Blogstop

We're currently in the biggest marina in Europe at Penton Hook near Chertsey.  Work is needed on the boat from previous leaks and there's been a family crisis too, so I think it's fair to say that we may be here for some time...

On the plus side, there is a laundry here (and really nice showers!) but it's hard to keep the batteries charged when we're not moving, so there won't be any more blogging for the time being.   Not sure if anyone's interested anyway, but if you are I didn't want you to worry!

Good old Boaty McBoatface!

We're alive, and the new life-jackets are still untested.  It felt like a close thing, though.

Even though we weren't booked in till 1.30pm, we got up early to ask the Limehouse lock-keeper for advice on buoys, horn signals and so on.  We might as well have had a lie-in.  I don't know what we were expecting, but I think it was slightly more than "not ta worry, keep right, and try not to hit anyfing."

"You do know we're in a tiny plastic boat...?"

"Like I said, keep right, try not to hit anyfing."

In a way, the casualness was the most reassuring thing of all.

At 1.30 p.m sharp - maybe these lock-keepers aren't as casual as they seem - the gates to the lock opened, and in we went.

The Thames was several feet below and the lock emptied fast, then the gates were opening onto the river - with two feet still to go!  It was lucky we were roped on, otherwise we'd have shot out like a barrel over Niagara (well, that's how it felt), but we hung onto the ropes until the levels were more or less the same, then we were on our way.

It was bouncy from the start, but when the big boats passed it was INSANE.   I'd been intending to video the whole trip, but I gave up after less than two minutes on account of needing both hands to hold on.  I'm going to try to post it on Facebook, but the camerawork is very wobbly and the soundtrack is almost entirely nervous giggling.  In my defence, the waves were much bigger than they look...

Mike was wonderful - he seemed really calm and I actually believed him when he said everything was fine.  I only found out later that he'd been as scared as I was.

We went under Tower Bridge and past the Houses of Parliament, all very much faster than we wanted to on account of the tide.  The boat's top speed is only about  five knots, but we were easily doing twice that.  The sea really does come in fast;  you can see the flow piling up against the pillars of the bridges.  We did a couple of circles, just to check, and even on full throttle and rudder we still found ourselves a hundred yards upstream from where we'd started the turn;  it's phenomenally powerful.

Everything calmed down a bit after Charing Cross.  I took over the steering, which was lovely - and ironically the biggest waves I had to deal with were from an RNLI boat speeding past.  But by then we WANTED waves.  Boaty McBoatface might have bobbed around like a cork near Limehouse, but she didn't sink, we didn't fall in, and now we want more - in fact Mike is itching for me to finish this post so he can Google seagoing boats for sale.

But it was good to pass Hammersmith (where Nathan was born - more lovely memories from half a life ago) and then to reach Teddington Lock again, where we moored up for the night.  Couldn't sleep though - still too high about this amazing, wonderful day.  What a trip it was, and I'm so glad there's still a little bit more to go:  we're now on our way back to Reading where we'll join the Kennet and Avon Canal, heading for Devizes and then Bristol.

London was fab.

Paddington to Limehouse

Sunday, and we fitted under the Maida Hill tunnel with feet to spare - don't know why we were worried - and were soon going through Camden Lock.  There were LOADS of people watching, and I got a bit flustered and forgot how to operate locks, but we got through all right with help from Laura and Gov, who were visiting for the second time.  Seems that they like boating - and seeing us - which makes me very happy.  And Laura, I will take the photo off here if you insist, but you look so lovely!

We dropped them off just before King's Cross and tied up for the night.  It turned out not to be such a good choice of mooring: later in the evening a boat just a few down from us was broken into. Luckily, the police noticed before we did and we missed everything bar the tail-end of the arrest process.  It still made for a slightly unrelaxing night though.


The following day we moved on less than half a mile and found a lovely place to stay right next to the station - another area that's been ponced up out of all recognition since I lived in London in the olden days.  There were chrome railings and fountains everywhere, not to mention security guards. Most of the day was spent on admin, but we had a bit of wander in the evening and marvelled at the new additions to King's Cross St. Pancras.  Now that's what I call a railway station!

