Cooling down just a little

Sunday 31^st May; Spiceball Park to below the Claydon flight

It was pleasantly cool as I walked off to get a paper and a few bits and pieces.  Being Sunday, Waitrose didn’t open till 11 but we wanted to be away by then, so I walked down the hill to Tesco which opened earlier.  It was very busy – everyone had gone early to fill their trolleys and be ready to pay at 10 when the tills open. We were away before 11, and were delighted to see Dink sitting in her conservatory with her little dog and we all waved merrily.  The canal wasn’t really busy and the few boats we met were at locks.

Helpful walkers closing the top gate at Hardwick lock

Bourton lock cottage had a door open and a light on again, maybe someone is living there now?

The bottom gate needs work as much as the cottage

We were a little concerned that the pound between Slat Mill lock and Cropredy lock might be a bit low.  There was an advice email yesterday, warning that there were very low water levels (again) and they were trying to recover them during the day.  When we arrived at Slat Mill lock it was nearly full, which surprised us as we didn’t think there was anyone ahead of us - the others had been empty.  The bottom gates leak, not that unusual.  But I was so concerned about the state of the top gate, or cill I suppose it could be, that I sent the photo to CRT. 

I hadn’t opened the paddles yet.

We stopped for a couple of hours for lunch, as there was plenty of water in the pound, and waved to a hire boat we chatted to the other day.  We caught up with them at Cropredy lock.  We wouldn’t be behind them for the other locks though, as they were stopping at Cropredy marina for a couple of nights to attend a wedding in the village.  They had arranged their week's boating around the date.  How lovely! 

The first lines of the poem at Cropredy lock. 

There are three other sculptures, which read as follows - 

‘of its bricklined arch/ like a dancer’s sturdy instep/ on the unbroken surface/ where the quilled stumps/ of pollarded willows/ shiver like the steel bristles/ on a flea’s armour/ or rest, head-down like sable/ brushes in a jar of turps.

I like the image of the quilled stumps of pollarded willows, and even the ‘steel’ bristles on a flea, but my Dad would have been horrified if I had left my sable paintbrushes head down in turps!

We came up the three remaining locks on our own and pulled in on the long stretch of armco below Claydon bottom lock.

5½ miles, 7 locks