We reversed back to the water point before going through the lock at Thorne.  The water pressure was one of the lowest I’ve seen, and the tank was almost empty, so it took over an hour before it was filled.  Clare made good use of the time by visiting a bakery in town (at least three other bakeries were available).  We’d already eaten some of her purchases as a very early lunch before the water tank was full.

The lock was staffed again, but by a different person who wasn’t quite as chatty as the previous day.  He gave us a very smooth ride through the lock and also opened and closed the bridge for us – excellent service.  It was only a few boat lengths to the service jetty where we stopped to buy diesel.  Clare followed the signs to the office but found it locked.  Meanwhile someone from the boatyard found me and set about filling us up.  I phoned Clare to tell her to stop hunting.

With two tanks filled, we set off in the baking midday sun.  The countryside around is flat and the canal largely straight, but unlike on the Fossdyke Canal, the banks do not obscure the view of the surrounding countryside.  It is tricky to moor up along most of the length, apart from near the swing bridges.  It wasn’t long before we reached the edge of Stainforth, one of the villages that has lent its name to the canal.  We moored up on a convenient bit of bank for the rest of our lunch.

Walking along the bank, I saw that there was a community pub with two narrowboats moored outside.  The menu looked interesting and there was waterside seating so that’s where we had our evening meal.  I also realised that the pub wasn’t on my map, so when we got back to the boat I added it to OpenStreetMap.

The following day we travelled only as far as the junction at the end of the canal.  We went for a stroll in to Barnby Dun where the main point of interest was a shop selling ice cream.  As we got back to the boat, another boater had just stepped off to moor.  There was something awkward about the way he was holding his boat, so as well as saying hello, we asked if he needed a hand.  He was very grateful for the offer and asked us to hold his centre rope.  It turned out that he had bought the boat that day (downsizing from a longer one), so although he was experienced, he didn’t have things in the right place on this boat.  With us holding the rope, he was now able to get back aboard and get the things he needed to secure the ends.

After the junction the next morning we came to a lift bridge.  As I steered towards the side to let Clare off with a key, a figure appeared from the control room and shouted “Are you coming through?”  “Yes”, I shouted and and turned towards the bridge as I heard the sirens warning that it was about to open.  “I’m here every Wednesday and Saturday morning”, we were told as we drove through.

As we approached the next lock  I could see there was another boat in already and wondered if we would fit in with them.  I also wondered if the pump-out station was before or after.  I asked the other boaters if they knew – we were all surprised when they found the answer.  By now a third boat had turned up behind us, and yes, there was more than enough room for all of us.

When everyone else had left the lock, we moved alongside the pump-out station which was actually in the lock!  This was a lot easier to access than the previous one we’d used, and there was now no other traffic to pressure us.  I only realised afterwards that I could have made the whole job a lot easier by leaving the lock, turning round and coming back in again.  That way I wouldn’t even have had to hang on to the gunwale again, but at least this time things went very smoothly.

We found visitor moorings in the centre of Doncaster and took the opportunity of topping up the larder.

From our mooring the next day I saw a huge tanker drive downstream.  The locks on this waterway are the right size for monsters like this – three times as long, wide and high as us.  I was glad not to have met it coming around a blind corner.

In the afternoon we headed towards Doncaster Lock.  The amber light suggested we would have to work it ourselves, but as we approached the light turned to red.  I hoped this meant the lock was being prepared for us.  I was slightly doubtful because on the Trent this would have been signalled with red and green.  However after a short delay the gates started to open and the light turned green.  A friendly volunteer lock keeper asked if we wanted to use ropes.  Clare said we were happy without if it wasn’t going to be turbulent.  He promised there would be no turbulence if we stayed where we were at the back of the lock.  We waved and thanked him as we left the lock after a smooth rise.

We were now on the River Don.  A short distance further we met the dredging operations that we had been warned about.  Although there was equipment and barges in the middle of the river, there was still plenty of room to go round as signalled by one of the workers.

The next lock really was self-service.  Clare hopped off to operate it, and I again stayed in the calm water at the back of the lock.  This lock was deeper, so it felt even bigger than the previous one.  We met no more boats, and the gentle flow made for a peaceful afternoon’s cruising, only disturbed by my shout of “Kingfisher!” as I saw the characteristic flight low over the water ahead of us.

Clare was driving as we reached Mexborough Low Lock so I took a turn at operating.  Bartimaeus looks absolutely tiny at the far end, but also reassuringly far away from the churning water at the head gate when the paddles open.

We moored up at a peaceful spot just beyond the lock, and had just got inside when the rain that had been threatening all afternoon finally arrived.