Random Writings

Tonight (Wednesday), I’m in Stoke Bruerne, the quintessential canal village. Innocenti’s shabby paint and modernist build are rather shown up by all the brightly-coloured traditional style boats that have clustered here. Apparently there’s a Working Boats festival in Braunston (18 miles north of here) at the weekend.

Yesterday was a short day – I did some errands in Northampton and set off at 2pm to do a few locks and get off the Nene and onto the western side of town. My approach to the first lock was marred by it being against me, and by a teenage lad fishing off the lock-mooring, right where I needed to land. I excused myself and he kindly helped me put the boat through the lock. It’s strange to do narrow locks again after all the hulking great Nene locks. BW have put anti-vandal locks on the bottom few locks of the Northampton flight, but unusually these take the Yale key used for water points rather than the normal “handcuff” key used in Birmingham and in NW England.

The first few miles of the Northampton Arm feel like an extension of the river – with clear water and lots of weed. I moored at Banbury Lane, being the only place I could find where the reeds and irises were thin enough for me to be able to reach the towpath! My uncle and cousin (who live nearby) came by and took me back to theirs for dinner, and it was nice to catch up.

Day 11: Northampton to Banbury Lane Bridge, 3 miles and 4 locks.

Today I had 14 locks to do – the canal rises steeply out of Northampton, and I cunningly waited for a few boats to come down in the morning before attempting the flight, thereby ensuring that all but 3 of the locks turned out to be in my favour. Oh, and I wrote a thousand words of thesis. The bottom couple of locks were being worked on by British Waterways staff who kindly opened and shut the gates for me. Beyond that I was on my own – bringing Innocenti into one lock and setting it to fill, before going back to the previous lock to close the top gate and then on to the next one to open the bottom gates. I got plenty of exercise! At the top of the flight is Gayton Junction, and here we join the Grand Union main line. I shall return to this point from the other direction in September!

Within a mile of the junction is Blisworth village, and then the portal of its famous tunnel. This is a mile and a half long and wide enough for two narrowboats to pass. At the far end I quickly found a mooring space and dug out my special clips for mooring to sheet-pile, which haven’t been used in nearly three years! Tomorrow, Milton Keynes…

Day 12: Banbury Lane Bridge to Stoke Bruerne, 6 miles and 14 locks.
Total so far 130 miles and 61 locks. Thesis 7091 words and 34 pages.

I’m in Northampton, after a glorious afternoon’s cruise from Wellingborough. Today was a Good Day – I sent the first chapter of my thesis away to my supervisors for review, and the weather became properly summery. I had assistance through three of today’s twelve locks, which was a welcome change, and generally enjoyed the beautiful scenery and sunshine.

I had planned to stop at Weston Favell, in the Washlands nature reserve, but since it was only a short way (and two locks) into Northampton, I thought I’d press on. The last two locks turned out to be a) against me and b) bastard hard work. Oh well.

This evening I’ve mooched into the town, found some fish and chips and recce’d a laundrette for tomorrow…

Day 10: Wellingborough to Northampton, 13 miles and 12 locks
Total so far: 121 miles and 43 locks. Thesis 5713 words and 26 pages.

I’m in Wellingborough tonight, about two-thirds of the way up the River Nene towards Northampton, having spent the last two days making my way singlehandedly. I’d originally hoped to have company for this stretch, as there are a lot of locks, but that wasn’t the way it worked out.

Single-handed boating requires Being Prepared, so it’s just as well that I went to Scouts for all those years! In particular I find that I like to have a lot of stuff set ready on the stern deck: mooring pins, mallet, windlass, security keys, sunglasses, jumper and/or raincoat, glass of water and snack-foods that can be eaten with one hand whilst steering (e.g. apples, pears, biscuits).

