As usual, it was pretty hard to say goodbye to Jen and Grahame. When you share such a small space for that amount of time, you get to know people pretty intimately. Jen and I discovered we were in harmony, especially badger wise.

We both ordered Ubers to get to Europcar hire company, and wouldn’t you know it? We ended up there at pretty much the same time! Goodbyes all over again!

For us, it was visiting the Stoke Europcar office for the second time. We completed the paperwork for our rental today, then tried to sort our rental for the debarcle we’d experienced 2 weeks ago.

We remained civil. Well, John did. I started choking up, just trying to explain how distressed we were two weeks ago when nobody turned up at their office. Europcar passed the buck. Again and again. For example:

‘Rachel was manager on duty that day, and she’s not here now because today’s her birthday and she’s celebrating in Manchester so we can’t call her’. Fair enough. If I were Rachel, I wouldn’t want my birthday sickie interrupted either!

We remain hopeful our £102.00 penalty for not picking up our car on the 7th will be refunded. But we will never use Europcar again!

Winging our way down the M6, M5 then the M40 brought us to Princes Risborough in Buckinghamshire for our afternoon tea rendezvous with Avril and Bob.

Avril is my dad’s cousin, and when I was 14, I lived with them and went to school in nearby Berkhampstead. We’ve made a point of visiting them every time we’re in the UK.

Both nearly in their 90’s, Bob now has vascular dementia and Avril is being very stoic. Sadly, they also lost their youngest son Tony, aged 53, to cancer in March. It was a very sobering visit and made us realise that the phrase ‘time waiteth for no man’ is a pretty good mantra to remember.

It was lovely to see them, and I know we brightened their day because they said so!

From travelling quickly southwards, we made a massive right hand turn, joined the M4, and headed west.

Our Airbnb was in a tiny hamlet just outside Chippenham, called North Wraxall. With that typical Cotswold look, all the houses were built in picture perfect  creamy coloured stone. The houses surrounded the beautiful 15th-century church of St. James.

The Airbnb itself was a converted barn. Stunning Reno.

Very quiet, no shops, no pub.

But it did have this.

It was maintenance time. Clean clothes, clean hair, bag unpack/ repack. Scrambled eggs for dinner! Amen.

6.15am Rain! Yes RAIN!

It was certainly doona weather!

Breakfast over, it was time to reassess our plans for the day. Weather forecasts were not looking promising, so we all agreed to turn around at the first winding hole and scuttle back to the Marina at Festival Park, returning Ellie home a few hours earlier than anticipated.

I don’t think she minded that much! Over the past few days, we’ve experienced a bit of engine malfunction. Ellie would be chugging along nicely, then suddenly give up and just rely on gliding to move forward. After a little rest, she’d come good again, but it was a bit disconcerting when it happened… as Grahame found out in the Harecastle Tunnel!

So, it was anchors away in the rain.

And immediately John had to negotiate this!

Originally a railway bridge, they dismantled the bridge but not the pylon supporting it! Go figure! We were just so glad we hadn’t come across this ‘obstruction’ at 6.45pm last night!

With the winding hole turn successfully completed, we headed back to Stoke.

It was a wet, wet day. Jen and Grahame manned the locks, John and I shared the driving. We arrived back at Ellie’s marina soaked to the skin.

But we’d made it!

296 kms travelled, more or less, 142 locks opened and closed.

The fortnight had gone so fast, helped along the way by lots of chocolate and Welsh Cakes, exceptional teamwork, overall pretty good weather, and maybe a few bottles of wine!

At the beginning of the trip, we started our daily badge draw of job allocations for the day.

You can probably see a definite pecking order in these roles.

Through crew negotiations, in order of importance, the roles sat as follows:

Admiral, Captain, First Mate, Chief Engineer, Cabin Boy, Mutineer, General Dogsbody, Deck Scrubber, Duck Spotter, Galley Slave.

Now, I must point out that Jen and I challenged the position of Galley Slave being last in importance. Of course, it was a euphemism for the Cook, but the boys insisted on the literal meaning of the term Galley Slave, harking back to Viking times.

Bearing that in mind, points on a scale of 1-10 were allocated, with the following results:

John 53, Jen 52, Grahame 48 and Jude 33.

Jen would dispute this, as she was the only one who achieved Admiral status, and therefore should be able to claim overall importance and authority. I know she made me salute her several times!

And I was the only one who drew Mutineer (twice), and clearly, that was for good reasons (see above and below).

To keep our sanity at night, a Euchre game was initiated. We played a Round Robin competition, with a nail-biting finish.

