Locks, Stops and a Hob Nobs biscuit barrel
SUNDAY
Day one of the epic voyage to Bishop's Stortford.
The Other Half and I cast off from Poplar Marina and eased our way under the towers of Canary Wharf before being put out on the Thames from the 'Blue Bridge' (which is halfway down the east side of the Isle of Dogs).
Goodbye safe dock waters and hello the waves and swell of the River Thames. I have to confess I was a little bit nervous going against the tide on the wrong side of the river, rocking about on my little narrowboat, which is only designed for flat canals.
Still, we both had lifejackets and pluck to see us through. We passed the Dome along the way
and spotted our block of flats among the piles of scrap metal. So much for London's 'trendy' Docklands!
It was a choppy ride and I was glad to get to Trinity Bouy Wharf, where we entered Bow Creek.
At last, we were on calmer waters as the incoming tide pushed us past the Pura factory's pipes …
… and storage towers to Bow Lock.
We overnighted at Three Mills, behind Tesco. It was surprisingly peaceful. I was expecting troops of junkies and chavs on motorbikes to be whizzing up and down the towpath, but the only thing we heard was the ducks and chimes of a clock tower bell.
MONDAY
The Other Half went to work and First Mate Steve arrived. And so the voyage proper began.
We chugged up to the first lock - Old Ford Lock only to discover it was covered in police tape forbidding us to go through. We called British Waterways and was informed there had been a murder up stream and the river was closed. Police divers were scouring the river bed, presumably for clues, and we could not pass.
So we moored up. Had a bit of a sit down and weighed up our options. We could either wait for the river to open or turn round and go into London and do a totally different trip.
Obviously, waiting, and reading the papers and OK magazine was a more attractive option. After about an hour we got a call saying we could go through.
When we got to the scene of the crime, the police divers were nowhere to be seen (probably on lunch break) but their kit was on the towpath.
The dead person can't have been very important as it wasn't on the news or in the paper the next day. Probably some sort of drugs incident, which down Hackney way, ain't no big deal.
We chugged on up the river, Steve doing the hard graft operating the locks, while Cap'n Wyebird took up her usual post standing on the back of the boat shouting instructions.
We passed through Hackney, Tottenham, Ponder's End (where I used to go to university! It's a real dump), Enfield and on to Waltham Cross, where we moored up near a brilliant pub called the Old English Gentleman.
On the way, the scenery changed from the industrial armpit of London to marshes and finally to something resembling the English Countryside.
The weirdest sight on the way, was a cow in the river.
The Other Half met us in the evening and we dined in the pub. The landlord plied us with real ales and perrys and the friendliest welcome I think I have ever had in an inn!
And, typical British Waterways, it owns the building and wants to knock it down and build luxury flats! The landlord had a petition, which we all signed before retiring to bed. I was literally asleep before my head hit the pillow.
TUESDAY
The Other Half went back to work. He is using the boat as a bit of a gin palace, just coming out in the evenings after all the hard work is done.
Steve and I sailed on to Roydon, on the River Stort. We passed through several locks, each of which seemed to have an increasingly random village idiot loitering at them. Literally every lock we came to had a weirdo attached to it.
Perhaps Care In The Community drops them off in the morning and picks them up after an eight-hour shift of entertaining boat crews.
Anyway, between dodging intense downpours, we finally arrived on the Stort, where the scenery immediately changed to rolling hills and farmland and rural pleasantness.
The first lock we came to on the Stort was gorgeous. The colours were amazing - as we basked in wall-to-wall sunshine a dark thunder storm passed into the distance.
The Other Half arrived in the middle of an intense Scrabble battle, which I would have won (after a masterly placing of FIX on a triple word score) but Steve managed to get all the Ss and capitalise on his earlier big scoring words such as QUINCE.
There was also a small debate on the existence of the word LUFF but I knew it was valid.
WEDNESDAY
A slow start on our last day of cruising. Destination Hallinbury Marina.
The Other Half went to work but Steve and I had a bit of a lie in. Then we had to read the papers. Then we had to have a fry up. Then … then we finally got going.
Again, we spent the day dodging deluges from above, although I did tend to stay out in a waterproof and keep going. But the weather did make the world look beautiful.
The Stort must be a classier kind of river (well, scenery-wise it certainly is) as there were no mentalists at the locks. We passed through unhampered by those with too much time on their hands.
Apart from the weather, another glorious day on the river. As we approached the marina, we passed Beckingham Palace, which was nice.
Finally, we arrived. After a tricky reversing manoeuvre into the parking spot, we headed to the station and back to shitty London.
It was hard to leave the river, especially as I was back at work today. But it is only for two days. We are back on the boat on Saturday for five more leisurely days' cruising.
When I got home (after a vile hour on the Tube. I am so glad I am not usually involved in the rush hour) The Other Half had cooked dinner and our mate James drove us up to the cinema. We saw The Village, which I can highly recommend.
