ looking miserable and most dejected on the cold stone floor.

John quietly pointed out that every moving part on the engine was badly worn, including the gearbox cogs, which were about to let me down at any moment. Every other part too that he showed me that was supposed to work exclusively in a vertical direction was also moving horizontally and conversely all those elements that were designed singularly to move with no play in an horizontal direction also were moving alarmingly up and down! It is a wonder that the dear old lady had kept going for so long. Since replacement parts were now in very short supply due to the engine’s age of eighty years or so, if I managed to find any suitable they would be at such an exorbitant price as to make the replacement impractical.

Bless her; my beloved ‘JP2’ was a virtual write-off and sadly suitable for spares only.

However adjacent to her, resplendent on a couple of railway sleepers and recently acquired by John, was a two cylinder Russell Newbury Engine, in marvellous condition which he started very promptly from cold for my benefit and it ran effortlessly and very beautifully for a few minutes with that very distinctive and appealing RN chug!

It was also for sale!

A few swift measurements and I had decided that this particular Russell Newbury would look first-rate in ‘Futurest’s engine room. I would need to speak to Keith the proprietor of the builder’s yard to see if he would fit it in for me, making the necessary alterations in order to do so.

It sounded a great idea and I quickly came to my decision. John and I worked out the terms of our deal and I now await the arrival of Keith to make arrangements for the transferral.

All that was yesterday but I feel so much better now that I’ve made the decision. I went ashore earlier today to buy provisions from Brewood and when I returned; you know, ‘Futurest’ seemed to me to be entirely different to how I had found her on Tuesday. Though it sounds silly (and it is a ridiculous speculation of course) I’m sure I imagined a broad smile emanating from her I-don’t-know-what!

Malmesbury

This beautiful little town sits atop a small but steep rise in the middle of the rural Wiltshire countryside. It is surrounded completely by the meandering River Avon and its tributaries and this has made it naturally a position that has been easily defended throughout history.

Its roots go back to before Roman times but the Saxons fortified the hill with walls and it was an important defensive position in King Alfred the Great’s campaigns against the Danes in the Ninth Century. Malmesbury was the capital of England in the reign of Alfred’s grandson, Athelstan and the layout of the town today is the same pattern as it was then; it’s just the wattle and daub building materials have been changed for more substantial stone ones now.

On the highest part of the hill is what remains of the monastic abbey which is visible all around. The abbey was inaugurated by King Alfred in the Ninth Century, abolished and partially sacked by Henry VIII in the 1530’s but given back to the townspeople as a parish church soon afterwards. It is now less than half the original size; but it is a marvellous example of early Norman architecture with its large bulky round columns surrounded above by numerous heavy but plain, semi-circular arches. The interior is still quite awe inspiring.

I have been here since last Wednesday, staying with my son Alex and his wife Catherine. They live in a lovely little grey stone cottage and altogether they are very cosy and happy. Consequently I’ve been very content being here too, even though for much of the time, since they have to work, I have had to keep myself occupied. This I have done most satisfactorily.

I’ve done a lot of walking in the area and recently I spent the whole day in Bath shopping and visiting the abbey. Alex commutes there every day to work so I cadged a lift with him in the morning and returned with him in the evening in the little Smart car.

The week before I caught a train from Wolverhampton after the two mile walk along the towpath and the half an hour bus from Brewood (Brood) into the city, to High Wykham where my daughter Eejay met me in her car and took me to the house that she shares with husband Steve on the side of the hill in the steep valley overlooking the M40 motorway.

The weather was perfect with wall to wall blue skies on every day that I was there, for the whole week. She is a child minder by profession and early each morning parents would arrive at her door and leave their little ones in her tender care. This enables her to earn a decent living and yet be with her own son whenever he is not at school.

My grandson George is seven now and it was a delight to see him again as well as all his little friends in Eejay’s charge. Because George calls me ‘Grampy’ I was quite flattered to hear all the other little ones calling me ‘Grampy’ as well. We were all quite sad when I had to leave to return to the ship a week later.

‘Red Kite’ above Eejay’s house

In the Chiltern area the RSPB have been re-introducing the ‘Red Kite’ over the last number of years and today the breed is very extensive. It has flourished most encouragingly. All the time in the skies above Eejay’s house these large raptors hover just like large Chinese kites and it is very easy to understand why they have their name.