Any one of John, Grahame or Jen could have been victorious, but as the girls went down on the final night, it was a draw between the boys on equal first, Jen coming in 2nd, with Jude last.

As I said, another reason for me to mutiny!

Now, back in September, it was Father’s Day in Australia, and Jane and Katie had the foresight to find a gift for Wombat that he could use on our trip.

Their gift was a voucher for Toby Carvery, an ‘all you can eat veg’ with 3 roast meats! Three roast meats! Can you believe it! John and Grahame even went the full mile and upgraded to the meal size ‘fit for a king’, only an extra £1.99!

Conveniently, Toby’s was right at Ellie’s marina, our final stop on this amazing adventure.

We were warm, had full tummies, and had a few bevvies under our belts.

It was a great end to our time together.

Although we passed many other narrowboats with great names, there’s only one gal for us.

We say a big thank you to the 5th member of our team for keeping us safe, warm, and most importantly, for avoiding a pump out (just)!

Mow Cop Folly was constantly on my mind. It didn’t seem to matter where we were on the canals. You could see it for miles.

Two days ago, we’d spied it from the Llangollen Canal. Now it was coming closer with every lock we climbed.

Had we been able to see it up close, we would have seen this.

From Rode Heath, we continued to climb up what is known as ‘heartbreak hill’. A total of 34 locks, climbing over 85m. That’s higher than the Sydney Opera House, but not quite as high as The Harbour Bridge!

Reaching Kidsgrove, we ran into Steve from Black Prince, who’d given us our initial orientation on the boat. He’d been over to the Middlewich Branch rescuing one of their barges (Mabel), that had to be abandoned, was then stranded, by her holiday makers when the canal had shut down for lock gate repairs. He didn’t seem to mind spending 4 days away from the office… after all, he was out of the boat yard free-wheeling on the ‘high seas’!

After our compulsory safety induction by the friendly Canal Trust Volunteers, we set off through the Harecastle Tunnel once again.

We were determined on our 3rd time through the tunnel to get a pic of the scary skeleton, 480 m in from the north end. On previous trips, it had just flashed by too quickly. Jen and I were both ready and waiting this time!

John had a slight mishap in the tunnel, clunking his head on the tunnel roof when the tunnel height changed, and he didn’t hear Grahame call out ‘duck!’ From his cry out in pain and the thump we heard at the stern of the boat of him falling backwards, Jen and I were sure he’d fallen overboard!

It was a pretty nice day, so we took advantage of the view at Westport Lakes to stop for lunch.

With a day and a half up our sleeves, we decided to venture up the Caldon Canal, a short branch off the Trent and Mersey that starts just past Ellie’s home Marina at Etruria.

The Caldon begins its climb with a stair lock of 2, slap bang in the middle of Stoke.

We stopped the traffic again, but only one car had to wait and then not for long. Jen was an old hand at this game, and John was learning from the pro.

Stoke exists because of the pottery industry, with some companies such as Spode and Wedgewood still surviving.

Not many of the pottery kilns are left now, but theses two beauties stand tall and proud beside the canal in the middle of suburbia.

Despite several people telling us this canal is only really pretty in the last few kms, there were some lovely parks in the industrial areas, and I finally jagged a reasonable pic of a duck in flight! Almost!

There were also gorgeous rural views around and near Stockton Brook.

Time was getting on, with daylight fading fast. Houses had their lights turned on, and so did we!

Our aim was to reach Stockton Brook, specifically The Rose & Crown pub, but there were no moorings, so we had to forge ahead, with 5 locks to ascend, all set against us!

Alas, there were no moorings at the top of the lock flight either, so we had no choice but to continue.

We ended up mooring ‘free range’, similar, I guess, to camping on the side of the road. It was 6.40pm. Our longest day on the canals this trip nearly 9 hours!

No Rose & Crown either, we were in the middle of nowhere!

7am. Still dark.

Today we worked 23 locks. That’s more in one day than on the whole length of the Llangollen!

But the day began with a victory for John. Because of the strong wind, he’d been super stressed out about negotiating the corner where the Middlewich Branch joins the Trent and Mersey.

It meant navigating around a sharp right turn immediately after a road bridge, then face another road bridge just before a lock.

John was so concerned about possible misadventure that he and Grahame went on a reconnoitre prior, just to check out the reality of the situation.

Armed with this additional knowledge, we set off!

The wind was actually partly in our favour, so John managed the turn beautifully! And he was pretty chuffed with himself!

Our ascent up to Kidsgrove began. It was a gorgeous morning, and the Awesome Foursome worked their magic both on land and water.