On Saturday morning I went as far as Fotheringay. Two small highlights from this trip – one is Yarwell Mill, where there is a huge caravan site which also features a fair number of private moorings for boats. The Mill itself is adjacent to a lock. By the lock landing stages are large signs that say “Passing Boats: this is Private Property. No Water, No Toilets, No Rubbish. Overnight mooring by arrangement”. Charming! I’ll take my business elsewhere, thanks…
At Warmington Lock I encountered the first of the mechanically-operated guillotine gates (most of them are electric now, but some of the locks are so rural that there’s no electricity nearby). As I wound the handle countless times, a jolly group of ramblers passed by, said hello, and took photos.
After they had disappeared off across the water-meadows, I maneuvered Innocenti out of the upper gates and attempted to pull onto the lock-mooring. The strong cross-wind had other ideas though, and the boat ended up sideways across the lock entrance. I went and drained the lock and raised the guillotine gate (you have to reset the locks on the Nene to empty after use, which is particularly tedious when you’re on your own) and then attempted to get the boat off again. The combination of crosswind and side current to the weir stream almost defeated me, but I got round and the bows headed up-river. But there wasn’t quite enough turning-circle and we went aground. Bother! Ten minutes of poling and shoving later and off we went to Fotheringhay.

Now, if like me you were subjected to Elizabethan-period history at School, you might have heard of Fotheringhay. The castle was where Elizabeth I imprisoned Mary, Queen of Scots and eventually had her executed there. All that remains now is a lumpen mound – it was a motte-and-bailey castle – and a selection of rather fine stone buildings that once surrounded it. I’m surprised that more isn’t made of it – the castle site itself is still really a farm, and there’s one (rather smart) pub in the village where I decided to treat myself to lunch. I moored by the castle – there are nice mooring-posts and a sign saying “Overnight mooring £4, short stays £2” but no clue as to how to pay. I enquired at the guest-house near the castle. “Wrong house”, said the lady there, “you want the one across the road”. That was deserted, so I gave up and went to the pub. On the way, I met the ramblers I had seen at Warmington Lock, coming out of the churchyard. They were going to the pub too, and invited me to join them. They turned out to be a group of doctors who knew each other from an internet site, DoctorsNet, and who were meeting up in Real Life for a ramble and a pub lunch. A good time was had, and I excused myself at 2pm and went back to the boat.

I meandered on, finally stopping at Titchmarsh Lock at about 1930. There’s a 48 hour mooring there, but one end of it was occupied by a large weedcutter boat, and the other by a narrowboat that looked familiar. The other side of the river has a large basin occupied by the Middle Nene Cruising Club. I attempted to moor alongside the weedcutter, but with the crosswind it was quite tricky. As I faffed and struggled, the lady and gentleman from the familiar-looking narrowboat, Sunflower, appeared and offered to help. They turned out to be from Waterbeach – I’d seen their boat in and around Cambridge in the past. After a bite to eat, we were invited to join the club members in their bar, which was very convivial.

Day 8: Wansford Station to Titchmarsh Lock, 21 miles and 11 locks.

Today (Sunday) I’ve come to Wellingborough with a brief stop at Irthlingborough for lunch. No real excitement or drama, but the weather was better – getting sunnier and less windy as the day went on. The locks are becoming more frequent but with shorter rises now.

Day 9: Titchmarsh Lock to Wellinborough Embankment, 16 miles and 10 locks.
Total so far: 108 miles and 31 locks (and we’re still north of Cambridge, so not even heading in the right direction yet!)

I woke up earlier than I’d expected this morning, having left my alarm set for 6am rather than the usual 7… anyway, I got two hours work done before Stanground Lock came to life and I was eventually locked through at about 9:30. I motored round the corner to the water-and-pumpout point and tied up. The Environment Agency, who look after the Nene, have kindly provided two pumpout units and a fresh water supply here. Oddly, the fresh water supply is from an old and knackered-looking reel-out fire hose rather than being just a conventional tap. Once I’d got the water tank hooked up I reached for the pumpout hose. A chap appeared and opened up the other pumpout unit and then called to me “It’s not working – I’m here to fix it but I’m waiting for Anglian Water to let me into the plant room”. Shortly after that the Anglian Water guy showed up, and Mr Pumpout discovered that the problem was a tripped circuit breaker. He reset it and I pumped out. This is the last free pumpout for a while – after this I’ll have to pay boatyards to do it…

I carried on working until about 1215, and then stopped for a bite of lunch before heading over to the convenient riverside Asda for some supplies – and then into central Peterborough on a quest for an odd-sized inner tube for my folding bike. The Power Of Google on my phone led my to Richardson’s Cycles, a helpful independent bike shop in the mighty Queensgate shopping centre, where they had both the obscure sizes needed for the Bickerton (its front wheel is smaller than the back one).

