The Stratford upon Avon Canal

Our month on the River Avon was at an end. Moorings had been limited and our time at each had been restricted, but other than this, we'd loved it!

The clear water revealed scores of little fish swimming amongst green weeds and on warmer days we'd joined them, watching swallows dipping down to our eye level for a drink. Groups of metalic blue damselflies fluttering above lillies never failed to bring a smile to our faces and we marvelled as the larger dragonflies bombed by our heads; their wings tattooing the beat of a far more imposing predator.

We stayed in a mix of blissfully isolated locations (often on river islands) and in the recreational hubs of towns. Winter floods had formed miles of flat grassland for the dogs to explore, although they were only really interested in the scraps left behind under picnic tables!

We waited until the afternoon when the wind would be a bit more manageable, then Will cycled ahead and set the lock between the River Avon and the Stratford upon Avon Canal basin. Vicky turned Rainboat in but managed to ram her against the lock wall. Of course there were hoards of gongoozelers peering down from the overhead pedestrian bridge!

A crew member from a restaurant tour boat helped Will work the lock, which was kind, but the water came rushing in fast and rammed poor Rainboat up against the wall once again. Tiger was not impressed! Travelling through the basin we were challenged with a tight squeeze under a brick bridge and into the next lock. We'd no idea they'd be so narrow. It came as a shock after the wide rivers and canals of the past few months. In additio, the lock gate wouldn't open fully and being unprepared, Vicky had left a fender down. Rainboat got wedged in the entrance. A hard reverse broke the fender rope and released us, before we entered again at speed, using the momentum to ram the lock gate back. It didn't help that while all this was going on there was a CRT lockie standing nearby having a casual natter and not lifting a finger to help. Vicky was not in the best of moods.

We filled with water and emptied bins at the services opposite McDonald's. In a very short distance we'd left the highly polished jewel of central Stratford. There was litter on the ground, grafitti tags on the walls and a bit of a whiff coming off the silt grey water. It felt claustrophobic.

We decided to travel on in the hope of a more relaxing place to stay. One good thing about the canals is that you can moor pretty much anywhere. After another four locks we were feeling pretty despondent. Tall vegetation on the bank had blocked us getting into the side, then the towpath had collapsed, also preventing mooring.

Towards the end of the closed towpath, we eventually managed to find a good spot, next to the offices of Co-op Financial services. Being a bank holiday weekend it was quiet and not many people came past because of the poor state of the path. According to dog walkers there was even an otter in the area!

It was close enough to shops for Will to cycle in and get provisions, including a new bathroom tap from Screwfix, as ours had sprung a leak. We were grateful to be able to spend nearly a week here, acclimatising to canal life, catching up on boat jobs and harvesting seeds from our rooftop flowers.

Will had taken to chaining the bike up in the bike shelter of the Co-op, as it was easier than folding it up and stowing it away on the boat after each use. On the day we were due to leave he went to fetch it, only to find it had been stolen 😭 We knew there was very little chance of getting it back but we reported it to the police anyway and stayed around another day just in case they needed to visit. They gave us a callback in the end to take more details and give advice about keeping our other bike safe. They were very good and friendly. Never mind. These things happen.Baca lagi