Leaving Stoke behind

 Friday 30^th August; Westport lake to Barlaston, via Harecastle water point

We wanted to make an earlier start today and for once we managed it, leaving Westport Lake at 8.20.  The sky was blue, the sun brilliant, and the shade cold as we made our way to the winding hole at the south portal of the Harecastle tunnel.  Two boats had passed us a little earlier but were not there waiting, so had clearly gone through.  The fans weren't operating and there was no-one about.  We winded and reversed to fill up the water tank, then wandered about a bit and looked at the information boards.

The original Harecastle tunnel by James Brindley

Within the hour we had finished taking on water and were on our way back.

South portal of the second, larger tunnel designed by Thomas Telford

 

Yesterday we’d spotted this terrace marooned in a sea of new warehouses on one side and demolished desolation on the other.  They are numbered 5, 7, 9 and 11 – I wonder if the even numbers had been facing them, with their backs to the canal.  The remains of a shared chimney is all that’s left to show that number 3 really did exist. 

Westport lake was basking in the morning sun when we passed at 9.40, on schedule for once.

On we went past yesterday’s landmarks.  The new build we spotted on cradles at Stoke Boats had been launched.  Past Festival Park marina, where we started our boat-owning career with a share on Padworth which was moored here for a couple of years.  She was then based at Calcutt, Stockton Top and finally Great Haywood where we left her for Chuffed.  We noticed Chuffed out of the water for blacking, and  expressed an interest before we started our week on Padworth.  The boat we had wanted to view, Corylus, had been sold the day before.  On our return we fell in love the moment we stepped aboard.  She was, and still is, a pretty boat!  Far ahead was a boat entering the top Stoke lock, but by the time we arrived it had long gone.  While we were descending, the crew of a boat coming from the Caldon popped through between the rubbish compound and the buildings while the steerer negotiated the tight turn at the junction.  They had spent the night moored between the winding hole and the staircase, and had found it an uncomfortable experience, with twitchy people wandering around waiting for their dealer, and noise, arguments and activity going on into the small hours.  (Though a boat we met later had been moored close to the service block, and said apart from a few noisy drunks going by they had been ok.)  I went to set the next lock, and she closed the top one up for us.

Leaving Stoke top lock and waiiting while the next one fills

You can see I have tied a red ribbon round my windlass.  I got fed up with hunting round for it in the uncut grass at some locks, as I never leave it on the beam of an open lock – it might get knocked in.  Once down, and with no other boat in sight, I raised a top paddle for the one behind us and on we went.  The middle one was also against us, but after that we started meeting the boats coming up.  At this lock, efforts have been made to smarten the area with a mural and a little tended area.  The cleared brush has been stacked into ‘dead hedges’, where it can decay naturally and provide shelter for wildlife.  One of the stakes that hold it in place provided a handy place to tie the dog too.  There used to be a garage with a handy shop just up the road, but now a hand car wash is in its place.

Not just a pile of rubbish

On past the vast cemetery, and eventually we were down the locks and I could put the kettle on at last.

Resting in peace

Both shooting ranges were busy, pellets splatting into the walls.  The targets must surely be below the level of the high fences, but there is plenty of evidence of people shooting too high….

The dark grey is the side fence, I guess it's metal for safety reasons.  Maybe it should be higher!

The row of little trucks beside the canal provide a handy place to prop your fishing gear and bike, though the bike was ridden away as we passed.  The wheels show they ran on rails but I don’t know what they would have been used for.  They are not very big and qute narrow.

We paused for lunch at Trentham, with its convenient garage shop over the bridge for the paper and some milk, and also a bin to dispose of a bit of plastic sack that had been lurking by one of the locks - the middle one, with the mural exhorting us not to leave plastic about.  Then at last we were mooring at Barlaston, in the sunshine and opposite the cows.  The wind had finally dropped so I could re-proof the cratch cover while avoiding spraydrift.  The recent showers hadn’t caused any leaks, but better safe than sorry as heavy and prolonged rain is bound to happen later in the year.  So I hauled it off and spread it out.  It wasn’t the best place – there was plenty of room so walkers could get by, but the towpath was very dusty and when Jess and a passing dog decided to play they left a line of pawprints as they raced across the cover.  I expect it’ll brush off eventually.  We ate in the Plume of Feathers, keen to find out if the food is as good as it’s reputed to be.  It was, prices reasonable and the portions generous.

Katsu Halloumi with sweet potato fries and quick kimchi, and Rocky Burger and chips with side salad in the background.  We cleared our plates.  The beer was good too, though we didn't have the Neil Morrissey's Blonde.

The evening was somewhat marred by the racket from a large party of good-humoured but raucous revellers nearby.  The acoustics in the bar area are terrible, and with their merriment echoing around we often couldn’t hear each other speak.  If we came again, we would consider leaving the dog on the boat and sitting in one of the carpeted areas.

Back at the boat the noise continued, this time from a large flock of Canada geese grazing on the field and disporting themselves in the water.  Hope they aren’t early risers!

10 miles, 6 locks