17th July 2010
Bournville to Lapworth. Birmingham & Worcester and Sratford canals.
Awake in the morning at the surprisingly early time of about 9 o'clockish. I think. My watch was a bit
blurred. C_ sallies forth for papers and pop (good man) whilst the rest of us ablute. Which S_ does
from a mainly horizontal position. Final get under way, at, oh I can't remember. Before lunch. C_ has
a go on the tiller and does the usual zig-zag as he gets used to the less than immediate response,
which he does surprisingly quickly. But not before we lose a rear fender. Ouch! Have an uneventful
trip from thereon up to Shirley Drawbridge where S_ enjoys himself stopping the traffic. Very nearly
re-modelling the rear of an impatient Jag with the descending barrier. Get a bit of inclemency
following Brandwood tunnel, forcing the good Kaptain to take recourse to a Silly hat.
This prompts much derision from the unruly crew, and something that sounded like a reference to an anchor
from the foredeck. I don't even have an anchor, what was he on about? Next stop is Hockley Heath and
into The Wharf for a spot of lunch and
a smidgin of hairy dog. Full of gentle stimulant, we now head for the Lapworth flight, with a couple
of warm up drawbridges to get our hands in. Get down the flight quite quickly, C_ taking the helm as
the Kaptain joins the crew on the lock-wheeling. The novelty has begun to wear off by lock 14, but I
avoid a mutiny by using the age old ruse of a distraction. "Oh look, a pub!". My bacon is saved, and
also my wallet, as apparently it's not my round. Result! Several beers later, we depart
The Boot and
continue down into Lapworth itself. A boat on the way up seems to be having difficulty negotiating
the pound ahead of us and insists on us leaving paddles up to assist their progress. This drains our
pound and they really should have invested in a set of wheels if this is how they intend to navigate.
C_ makes matters worse for them by answering an enquiry as to the nature of the pub we had just left
with, "Oh, it's full of w****** in porsches, that kind of thing..." only to discover he was talking
to one such a few sentences later. Well, he may have been lying about the porsche.
Never mind, The Cat sits fairly high in the water and we get into the lock with little difficulty
leaving them playing with their poles in our wake. The remaining 6 locks pass remarkably swiftly.
What shall we do with the rest of the evening?
"Oh look, a pub!". This time we savour the delights of The Navigation much to the relief of the more determinedly proletarian amongst our
number.
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|
|
|
This |
Total |
| Miles |
13.83 |
283.76 |
| Locks |
19 |
219 |
| |
| Height Gain | |
- |
| Height Loss | |
116'3" |
| Height | |
336'9" |
|
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