Peterborough is actually quite nice, especially now that they’ve built a smart new square with strange spurty water fountains in front of the cathedral. Strange to see a Norman cathedral in a city most people think of as a New Town…

Anyway, back to the boat and on up the river. I have to admit that my previous experience of the Nene was that it was hard work – but it was my first experience of rivers, there was quite a lot of current and all the (limited) moorings were taken up by boaters coming back from the IWA festival in St Ives.

Now, after the Fens, it seems a pleasant, placid river – wide and gently curving, with handsome old bridges and a gentle bucolic English landscape. This impression is reinforced at two of the settlements I passed, where mills and churches built from honey-coloured stone are reflected in the clear water.

The Nene navigation fell into disuse when a railway line was opened along its length, and the guidebook claims that by 1920 a small motor launch attempted to make the journey from Peterborough to Northampton but “had to be dragged overland in places”. Consequently, in the 1930s a big programme of investments were made and all the locks date from this period. They are big concrete-and-brick affairs, built in the days when Progress had no time for such niceties as environmental protection! Operating them singlehanded turned out to require some practice. Firstly, the locks are deep, and I had to tie a couple of metres of extension rope to my handling rope so that I could climb the lock ladder with the handling rope. The paddles are also extremely large, and the flows so violent that the boat can be pulled about quite violently by them. So, go gently! The convention on the Nene is to empty the locks and leave the guillotine gates open after using them, so lock passages take slightly longer than normal.

Anyway, three locks later I arrive at Wansford Station, which confusingly is not in Wansford but instead in a hamlet called Sibson about a mile away up the Great North Road, which is just within earshot. The EA have provided a lovely visitor mooring here on a large floating pontoon. The station itself is the headquarters and engine sheds of the Nene Valley Railway, from which steam trains run back towards Peterborough.

Tomorrow is a full day, hopefully to Thrapston if not further.

Day 7: Stanground Lock to Wansford Station, 11 miles and 4 locks.
Total so far 71 miles and 10 locks. Thesis now 5639 words and 25 pages.

After two-and-a-half weeks of lounging around in the boatyard, Innocenti has finally got out on the river again today. I paid my bill at Fox’s – which didn’t cause a sharp intake of breath, but did come towards the upper end of what I was expecting – and headed off a bit earlier than usual, at 1030, in order to avoid cluttering up their already-busy marina.

The river between March and Whittlesey is quite dull, so I’m not too worried that the webcam initially didn’t work! I stopped at Flood’s Ferry briefly to have a bite of early lunch and discovered that I’d forgotten to plug the cable back into the router. D’oh. Anyway, you didn’t miss much.

Ashline Lock in Whittlesey is a pleasant spot, and the only boater-operated lock on the main route across the Middle Level. You need a special windlass for it, which I seem to remember they charged me £7 for back in 2007… so time for it to earn its keep. I arrived with another boat close behind, crewed by an Aussie couple who were spending their summer cruising. They went first and then helped me through – then motored off towards Peterborough to try not to be too late for their booked passage through Stanground Lock. It was about 1430 by this time, and I thought it wouldn’t take too long to go the four miles to Stanground. Even without a booked passage I reckoned that the lock-keeper would let me through – there was plenty of time before they knocked off work for the evening.

