Bartimaeus

We made our way through the lift bridges to Whaley Bridge for lunch in the friendly Babka cafe. I had the impression  they had got new largish black tables, too big for the space in the cafe.  When I  was seated the staff had to ask me to stand and move to serve other customers. I squished in beside Shane on the bench. The staff were chirpy and the food and drinks tasty. We had a short explore after lunch to see the Whaley Bridge reservoir.

There was no mooring to be had in the basin so we’d snuck into a space that straddled the CRT post saying mooring on the left was private permit holders and on the right visitor moorings. We decided we could moor there as we weren’t overnighting. After lunch we meandered off to Bugsworth basin, where rhere was plenty space.

We remembered being here before in mid winter and there being a lot of mud and puddles around. It seemed greener this time. A plaque in  the grass beside our mooring was something I don’t remember seeing. Black plaques on the ground like this are usually warning about something underground or marking a spot where something once stood, or some historic event had happened, not just  nature information. They weren’t even warning about moles below ground.

The other bank was near a busy road so I hope that did not disturb the water voles. Unfortunately we didn’t see any, but Shane had planned a diversion for us, a bike ride in scenic countryside to a nearby spa town. No rain was forecast but it was a tad misty. He leant the tandem against a replica black iron wagon to get ready. It was an odd selection of transport, and an odd memorial plaque too, given our last visit was at the tail end of 2021 that plaque might not have been there then either.

The route was up some steep hills and though the countryside was attractive it was a little greyed out by the mist and we found that our cycling legs could have done with a warm up ride before attempting the Peak District. It was a lovely little road though and I was impressed by the Opera House as we wheeled into Buxton. We arrived in time for lunch and headed into the nearest tearoom, No 6 The Square. We enjoyed our soup and cheese scone and I was amused by the seasonal display at the till, selling items for a hospice. I don’t know if the knitted pumpkin covers were sold on their own or with the chocolate orangey thing, maybe it’s a bumpy pumpkin, not an orange, inside. The spiders were not for sale.

We were beside an attractive park and pavilions with a gallery, so we had a look around. There was a chill wind though and Shane had another suggestion to head for somewhere cool – we were dressed for that – but not windy. 

We got booked on at short notice. The group was quite big and included three dogs. They did not seem upset by the dark fortunately, but didn’t appreciate the tour guide’s humour. Of course this was the ideal place for some Halloween themed added decorations but included in the first part of the tour about early cave dwellers and who else sheltered or hid there, it emerged that the Cavern gets it’s name from a villain who is said to have died in here and haunts it. (No ghosts appeared on our tour.) Our guide used his torch to highlight various formations, some needed a bit of help to explain their names, for instance “the wedding cake” wasn’t tiered but the two stalagmites on the top had been thought to be like the bride and groom in the top of a cake. Our guide also altered the lights of the cavern to show different aspects and finally in the deepest part of the cavern, switched all the lights off so we could see how dark it was with just a flame from a lighter and no light pollution, or moon or stars. He then demonstrated what real darkness was, when the lighter disappeared inky black with no chance of seeing your hand before your face or your eyes adapting to the complete blackness.

On the way out he mentioned that bats lived in the caves and there were some bat droppings which we had not seen on the tour but he shone his light on them. The bats can cope in the pitch black alright. As we walked back to the bike I saw the door to a house that might have been the cave entrance at dusk.

The cycle back was much easier. The uphill was short and the downhill was long and the stoker doesn’t have to deal with steering and braking, though that doesn’t mean I don’t get a bit worried about it. I worry even more about the traffic and this route had hardly any.

We moved on the next day when it was a little brighter, though grey to start with. We saw a couple of herons on the way looking grey and proud (well grey and black and white). By late afternoon the sun was out.

As we passed a field, Shane mentioned something about the goat there. I said it was a sheep. I could see the texture of the wool. He was going by the patchy colour scheme of black splodges which is atypical of sheep. We are used to all white or all black or brown or black faced (and legged) sheep with white woolly coats, but blotchy sheep are rare. We ended up moored right opposite a field of the sheep of many shades.

We moved on to Marple next day. I had a nice chat with a couple at a lift bridge who wanted to watch it being lifted and took a lot of photos. They explained afterwards that one of them had tried to go under it in canoes once, but ended up capsizing and losing their specs in the water. She said this gave them a happy memory of the bridge. I am not sure it felt ‘happy’ at the time, but they obviously were able to look back and laugh about it and enjoy sharing the memory.

Luckily there was space in the place we had moored before in Marple. We have taken advantage of access to a local bakery and I enjoyed seeing that the lady who seemed to be on her first day and under instruction last time I came, was now confident serving. 

Since it was sunny we decided it was a good day to get painting done. We didn’t feel in a good space to get all the bits below the gunwale and along the strake line done but a touch up of the Standedge scrapes would be a quick job. We have two sanders I found to my surprise so the job was super quick. 

For the future Shane wonders if we should use the black paint used on the hull and continue it right up to the gunwale which would make it look like the nice paintwork wasn’t damaged, when it gets scraped there. I am not sure if that makes a problem when we meet the dragon paintwork on the bow. The rarely scratched or repainted bit looks a different shade of blue, as it is a bit sunbleached above and not ever been repainted. Perhaps wax or polish would help there. As a result the dark blue looks darker below the gunwale anyway.

I have been looking at the boats around us to see what looks right or not. I notice some are black matt below the gunwale and some glossy black. Another boat that I thought was black all over was in fact dark green with black below the gunwale. I haven’t decided what’s best. I am yet to be convinced of the benefit of a lot of black, but it may have advantages as other people seem to do it. The jury is still out.

As night fell we settled in, we had tried Kambuja but it was sold out so we ate in. I found a spider in an awkward space but even in corners or curved surfaces I can usually catch them and I managed to dispose of it with the handle of a knife to chase it into the glass from the channel above the blind. However another one has found a disconcerting, alarming even, space to stay. The glass and card could not catch it but it’s not hidden – the little black feet and striped legs poke out, but it can retract easily.