Kanga And Wombats Adventures

A 3am visit to the loo heralded another unwelcome interruption, the pitter patter of rain on the barge roof. It only lasted about 10 minutes, so I rolled over smuggly and went back to sleep.

By 6am, the rain was making a curtain call.

But by 7am, the sky was just starting to light up for the day. The view around our barge was twinkly and ‘pretty pretty’.

We had no time to lose on our mission to make up time, so we pulled anchor early and were off and away by 8.30am. No time to linger!

With no locks ahead of us until we returned to Middlewich, there was plenty of time for us all to tag-team taking a shower.

Which is a nice segue to my next collage of photos illustrating our domestic life on board.

Naturally, the barge is compact, and at 2m wide, it is pretty skinny! Stairs descending from the poop deck (where the driver and navigator sit) lead through the aft bedroom and ensuite, through to the forward bedroom (also with ensuite) thence to the kitchen, dining room/ living area. The bow of the barge houses a nice little cocktail area for sundowners. Done!

But it is the shower that is unique. It has its own pump out! Forget to press the black button before showering, and you won’t live to tell the tale! The barge will flood, sink, and the rest is history! So, pressing that magic black button is fairly important! Entertainment plus watching the pump spurt water out the side of the barge! Beware fisher people!

We have adequate kitchen facilities for breakfast and lunch..but cooking anything in the oven is a challenge, so it is lucky we are usually nearby a great pub when we bundy off for the day and can enjoy dinner and a few cleansing ales in the warmth.

But I digress!

Shower time over, and the heavens opened! Wet weather gear was donned, unfortunately not to be removed for the whole day. The rain was not torrential, but relentless!

Jen and Grahame copped the first wet shift, enjoying every minute!

But in no time at all, we were back at Middlewich Big Lock, up the scary three lock rise sans disgruntled fellow bargees, and had successfully, this being the second attempt, entered the Middlewich Branch.

The Miracle of Middlewich had occurred! Those Canal & River Trust workers had worked their magic on the broken lock gate in super dooper time, and here we were.

It was such a good feeling getting through that lock, and finally heading to where we’d had our hearts set on going all those months (years) ago, when planning this trip.

Despite the rain, the countryside was still green, the cows were still waiting to be milked, and the sheep were still oblivious to anything but eating grass.

After a four hour rainy slog to the intersection of the Middlewich Branch and the Shropshire Union, we called it quits for the day, mooring pretty much in the same place we had 4 years ago when Katie and Chris had joined us on our last trip.

The Barbridge Inn beckoned us inside. What a weird and quirky pub it is!

But a great place to dry out!

Good morning!

Having made the decision to explore further down Anderton way, we had time on our side, so enjoyed a long breakfast and leisurely start getting on the move.

Our one and only lock for the day was our first double lock, meaning it was twice as wide as Ellie and could fit 2 boats in at the same time.

With no other boats in sight, we had the lock to ourselves. This means there is the chance the boat could move about a bit if the water is drained (or filled) too fast. So it was all hands on deck to secure the boat with ropes to the bollards on the side of the lock to prevent movement.

Grahame and Jen did all the driving this morning, allowing John and I not only to get our admin work done, but to sit back and watch the world go by.

Several wide ponds provided havens for bird life.

The canal was very pretty, but also challenging. Characterised by long, wide stretches overhung by huge oak trees, it was punctuated by extremely narrow and blind bends.

You had to be alert and have good lookouts at the front of the boat to warn the skipper of any oncoming craft.

It was probably the busiest we’ve seen the canals so far, caused in part to the Middlewich arm closure and the necessity to find an alternative route.

At one stage, we had a boat behind us and one in front. The one in front was going pretty slowly and allowed us to overtake. Just as we had nearly passed him, an oncoming barge appeared around the bend. Great driving by Grahame made the whole manoeuvre seem effortless.

It wasn’t all ‘pretty pretty’ though. The Lion Salt Works was doing a good job belching out a touch of pollution, but as we were to find out later in the day, the presence of salt in the ground was the lifeblood and source of prosperity in this area.

It was also heartening to see that life on the canal was being rejuvenated in parts, with this new Marina being built at Wyncham.

