Tidal Trent
29/5/2019
We marshall at the head of the Keadby lock that descends to the Trent, some 9 miles upstream from its junction with the Ouse. The keepers of these tidal locks are invariably characters- Kenny, Mark, Neil are in our contacts' list. At each lock the keeper notes your boat's name, and your destination lock. If you don't make it there, they can raise the alarm. A useful safeguard. If you get into trouble, you can ring the keeper.
It is raining as we wait for the incoming tide to reach a height which allows egress from the lock. We wear waterproof pants, coats, and life jackets. The boat's anchor accessible in the bows.
Excited, nervous (me), chafing to get on with it. An expected four and a half hours and 30 miles to Torksey, the tidal lock upstream, leading to Lincoln on the Fossdyke Navigation ( our term for a labourer, 'navvy', comes from the men who built the canals or 'navigations').
The boats stacking into the lock.
In the lock chamber is a handy muddy slippery
ladder, for reluctant crew.
The chain to the right of the ladder allows the crew to slip a rope around, to hold the boat steady while water empties or fills the lock, with associated turbulence.
The Cap'n wields the boat's pole, heaving the bows of our 20 tonne craft slowly into deeper water. He tells me when to gun the engine, and with some reluctance the boat slides off the gravel. For the remainder of the journey, we focus even harder on reading the river for shallows.
It is raining as we wait for the incoming tide to reach a height which allows egress from the lock. We wear waterproof pants, coats, and life jackets. The boat's anchor accessible in the bows.
Excited, nervous (me), chafing to get on with it. An expected four and a half hours and 30 miles to Torksey, the tidal lock upstream, leading to Lincoln on the Fossdyke Navigation ( our term for a labourer, 'navvy', comes from the men who built the canals or 'navigations').
The boats stacking into the lock.
In the lock chamber is a handy muddy slipperyladder, for reluctant crew.
The chain to the right of the ladder allows the crew to slip a rope around, to hold the boat steady while water empties or fills the lock, with associated turbulence.
The lock gates open, the muddy Trent in sight.
We turn right, heading south, upstream. The land around is mostly flat, coastal plains, but with some surprises, mostly good.
The first surprise is this massive rail/road bridge, the strange section on the left intriguing the practical Cap'n.
It rises to allow large craft through, using water pumped into a counter balanced wheel.
We broke our speed record, making about seven to eight mph, with the wide river, assisted by the tide.
The depth we knew would vary, particularly on bends, where shallow water lurks for the unwary. Sure enough, we crunched onto a gravel bank, and stopped. An unwelcome surprise. If we couldn't refloat, we'd have to wait for a high tide, but then we wouldn't reach Torksey in time, and be stuck on a pontoon mooring till the next tide.
The Cap'n wields the boat's pole, heaving the bows of our 20 tonne craft slowly into deeper water. He tells me when to gun the engine, and with some reluctance the boat slides off the gravel. For the remainder of the journey, we focus even harder on reading the river for shallows.
Finally, into the Torksey lock, moor on the Fossdyke Navigation. A very old waterway, first dug by the Romans about AD120. Lincoln 11 miles downstream, tomorrow's destination.
A lovely sunny evening.
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