Slow travel

 Well, one of the 3 main 'wych' towns...means salt. This is Middlewich, the middle town between Nantwich and Northwich. Salt production here for millennia. Not surprising that subsidence is an issue. 'Low bridge ahead' is a common sign  and even towpaths have sunk. The landscape is mostly rural, the canal wending through green tunnels, with nasty factories in places.  We're moored here to have the central heating checked, which will be painful if we have to wait for a technician  I'm hoping the resident techno can fix it The mile post shows the distance to Shardlow  at the eastern end of the Trent and Mersey. 

 What's not to like? The day a dream, the calm.and beauty of life on water. Even at 8pm we looked out to a green world,  reflected trees. And earlier, a stroll along the canal, over a little stone bridge to a footpath between fields, farm houses  back to the towpath  Tomorrow we start on the Trent and Mersey canal, heading east.

 In the past week we've traversed England from the SE to the NW, visiting much loved family. Last night we dropped the car back to Manu airport, slept well and are now filling with water on the Bridgewater canal.  Named for the inspired if misogynist Duke of, whose canal from his coal mines to Liverpool and Manchester mightily pleased the manufacturers and housewives, as canal transport reduced the cost of coal by half.  With the water tank full, we head south towards the Trent and Mersey, which runs east from the Mersey, nearly to Nottingham. There we move onto the Trent itself. This has taken me a minute or 2 to write, but the journey to Nottingham may take a week or more. Slow travel! Below some snaps of the water fill process.

 Cromer is apparently crab town. Not my favourite food, poor crustacean. But we did delight in the peregrine falcon nesting high on the flint embedded church. And the story of local mammoths, the traditional entertainment peer, the courteous regard for the older folk tottering, with a dog or mobility scooter or both.  On the grassy edge of the clifftop path was a sign asking you not to feed the goats, which roam as they please but like the flowers and grasses on the cliff. A novel solution to tricky gardening. Later we potter in the peace and order of a National Trust property, Felbrigg Hall, a few miles west of Cromer. Standouts there was the walled garden, the octagonal dove Cote  the 5000 book library. To top off the day, we found a little wool shop in the village where we are staying. 

 High cliffs, wide sandy beaches, lanes linking small villages, pebbled walled houses, acres of corn, barley, broadbeans, spinach, potatoes. Red poppies in the hedges. This is fen land, ancient drainage ditches, some engineered by Cornelius Vermuyden in the 17th C.  The old city of Norwich stands high above a river, an admirable defensible perch. Its little alleys and cobbled lanes remind us of York, curving round the centre, muddling my sense of direction. Fortunately we'd noted a landmark church, so could ask directions.   A town of many churches. In one a fascinating if strange tale of competitive bell ringers. With my 14 bells, how many peal sequences can be made? Over 4 hours of continuous ringing was recorded. What wasn't mentioned were local reactions to the din!  Today we located a narrow gauge steam railway.  Those 2 words draw JJ like a freezer full of icecream. The Bure Valley line, run by volunteers of course, runs to Wroxham, on the infamous Norfolk Broads.  A lat

We abandon Santiago in the west, at a marina on the Bridgewater Canal. The marina conveniently has a pub adjacent, a welcome spot from which to call a cab, and have a cold beer while waiting. The amazing postcode system in the UK means one pub may have its own code. Brilliant for sat nav dependent folk. The cab takes us back to the Macc, where nb Santiago is normally moored, and where we had left the hire car. Our perigrinations in the past 3 weeks leave me confused. So back we drive, to the boat, to sleep one last night before it is hauled out of the water for its bottom blacking and propeller straightening. Hence we are gypsies, and book a cabin in Norfolk for a 5 day sojourn on the high open landscape. We load the car with a ridiculous pile of stuff...non perishable food for our break, clothes, towels, maps, doona, even a cupboard door from the boat needing repair.  Perishable foods to our cousin's home, with poor JJ having to dump his icecream stash. His last spoonfuls,  at 1

 From the Macclesfield canal on the flanks of the Pennines to Manchester are dozens of locks, dropping down towards the west, not far above the Mersey. The exact number is currently beyond me.  On the first day down the Marple flight,  volunteers helped. Thank you! This flight will be closed in a week, water shortages. Thereafter on our todmalone, a trying day with a blockage in one lock requiring 2 mechanics, and using much water....so that Santiago grounded.  Me on the tiller feeling helpless, Capn JJ on the bank instructing. Eventually more water was released from the preceding lock, and we slowly floated off.  On the towpaths passersby almost all ask are you alright? And it is genuine..they want an answer.  Thence into Manchester,  different languages, accents, everywhere, a fascinating vibrant city. Construction boom, apartment building. Coffee served by 2 charming youngsters from.the Czech republic. One was born in Mongolia but moved as a baby. He had interesting insights into th

 Late afternoon, oven fixed, inverter working, we leave our mooring heading NW towards Manchester.  Tomorrow down the Marple locks, soon to be closed through lack of water. So no return possible to our home berth unless it rains. Ironies of life!

  don't take this monster lightly.  But sooo interesting a structure. Snapped in the Valley Gardens.

In the town, where he was born....We wander the old spa town, through the Valley Gardens. Here a 5 yo JJ played with his toy boat on one of the ponds, naturally becoming a little damp. Today we admire what looks like giant hogweed, previously met with a warning sign on a turning or 'winding' point on the canals. Taller than a man, quite a sight. Yesterday a glorious day, scudding across the Dales, over the Pennines. The roof of England, cut by old droving routes, including one for goats. Passing over the Leeds to Liverpool Canal by car, and soon to be our route by boat to York, really slow travel, maybe 12 miles a day with all the locks. Bring it on!

 Well  not too horrible. Nearly 3 years of green grime on the exterior, dusty grubby interior, one flat starter battery. JJ wrote a list in 2019 (!) as we left for Oz , of what he'd  turned off etc. So now he can work logically to restore our little home to functioning order. Good to have one of us organised Dinner out at our 'local' tonight, just down from the canal and boat. First mate rebelled at cooking in grubby boat.

 Good mates here who always cope with our dying swan routines as jetlag slowly recedes. Their sunshine and exercise prescriptions involving wide sea escapes from bird sanctuary  plus a great walk across the National Trust property at Pethurst, an effective remedy. Tomorrow back to Santiago, checking her for mould, equipment failure....

  Fortunately we flew over the past southern part of the Black Sea. Not keen on Russian missiles. Now ensconced in Portsmouth, me drinking coffee while JJ checks his sore eye at a Boots Optometrist.  Phones are now re simmed...that doesn't seem like a word. Once again JJ  manned up and negotiated the strange world of phone packages. Sorry about this boring blog...another test really.   Cheers S