As you will see in the next blog Betty did not make an entry for this day. But as so much time has elapsed I think it safe to relate the day's event. We created a lot of amusement for a lot of folks and only made one bloke rather grumpy.
We set off early...ish for the 7 mile cruise to Norbury Junction and lunch at the Junction Inn. (having read somewhere the Inn is famous for fabulous Sunday carveries).
Looking back down the canal from whence we had come. The verdant greenery stunning our Australian eyes.
Cowley Tunnel, our first, 81 yards long, and hewn
out of solid rock by hand.
Exiting the tunnel.
Cruising through Gnosall Heath.
Going along Shelmore Embankment we noticed it was getting quite breezy.
Reaching Norbury Junction we passed under Bridge 38 and started looking for a mooring. The right had side of the canal was lined with boats on permanent moorings and the left hand side visitors moorings looked pretty full. We found a spot a few hundred metres up the canal and managed to slide in uneventfully and moor up using the pins provided.
Then it was off to the Navigation Inn and their famous Sunday Carvery. We were a little early, pleased that we were as we watched the tables fill up around us. At 12.00 the staff began to load the carvey and there was a dash to queque. Was it worth it - and the consternation and embarassment that was to follow?
Yes it was. There was a vast assortment of vegetables, including all our favourites plus perfectly cooked cauliflower and cheese sauce. There was Roast Turkey, Port and Leg of lamb to choose from, or you could have all three. The gravy got B's (the queen of country roasts) seal of approval as did the sage stuffing - definitely home made she said.
Replete, we eventually wandered back to the boat, noting the wind had picked up quite a bit whilst we were at lunch. Betty with key in hand was in the lead. Here she is, in the pic below standing on the towpath starring.
Geoff joined her, and he too stared. L&I joined them, and we too stood and stared.
In a postprandial haze we all stood and stared where NB Emily should have been.
But she wasn't there! Perpexed, we looked up the towpath then down the towpath - nup - and resumed staring at the spot we left her. She still wasn't there.
It was about then the sound of raucous laughter and cheers started to penetrate the combined brain fog and we looked back to the bridge to discover we were the cause of great mirth amongst the many gongoozlers. They started pointing to a bloke on a narrowboat waving his arms at us from across the canal down near the bridge.
We still couldn't see NB Emily as we began, what we later dubbed, our walk of shame back to the bridge, then across the bridge, past all the gongoozlers receiving a "well done mate, lost your boat have you" here and a "you made our day mate" there, down the path to the permanent moorings and the bloke who'd been waving at us.
"Looking for your boat are you?" he asked. "Yes" we said sheepishly. "She pulled her pins in the wind mate, and blew across and down the canal. She was starting to bump into boats this side so I went up and breasted her up to a boat up there" pointing to Emily as he spoke.
Sighting her we sagged at the knees with relief and grovelled with gratitude. Chuckling at our response he said "Allright, allright it has happened to all of us, but why didn't you use piling pins?" "What are those?" one of us asked. Rolling his eyes and muttering, as all boat owners do, about inadequate instruction to hirers he guddled about on the back of his boat and grabbed something the looked like an oversize nappy pin. "You should be supplied with a couple of these" he said and proceeded to demonstrate their use.
He then asked us our plans and expressed amazement that we had booked for a month never having narrowboated before. I think we left him wondering if we were brave or stupid. As we departed he casually suggested we tread carefully with the bloke whose boat Emily was tied to as "he got a bit grumpy when he returned and found your boat tied to his".
Walking the 60 metres or so up the path G, L&I voted unanimously that Betty should approach the grumpy man given she is highly skilled in the art of placation.
A wise choice cos that man was way more than a little bit grumpy but by the time the rest of us had clambered across his boat and got organised to cast off B had him eating out of her hand.
Now came the tricky bit. The wind was still blowing us against his boat and we had to get off cleanly, without scraping along the side of his boat or indeed the next one or one after. G and L came up with a plan, tho I don't remember what is was, other than B and I were told to go to the bow and be ready to push the bow out on L's command (and to keep it away from the other boat/boats if needed). Upon hearing the command we shoved hard off the no longer grumpy man's boat and we were off with only a bump or two.
Congratulating ourselves on a clean getaway we headed up the canal between the moored boats. At the end of the moorings the canal narrowed somewhat and trees overhung the right had side. Just as we reached this point another narrowboat suddenly hove into sight. I don't know if it was the wind or L overcompensated but we ended up grounding under the overhanging tree. L tried reverse, no still stuck. So then it was out with the barge pole, nup. Barge pole pushing and engine revving simultaneously - nup, still stuck. The mortifying thing was we were still in sight of the gongoozlers on the bridge and as L put the engine in neutral we could hear the cheers drifting up the canal. Another try - this time with G, the lightest of us up the bow with the barge pole and B & I in the stern with L. It did the trick; with Geoff pushing off with the barge pole and the engine in reverse we slid free and tottered up the canal, emotionally shattered and ever so relieved to be leaving the scene of such ignominy behind us.
So there you have it, in the space of a couple of hours and in 500 meters we made all the mistakes a newbie makes over a week long hire.
The old Cadburys factory and loading wharf. The last load leaving in 1961.
More stunning greenery in Woodseaves Cutting
One of two tall bridges in the cutting
The tranquil surrounds aiding us to regain our equilibrium
We moored up after Bridge 59, ready to attack the Tyrley Lock flight the next morning.
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