One of our aims at Anderton was to take Ellie down the ‘Anderton lift’, a massive engineering piece of genius that transports barges from the canal to the River Weaver below. Bookings were essential! Whilst we could secure passage down the lift late this afternoon, there were no return slots until Thursday!

Group consensus was to take the guided tour down the lift, combined with the river cruise. Much better idea! No stress, a total of 6 passengers on the cruise, and a very entertaining crew on board. Jenny answered all the questions correctly and with ease, so that by the end of the cruise, we were all best buddies!

It was a totally weird feeling being suspended in a ‘bathtub’ of water… then lowered slowly by the magic of hydraulics 16m down to the river level. The whole process took 30 minutes to execute.

Dinner was enjoyed at The Stanley Arms with a burger, homemade chicken, leek and bacon pies, and broccoli and Stilton soup hitting the spot.

BUT………just as we started our meals, a message pinged through on several of our phones that the Middlewich closure had been cleared!

Wales, the Llangollen Canal, and the Pontcysylite Aquaduct were suddenly back on the agenda!

We were pretty chuffed with ourselves after Day 2.

We were definitely into the rhythm of driving, navigating, working the locks, and alternating roles. We’re a great crew, and it was a timely reminder of why we love spending time together on the canals.

It was my turn to drive, and with lots of help from John, I managed ok.

Whilst John was supervising me on my ‘L’ plates, Jen and Grahame were making a cracking ground crew, knocking over the locks in rapid succession. All 22 of them!

It was amazing to be in the middle of rolling green hills and paddocks of sheep one minute, then have the roar of trucks on the M6 the next.

The Wheelock valley rolled away as we continued to descend the locks into Middlewich. The last of the Autumn colours were evident as we passed an alpaca or two and some interesting signs and canal boat decorations.

It was solid work all the way to Middlewich. This was where there was a glitch in our plans. We’d hoped to turn left here and head for Wales. The lock gate at Middlewich that was causing grief was expected to be repaired by this afternoon, but alas, when we went to inspect it, we found this!

We weren’t going anywhere near Wales anytime soon!

The blokes working on the lock gate were pretty nonchalant about when the canal might be navigable. “Maybe Wednesday.”

Of course, we weren’t the only ones in this predicament! The Middlewich Junction was beginning to resemble Pitt St on a Friday afternoon, with us and quite a few others trying to figure out what to do and which way to go next.

We decided to hold up in Middlewich for the night and discuss our options. But to get to our moorings for the night, we had to negotiate 3 locks in very close succession, with not a lot of wriggle room, along with 4 other boats going down and 3 coming the opposite way.

Would you believe this whole manoeuvre took us 2 hours!!! (But please note that the pink mugs indicate pubs nearby, so not all is lost)!

It is canal etiquette that if you see a boat coming to a lock in the other direction and the water level in the lock favours that boat, you wait and give way to them. This is primarily not to waste water. Unfortunately for us, being last in the queue meant we had to fill, empty, fill empty the 3 locks several times. And none of the Poms in the boats we had to give way to seemed at all grateful that Jen and I were helping!

Being the efficient lock workers we are our aim was to get through as fast as possible, we were a well oiled machine!

But apparently others like to take it easy, have an extended chat, and only raise the lock paddle half way instead of full throttle like us! We were admonished! Yes!

Unbelievable!

By the time we finally made it to the bottom of the 3rd lock, we were very thirsty!

We found a mooring, tied up and headed to The Big Lock pub. Decision time!

It was a roll of the dice.

We either lollygag around Middlewich, hoping the lock gate would be fixed asap, or head down towards the Anderton lift, which we’d done previously in 2019.

Anderton Lift it was!

We had slow start this morning after all the exhaustion of negotiating one lock yesterday!

The first thing I noticed on sticking my head out the front window this morning was this friendly fisherman. Glorious day!

Then, looking up into the beautiful blue sky were these great airstream patterns. Being pretty close to Manchester airport means the sky is busy!

An executive decision was made to continue down the Macclesfield Canal as fas as to the township of Congleton. No locks meant easy passage, with time to watch the world, and the ducks go by.

We puttered past Ramsdell Hall, where the canal was originally supposed to run behind the house. However, the owners wanted an aesthetically pleasing outlook from their house, so the canal was re-routed to run in front of this gorgeous ‘house’. Seem to have heard that story before somewhere!