I reckoned without the Dreaded Fenland Weeds. The King’s Dyke – the channel from Whittlesey to Peterborough – is narrow and weedy and I passed a number of boats that were struggling a bit coming in the opposite direction. About two miles beyond Whittlesey I got stuck. I stopped to clear the weedhatch, the wind blew me onto the bank and then I was very slightly aground. Much faffing and poling off ensued until a passing dog walker helped me by pushing off with the pole while I manoeuvred. This is why single handed takes longer!

I motored down to Stanground Lock, which marks the end of the Middle Level system. Beyond is the River Nene and the convenient town centre moorings in Peterborough. I arrived at 1640. The place was deserted – rather Marie Celeste-like. A sign on the little shed-office by the lock said “Closed”. I made a pot of tea and waited to see if the lock-keeper would reappear. After an hour, a boat appeared. When I went out, I discovered that a) he was towing another dead boat and b) the lock-keeper was locking him through. I went up to speak to her – she said “Oh, he was my 3:30 booking but he’s had trouble, so he’s the last one for today. You can go tomorrow, about 9:30 or maybe 10ish”. I thanked her and went back to the boat for more tea. Another boat approached behind me – a smartish-looking narrowboat. I shouted to the helmsman to come alongside me, but he chose instead to moor behind, against a small sheet-pile jetty built for anglers. I went inside. Shortly afterwards I heard a female voice that sounded in a bad mood. I stuck my head out. It was the lady from the boat behind, complaining that she had booked ahead, been told she could stay overnight and have first passage in the morning, and now was complaining that I was occupying the one-and-only landing stage despite having not played by the rules. Now she was concerned that the sheet-pile jetty would scratch her boat’s paint. I asked her if she would like me to move – I could easily swap places with them, and my paint is already scratched! She refused my offer, instead ranting at me about people not playing by the rules getting her goat. I asked her if there was anything else I could do. She said that really the only thing that she wanted me to do was to “piss off”, but that that wasn’t really an option. I stood there and apologised profusely. I told her about my gearbox trouble and my hefty bill. She calmed down slightly. I apologised some more and helped her tie up her bow line. Eventually she calmed down, felt that she had told me off sufficiently that I was unlikely to commit such a crime again (indeed so!) and shook my hand before going back to her boat. Oh well.

So, a note for future reference: the Middle Level navigation notes say “24 hours notice is required at Stanground Lock”. I had assumed that this was to do with the lock-keeper’s working hours, so she knew how many boats to expect. This isn’t actually the reason. The notes should probably say “Stanground Lock only permits a certain number of boats to pass through per day. You must call ahead to the lock-keeper to see if you will be permitted to use the lock”. I’m guessing that the Middle Level Commissioners restrict the use of the lock in order to restrict the volume of water entering their system from the River Nene – because every litre of water that enters the system has to be pumped out again at the St Germans Pumping Station near King’s Lynn. That station is currently being rebuilt (take a look, it’s an interesting website if you like heavy engineering) so that may be at least part of the reason for trying to keep water out of the Middle Level. I might write to the Middle Level Commissioners asking them to provide a better explanation in next year’s navigation notes.

Day 6: Fox’s Boatyard, March to Stanground Lock. 15 miles and 1 lock.
Total so far 60 miles and 6 locks. Thesis now 4521 words, 20 pages.

I’ve been back living on the boat since Monday, albeit moored up in Fox’s boatyard. On Monday afternoon at about 3-ish, the boat rocked gently and a pole appeared outside the window. It was Gary, who hadn’t realised I was in. Between us we punted round to the covered dock (punting 20 tonnes of Innocenti is quite hard work, even with two of you) and Gary got the deckboards up and introduced the new gearbox to the engine. By 5 o’clock when he knocked off, the engine and gearbox were mated up again, but the oil cooler and propeller shaft remained to be connected.

This morning I cracked on with lots of thesis-writing (2500 words and counting!) and some followups from my trip to Krakow. After lunch Gary reappeared (he’d been painting another boat in the morning) and fairly quickly finished off connecting up the gearbox. The engine came to life again and drove the prop nicely once in gear. We left the engine running for the oil to warm up before changing it and Gary went off for a cuppa.

