Holiday From Hell

Marooned

HOLIDAY FROM HELL DB

From Summer 2007 Issue

Going to Stratford via the Severn and then the Avon in mid June seemed a great idea for our 2007 holiday, but what a holiday it turned out to be! It all started innocuously enough. We locked down from West Stockwith in late April onto the tidal Trent, heading for the system. We had a week, so we made the detour to Lincoln and following a night spent at Saxilby, then another moored alongside the Pyewipe Inn just before Lincoln itself, we then spent one night in Lincoln. Sadly, while alterations are being made to Brayford pool, there are now no moorings to be had in the centre of Lincoln. We however moored alongside the University for the night. All went well and we enjoyed a wonderful week of hot and sunny weather for our holiday, arriving at the end of it at Swarkstone Boat Club on the Trent and Mersey, where we left the boat for a few days before the next stage of our journey. The following weekend, en route to Kings Bromley Marina where we had arranged our next mooring we passed through Fradley, and quite by chance moored next to Roy and Celia Heatley (Strange Magic) and stopped for a chat before finally arriving at Kings Bromley Marina where we left Volusia for a week.

The following weekend had us moving from here to Otherton Boat Haven, on the Staffs and Worcester Canal, where we left her for a further fortnight as the week in between was, of course, the Crick show. So far so good!

The Holiday from Hell began!. We had allowed just over a fortnight for the cruise which would take in all we had hoped to see and allow us 2 days to see the sights of Stratford, leaving ample time to get back to Swarkestone where I had left my car. On our first evening the inverter packed up! A call around the chandlers in the area for a replacement threw up the first conundrum. I phoned Midland Swindlers, (sorry Chandlers) and was quoted £795 for a Sterling 1500 watt pure sine wave inverter. This would mean turning round and going back. Not a great idea with our intended holiday route and distances, so I phoned Limekiln Chandlers at Compton. Their quote for the same item £395!!!! Limekiln was en route, so guess who we purchased the inverter from. It is true they had to order the inverter from Sterling and it wouldn’t be with them until the following Monday but it still represented a considerable saving. Our luck remained the same as we discovered our mobile phone and camera batteries were almost flat and no inverter meant that we couldn’t charge them. We rang around the local area and were saved by Oxley Marine (Jan & Orph) who allowed us to not only moor and use their electricity for the night but their engineer, Cliff, tightened up the domestic side fan belt, wouldn’t take a tip for his efforts, I offered him a tenner, and to top it all we spent a pleasant couple of hours sampling the beer from the friendly canal side bar there. The next day we carried on to Kidderminster where we moored in front of the Watermill Pub. Having previously called the BW office in Stourport and enlisted the help of a young lady called Helen (alias Miss Marple) who had provided us with details of a local car hire company , we were then able could get back to Compton to pick up the inverter which I fitted it while moored alongside the pub. We then had a meal there as a way of thanking them for allowing us to moor alongside on their only mooring for the best part of the day, we then carried on to Stourport, mooring there for the night. (It makes me breathless just thinking about that day!)

There now followed two days of normality! The journey down the Severn to Tewksbury was almost uneventful and very pleasant, I say almost because Christine, having got power back decided to do a load of washing. It was a sunny day so she put it out on the front deck to dry. It was now getting quite windy and sure enough, the washing blew over the side. Thanks to the weight of the clothes airer I was just in time to see it disappear under the boat, and because she had used plenty of clothes pegs nothing floated back up! So should anyone fishing the Severn catch a Perch sporting a size 36C bra, please forward same to Christine!

Moorings on the River Severn were few and far between so we carried on and Wednesday, our first night on the Avon was spent at Tewkesbury Marina. A lovely spot and very well serviced but perhaps not for those on a tight budget. One night’s mooring was £10 and the pump out charge was £15 – diesel was also top price at 58p per litre. So fellow travellers beware, had we known you can spend the night at the lock for £3 we would have moored there instead but not knowing the area, and while still on the Severn, we phoned ahead and booked it.