Day one of the epic voyage to Bishop's Stortford.
The Other Half and I cast off from Poplar Marina and eased our way under the towers of Canary Wharf before being put out on the Thames from the 'Blue Bridge' (which is halfway down the east side of the Isle of Dogs).
Goodbye safe dock waters and hello the waves and swell of the River Thames. I have to confess I was a little bit nervous going against the tide on the wrong side of the river, rocking about on my little narrowboat, which is only designed for flat canals.
Still, we both had lifejackets and pluck to see us through. We passed the Dome along the way
and spotted our block of flats among the piles of scrap metal. So much for London's 'trendy' Docklands!
It was a choppy ride and I was glad to get to Trinity Bouy Wharf, where we entered Bow Creek.
At last, we were on calmer waters as the incoming tide pushed us past the Pura factory's pipes …
… and storage towers to Bow Lock.
We overnighted at Three Mills, behind Tesco. It was surprisingly peaceful. I was expecting troops of junkies and chavs on motorbikes to be whizzing up and down the towpath, but the only thing we heard was the ducks and chimes of a clock tower bell.
MONDAY
The Other Half went to work and First Mate Steve arrived. And so the voyage proper began.
We chugged up to the first lock - Old Ford Lock only to discover it was covered in police tape forbidding us to go through. We called British Waterways and was informed there had been a murder up stream and the river was closed. Police divers were scouring the river bed, presumably for clues, and we could not pass.
So we moored up. Had a bit of a sit down and weighed up our options. We could either wait for the river to open or turn round and go into London and do a totally different trip.
Obviously, waiting, and reading the papers and OK magazine was a more attractive option. After about an hour we got a call saying we could go through.
When we got to the scene of the crime, the police divers were nowhere to be seen (probably on lunch break) but their kit was on the towpath.
The dead person can't have been very important as it wasn't on the news or in the paper the next day. Probably some sort of drugs incident, which down Hackney way, ain't no big deal.
We chugged on up the river, Steve doing the hard graft operating the locks, while Cap'n Wyebird took up her usual post standing on the back of the boat shouting instructions.
We passed through Hackney, Tottenham, Ponder's End (where I used to go to university! It's a real dump), Enfield and on to Waltham Cross, where we moored up near a brilliant pub called the Old English Gentleman.
On the way, the scenery changed from the industrial armpit of London to marshes and finally to something resembling the English Countryside.
The weirdest sight on the way, was a cow in the river.
The Other Half met us in the evening and we dined in the pub. The landlord plied us with real ales and perrys and the friendliest welcome I think I have ever had in an inn!
And, typical British Waterways, it owns the building and wants to knock it down and build luxury flats! The landlord had a petition, which we all signed before retiring to bed. I was literally asleep before my head hit the pillow.
TUESDAY
The Other Half went back to work. He is using the boat as a bit of a gin palace, just coming out in the evenings after all the hard work is done.
Steve and I sailed on to Roydon, on the River Stort. We passed through several locks, each of which seemed to have an increasingly random village idiot loitering at them. Literally every lock we came to had a weirdo attached to it.
Perhaps Care In The Community drops them off in the morning and picks them up after an eight-hour shift of entertaining boat crews.
Anyway, between dodging intense downpours, we finally arrived on the Stort, where the scenery immediately changed to rolling hills and farmland and rural pleasantness.
The first lock we came to on the Stort was gorgeous. The colours were amazing - as we basked in wall-to-wall sunshine a dark thunder storm passed into the distance.
The Other Half arrived in the middle of an intense Scrabble battle, which I would have won (after a masterly placing of FIX on a triple word score) but Steve managed to get all the Ss and capitalise on his earlier big scoring words such as QUINCE.
There was also a small debate on the existence of the word LUFF but I knew it was valid.
WEDNESDAY
A slow start on our last day of cruising. Destination Hallinbury Marina.
The Other Half went to work but Steve and I had a bit of a lie in. Then we had to read the papers. Then we had to have a fry up. Then … then we finally got going.
Again, we spent the day dodging deluges from above, although I did tend to stay out in a waterproof and keep going. But the weather did make the world look beautiful.
The Stort must be a classier kind of river (well, scenery-wise it certainly is) as there were no mentalists at the locks. We passed through unhampered by those with too much time on their hands.
Apart from the weather, another glorious day on the river. As we approached the marina, we passed Beckingham Palace, which was nice.
Finally, we arrived. After a tricky reversing manoeuvre into the parking spot, we headed to the station and back to shitty London.
It was hard to leave the river, especially as I was back at work today. But it is only for two days. We are back on the boat on Saturday for five more leisurely days' cruising.
When I got home (after a vile hour on the Tube. I am so glad I am not usually involved in the rush hour) The Other Half had cooked dinner and our mate James drove us up to the cinema. We saw The Village, which I can highly recommend.
posted by The WyeBird @ 3:57 pm
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