It's hard to imagine even thinking you could improve such an incredible building, but all the new bits just work, somehow.

On Tuesday we went through the Islington tunnel - about half a mile long - and tried to find a spot close to where my niece Kathryn and her husband Zsolt have their boat moored, as we were due to meet them the following evening.   We passed their boat, and then literally dozens and dozens of others, all moored two abreast - and not a single space, not even for a little tiddler.

And so we went on, and on, past Hoxton and Shoreditch, past Dalston and Haggerston, and past South Hackney and Bethnal Green, by which time the light was fading, it was starting to rain, and the crew was getting fractious.

And then we saw it - a perfect little space with mooring rings, and even a fish and chip shop nearby.

We were past caring about the company (there was shouting on the next boat about someone leaving their hypodermics on the sofa) and thankfully it was too dark for us to appreciate the view.  We stuffed ourselves with chips and had the best night's sleep we've had in ages.

Wednesday, and we had to decide whether we should turn back towards Islington or press on to Limehouse.  Wonderfully, Kathryn and Zsolt said they'd come to us in Limehouse, so on we went, and moored in Limehouse Basin - the junction with the Thames, which is very, very exciting.  Soon we'll be going under Tower Bridge and past the Houses of Parliament, all in a tiny plastic boat!

We had a little look at the churning water beyond Limehouse Lock and caught the train to Surrey Quays where Decathlon sells life-jackets.  We are now kitted out with rather sleek-looking grey harnesses which explode into inflated orange tunics on immersion in water.  Apparently rain isn't enough to set them off, but we looked at the weather forecast anyway and decided to spend another night here - there'll be more sun and less wind on Friday and the tide will be less ferocious.

Had a lovely evening yesterday in the Grapes pub with Kathryn and Zsolt.  It's one of the oldest pubs in London and is owned by Sir Ian McKellen.   Gandalf's staff - the genuine article, we were told - is in pride of place behind the bar, and there's a little deck at the back where you can look out over the river.

We were even more pleased we'd decided to stay when we discovered that Laura could meet us for lunch today.  She works in Canary Wharf and we just ambled over there from our mooring and met her outside her office.  Laura works on the 45th floor, only four below the pointy bit, and we realised - again - how bumpkinish and slow-lane we are when she received more than twenty emails during lunch, and Mike and I had...   well, none, really, unless you count somebody wanting to know if I'd had an accident that wasn't my fault.

After lunch, we ambled back to the boat again to start preparing ourselves for tomorrow, only stopping to play a few rounds of crazy-golf in one of the big Canary Wharf office courtyards.  Yes, how bizarre is that, but it was free of charge and we aren't in a hurry.  London is full of surprises - including, I have to say, that Mike beat me at golf.

We're seeing Anita tonight - it really has been lovely meeting up with so many people - and then getting ourselves ready for tomorrow.  The trip up the tidal Thames is something we've been hoping to do for ages, and suddenly it's happening.  A little bit nervous, but mostly just very excited.

Not sunk - just busy

We've have had some calls from friends concerned that we may have sunk after all, so I'm sorry for the recent lack of blog-roll. A similar thing happened in Spain six years ago:  there was a post talking about how we were shrouded in fog, and then... nothing.  Last time it was the sheer difficulty of getting online and the fact that it took half an hour to upload a photo;  this time, though, it's more that we've been incredibly busy.  Well, it's Lundun, innit - HUGELY exciting for a pair of Dawlish Warren bumpkins like us!

From suburban Hanwell, it's just been getting more and more interesting.   We crossed the North Circular on an aqueduct, which was really odd. We haven't even seen cars for weeks, and to have so many of them going so fast just beneath the canal was an unwelcome reminder of what modern life is really like. We were glad when we left the road behind, although the wafting from all the curry factories in this area meant we got very hungry:  another bad day for the diet plan.

Even on the quieter stretches of canal you can float around a corner and suddenly there are gasworks, or huge blocks of flats - but you know you're really getting to the business end of things when all you can see, in every direction, are cranes and construction sites.  The photo is of the approach to Little Venice (more cranes in the distance), and we're now moored just outside Paddington Station, opposite where the vast Brunel Building is going up.

