Bartimaeus

The weather on Saturday was forecast to be poor all day, so we decided to stay put in our quiet mooring.  We had a rendezvous in Penkridge on Monday morning, so that committed us to travelling the whole way on Sunday hoping the weather forecast was correct.  Running the washing machine on a showery day seemed counter-intuitive, but there was a strong breeze and things were drying fast between showers.

I put the pram cover up on the back deck so that the washing could get a blow but be sheltered when it rained.  While I was doing that I heard the man on the boat behind us start his engine to charge his batteries.  I decided to run our generator too, knowing that it wouldn't be bothering anyone but us.  As I'd expected, when ours automatically shut off, the neighbour's engine was still running.

This morning, as soon as the rain stopped I took the cover down again and we set off.  There was a tiny amount of light drizzle before the day steadily brightened.  We had pleasant exchanges with almost all of a string of fishermen just after Hatherton Junction.

We reached Gailey before noon where we stopped to fill the almost empty water tank.  While that was filling, I went to the convenience store at the nearby filling station to buy milk - something else we were almost out of.  We still had no nice bread for lunch, but there was an outlet for a bakery chain (other bakery chains are available) at the same location.  Clare went and bought us each something to keep the wolf from the door.  I remembered buying ice cream at the shop by the lock on visits in previous decades, but sadly it was shut this time.

I remembered that I had driven through these locks last time and asked Clare to do that this time.  The first lock is hard up against the widened main road, so the tail gates have been mangled to fit the space.  They were easy enough to operate, but a tight squeeze to cross.

It wasn't far to the next lock so I sent Clare on her way and took my time closing up behind her, knowing that I could stroll ahead. By now the sun was shining despite some dark clouds passing by.  There seemed to be a blue and white stripe theme here.

I did manage to get ahead to the next lock in time to open it for her.  Despite meeting another boat in the pound, the lock had leaked enough that I needed to open the paddles to open the gate.  The lock beam was in a sorry state.  When I tried my usual over-optimistic push before the lock was really ready it bent alarmingly.  I decided to wait until it was good and ready before trying again.

A boat coming the other way arrived at just the right time, but I found myself at the far side gate as Clare departed.  I waited for the other boat to enter the lock so that I could help by closing my gate, and then take the short-cut over the lock.  Yet again I was able to stroll past Bartimaeus to the next lock.  This one had a repaired beam.  We've seen one or two of these already, made of planks bolted together.  I don't know if this is a long-term repair or a stop gap.  I was too busy chatting to another boater to take a picture.

The next lock had a much sturdier beam, made of steel.  It will take a long time for rust to eat through this.  The gate itself is still largely wooden though, so it will probably need to be replaced or at least rebuilt after a few decades - gates seem to last about 25 years.

I got on as we left the lock.  It wasn't far to the next one, but we were running alongside the M6 so the peace was shattered.  I experimented with running our generator as we went along, reasoning that we were already exposed to the roar of the traffic so it might make little difference.  Clare thought it still made the noise worse, so after a while I shut it down again.

Clare worked the next lock.  The gates were not particularly remarkable, but I still have no idea about the purpose of the wall alongside it.

We still had washing drying inside the boat.  I was glad it wasn't out on a deck somewhere when I noticed water spraying out of the wall of the lock as we descended.  This is not unusual, but it usually subsides before the roof gets below it.

As we reached Penkridge, I asked Clare to head to the nearby supermarket while I carried on to find a mooring.  As I had suspected it was another half a mile before I was able to moor.  I scouted ahead on foot and found a better mooring beyond the next lock, so we moved there a little later in the last of the day's sunshine.