On his return, various of Innocenti’s engine gremlins were duly squashed. The engine mountings were re-adjusted to stop the engine from wobbling – although the wobble has understandably worn the Aquadrive coupling somewhat, so I need to be careful with that or that’ll be another £500 for a new coupling…

The oil drain pump turned out not to pump out all the oil from the sump, as the little tube that it sucks through was too short. The tube was lengthened and lots of grotty oil removed. The old oil filter came out and a new one went in. New oil, too. Apparently the right oil for a BMC 1.5 diesel engine is very old school SAE 30 oil, which isn’t readily available from yer average Halfords. It does seem widely available on the ‘net though, and doubtless the helpful A1 Motor Stores in Cambridge will be able to order it for me. Gary also pointed out that what I had previously believed to be a water trap in the fuel line (hidden down in the depths of the engine bay where it’s hard to get at) is actually another fuel filter. This was duly replaced and the fuel system bled and the engine restarted. The engine sounds less noisy now – possibly because the old blocked fuel filter was starving the engine – and definitely because of the bad engine mounting. All well until a wipe round with a rag revealed a drip from the oil filter casing. Out came the O-ring from the casing and much fiddling and muttered invective resulted until the new one was seated properly and the filter stopped leaking. This explains why Innocenti’s had a very slight oil leak for ages…

Anyway, you’d think I’d be ready to go now, but there’s one last obstacle between me and the river – the bill. Tomorrow (Wednesday) is the admin lady’s day off, so they can’t give me a bill until Thursday. Gary said he’ll have a final check of the engine on Thursday anyway to make sure that nothing’s leaked, and I’ll need some diesel and a gas cylinder before I go anyway.

I’ve updated the cruise plan – to summarise, this weekend I’ll be on the River Nene (with no crew as yet – please come and join me if you’re free) and next weekend I’ll be in the Chilterns going over the Grand Union summit level. The following weekend, circumstances permitting, I shall be in London!

I’m in Krakow this week – and before you ask, the boat has not mysteriously developed the ability to fly – although a narrowboat slung form a giant airship would be rather cool!

I attended the European Geophysical Union conference in Vienna at the beginning of May, where I met Piotr Koperski who was presenting a paper on some technology very similar to my own. He’s a physicist and was keen for me to meet his engineer colleagues, so they invited me to Krakow for a meeting.

I flew out yesterday from Stansted on Ryanair. I like flying, even on a commercial airliner and even on Ryanair. I even like spending time in airports. Perhaps there’s something wrong with me! Anyway, my flight was uneventful and I arrived in Krakow at about 2130 and was met by Marian Soida, one of Piotr’s colleagues. They work for the Jagellonian University – the oldest in Poland, founded in 1364 – and specifically work at the Astronomical Observatory, a short drive from the airport. Astronomers being the sort who need to work bizaare hours, the Observatory has accommodation on site which is where I’m staying.

The Observatory itself is certainly a lovely setting. It’s on a hilltop at the edge of the city and surrounded by woodland. The summit of the hill itself is occupied by a Napoleonic-era fort (very like the Palmerston forts on Portsdown Hill) which is now home to three optical telescopes in their characteristic domes. Further down the hill, inamongst the lawns and flowerbeds, are various radio telescopes – one big one (15m diameter) and one smaller one (8m). There’s also a volleyball court and two office buildings (imaginatively called “old building” and “new building”) which house offices, labs and a library.

On Tuesday I gave a short talk about my work and then engaged in more detailed discussions over a late lunch at a restaurant down the road. Traditional Polish food was on the menu – borscht (beetroot soup) and then potato pancakes (like rosti – fried grated potato) with goulash. Very tasty indeed.

On Wednesday I managed to do some work on my thesis and then Piotr took me into the city centre. Krakow is certainly pretty – lots of tall stone buildings in various baroque-ish styles, and a grand castle overlooking the river. The city’s old defensive ramparts are now a semicircular park, the Planty, which surrounds the old town. After an afternoon’s wander around, I met Janusz for a beer in a subterranean pub, very atmospheric.

