Today I went from Milnsbridge to Cooper Bridge, mooring for the night between Locks 3 and 2. Six miles and eighteen locks, including the last eleven on the Narrow Canal. A tiring day, punctuated by a long afternoon break at Aspley Basin. Quite rainy in the morning, cheering up by the time I reached Aspley Basin, with a comfortably bright afternoon and dusk. The last six hours were spirited, thanks largely to the friendly company and help of Graham & Mrs (name?) White and their son Nick, whom I first met coming up Lock 23W less than three days ago.
Moored up last night approaching 11pm. One of the latest stops I'd ever done, and the western sky was still vaguely washed with day, it being midsummer. it I'd tied up on the offside, concerned about possible vandals wandering the towpaths opposite. I shouldn't have worried - the night was event-free. A waterside tree provided a convenient 'mooring stake'; I'd taken the rope around the trunk and tied it back on board, but it proved tricky to release and I nearly fell in when releasing it. This was presage to a similar and more serious incident I had when mooring up this evening.
Locks 11 & 10 are a close pair. As 11E (curiously named 'Library') slowly filled, I rushed the few yards down to no. 10 and drew up its paddles to fill it, then returned up. As Granny B descended, a BW lengthsman (Richard?) came up on his daily inspection. We chatted, then quite calmly and politely he pointed out that the bottom gates of the next lock were so leaky that the short pound between was now barely half-full! He warned that there are still so many leaky gates on the Huddersfield Narrow Canal that it's really not worth running ahead to set locks for. The Hud isn't restored, as such, and there's a moral here that I'll write about in another post.
As I approached Lock 8E I saw, clear as day, a mongrel dog foul the towpath as his careless male owner watched, waiting only for the dog to finish. The dog did that curious slow waddle forward some dogs do as they shit, their sterns vibrating, their tails arched. Yet again my boat was in the lock as I watched, just as it was when I saw the dirty old pensioner at Audlem last Christmas watch his dog defecate lockside, and once again I could only seeth inside.
Passed 'Meg 2' at Lock 5, as I reach Huddersfield town proper at 1pm. Turns out that this modest little boat had been stuck on the new tunnel section for over an hour, awaiting BW rescue. There are two brand new locks and new tunnels here, running under the 'Bates' and 'Sellers' factories. Both of these are tunnels of the new variety, cut and cover and built in curves. There's a danger in finding yourself stuck in these tunnels without enough water to proceed and no twopath to escape by. Once again, Pennine Waterways site has a very good description of these passages, and the extraordinary restoration (reconstruction, really) that created them.
At Lock 1E, the start (for me, the end) of the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, I was struck by how Huddersfield University dominates this stretch. I never thought of Huddersfield as a University City. I guess it isn't - it's probably one of those colleges of Further Education that were allowed to dub themselves Unis a decade or so ago. I tried to find out more about it, but all web links lead to the History Department, which refers only to its courses. One of them is about Family History (a degree in family history? My, we are turning into a curating society, aren't we?) but there's nothing about the history of the Uni itself.
Briefly in my search I found that the History department is presided over by Professor David Someone in a spotty bow tie. Now, professors in spotty bow ties are a glorious stereotype that deserves good-natured mocking so I tried to return to this page to provide a link, or even to nick the photo for this page. But lo!, he's gone, like Brigadoon in the mist!
At Aspley Basin I saw Surrey moored up at the waterside facilities. And opposite, the crew of Surrey waved frantically to me from their window seats at the generic Brewers Fayre canalside pub. Lone boating takes its toll on my toleration of my own company, so I immediately decided to join them. The first thing they greeted me with was praise of my manouvering. The first thing I showed them was a framed version of 'fierce dog' picture.
I have this embarassing, childlike habit of taking things that interest me to show people, the way five year olds do, their first few weeks at school. I call it show-and-tell. The trouble is, I always misjudge what is relevant at the time, or interesting to the person I'm showing it to. And sometimes (worse), they assume that I'm presenting it to them as a gift, and do their best to express admiration and thanks.
In The Meaning of Liff Douglas Adams and John Lloyd call it Nazeing: "The rather unconvincing noises of pretended interest which an adult has to make when brought a small dull object for admiration by a child."
We both set off again around 6pm, and approached the strange Locomotive Bridge. This - contraption is the best word - simply raises the whole floor of the bridge for a couple of feet to give boats clearance underneath. Other bridge hinge up or swing sideways. This one is unique on the waterways; unique anywhere.
It's been worrying me all week: Would I fit through the short locks of the Huddersfield Broad Canal? These are only about 58ft long, but the answer (to my great relief) was yes. Their double width just allowed the 60ft of Granny Buttons to fit through askance. If this hadn't worked, I was faced with reversing a mile or more back to Aspley Basin, turning around and going back up the whole darned Huddersfield Narrow Canal, tail between my legs. For the first four locks Graham of Surrey helped me. Then, feeling guilt that he was neglecting his family, I insisted he rejoined his boat. And I was on my own again.
Because of its proximity to Huddersfield this canal doesn't promise much in terms of natural beauty. But if you don't promise, then in the end you deliver more, and on this summer evening this waterway was quite charming, even factoring in the huge, dull sheet-metal 'shed' by lock 3, because look the other way and you can get a very different view.
I tied up at 10pm - yet another late ending to the day - catching up with Surrey. In my haste to settle down for the night I slipped on the gunwale and badly banged my knee and deeply grazed my calf as I scrabbled to avoid falling in. I compounded the initial damage by having a hot bath to raise my spirits. I now know that this is the wrong treatment! The order of the day is ice packs on the bruised joint - very important for the first hour or so. Must remember this for future occasions, and always ensure I have ice in the fridge, an ice crusher to hand and an ice pack to put it in.
And so to bed, feeling very, very sorry for myself!
Comments