We were really lucky to get a mooring - this area is absolutely packed with houseboats - but small really is beautiful.  Most canal boats are 40 feet long, so there are often little spaces that only a boat like ours could fit into.

So, off to see the sights.  On Thursday it was King Lear at Shakespeare's Globe (only £5 for a 'groundling' ticket, and all the more special because Lear is played by Kevin McNally, who lived with Gary and me in the flat in East Twickenham 35 years or so ago - the same one we shot past on the Thames a few days ago). The names of those who sponsored the building of the Globe are inscribed in the paving stones, and although I wish I could say it was me a couple of slabs down from Maureen Lipman, it wasn't.

After that, we went to the Tate Modern - another extraordinary building - but Mike was less impressed with the exhibits, which made for a slightly tense afternoon.  Then again, we had some interesting conversations about what constitutes art.  We we are still divided over whether the signed urinal really can have been "one of the most influential works of the 20th century", but both of us quite liked the stuffed sacks:

Mike was very keen for me to take a picture of the building, but I'm glad I managed to get one of him too.  He thinks I'm photographing the vast, cavernous space, but what I'M thinking is that it's a boiling hot day and that he's looking after my warm top as well as his own - just a small illustration of the kind of man he is.

Then it was on to see Claire again, who's recently moved to a beautiful house near Goldhawk Road. I've seen more of her the last few weeks than since we were at school, and it's been lovely.  We also got the chance to road-test her and David's new bathroom;  it was wonderful in every way, but I did have to mention the obvious inaccuracy of the bathroom scales.

We walked past Hammersmith Grove on the way there.  I lived in a basement flat here in my early 20s (£30 a week rent!) so that was another reminiscence overload, and also cue for a dinner-table diatribe about young people being priced out of housing.  I learned that I am known at Claire's - fondly, I hope and believe - as Red Sooz...

The most moving thing of all, though, was passing the burned-out shell of Grenfell Tower, just yards away from the Hammersmith and City Line.

I have no words for that at all.

Yesterday we saw Laura and met her boyfriend for the first time.  Gov is absolutely lovely, and they're coming for another boat-ride tomorrow, yay!  We're getting itchy feet again and planning to move on to Camden Town, as long as our boat will fit underneath the Maida Hill Tunnel - we went for a recce today and it does look quite low....

Hooray - it's the water tank!

Not sure this post needs much more than the title, but I'll probably ramble on for a bit anyway.  I haven't kept a diary properly since I was about 12, and I'm remembering that it's a really nice thing to do. I have no idea where the old diaries went (I think they might have been a bit dull - "had breakfast, went to school", that sort of thing), but I hope I'll last long enough to be able to look back at these later ones and wonder at how crazy we were.

Anyway, great, great news this morning.   The bilge was dry, which means no holes in the boat itself - we're not sinking just yet.  We repaired the water tank and refilled it - so far no more leaks - and set off towards Paddington.

I have been very spoiled by the locks on the Thames - mostly manned, and even when lock-keepers are off duty, all you have to do is press a button.  So the Hanwell flight (allegedly six, but there are a couple of extra ones at the end) took me and my weedy old biceps by surprise, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to be helped out of bed tomorrow morning :(

We're now moored at Bull's Bridge, just before the right turn onto the Paddington Arm of the Grand Union Canal.   These are official 24-hour Canal and River Trust moorings, and there are lots of other boats, taps to top up the water tank (if we dare), and even a Tesco Extra 50 yards away.  It's a gorgeous sunny evening too, so all in all we're very happy.

We've also had such a nice journey.  The canal between Brentford and here isn't always pretty...

... but we've had a really lovely time on the way.  I've had proper conversations with people from Eastern Europe and beyond, and have been helped at locks by a Sikh and a Rastafarian who happened to be walking down the towpath and saw me struggling.  An absolute jewel of a day.

You know I said the leaks were fixed...?