On Thursday we had a final meeting to wrap up what we’d decided to work on. This in a rather smart little meeting room at the observatory with grandiose upholstered chairs and a little wooden table. A secretary brought in a tray of tea and coffee and shortly after she left, I reached for my notebook, nudged the little table and managed to spill everyone’s coffee. Much chaos ensued while we cleared up. It wasn’t just my inherent clumsiness as Andrzej did the same thing later – the table was at just the wrong height to catch your knees on.

Friday brought me back to the UK again, and changed perspectives on Poland. Certainly in the areas of Krakow I visited, everything looked well-maintained and relatively prosperous, much better than I was expecting. Do go and visit if you can – it’s an interesting (and cheap) place for a city break!

Everyone’s been very friendly and helpful. I’ll take some pictures of the observatory tomorrow.

I got a call from Fox’s this morning – they’d spoken to Bob Knowles, who seems to be The Man To Know when it comes to marine gearbox repairs, and he was unable to offer a repair on my PRM Delta ‘box, instead offering a reconditioned box for £650. Apparently the gearbox is no longer made and some of the parts can no longer be obtained. I said I’d go over there in the afternoon to place the order and go ahead. Meanwhile, i cracked on with writing an encyclopedia article that will also form part of my thesis (two birds, one stone, hopefully!), finished it off and submitted it.

Afterwards, I had a quick look online to see if I could get a second opinion or a better price on a reconditioned gearbox. I spoke to a helpful guy called Chris at Calcutt Boats who said he could supply a reconditioned box to me and would accept 20% off the price for mine in part-exchange. After speaking to him, I also spoke to another helpful guy called Chris at Maestermyn Marine who called me back and explained that actually all the bits could be got for a PRM Delta apart from the input drive shaft. He did have one, but couldn’t offer me a part-ex on my old one. Still, he was very helpful.

This afternoon I drove over to Fox’s, met Gary and Alan the mechanics just as they were breaking for tea and they said yeah, fine – get a new box wherever you can. I called Calcutt back. No problem to supply a replacement box, but their mechanic is away Mon-Tue next week so it might take a few days. Fine – I’m going to be in Poland anyway. Now I have to send the gearbox to Calcutt (who are in rural Warwickshire), so I get a handy cardboard box from Alan and pack it up. This evening I’ve ordered a courier service from DHL via parcel2go.com which has cost me the princely sum of £8 to ship a 22kg parcel. Brilliant!

If everything works out neatly, the new gearbox will arrive at Fox’s on Thursday or Friday next week and then they’ll be able to fit it for the weekend. The current incarnation of the cruise plan shows a departure on Saturday 12th, but if the gearbox is delayed for any reason then the departure is likely to be Mon/Tue. I’ll keep you posted.

I got up early on Thursday – day 4 of the cruise – in order to be ready to make the transit acoss the tidal Great Ouse to Salter’s Lode. I’ve only done this once before, in 2007, and then it was quite a hairy experience as the heavy rain that summer produced very strong currents (I seem to recall Paul the lock-keeper saying “use maximum power and turn into the current as soon as you can”). By comparison, the river today seemed positively benign. There was quite a queue of boats and so despite my showing up at 8am when the first passage was due, I didn’t get to Salter’s Lode until 10. For those that keep scores on making the tricky turn into Salter’s Lode lock, I can say that Paul awarded me a 7 as I just touched some of the tyres on the entrance to the lock… better try harder next time.