The cows were happy to share the paddock with the geese, but I reckon cow No. 181 had more dignity than cow No. 63C!

Many of the locks used to be ‘doublers’. But unfortunately, some had been relegated to single status.

In the afternoon we swapped roles, and perspectives!

Through either good planning or just ‘hoping and praying’, we ended up at what could be called our ‘local’, the Broughton Arms at Rode Heath. This was our 4th visit there! And the pub grub was pretty darned good.

The girls at the table next to us had ordered a Rocky Road Sundae, and although none of us could really fit in any dessert, we just had to order one. It looked amazing!

Delicious!

Lots of people live permanently on the canals. We are merely temporary intruders. Sometimes, as we glide past their barges, it’s easy to forget we’re actually driving through their back yards!

So today, we knew from the sign opposite us that we’d better be well-behaved!

No matter, we enjoyed porridge for breakfast, topped with freshly stewed apple, foraged yesterday at Ellesmere (thanks Chef Jen)!

So, we were very careful not to make any noise and definitely not turn on the engines until well after 8am.

However,  this did cause another issue!

Literally 100m away from our mooring, and the first challenge of the day, was negotiating the automated lift bridge. Yes,  the one cars go over! On their way to work! And what time was it? Morning peak hour!

Under great pressure, lift controller Jen remained calm and composed, turning the key in a clockwise direction, then pressing first the green button followed by the red button. MAGIC!

Both Jen and myself (as official photographer) did a stirling job of avoiding making eye contact with the drivers on their way to work who were now held up for 5 minutes. Sunglasses helped!

After the excitement at the traffic lift bridge, John and I started the day off at the tiller, and oncoming traffic was light. It was cold, but not as cold as yesterday! But the wind had arrived!

We pass many, and I mean many, barge owners with dogs. But occasionally we pass a barge that has stopped to give their cat a break. This absolutely gobsmacked me, knowing how territorial cats are and how skittish they can be. I’d be so worried the cats would run off. But the owners assured me their cats loved the barge way of life. This little fellow Hugo, even had his own catflap!

As we approached the Llangollen/ Shropshire Union Canal Junction, the magnificent Hurleston Reservoir came into view with a perspective we hadn’t seen going the other way. It was covered with a blanket of white birds.

With the weather being so clear, from the top lock, we could see all the way to Mow Cop Castle, a folly built in 1754, nearly 2 days barging away, and on the hill adjacent to where the Harecastle Tunnel bores through underneath it! Amazing!

Passage down the 4 Hurleston Locks was seamless, partly because the locks were set in our favour, but mostly because those volunteers were on hand again to help us through. And no boats coming the other direction helped too!

The wind decided to up the ante round about now, causing havoc entering and exiting locks, turning corners, negotiating passage close to moored boats…it was tricky. And it became windier as the afternoon went on.

Jen and Grahame drew the early afternoon shift and after recovering from too many branches on the Middlewich Branch, we forged ahead for run down to Middlewich.

It was easy to forget where we actually were. One minute, we would be gliding through the countryside relaxing and enjoying our surroundings.

The next minute a train would roar past behind us.

Then we’d turn the next corner, and our wildlife friends would join us for a while.

Contrasts! Love it!

I reckon Grahame hit the jackpot finding us our pub for the night in Middlewich. The White Bear was refurbished, warm welcoming, and had some great dishes on the menu.

Full to the gunwhales, we restocked the cellar and chocolate biscuit supply at Tesco Express (fast becoming my favourite store) and headed back to Ellie.

Another great day!

It was gloves, beanie, four upper layers and two pairs of socks weather today. It was freezing!

John and Jen drew the first driving and navigating session of the day with Jen doing most of the driving under John’s watchful eye.

There were long straight stretches of Canal with mist lingering on the water surface and huge trees overhanging on both sides. This made it hard for the sun to break through, and it seemed to get even colder!

It was noticeably colder for the wildlife too, with not a duck in site. This made my role of official Duck Spotter a bit tricky!

I did spy this little fellow having a forage before he hightailed it up a tree.

Jen negotiated a sharp left turn beautifully at the Prees Branch Junction, gliding around the corner like a pro.

Grahame wove his magic with the lift bridges again.

Back at the Staircase Lock at Grindley Brook, we found the Canal and River Trust Volunteers ably in control, but sadly, not Fred today. How dare he have a day off!

Now, for some inexplicable reason, going UP the staircase lock needs the middle lock empty, but going DOWN, the middle lock needs to be half full!?