It was Jen’s turn to take the helm, and she took this responsibility very seriously.

Sunday morning meant the bells were pealing loudly over Congleton town. As everyone else was obviously at church, we had the main street virtually to ourselves.

Morning coffee scored a 7 or an 8 out of 10, from Grahame and Jen, respectively.

Halloween meant the postbox decorations had gone from sheep in Hawes to pumpkins, mice and goblins in Congleton.

Jen had done her homework and found out Congleton had quite a reputation for bear fighting and cock fighting.

But it was also the birthplace of Elizabeth Wolstenholme Elmy (1833- 1918), pioneer of the women’s rights movement in the late 19th century. Voting rights for women, accessible education for girls, property and child custody rights for women, were among the issues Elizabeth fought for. Much more noteworthy than bears and roosters, me thinks!

We made our way leisurely back along the Macclesfield Canal to the Trent and Mersey intersection, doing what we all do best.

The weather was so warm, definitely time to smell the roses and make hay while the sun was shining!

Being a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon, we were the entertainment for many of the patrons at the Red Bull at Kidsgrove, who, having polished off their Sunday roasts, were enjoying the Partland/Marjoribanks manoeuvres through the locks. One lady told me they’d been sitting there for 2 hours waiting for a barge to come by!

Our destination for the night was the Broughton Arms at Heath, where we enjoyed a Sunday roast of our very own.

Delicious!

At last the day had arrived when we were to embark on our 6th canal barge adventure!

We left Settle about 7.30am in drizzly rain, hurtled down the M6, and in no time saw our turn off.

Groceries and grog bought, said items and bags dropped at the Marina, hire car returned to those gorgeous people at AFFORD Car Rental (did I mention how wonderful they were?), Uber back to the Marina, and hey presto!

Our appointed meeting time with Jen and Grahame was pretty spot on. With a ‘Cooee’ or two, we found them having breakfast at Toby’s.

The Awesome Foursome were a team again! But not before we had reunited with our 5th team member, Ellie, our trusted barge companion from 2019.

Jen and Grahame had promised to bring good weather, and they were true to their word. It was a fabulous afternoon.

Our debriefing session with Steve over, we were off!

We drifted by those old familiar derelict bottle shaped buildings, testament to the heyday of pottery magnificence.

An engineering masterpiece, the Harecastle Tunnel at nearly 2 miles long, is actually the second of three tunnels built through Harecastle Hill. It is the only tunnel of the three still operational and dates from 1823, designed and constructed by Thomas Telford, a canal engineer hero of massive proportions.

The tunnel is one way, and as such, passage through has to be booked in advance. An obligatory orientation talk regarding tunnel safety was delivered by volunteers…interesting that the last time we came through in 2019, the staff were permanent employees.

It takes about 40 minutes to travel through, and is cold, wet and very dark!

Having been told that there was an issue with a lock gate up ahead at Middlewich that wouldn’t be resolved until Monday, we had a bit of time to kill. The Macclesfield canal beckoned. Last time we were in this neck of the woods, there was no water in the Macclesfield canal, so we were excited to get at least a taster of what it was like.

The access point to the Macclesfield loops around over the Trent and Mersey, another engineering marvel.

We didn’t have to go far before the beauty of the Macclesfield Canal showed its glory. It was a gorgeous evening.

A mooring for the night secured, we headed off for Saturday night victuals at the Rising Sun Pub.

But we were 3 weeks early…. no food until the end of October!

Rain, rain, go away!

It pretty much fell constantly throughout the day, but it didn’t stop us from ticking off what we wanted to see. Apart from spectacular vistas of the Yorkshire Dales, that is!

Looking at the map, we did a 360° trip out from Settle today. Incredibly, the furthest we went was 30 miles north, but it took us 8 hours all up!

I’d forgotten about the weird and wonderful village names England is famous for, and was excited to come across these three beauties!

Our first stop was Malham Cove. We’d visited here in 2005, but needed an excuse to stretch our legs, so embarked on the one mile walk-up the rain sodden pathway. The walkway certainly showed the stream (river?) flowing at full force.

But we discovered that the great thing about visiting iconic vistas in the rain is that you’re the only ones there!

The laneways were challenging again, but traffic was pretty light, so we coped! It helped to have little distractions along the way, like 9th century St. Michael’s at Kirkby Malham.

