Harecastle, and a long hot slog through Stoke

July 18^th; Harding’s Wood to Barlaston

I awoke to birdsong at 4.30, put the porthole bungs in and went back to sleep.  We woke at 7.30 to brilliant sunshine.  It all started well, we weren’t planning to be at the tunnel portal at 8, reasoning if the northbound boats came through first we’d have to wait anyway, and so it proved.  We went up the last lock of Heartbreak Hill behind Geordie Spirit and a hire boat was coming up after us. 

Plant’s lock is currently a single – there is a stoppage notice on the pair.

The single boat coming north was emerging as we did the safety briefing with the CRT chap, then we donned our lifejackets, shut the dog inside with a tasty bone to keep her occupied, all the lights on, and in we went, all before 9 o’clock.

Looking back at the north portal

I looked out for the skeleton climbing out of its alcove – we have been through the Harecastle several times but never seen it.  This time I did at least see some alcoves, but none was occupied.  There are several changes of roof height, clearly marked with white paint, but once your tunnel light has passed beneath it you have to keep a sharp lookout.  We have a low illumination from a light at the stern, which helps a lot.

The noise of the fans at the south end was much louder and we heard it much sooner than we remembered.  At long last we saw the south portal door open and the first boat was on its way out. 

Geordie Spirit escapes

If you’ve never gone through the Harecastle you probably don’t know that when you come in from the south the door shuts behind you and strong fans switch on to draw air through the tunnel so boaters don’t asphyxiate in their own fumes.  It’s quite alarming the first time you experience it.

Our turn at last

We realised that the hire boat that was having its safety briefing as we entered the tunnel was dropping back – the headlamp on a boat following you is bright if it is not very far behind you, but although the hireboat’s headlamp was bright to start with, we could see it growing dimmer the nearer to the exit we got.  By the time we were out it was so far behind us that the tunnel keeper had to close the doors and start the fans again.  We heard this from Geordie Spirit, who had stopped to water up.  The poor steerer was on his own too – his crew had preferred to walk over the top!  We didn’t speak to them, but it must have been quite stressful for the poor man. 

The water is still orange here but it soon goes back to normal

It took us 40 minutes to get through, but it must have taken him a lot longer.  We didn’t stop at Westport lake, as we hadn’t really been going for very long, and instead went on past Middleport pottery, ReadyMick’s cement lorries and a good mural.

We turned onto the Caldon to take on water at the service block where it meets the Trent and Mersey.

James Brindley forever stares at the junction with the T&M

While Dave looked after the water I took the rubbish round to the bins, which are in a large compound.  Someone has nailed up several pallets against the wooden fencing and turned them into planters.

Someone local clearly looks after them – how clever to brighten up the bins, especially if some tired boater has just slogged up the Stoke locks on a wet day!  There was a bit of a delay as we emerged from the Caldon to make the sharp turn towards the top of Stoke locks.  There isn’t a lot of room here as the lock is very close to the junction.  A single-hander was waiting on the lock landing, but the boat coming up the lock wanted to turn onto the Caldon, the entrance to which we were blocking.  The single hander bow-hauled his boat as close to the lock as he could – because he was in our way – then Dave executed a gentle but perfect turn before reversing away from the lock, so that the boat coming up had space to make the tight turn onto the Caldon.  Dave had almost decided to reverse away from the water point instead of using the winding hole – he thought it probably would have been easier if he had.  Anyway, at last we were on our way again.  The Stoke locks are all deep, and it was slow going as two of the locks had a paddle out, but eventually we were down.

Bottle Kilns along the lock flight

Stoke Bottom Lock

Many years ago there used to be a young man who liked to help out at the lock.  He used to exhibit his paintings along the cottage fence.  Unfortunately he was an alcoholic and the last time we saw him he was ill, and being helped by a CRT chap – I think in those days there was an office or depot here.  We heard later that he had died.  Very sad.

There is a long row of moorings under the busy road bridge below the bottom lock.  Should we stop for a break?  With the A500 running alongside, and the tunnel smelling of piss, we thought not.  So I went below to make sandwiches and we ate on the move.  I was out in time to see the works of Jones and Shufflebottom (Jones & Shuffs), a landmark along here, and then we were on the lookout for the shooting range.  First came a line of moored craft.

A very green boat

And then came the shooting range with its interesting mix of activities.  It doesn’t say it’s a shooting range, but we could hear an airgun in use and see the pockmarked target wall above the fence.

Eclectic variety of activities

It was a long, long drag in the heat to get out of Stoke.  It was very, very hot and the afternoon seemed to go on for ever with no mooring opportunities.  We could have stopped at Hem Heath bridge in Trentham, but decided to push on and get out of the built-up area completely.  CRT were holding a Let’s Fish! event at bridge 105 – the CRT fishermen were still tackling up, so we guessed they were after the kids coming out of school. 

We finally moored about 400 yards before the Plume of Feathers at Barlaston, surrounded by fields with cows opposite for neighbours.  After a hot and tiring day, Dave still had the energy to wash down the starboard side of the boat.  It was still hot as we walked down to the pub for an excellent pint of beer.  Neil Morrissey (whose pub it is) now has his own branded beer, but we had Doom Bar, Dave’s favourite, and Pedigree, mine.

11 miles, 7 locks, Harecastle tunnel, nearly 8 long hot hours on the move apart from 20 minutes taking on water.