The stress of figuring out and understanding water levels in locks was slightly relieved by the fact there was still cake to be had at the canal side cafe! What a sweetener!

With some extra time up our sleeves, we lingered over lunch on the barge to discuss possibilities for the evening pub stop.

Consensus agreed upon, we set sail for the afternoon, with Grahame on the tiller and Jude doing what she does best. After all, there were no ducks to be spotted!

(That’s cold burn, not wind burn)!

John and Jen manned the locks.

It was a lovely, casual afternoon.

The temperature gauge had hardly moved all day. From a chilly 6° this morning, we’d reached the heady temp of 11° this afternoon. But absolutely no complaints…no wind, no rain!

The early evening sky looked very special.

And the pub grub at the Dusty Miller in the village of Wrenbury, wasn’t bad either!

And I did find those ducks eventually. Too cold for even them to be in the water!

Stunning morning!

Today (probably) turned out to be the best day weather wise we’ve had on the canals.

Did I say it was stunning?

With only 2 locks to negotiate, we could all take it relatively easy, enjoying the rural landscape and  basking in the sunshine. What a treat! Showers all round and clean jeans for the first time in a week!

Being a Sunday, and such a warm day, the canal was fairly busy. It was slow going, but very pleasant.

We puttered into Ellesmere about 2pm, a very pretty, tutored style village adjacent to the mere (lake).

A bit of foraging down Love Lane bore fruit, literally!

We sadly missed the Sunday Roast, but a very acceptable fish and chip late lunch / early dinner, sitting in the cocktail lounge in the sun, was more than acceptable.

It was so lovely in he sun, we didn’t even need coats!

A few more kms along the canal found us mooring near the quiet village of Bettisfield.

It was cards, a cheese plate, and Ted Lasso for the evening.

A perfect ending to the day!

You could feel the anticipation in the air. At last the day had arrived when we were to reach our destination. The Pontcysyllte Aquaduct!

You could hardly see it, but just before we crossed the border into Wales, a full rainbow appeared. I reckon that was a lucky omen!

I was particularly excited about crossing the ‘border’ into Wales. After all, my name before Partland was JONES. (As an aside, as I was growing up, it was amazing how many people asked me how to spell Jones! Isn’t it simple? I could never understand that!)

It was a day of aqueducts, but it was also a day of tunnels and excitement!

As a sneak preview into what we were to see and cross today, through the trees, we could see the Chirk train viaduct.

Jaw dropping.

If Pontcysyllte was the opera, then the Chirk Aqueduct was the prelude!

Immediately after the Chirk Aqueduct, we plunged into the first of the Chirk Tunnels. What an adventure!

We were the third barge to go through in a bit of a convoy, and all was going well until about halfway. We came to a halt.

Suffice to say, the female on the middle boat went completely hysterical and was yelling, shouting and pretty much freaking us all out. With three barges stopped in a tunnel in the dark, with engines chugging, the carbon monoxide started to build! Her hysteria wasn’t helping!

John and Jen had the wherewithal to jump over the barrier onto the tow path and walk ahead to see what was happening to that first boat. 

For some inexplicable reason, it had stopped, so the Partland rescue crew had to TOW it out by hand! Yep, they had to modern day ‘leggit’! What heroes!

The Whitehouse shorter tunnel was successfully negotiated without any hysteria.

Then the Holy Grail appeared.

John and Grahame took turns driving across, Jen walked alongside on the  footpath, and I braved sitting in the cocktail lounge up front, all to get the best variety of pics we could.

Of course, with the proper perspective, it would have looked like this!

For a four year build-up, it was a pretty exciting and lump in the throat 3 minute crossing! This was a bucket list moment for me!

We continued up the Llangollen until we could find a spot (winding hole) to turn around.

Then we did it all over again, this time with some canoeing paddling friends!

Weekend mayhem!

One of them, Henry, hung onto our fender and accompanied us for about 5kms, chatting to the boys at the back the whole time. What a hoot!

Dinner destination at the Bridge Inn proved to be a good choice. It had a pretty impressive outlook!

Inside was just as good.

Now, normally I wouldn’t care about Rugby. But I was swept up in the moment. It must have been that 1/8 part of Welshness in me.

When we arrived at the pub, the Welsh were leading Argentina 17-12 at the 64th minute. The mood in the pub was optimistic, and after 84 minutes, rather happy! However, shortly after, Argentina scored and converted to pull ahead 19- 17. With 15 minutes left, Wales missed a corner opportunity to score. Argentina finished the job with a penalty and another converted try to win the game  convincingly 29-17. (Thanks, Grahame, for talking me through that).