We were then on the Wensleydale hunt for Wallace and Grommit, certainly one of ours, especially Katie’s, favourite animated icons.

And Wensleydale as a ‘Dale’ is centred on the village of Hawes. Hawes has definitely taken Wallace and Grommit to their hearts.

There was this.

And this…

A visit to the Wensleydale Cheese Creamery was essential, where you could line up and make your way around the tasting table where about a dozen different Wensleydale cheeses- matured, extra matured, smoked, cranberry, apricot infused (you get the drift) were there to be sampled. Fountains Gold Cheddar and Ginger infused were my picks, purchased ready for the canal welcome aboard party tomorrow!

The rain continued to fall, but being the TV tragic I am, we just had to make a side trip to Askrigg, the village that was used for the original BBC production of ‘All Creatures Great and Small’. I loved that show!

Gorgeous church, three pubs, and the Herriot House. Perfect!

We came back to Settle via the ‘Butter Tubs’ and Ribblehead Viaduct route, but the weather was impossible.. couldn’t see a thing.

This was pretty much the best we saw of the Dales all day.

There was only one solution really…

Today we ended our 2-week idyll in Scotland, bade a fond farewell to haggis, shaggy cows and all things made of tartan, and headed south to the Yorkshire Dales.

To access the motorway, we needed to wiggle our way back to Glasgow via Loch Lomond. We stretched our legs at Falloch Falls, a short walk from the main road. Very pretty and obviously popular with local romantics. A few love locks were attached to the lookout fence, and a beautiful bunch of fresh roses lay on the grass…. I’m sure there is a story there!

Having negotiated the freeway bypassing Glasgow City Centre, we prepared for 3 hours of motorway driving. There was only one thing we could do…turn on Spotify and blast our way down the M6 singing along to the Hamilton soundtrack. Again!

Veering off the motorway once back in England, we spied this bridge. The Devil’s Bridge is 14th or 15th century (nobody is sure), and was built by the monks at nearby Bolton Abbey to access the markets at Kirkby Lonsdale.

Half an hour down the road found us in our bolthole for the next two nights, an 1820’s cottage in the historic market town of Settle, smack bang in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales National Park.

Settle is definitely a ‘maintenance ‘ stop for us, and Well Cottage was chosen for a reason. It has a washing machine!

Having been on the road for two weeks now, the socks and undies are getting a bit thin on the ground. And John unashamedly declared he’d had the same T-shirt on that whole time! He assured me it didn’t smell, but happily admitted his pyjamas did! Eeech!

The cottage has quite a history, and the present owners have traced its origins back to 1824 when it was bought by the 6th Duke of Devonshire. It has changed hands 16 times since then and has been, at various stages, a shoe makers, grocery store, bookshop, and antiques shop.

The present owners have done a lovely job making it into cosy accommodation. There is an old boot high on an interior shelf of the gable, which they say was there when they bought the property and were told it would bring them luck. So it’s stayed there ever since.

Washing done, we set out to explore the township. The cottage is very close to the market square.

Settle as a township was first mentioned in 1066. It seems it’s progress and growth stumbled over the years due to various factors- taxes, changes in monarchy, war and fighting with the Scots.

Settle really got going in the latter 17th century when thatched cottages were replaced by the sturdy stone structures characteristic of the Dales, and a successful petition was made to Queen Anne to increase the number of markets that could be held.

And commercially, of course, like so many other towns across the country, when the railway opened in 1849, the rest is history.

A quick stop at the CoOp and John noticed this clever Covid initiative….

We took the opportunity to avoid pub and restaurant food (read chips) and had a very acceptable homemade ploughman’s. Delicious!

The actual reason for coming all the way out to Fionnphort was, yes, to visit Iona, but mainly it was to be the launching spot for our second (but really first because the previous one was cancelled) boat trip.

Our destination was the tiny island of Staffa, about a 45 minute boat ride from Fionnphort. The day was drizzly and windy. We had no expectations the trip would actually happen, but we donned our waterproof pants for the first (and hopefully last) time, rugged up in double thermals, beanies and gloves and sat in the warm waiting room with the other hopefuls.