Well Creek, which is the river that leads from Salter’s Lode towards March, is undeniably a very lovely stretch. I’d go so far as to say it was the most enjoyable bit of waterway in the East Anglian system that I’ve seen – you get a view over the landscape, and there are interesting and pretty villages that face onto the creek as if it’s the main street. Unfortunately for me, the creek is also full of waterweed, nasty fibrous stuff that seems to be all stalk and no leaves. At Nordelph, 3 miles from Salter’s Lode, I stopped on a public mooring and removed great chunks of it from the weedhatch. As I plodded on towards to Outwell, the clumps of weed got thicker and the boat got slower. At Outwell itself, I stopped on a mooring, cleared the weedhatch, and then immediately had to stop again as the prop was already fouled just from getting off the mooring. It got slower and slower, and I was stopping in midstream to clear the prop. Eventually, somewhere at the edge of Upwell, I couldn’t get the boat to move any more. Even after clearing the prop, engaging forward gear would cause the engine to labour, and if you applied more power the gearbox would slip. Not good. I manoeuvred with some difficulty into the bank, and discovered that the boat was fine going astern, which suggested a significant fault in the gearbox. I moored up and called the nearest boatyard, Fox’s in March, and the helpful receptionist said she’d get an engineer to call me back.

About ten minutes later, a Fox’s hireboat came down the creek, seemingly with no difficulty. I flagged them down and asked for a tow – but just as we were hooking up the tow line, the phone rang. It was Fox’s. I explained to the guy that I was getting a tow, whereupon he said “No, they can’t tow you – they’re not insured.” I let them go. He suggested I try and limp on to the lock. I tried, but found myself getting into worse difficulties, and moored up again just where I’d started. I called Fox’s again to ask for a tow. The same guy called back and said “well, it’ll take us 2-and-a-half hours to reach you, and we won’t come ‘til the morning now”. Anyway, I settled down for the night and called various people, including some I was expecting to meet up with over the next few days. Then there was a voicemail from a different engineer at Fox’s, saying he’d come and tow me in the morning – he’d set off early and be with me by 9.30.

I went off in search of fish and chips (having seen a chippy on the bank earlier) – and very good they were too. As I ate them on a bench sitting by the river, a rather portly Jack Russell terrier approached me and gave me the old “look smart and underfed” treatment. I resisted, much to his surprise, and ate all the chips myself.

On my way back to the boat I got a call from Nigel, a physics teacher at a school in March that I worked with under the Researcher in Residence scheme. I’d planned to meet up with him in March that evening. He said he’d come out and meet me, so he duly arrived shortly before 7. After a chat, we headed off into March to compete in a pub quiz that he’s a regular at, which was lots of fun. I got back just before midnight.

I woke up early on Friday – Day 5 – and started to tidy the boat up while waiting for Gary to arrive. Shortly before 8 I got a text from him asking about turning space – and I went up onto the bank to have a look. As I got to the end of the straight stretch of creek I was moored on, I saw a Fox’s boat approaching. It was him. We got the two boats hitched up line astern (the creek is too narrow to go side by side) and made our way slowly to Marmont Priory Lock, about ¾ mile away. I’d learned from a local resident that the weedcutter boat had been through on Wednesday, explaining the high volume of weed in the river, and since the lock drains water away from the creek, the current had drawn the cut weed towards the lock. We stopped to clear the propeller on the towing boat after less than a ¼ mile! At the lock, we had to take the two boats through separately, as the lock is only 12’ wide and thus not big enough for two narrowboats side-by-side. After Marmont Priory the river becomes deeper and wider (it’s the Old River Nene at this point) and we went side-by-side for greater speed.

We got to Fox’s boatyard just after 12. Gary’s now extracting my gearbox as I write this, and it’ll go off to a specialist repairer in Nottingham. I expect to be in March for a little while until it comes back!

This morning was very productive. I reviewed some work I’d done in my first year, noted that it looked a bit shabby and poorly researched with the benefit of two years’ hindsight, and began to re-write and improve it, adding extra references to remove the Aunt Jobisca-ish nature of some of the assertions.