The following night we moored at Pershore, a pretty little town where we were able to stock up on provisions at the Supermarket just by the canal (just as well as things turned out!) and witness some Dragon boat training. Following on from this we made it to Bidford and moored alongside the Frog and Bulrush. We got off had a meal and that was that! The rain lashed down and the level of the Avon rose and rose, we were in sight of the pub but couldn’t get off at all, not for four days, it was horrendous. The manager of the pub

asked us to give them a call if we needed anything but luckily we had just filled up with water and the batteries were fully charged, important consideration when you have an electric refrigerator, TV and satellite system etc. Our itinerary was now out the window! On the fifth day the water was still running fast but at least the bridge had enough headroom to clear so, with the river still in the red by over 2 feet, something we didn’t realise until we reached the next lock, we set off. We crossed the river to the bridge and the force of the oncoming river slowed us down somewhat but once through the bridge we picked up again. As the river narrowed further upstream we slowed down again but I never had to extend the engine above what I call,(when using the tidal Trent), Normal River revs. We arrived at the lock and the moorings were just ankle deep so we were now able to get Lucie, the dog, off the boat. The poor thing had, had to do her stuff on the roof so this came as a great relief for both her and poor Christine who had been clearing up after Lucie for the past four days.

The following day the Avon was down to 1’ 6” in the red so we pushed on to Luddington, and what a lovely place Luddington is. If we had had the choice this would have been our chosen stopover rather than Bidford but any port in a storm! The following day saw us arriving at Stratford, by now the river was only 6’’ in the red, still boats were not allowed out on to the Avon at Stratford but we locked up in to the basin and, after seeing the Scottish play at the RSC we moved the following day, a week later than planned, up the Stratford canal.

Now I apologise if that particular canal is someone’s favourite but we found the whole experience awful. Lots of locks, no great scenery, and short pounds! I have many years ago completed the whole Worcester and Birmingham canal which also has lots and lots of locks, but the scenery either side of the boat on that route, as I recall, is beautiful!

Having said all that, nothing, but nothing quite brings you down to earth with a bump than a trip through Solihull. We had spent the night prior to this part of the journey at Kixley Wharfe near Knowle so that we could be sure we traversed this gem through school hours. Possibly due to this we experienced no problems, well almost no problems. There were two young boys on a bridge looking a bit dodgy but they disappeared when Christine pointed the camera at them! At Camp Hill lock, the first of a flight of six, and with no one about, I let the dog off the lead. She sat as good as gold until she saw walking toward us a Rastafarian and, what appeared to be one of his ‘staff’ (if you get my drift) -Well you could only describe the woman with him as, spaced out, emaciated and apparently not of this planet. Lucie ran toward them to welcome them in her friendly way but the Rastafarian aimed a kick at her, that’s the dog not the woman, though judging by her bruises it looked as if he had done his fair share of that to the woman in the near past. I told him that if he followed through with his intention he would be surgically removing a windlass from the back of his head. He waited until he was far enough away from me and then exposed his backside. I shouted laughingly back to him that “I didn’t need to see how he made his living!”

Once through here we turned right on to the Saltley cut and the next flight of five locks. Along here we were passed by two PC’s on push bikes who promptly cycled straight past an East European guy who was breathing in and out of a plastic bag and I don’t think it was to stop his hiccoughs! Mind you it was raining at the time and PC now stands, I think, for politically correct rather than Police Constable. And, Oh the graffiti in and around the cut is atrocious. Gone are the days of Kilroy, the names are now much more exotic, as is the language! It was with a sense of relief that we finally made it back to normality at Curdworth and moored just before the tunnel there. Once more it rained and it rained but, not downhearted we carried on the following day to Fazeley junction and had a really good Chinese meal at the restaurant there.

We then travelled up the picturesque Coventry canal and joined the Trent and Mersey. Or in this case the Trent and Misery at Fradley. I say ‘misery’ because following all the rain which brought such devastation to everyone we were once again held up by a swollen river. This time the Trent and this time at Alrewas, So here we are, one car at Otherton and one at Swarkstone. Still, it all sorts its self out in the end