The pub emptied pretty quickly, which was good for us because we got a table for dinner!

A special thanks to the waitress India, who took a lovely pic of Jen and I outside.

So, the Holy Grail had been conquered!

It was all and everything we had hoped it would be.

No light pitter patter this morning. It was bucketing down!

Fortified with bacon and egg rolls for brekkie (thanks chef Jen), it was full rain gear on for everyone and all hands on deck.

There’s nothing like starting the day in a big way, so tackling a staircase lock seemed to fit the bill. Memories of our near disaster in 1982 when we nearly flooded The Three Locks Pub on the Grand Union Canal will be etched in our memories forever. It was time to do a bit of revision homework.

Staircse locks are exactly what their name suggests. They look like a set of stairs, exiting one gets you directly into the next one. And repeat. No gaps, no mooring places. Once in, you stay in. The major factor in negotiating a staircase lock (going up) is to ensure the bottom lock is empty and the other two are filled, thereby having water capacity to fill as you go. If the bottom lock is also full, you risk a disaster like we nearly had in ’82 when the diners in The Three Locks Pub nearly all had fish for dinner!

At the Grindley Stair Lock, true to his word, Fred was there to help, and the whole process went seamlessly.

Also, assisting at the bottom lock were Suzie and Tyreen, workers in the coffee and cake shop. Sustenance is vital on a wet day when you’re under lock pressure, so their delicious cakes put a sweetener on an otherwise damp morning.

We alternated shifts once again throughout most of the day. The rain was consistent, reasonably heavy, and not pleasant. An hour or so on the poop deck was enough.

We knew there was still time to make up so we pushed ourselves to keep going, the holy grail of Pontcysyllte foremost in our minds. Despite the weather, there was still plenty to see.

And it was time for cake!

The countryside rolled away, and with no more locks to negotiate, we made good progress. Unlike Meggy Rose!

Then, just like magic, at 3pm, the sun came out, and the clouds parted to reveal a beautiful blue sky.

Moorings were found opposite the Narrowboat Pub which, being a Friday night, filled up fast. It was warm, cosy and had a very friendly publican who made us feel welcome. Apart from the fact he was a Collingwood fan, all was happy in the world.

We just had one more thing to do before bedtime!

It’s Friday night here, but the polls had opened in Australia for the Voice Referendum, something very close to our hearts. Jen and Grahame had been lucky enough to vote in Brussels a few weeks ago but John and I were in the wilds of Scotland before postal voting had opened, and a whole world away from the only voting place in the UK, Australia House in London. We felt very frustrated!

Back home, we had proudly joined many in our neighbourhood to show our support.

Even though we were on the other side of the world, we remained positive!

We woke up to the freshness of the mist on the water combined with the morning sun. (Thank you, my Year 6 English teacher).

And it was cold!

In no time, we reached Hurlstone Junction, where our climb via the locks to Wales officially began.

The impressive Hurlstone Reservoir that towered overhead us for about 1km is used both as drinking water and as a supply to the Shropshire Union Canal below.

A couple of Canal Trust volunteers were on hand, which was probably just as well because we had 3 boats in front of us. One of the volunteers, Fred, puts in two days a week volunteering, and said he’d probably see us tomorrow at Grindley Brook IF we made it. (We were there at 9am, but that’s tomorrow’s story)!

The day was turning into a beauty weather wise, such a contrast from yesterday!

The sunshine made it nearly enjoyable following 3 boats up the locks, and we had the added bonus of doing lots of extra work helping those retirees, who usually have only 2 crew members, wind the windlasses. We’re such lovely kind, considerate people assisting others. Little did they know we had an ulterior motive…we were time poor Colonials, and whereas they had a couple of weeks to get to Llangollen, we only had 3 days!

Once we had conquered the initial climb towards Wales, it became a day of swing bridges, lift bridges and beautiful countryside vistas.

This road lift bridge was in such a scenic spot. The road traffic had to wait for 3 barges to go by…not sure they were too impressed, but we certainly loved it!

Our pub of choice for dinner was the ‘Horse and Jockey’ at Grindley, described in our guide book as having a resident ghost.

The food was pretty darned good, and a bit more exotic than we’d come across before. Thai and Italian!

We sent the waitress on a wild goose chase trying to solve this ghost mystery for us, but all she could come up with was that the pub dog would not go down to the cellar in the old pub but was happy to do so in the refurbished building. So obviously, during the renovation, said ghost had scared itself away!

But I’m sure I found the evidence we needed of an old grey haired faceless ghostie in the ladies, though!