Slow travel

 Thank you British death duties. In the 1960s this 17thC mansion with its thousands of acres, massive walled garden, the Tower of Winds (octagonal JJ noted), an ancient packhorse bridge,  came into the hands of the National Trust. In lieu of death duties. So now in public ownership!  Moored nearby, staying put a couple of days. A relief after the hours motoring down the Trent.  Nearby a farm shop. Yum. Amazing range of veg meats baked stuff fish...everything a hungry boater wants. Now heading further west to moor up while the Swiss adventure awaits.

 92 miles from the Mersey in the west, lies sleepy Shardlow, a village the developers forgot. In the 19th C it was the inland port where coastal traffic from the North Sea ran up the mighty River Trent to discharge their cargo. Great warehouses line the canal, some retaining the old cranes. At least one spanned the canal, so goods could be offloaded directly into storage.  So from Shardlow we join the Trent and Mersey, once more on true inland waterways, no more vast river locks,  tides, scarce mooring points. And once again we enjoy the compa ny of friends, for deep conversations as well as whimsy and silliness. Now we run west, heading to a temporary mooring, hoping for rain in the catchments, and passage north.

 To reach Nottingham aka Hood's hood we traverse the Trent  from Newark, 30+km, a wide, winding pretty river. Cows cooling in the shallows, police searching for a body, birds galore including an elusive kingfisher. Rain at last. Helpful lock keepers, with each of us holding ropes to control the boat in the turbulence. Locks 120ft or longer, 30ft wide, very deep. Santiago a matchstick. You rope round a guide pole till the boat rises to the top.  An adventure. 

 And so yesterday we left Lincoln at 4.30, to run the 17km to the massive Torksey lock. Shortly we will pack into the lock to descend to the R Trent, turn left, run upstream to Newark. We cruise through the 'Glory Hole' in Lincoln, out into the Brayford Pool. Up the Fossdyke to Saxilby, 9km from Lincoln. We moor up for 30min for a dinner stop, then on to Torksey. Still light at 8.30, the sunset a good 'un, with the power station towers in the distance. A GnT to celebrate, then contemplating the intricacies of reaching London for our Swiss adventure, with train strikes, Eurostar timetable,  to be considered. All 1st world problems we know.

 From the Trent we run down the Fossdyke Canal 16km to Lincoln.  Moor in the Brayford Pool where the Fossdyke meets the R Witham. From the mooring you can see the Cathedral, perched high above the city, glowing in the late afternoon sun.  We walk up Steep Street at 9am, heading for sanctuary from the heat in the Cathedral. The memorial brasses that ran the length of the nave were almost all looted in 1644  by Cromwell's forces in the Civil War. All that is left are the indentations in the stone.  Across from the Cathedral lies the castle, and Magna Carta, plus the Charter of the Forests   which restricted the monarch's hegemony to traditional bounds. A toy shop beckoned, then the slow plod down the hill, back to boat.

 From Leeds we start the south eastern trek, with yesterday a massive 10 hour day, 28 miles, locks and bridges to be operated. For a while in the afternoon we teamed up with a couple from Perth, he battling brain cancer, helping with locks and bridges. Today a short 4 miles to perch above the muddy Trent, left for the North Sea, right to run the tide towards an overnight mooring on the Fossdyke, initially dug by the Roman's to aid transport inland from the sea Now we wait for the tide to turn, a small flotilla of craft, and also for the heavy road bridge to be cooled. In the heat it jams, so water is pumped over to cool it. Maybe better maintenance would help? On the run here this morning, we passed through miles of hay fields, bales stacked high enough for a mansion. In the stillness the forests of wind turbines were motionless, testament to a changing world.

 We belt from York down the Ouse, then up the rivers running from the Pennines towards the North Sea, heading to Leeds. Big locks, about 100m long, 8m wide. Coastal shipping can fit. All key operated. Thank you. Good train connections in Leeds for our departing Swiss friends/crew. And a young cousin to meet up with. From Leeds we catch a train for a day in Saltaire, a pilgrimage for us. One man did make a difference. Titus Salt. First rate living and working conditions for his employees. A legacy in town planning and quality building for the centuries, recognised with world heritage listing.  And one massive mill building now a central place for artists,  artisans, employment, tourists, thanks to Jonathan Silver and his compatriot David Hockney. In Leeds we scoot around by water taxi, between the initial river mooring to central Leeds. Now moored above Lock 1 of the Leeds to Liverpool Canal, a grand route over the Pennines, now inaccessible because of water shortages. 

 A dreamy ancient city of stone, music, water. We moor in our usual place, against the wide path below the Museum Gardens. Here  good friends from Switzerland join us, for laughter tears good food. Nearly 50 years of friendship. What a privilege.  We explore the ginnels and snickets of the medieval city,  walk the high stone city walls peering into the sometimes wild gardens surrounding the Minster.  JJ holds an European eagle owl in the Gardens, relative of Henrietta whom I held 3 years ago here.  We face the problem of where to safely leave Santiago with canals closed, home mooring unreachable. As I write, this problem looms large. In 2 days we leave York for the trip to L eeds, where our friends depart for London and on to Switzerland.