In what I can only describe as a St Columba miracle, the boat appeared on the horizon, lurched towards the pier, and 19 passengers embarked. Visions of the Gilligans Island ‘3 hour tour’ flashed through my mind, but hey, I’m no boat skipper. They must know what they’re doing, right? A few of us ventured out on deck, but most stayed snug inside.

The boat dipped and dived, thumped and rocked the whole way out to Staffa in 2m swells. It was great!

Staffa is the site of Fingal’s Cave, a huge cathedral like cave composed of vertical, hexagonal basalt columns that look like pillars. Almost identical to those at the Giants Causeway in Northern Ireland (which isn’t that far away when you come to think of it)! Ain’t geology grand!

The composer Felix Mendelssohn visited Staffa in 1839 and was so impressed with the acoustics of the waves echoing in the cave that he was inspired to compose his ‘Hebrides Overture’.

It was a shame the swell was so big we couldn’t land, as usually you can walk right into the cave, which would have been awesome. But we were happy with what we saw and glad we’d gotten so close.

Only one lady was sick on the way back!

We made such good time driving back to Craignure (now we were experienced one lane drivers), that we scammed our way onto an earlier ferry to Oban. We settled down for a cuppa and WiFi catch up.

The earlier ferry was a bonus, as we otherwise would have arrived too late to look around Oban town. Despite the damp weather and it being late in the season, the town was buzzing with tourists.

First stop was the Oban Seafood Hut (no surprises there) for some prawns and hot, fresh, steaming mussels.

Towering above the town high on a hill is McCaig’s Tower, a Colosseum like ‘folly’ commissioned in 1890 by local philanthropist John Stuart McCaig. His intention was to provide work for local unemployed stonemasons. It is an extraordinary structure, and just the absurdity and uselessness of it I found inspiring. 10/10 John McCaig, for even thinking of such an idea!

All those tourists in Oban had pretty much booked out every restaurant, so we had to settle for Chinese (have you ever had fried rice covered with gravy?). Not nice!

Thankfully, our accommodation is utter luxury compared to Carol and last night’s experience (we won’t mention being locked out). A king bed, bottle of wine (for me) and a Jacky Chan movie for John and all’s well.

There’s even a babbling brook outside the window to lull us to sleep.

We were pretty determined to get on that ferry this morning. So was everyone else staying at the Lochaline Pub. It was a bit like our 2016 exit from Stratford Upon Avon (remember Jen and Grahame?). We had to be strategic over breakfast and time our exit.

We needn’t have worried. We ended up 6th in the ferry queue, plenty of room for everyone!

The actual crossing took only 18 minutes, but it was 18 minutes of sheer joy. We were finally on Mull!

We had the whole day to circumnavigate the Isle, so started by driving north to the largest town, Tobermory. Picture postcard perfect Tobermory!

A walk along the ‘front’ revealed some expensive crafty type shops, a great distillery and there, right at the end was the sad Loch Lihne, the broken down ferry we were supposed to catch from Kilchoan.

It seems the locals were pretty peeved about the quality of their ferry service too!

We ventured into the quirky town museum, and, quite by accident, found out Australia has a significant link with Mull (more later).

The wild north coast of Mull beckoned, and the navigation of single lane roads was taken to a whole new level. With the road hugging the cliff face, there were very few passing places. We just held our breath!

The white sands of Calgary Beach deserve a mention as Mulls biggest sandy beach. How lucky are we to have what we have back home!

The coast was desolate and wild, punctuated here and there by waterfalls, whitewashed cottages, and an owl or two.

We continued our drive, aiming for the tiny settlement of Gruline, to learn more about that special Australian connection.

Back in the museum, we’d noticed a picture of what was called The Macquarie Mausoleum, and were astonished to read that it was, in fact, the final resting place of our very own Lachlan Macquarie, the 5th Governor of NSW and whom they call over here, ‘The Father of Australia’!

It seems Lachlan was born not far from here, and although he died in London, his remains and that of his wife Elizabeth, daughter Jane and son Lachlan, are all interred in the Mausoleum at Gruline.

We were on a mission to find this tiny patch of Mull so intertwined with Australian history. A 500m walk off the road and up a tiny laneway brought us to this most beautiful clearing in the forest, revealing the tiny Mausoleum encircled by a stone fence. What a gorgeous spot.