Today started so well, if a bit earlier than is entirely suitable for Spanners:  at 7.15 am sharp we were in Teddington Lock.

Teddington Lock

This is an address I remember from my childhood as the home of ITV's Magpie - the much cooler alternative to Blue Peter with their wussy Christmas-decorations-out-of coat-hangers malarkey (although I DID like Shep).  Not quite sure what happened after that - somehow I ended up watching Noel Edmonds on Swap Shop rather than Tiswas, a cultural deficit I still feel quite deeply.


But there was no time for reminiscing.  We left at high tide, but within about 10 minutes the ebbing water was carrying us along faster than I think this boat can ever have been. Marble Hill Park and Eel Pie Island went by in a flash, and I completely missed taking photos of Meadowside, the riverside block of flats in East Twickenham I lived in when I ran away to Gary and London aged 17.

Richmond Bridge 

I did catch a glimpse through the trees, though, and thought again of how glad I am that I still know Gary now, nearly 40 years later.   He was as unselfish then as he is now, and the fact that I went back to school and finished my A Levels is almost entirely down to him.  We met up with Steve Goldie last night at Teddington, too (another friend from that time) and I am thoroughly enjoying all these blasts from the past as well as seeing things from the very different perspectives of the river and of middle age.

I did manage to take a photo of the very beautiful Richmond Bridge, though.  I used to walk over it every day to get to my rubbish job as an accounts clerk (yet another oeuvre unsuitable for Spanners, I feel, or certainly for this one: I failed my probationary period, mainly for paying copies of invoices as well as the originals.  Nobody told me there were copies, but they certainly noticed when I paid the one for a quarter of a million twice.  Not one to stay where I'm not wanted, I resigned and went on holiday.   Perhaps, looking back, that's where the die was cast... :)

But back to today.  I was intending to cook a healthy breakfast on the way to Brentford, but things were happening so fast I couldn't even risk making a cup of tea.  I'm not sure I should post this picture as it's so very shameful, but this, dear friends, was what we had...

Moving on very swiftly, we shot past Syon House on the left and Kew Gardens on the right, and thankfully managed to turn onto the Grand Union Canal at Brentford. Calm at last, although - unbelievably - we were told off by the lock-keeper for being late!  How so?  I doubt a helicopter could have got there faster than we did.

We didn't argue though - Brentford Gauging Lock (so called because it was here that cargoes were gauged and tolls levied) has 14-day moorings, drinking water, Elsan disposal facilities, toilets and even showers, so we really thought our luck was in.  Until we peered into the bilge, which, for non-boaters, is the space you don't normally look at, right at the bottom of the boat.  It was rather worryingly full of water...

I didn't take photos of this either - things were a bit fraught - but we've bailed it all out this afternoon, and think and hope that it's a leaking water tank, rather than a hole below the waterline.   We will know one way or the other by the morning, but either way I'm definitely buying lifejackets. xx

Onto the tidal Thames tomorrow

A lovely slow glide from Walton on Thames to Teddington today, passing Hampton Court Palace on the way.  Poor old Wolsey, building all that and then having to give it to Henry VIII.

We're moored just above Teddington Lock tonight, with a passage booked down onto the tidal Thames at 7.15 tomorrow morning.  We're very excited, and a bit nervous too.  The books we've got all talk about how casual boaters (which I'm sure we are, very) should take extra care and make sure that they get to Brentford or Limehouse within the very narrow time-window prescribed or risk being "abandoned to the tideway" - which doesn't sound at all nice and makes me want to snuggle under a duvet with a teddy.

The dangers are illustrated with lots of scary stories about 'inexperienced' - or sometimes 'reckless' -boaters being swept away, and it seems that even the ones lucky enough to be rescued get a very stern telling off from the Port of London Authority.

I was thinking we needed to buy armbands and maybe even a small life-raft before setting off, but we've been moored here for two hours now, and have seen boat after boat come up through the lock. No-one's wearing life-jackets - not even toddlers, in most cases - and when I asked one passing skipper if there were big waves, he laughed at me.

So I'm feeling slightly more relaxed now - I still want to be careful, just not neurotic.  London, here we come!