Tomorrow I travel with Alex again to Bath to catch the train to Wolverhampton and the return journey back to the ship. It will be lovely to see her again but I hope that everything is as I left it. I need to phone engineer John when I arrive to try to arrange a visit to his workshop. I would understand a lot more about the engineering he keeps talking to me about over the phone if only I could see the application he means on the actual engine.

It’s a long journey back but the break has been very beneficial and I have enjoyed it enormously.

Sadness and neglect

I’m disappointed and feel let down with neglect and the almost total abandonment of me by the Skipper. He left and there has been no sign of him for a whole fortnight apart from a night and a day spent aboard about a week ago.

After arriving here, he’d gallivanted off to see his daughter Eejay and her husband Steve as soon as possible and only returned I think to change his underpants before shooting off again to visit his son and daughter-in-law down in Wiltshire.

I’ve no idea when he’s coming back, if at all. But I do hope he hasn’t jumped ship for good and left me to rot here for evermore among the other numerous rusting hulks that surround me.

Since I’ve arrived here, I’ve had my insides ripped out, which has altered my trim so that my bottom is sticking up untidily out of the water and I list to starboard; an ugly hole has been cut in my roof which is now covered with large baulks of timber and an ugly tarpaulin to keep the weather out and one of the other boats close by has been recently shot blasted throwing all its muck and dust in thick layers over my superstructure.

I FEEL AND AM A TOTAL MESS!

I am dying for him to return!

P l e a s e Skipper!

I do wish I could communicate with him in a way so that he could understand me easier!

I don't think he thinks of me at all.

Photos from Stoke Bardolph to Stretton

Shardlow

Showers and Sunshine

Cloud formations

Sunrise at Spode Cottage

The Ornate Avenue Bridge on the Shropshire Union

Dismantling ‘JP2’!

Engine disappearing through the roof......

.......and being swung across the hard

In dire straits at Stretton

I’m sorry it’s so long since I last wrote, but I’m afraid I just haven’t been feeling up to it.

In fact I feel proper poorly!

I feel as if the very heart of me has been ripped out since ‘JP2’ has been removed and I’m ashamed because I feel I’ve let the Skipper down badly. Our summer cruise has been well and truly terminated.

But the ‘Old Man’ seems to have taken it very well and doesn’t seem to have held it against me. He just says silly things like:

“Ah well! It’s all part of the same adventure.” The stupid burk!

He had me towed across here from the east very quickly though. But I found it a difficult journey through not being able to help with the power and being totally helpless for the whole time. I took one or two nasty knocks as well which hurt badly. Both my rear alternative mooring shackles were broken off though the Skipper managed to retrieve them before they were dragged over the side. My ensign pole too, which always looked so fine flying the ‘Red Duster’, was ripped off by passing foliage. Again the ‘Old Man’ was quick witted enough to grab the pole before it disappeared over the side.

Moored up here, waiting for the return of the engine I look a terrible sight too with my bottom sticking up in the air at the stern where the weight of the engine has made it float higher and a slight starboard list is very disconcerting to the Skipper as he tries to walk along the alleyway in a straight line. 

And with stuff everywhere in the Boatman’s Cabin, black oil in my bilge and bare steel above the engine room except where an ugly hole has been cut out which is now covered with a green plastic sheet, it all looks to me as if none of it will ever go back together again! 

The Skipper’s been having a lazy weekend too just refusing to do anything about the mess since the engine left on Friday  ...... He’s just ignoring it all!  

He says he’s going to make a start to clean everything up tomorrow so I hope he keeps his word   ......     Well you know what he’s like!

It must all be pretty depressing for him as well though, but he’s not showing it bless him.

I do hope we’re not here for too long.

At Stretton Wharf on the Shropshire Union

At the moment we are quiet, peaceful and relaxed after a most hectic week or more.

I am amazed; I never thought I had it in me to travel around a hundred and thirty miles from one side of the country to the other in five days. Though in tow and travelling at an overall average of less than two miles per hour, Sue on tug ‘Thea’ and myself burnt up all the daylight hours available to accomplish this feat. However I slept so well when I crashed into my bunk every night that I was more than ready at the beginning of the next day for whatever it had in store.