The Mausoleum is actually cared for by the Australian National Trust. Now, wouldn’t that be a great job to put your hand up for? And had we not gone into the museum, we would never have known about it!

Our destination for the night was Fionnphort on the most southwestern tip of Mull. The coast here is a beautiful blend of pink and reddish coloured granite rocks, small patches of white sand, and very clear water. Fionnphort is also where you catch the ferry to Iona. So we did.

Idyllic Iona, holy island, and burial ground of kings (Macbeth reputedly, among others), is where St Columba landed after sailing from Ireland in 563, establishing a monastic community with the aim of Christianising Scotland.

We spent a few hours exploring the Abbey, Graveyard Chapel and nearby Nunnery. Fascinating and dominating, yet simple and pretty rustic.

As we waited for the ferry back to Fionnphort, these two gorgeous young things appeared from along the beach. From Ohio, they’d just gotten married! With both having Scottish roots, they thought this was the perfect place to tie the knot. Just the two of them here, how very perfect indeed!

As light was fading fast, we headed back across the short water channel to the pub, the Keel Row, for dinner and refreshments.

Mull Day 1- tick!

It was pretty hard to get going this morning.  Luxurious beds and a sleep in…

Jonathon cooked our breakfast and was off to Broadford on business, leaving us to pack up at leisure and get to know Annetta his wife, a bit better. It turns out that Annetta met Jonathon when she was a guest here, just like us! Lucky Jonathon!

Our aim this morning was to explore the Tarskavaig area directly opposite the Sound of Sleat looking towards Elgol, in the hope of seeing the Cuillin Hills in all their glory.

It was tricky to drive in, single track again with intermittant passing spots, but we’re getting the hang of it, and it wasn’t exactly rush hour! The Cuillins were still playing hide and seek with us, but we caught a few of their cousins. Stunning in the morning light.

Then around the corner popped Dunscaith Castle. No information on when it was built, but as was becoming obvious to us on Skye, it was owned by either the MacDonald Clan or the MacLeod Clan depending on who’d won the most recent battle. It has a remarkable, well-preserved entry bridge.

It was time to hop on the ferry at Armadale, sail over to Mallaig, then swan leisurely down to Kilchoan, ready to sail over to Tobermory on the Isle of Mull in the  morning.

Ha! Best laid plans!

Ferry from Armadale to Mallaig off luv!

Ferry from Kilchoan to Tobermory broken down!

Some emergency planning was immediately necessary..and guess what? I was learning to be calm and accepting. I wasn’t at all phased and set about cancelling/ booking accommodation and sourcing another way to find our way to Mull. Nothing could compare with the ‘Great Europcar Debarcle’ at Stoke! I was chilled.

Done!

Mind you, an hour road trip turned into a three hour road trip, but then we got to see more of Scotland, and bits we didn’t expect to see. Right?

Like this.

Our planned picnic beside the castle turned into a car picnic because it started bucketing down. We made do with a very ‘Enid Blyton Famous Five’ lunch of peanut butter sandwiches, caramel popcorn and grapes, washed down with lashings of CoOp lemon and lime soda!

The Lochaline ferry was now in our sights, the Lochalin Hotel booked (last room!).

This meant backtracking a bit, back to Invergarry and then down Loch Lochy, turning westwards again just before Fort William.

It was then we noticed another place that was completely off our radar, as our original plans did not go anywhere near it. Google was consulted, and we discovered we had 35 minutes to get there! The race was on!

Roadworks, slow campervans, you name it, we copped the lot. In the end, we screeched into the parking lot with one minute to spare. We literally jumped out of the car and ran to the viewing spot.

Had we been better prepared, we might have made it in time to actually climb up to the viaduct and get the quintessential photo, like those lucky people up on the left of the bottom pic.

But we had to be content with the ‘carpark view’, and I have to say, we were completely happy with that. What a thrill!

Another hour of driving on those single lane roads beside Loch Linnhe and Loch Sunart brought us down to Loch Aline and our haven for the night, Lochaline Hotel.

Our host for the night, Shaylee (her mum couldn’t decide whether to call her Sharon or Hayley), was a bubbling bundle of delight from Leicester. She assured us the ferry would run tomorrow, and then filled us up with pizza, pasta and a Sav Blanc or two.

A great day!