After a cup of tea we also got ourselves clean and sparkling (which in the tiny bathroom took longer than cleaning the boat!) ready for the royal visit. With an hour to wait we were banished to the bow and stern where we soaked up the long unseen sun, read and chattered to passers by.
Tim and Mike arrived at 12.20pm giving us enough time to get their mountain of gear down the towpath and stowed on board before heading to the Hartley Arms for our 12.30pm booking for Sunday Roast. Not a patch on the Salt Barge, the beef looked cardboard and the pork just plain overcooked BUT the vegies were great, perfectly cooked and a huge variation and for L and I having generally being vegetable deprived whilst on our journey were very happy.
The view south. AB. is the third boat on the left
At 2.45pm we cast off and tootled 100 metres up the canal to the water point to replenish the tank L and I had depleted during the morning. By the time we filled with the water the chaos at the lock had subsided and instead of joining a queue to go up the lock, we only had to wait for a boat to come down, leaving the lock ready for us to use.
Leaving Wheaton Aston lock. Thanks to Thomas Telfords bold engineering design of cuttings and embankments it is the only lock in 25miles of canal!
A healthy and diverse garden on top of this narrowboat
Into yet another cutting, this one cutting through the centre of Lapley Wood
At the end of the mile long Lapley Wood Cutting we came to another embankment with a cast iron aqueduct over the old Roman Road of Watling Street.
Just before we got to this bridge the canal got buzzed by a circling fighter jet. Tim immediately thought the Russians were after us until remembering they had passed a sign on the way to Wheaton Aston advertising an air show.
For the next couple of miles we were regular buzzed by fighter plans and a fat cargo/transport one. Boats were drifting all over the canal as the male drivers stopped and watched.
More lines of linear mooring to crawl past.
Too busy chatting today to take in the scenery, but I did manage to take notice of this vista.
Oh no, more linear moorings
After hearing the rumble of thunder and the forecast rain long overdue, we moored up on the Brewood (pronounced Brood) visitor moorings to see what the weather was going to dish out to us.
15 minutes later, with not a drop of rain, the sun came out and we proceeded on our way.
looking a picture in the sunlight
The ornate, balustraded Avenue Bridge leading to Chillington Hall, the owner of which demanded the fancy bridge as part of the deal to allow the canal to cross his land.
2 miles after leaving Brewood, amd at 5.00pm, we moored up on an embankment in a rural area, only about 8 miles from Wolverhampton.
As we stood on the tow path chatting identically dressed runners came along, all harnessed to dogs, not to responding to Tim's "who's training who", they ran on past, but I managed to catch the last who was lagging a little behind - her doggie not looking wholly committed to the venture. We were left asking questions, is this a new sport? is it a dog exercising club? Is it some sort of dog training?
Our mooring in the evening light
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