Bartimaeus

On the way down the locks, there had been a strong flow of water over and above what we were letting out of the locks.  In one of the staircases the overflow was letting water flow in to the side of the lock.  This is supposed to be where excess water exits.

I assumed the extra flow was intended to refill the problem pounds further down the canal. Either way, there were no more alerts for the Chesterfield Canal, so we set off for Worksop and Retford expecting things to go smoothly.  The pound that had been empty a few days earlier was now obviously full.  Where there had been a waterfall last time we saw it – there was now scarcely a dip where the by-wash entered.

We paused for lunch in Worksop before pressing on.  The low pound where we’d been warned of a motorbike was back to its nominal level, and still no sign of the errant steed.  We made good progress through the locks with Bryn’s enthusiastic help, though top speed on this canal is noticeably below the official maximum of 4 mph.

Things seemed strange when it came to leaving Forest Bottom Lock which is a couple of locks below the reported site of trouble earlier in the week.  Clare couldn’t open the gate because Bartimaeus was resting against it.  I tried a little burst of reverse but nothing changed.  I went forward to check we weren’t caught on the gate, and then tried Clare’s suggestion – turn the diesel engine on.  That moved us back a foot or so and got the gate open.  Driving out was different, full (diesel) power didn’t move us.  I asked Clare to let some water in and “wash us out”.  This was successful, but with hindsight could be considered a mistake.

The pound we were now in was obviously very low.  The reason we were stuck in the lock was that we were sitting on the bottom!  If I’d thought it through earlier, I might have suggested the sensible thing to do was to refill the lock, reverse out and moor on the lock bollards.  We could then contact Canal and River Trust (CRT) and wait securely there until the pound was refilled.  Once we were out of the lock however, we would have very little chance of getting back in.  We seemed able to make progress, though it was under 1 mph, so we pressed on.  I thought we might be completely stuck under one bridge, but with a bit of bow thruster and patience we managed to get through.

A woman on the bank was surprised to see us and told us she was a ranger for the section.  She asked if we’d seen an alert from CRT.  I hadn’t, and also checked later – I hadn’t missed one either.  She warned us of a brick wall under a railway bridge which we floated over slowly with no harm.  She reckoned we were through the worst and it was deeper ahead of us after that, and so it proved.  We were even able to travel at a reasonable speed the rest of the way to the next lock.

The water level was about a foot below the overflow on our side of the lock, but the pound beyond seemed to be at its normal level.  We floated slowly in to the lock because I wasn’t sure we were above the cill – no problem!  Once through that lock it was an easy cruise to moorings in Retford.  Clare had been cooking through the last few miles, so dinner was served immediately, later than we usually have it and very welcome.

There was a further update on the problems with the rail bridge at Keadby that seemed encouraging, and we were all up for compressing as much interest in to Bryn’s next few days as we could manage.  So next morning we had a gallop around a museum before setting off on a long day’s drive, pausing only to view the murals in the church at Clayworth.  The connection to Edinburgh, and the former Royal Hospital for Sick Children in Marchmont made a visit there unmissable.

We had plenty of time the next morning to reach the West Stockwith lock before high tide. There was no obvious mooring in the basin, but as we drifted towards the lock, the lock-keeper appeared and approved of the spot I had chosen alongside the lock entrance. We had most of an hour to have some lunch and get ourselves prepared.

I went to look at the river, wondering if I might catch the arrival of the tide.  I was several hours too late, but amazed at just how much water there was, and how fast it was running upstream.  The lock gates no longer looked like the massive towers we had entered at low tide, this was just an ordinary lock.

We had to wait until a narrowboat arrived from Keadby and was guided in to the lock.  The tide was just about turning by then, and their entry in to the lock was uneventful.  Once they were through it was our turn.  We were all in our life-jackets, with Bryn having spent some time adjusting one of the “guest” life-jackets kindly donated from his collection by Roland.  We went down in the lock with another boat, but we were out first.  I used plenty of throttle as we left the entrance, I knew a timid exit would leave us at the mercy of the current, by now hurrying out to sea again.

Our third trip down the tidal Trent didn’t feel as stressful as the earlier ones.  Further down river there is less chance of running aground anyway, and there are no sharp corners or important landmarks to line up with.  An extra pair of eyes was a help, though I had to call a halt to our conversation when we got distracted by talking about a river crossing puzzle.  The forecast for the afternoon was full sunshine, so the rain shower was unexpected, but we didn’t get cold, or even very wet.  We were dry by the time we arrived.

At Keadby I turned the boat to face upstream as directed.  Clare thought I had started too early, but we drifted past the lock entrance sideways just as I had expected.  We didn’t need as much power to get in to the lock as we had at West Stockwith and we nosed in gently.  The lock-keeper was dangling a rope with a karabina on the end to haul our lines up to the bollards.  We had a short wait before our locking partner arrived.

Once out of the lock, we moored up on the bollards.  A short distance beyond the lock is the Vazon Sliding Railway Bridge.  A sliding railway bridge – what could possibly go wrong?  That is exactly what the engineering team are trying to find out.  In order not to disrupt trains too much, the engineers are currently testing the bridge opening and closing after 10pm every night.  Boaters are allowed through only at that time – long after dark.

Bryn and I walked up to see what the fuss was about.  There was a complicated system for crossing the tracks,  which I later realised was intended to allow pedestrians to cross with the bridge in both configurations.  While the bridge is open for boats, an alternative walkway lines up requiring the pedestrians to cross the fixed tracks, and then cross the displaced tracks a second time.  Bryn had already decided to stay to enjoy the evening.  While we were exploring, the last train that would have got him to Edinburgh that night crossed the bridge.

In the early evening I noticed that the lock was now closed up for the night. I had noticed that there were more gates than I had expected when we were in the lock. Studying the structure, I realised that it consists of two locks facing opposite directions with the gates interleaved. When the river level is higher than the canal, passage is still possible using the other set of gates.

Travelling at night is not normally permitted if you don’t have navigation lights. I was sure that nobody was going to be worrying about that, but looked in to a solution. I ordered a set of emergency lights from an online chandlery (other online chandleries are available) and had them delivered (next day) so they were waiting for me at the Post Office in Keadby. I collected them in the afternoon, just in time for our adventure.

The red and green lights clip very neatly on to the stirrups at the front of the boat we use for climbing on to the roof, an ideal location.  The white (stern) light clips on to the tiller neatly too.  There is no red or green on the paintwork of Bartimaeus, so the lights seemed slightly out of place.  Shortly after we set off I realised that they were very out of place – I’d put them on the wrong sides!  Clare fixed that before we met anyone coming the other way.

It was a surreal and very enjoyable experience joining a convoy of four boats along the canal in the darkness.  Several trains thundered over the bridge as we waited.  We heard a different siren and then one of the red lights went off – the bridge was open.  Two boats came through towards us travelling slowly (even by canal standards) in the dark.  We hailed them and then headed through the gap.

A friendly boater moored near the bridge had taken on the role of mooring organiser.  He had opened the road swing bridge next to the rail bridge, and guided us in to a convenient overnight mooring.  We thanked him for his help and turned in for the night.

This morning we set off along the Stainforth and Keadby Canal to get Bryn to a railway station which has trains on a Sunday.  The nearest one was at Thorne, about ten miles away.  There are no locks on this section, but there are seven swing bridges, all with slightly different mechanisms – an interesting last morning for Bryn.  We walked to the station with time to buy a ticket and hardly any waiting for the train which would get him to Edinburgh in time for tea.