It was a great experience and the weather stayed mostly very fine for us. Only on the last day did the cloud level dismally descend to the ground and thoroughly drench us for most of the time. But apart from the stop lock at Autherley Junction, by then we had passed through all of the forty plus locks that had barred our way from Newark to Stretton Wharf, so there was no threat to us slipping on wet steel surfaces as we unhooked and then hooked up again while passing through them.

Locking on the River Trent was relatively easy. Early on our first day we had decided that we improved our speed by travelling in tandem or line ahead rather than abreast. However at the locks we still breasted up before entering as it made it easier for just the two of us to control the pair whilst locking.

At the double locks through Nottingham and the similar ones on the early Trent and Mersey Canal, Sue and I soon became very practiced at breasting up before arriving at the lock. She would let go the towing strops and as ‘Futurest’ ranged up along ‘Thea’s starboard side I would work my way forward and lash the two bows together while she would cleverly lasso my mooring dolly on the stern and heave us both together before making fast.

Dallow Lock at Burton upon Trent was our first single and we needed here to adopt yet another routine that we would need to keep for the rest of our journey.

If no boat was waiting above the lock to come down then ‘Thea’ would tow ‘Futurest’ right into the lock entrance before Sue let go the strops and entered the lock herself. I would make fast 'Futurest's bow line while ‘Thea’ was locked upwards. Then I would empty the lock and bow haul ‘Futurest’ into position before filling the lock again and finally moving out and re-stropping to ‘Thea’.

If there was somebody waiting to come down, then Sue would cast off ‘Futurest’ allowing me to secure her to the lock landing. Then when the waiting boat had passed, I would have to bow haul ‘Futurest’ a bit further up into the lock before continuing the locking process. On occasions where the lock approach was badly silted other than in the centre channel, getting the ‘lady’ into the lock could prove to be hard work. With her deep after draft of two feet nine, we would have to pole her off into the centre before she would move forward. As we had to pull from the accessible towpath side ‘Futurest’ would always tend to move towards us and hence back onto the mud ....  Could be difficult and lengthy hard work!

But having left Newark a week ago last Thursday, the 15th, we finally arrived at our destination last Tuesday afternoon. It had been raining doggedly all day only just letting up at the last moment for me to tie up against the towpath, right opposite Industry Narrowboats, the yard that was to lift out ‘JP2’.

The yard is situated just to the north of the remarkable Thomas Telford cast iron aqueduct, which carries the canal about forty feet over the busy A5. It is midway between the pretty villages of Wheaton Aston to the north and Brewood (pronounced ‘Brood’ by the locals) to the south.

On Wednesday morning after moving ‘Futurest’ over to the other side of the canal, chief engineer John with me as the apprentice began to strip the big Lister engine down to its lightest essentials so that it could be removed more easily from the ship and this took us all day. With hands and boiler suit like a black grease monkey, I was glad when I was able finally to strip down and have a good shower.

I wasn’t long in going to bed that night.

On Thursday back in my boiler suit I took all day to strip the tongue and groove sheathing from the engine room deck head. This was as tricky as a jigsaw puzzle since, in order to keep the timber intact, I had to find the key bit to remove first. But in the end all was successful though it was depressing to see the engine room in such a sad state  ... I shall be so glad to see it all put back together again.

Unfortunately ‘Futurest’ had been built thirteen years ago around the ‘JP2’ engine; there was no hatch in the roof for easy removal should it ever be required. So yesterday morning the yard steelworker Dave cut out a trap in the roof large enough to get the engine through with ease and by the afternoon we were able to lift, very slowly and gently the great bulk up through the opening and onto John’s trailer, ready for taking to his workshop.

I have taken many photographs but unfortunately my poor internet signal will not allow me to download them at this time. But they are so sensational (in my terms anyway!) that I shall certainly be inserting them as soon as possible.

Today I have spent a lazy day not even wanting to see the after end of the ship; the dirty carborundum dust inches thick over everything, the black greasy oil in the bilge below the depressingly empty spot which quite recently was so proudly occupied by ‘JP2’. I think to myself desperately:      Will I ever get it all back to its lovely pristine condition?

On Monday I shall face it all again and begin the fight back to normal.

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.