DKNZ do the Grand Union
part 2
Saturday morning dawned to rays of sunshine slicing round the side of, bottom of and, given their flimsy constitution, straight through, the curtains. A pleasant breakfast was soon followed by the continuation of our journey North. The trip was initially both more and less stressful. More so, as we quickly came up behind someone traveling even slower than us, and traffic jams are no more pleasant for being on water. The stress relief was provided by the fact that it very soon became evident that the crew of the boat ahead were even worse than us. Which is saying something. Fortunately for us, and the queue behind us, they soon pulled over for cup of tea (or maybe just crashed into the bank by mistake). We soon did the same (pulled over that is, not crashed into the bank) to let the racers past.
And then it was time for a lock.
We knew the theory (doesn’t everyone?).
We also had been warned of the dangers of getting the bows or stern caught
on the sill of the lock doors (broken and/or tipped up boat resulting in large
bill and/or death by drowning). We also knew of the dangers of getting too
close to the water cascading from the lock paddles (wetness of person, sinking
of boat, death by drowning etcetera, etcetera). As we began to manoeuvre for
entry into the lock we spotted another boat a hundred yards or so back. You’re
supposed to use the locks in pairs whenever possible both to speed up the
overall traffic flow and also to help conserve the water levels in the canal
system. So we waited a few minutes. Which was good. The second boat were an
experienced lot and happy to help us through the lock. Which was appreciated.
Chatting to the capitan of the other boat he suggested he give us a hand turning
the boat around just after the lock (which was our plan, not his suggestion
due to our ineptitude!). I was pretty sure I could turn the boat in the large
space here provided (we’d passed many smaller turning spaces) but it
was re-assuring to see that even our helper had a little bit of trouble due
to the wind in this exposed spot. So then it was back down the lock again.
With another boat again but this time we managed the manoeuvre largely on
our own.
Pootling back Southwards I was starting to feel relatively relaxed, what else
could the Grand Union throw at us?
A 45ft boat trying to turn round in a forty foot wide canal on a hairpin bend.
“No problems,” I think, “We’ll just stop and wait
for them to sort themselves out.” Except in doing so we drifted onto
a sand-bank. Getting off a sandbank is easy, you just reverse back off again.
I knew this. But then there was, out of nowhere, a long procession of other
canal boats queuing up behind us. Which made reversing a little bit trickier.
And to add insult to injury every single one of them asked “Are you
on a sandbank? You’ll need to reverse to get off that.” Indeed.
But the girls love it. Kay spends all the time she can on the top of the boat, pulling herself along the boat by means of a rope, or mopping and brooming the roof. And Dee is equally happy polishing all the brass-work at every opportunity. Both are keen to be involved in the mooring and casting off procedure, even the usually more cautious Dee daring to leap from the still moving boat with the rope in her hands.
Supper time! We had chosen a nice looking pub called “The Heart of England”
in Weedon, children and pseudo veggies welcome. Clearly our kind of place.
The setting was pleasant, eating out in the pub garden and the girls quickly
made friends (as they always seem to) with some younger children on the climbing
apparatus. The food arrived eventually and was pleasant enough if not quite
up to the standards Zee and I had become used to a couple of weeks earlier
en Paris. The puddings were actually probably the best bit of the meal and
I’m not normally a puddings person. Kay as usual chose the smallest
pudding item, a Pingu ice cream. Which was about a spoonful of ice-cream in
a plastic Pingu penguin thing. For a quid. Still, the item served as more
than just a receptacle for the pudding. Oh yes. During the walk back to the
boat Kay decided the Pingu resembled an inhaler (she used to suffer from Asthma).
The fake asthma attacks she suffered every four steps were frighteningly realistic,
so just as well we had the Pingu inhaler. Her wicked sense of humour takes
another step to maturity. When we get back to the boat she declares that she
is still hungry. “Have a banana,” I say.
“Have a banana,” she chimes in perfect Eddie Izzard diction.
An amazing dictionary of catchphrases she has, mostly second hand and all
used at precisely the right moment. An hour later she is still refusing to
go to sleep.
“Kay, lie down.” Zee shouts down the boat.
“And wiggle your toes,” comes the reply. No idea where that comes
from but she knows it’ll have us laughing. Incorrigibleyet adorable.
We awakewith a very definite bump and what sounds like hail on the roof. A quick look
out of the window confirms my suspicions, we are not where we should be. We
are up against the opposite bank of the canal to that on which we were moored.
A glance out of the other side of the boat is even more disturbing.
Men!
With ropes!!