Incidentally, my search for Aunt Jobisca turns up that the biologist JBS Haldane first took the character of Aunt Jobisca away from the Pobble losing his toes and applied her more generally to people who make statements unsupported by facts…

Having written 700 words or so and dug up at least half a dozen new references (how I love the combination of mobile broadband and online journal archives!) I stopped for lunch. After a sandwich or two and a cup of tea, my attention was turned to the shower head. For the last week or so – since I changed the water pump, in fact – it’s been difficult to get the shower to the right temperature. I was blaming the water pump, but knew that in theory it was a similar capacity to the old one. Anyway, I realised during this morning’s alternately too hot and too cold shower that there wasn’t a sufficient flow of water coming through the shower head for the water heater to work properly. A proper look at the shower head with my glasses on revealed it to be somewhat bunged up, and after breakfast I’d dumped it in a mug of clear vinegar to remove the limescale. After lunch, rinsed and with a few holes unblocked with a pin, it worked much better!

Buoyed by my success, I decided to embark on the ten mile journey to Denver Sluice. My start-up ritual involves checking the engine oil and coolant levels, as Innocenti usually leaks both these vital fluids a little bit. I was somewhat surprised to find that the oil level had dropped substantially (all the more surprising given that it had been fine at lunchtime on Day 2), but I decided to top up and press on, watching the oil pressure gauge like a hawk. An hour in, and it had dropped about 0.5 bar. I stopped on a convenient and empty public mooring and checked the dipstick – seemed okay. Checking the oil when the engine is warm gives a different level anyway as the oil expands.
I continued to Denver. This section of the river is known as the Ten Mile Bank – the river is higher than the land here, and so is hemmed in by a high flood bank that runs the full ten miles to Denver. You see nothing! I passed two boats coming the other way – all in all, a very boring afternoon on the river. This being the Fens, it was windy, and it seemed to be getting increasingly cold, too.

I arrived at Denver just before 5, relieved to have arrived without engine drama and rather looking forward to a hot cup of tea. The increasingly useless Imray guidebook to the Great Ouse led me to believe that there’s a water point adjacent to the Jenyn’s Arms pub right by the main sluice. There isn’t – and nor is there a 48hr mooring at present, as the bank has subsided so it’s fenced off! I turned around and moored a few hundred metres upstream on another 48hr spot and got my cup of tea.
Afterwards, I went for a wander round the site and looked for the other water point in the guidebook – which was shown as adjacent to another sluice, behind the sailing club. I did find the water point, and it turned out also to have a free pump-out that the guidebook didn’t mention.

Denver is a strange sort of place. Seven different watercourses come together here, all of them wholly or partially artificial, and the complex has been evolving continuously for 350 years. The main sluice still stands where Cornelius Vermuyden built it to keep the tides out of the Fens in the 1651, although it’s been subsequently rebuilt several times and the present incarnation is Victorian with 1950s additions.
In 1964 the second part of the Denver complex opened – the AG Wright sluice – which together with two new river channels (imaginatively called the Relief Channel and the Cut-off Channel) seem to have finally resolved the many issues with flooding and silting which plagued Denver and the south Fens since the drainage began 400 years ago! The whole aspect of the place is very strange – the grassy banks and trees seem very pleasant, but the strange green machinery of the sluices outlined against the grey sky give the place a forbidding air.

After dinner, I motored Innocenti round to the water point and filled the fresh tank while emptying the sewage. While waiting for the freshwater tank to fill, I had a poke about in the engine bay and found what I hope was the source of the oil leak. Like many boats, Innocenti has a little hand-pump connected to the oil sump so that you can change the oil by pumping it out – unlike a car, where you can get a drainer can underneath it and let it out by gravity. This pump connects to where the drain plug would have been if the engine had been in a car via a length of flexible hose. I’ve had trouble with it leaking before at the engine block end, but this time I found that it was leaking from where it joins the bottom of the brass pump – a turn or two with the Big Spanner and it should be good.

Tomorrow involves an early start to the cruise – the next 1/2 mile from Denver Sluice to Salter’s Lode Lock is along the tidal Great Ouse, and so I must wait for tomorrow’s high tide. At 8am we shall be off into the Middle Levels to the town of March.

Day 3: Littleport to Denver – 10 miles and no locks.
Total so far: 32 miles and 2 locks. Thesis 717 words, 4 pages.