Friday 31 August 2007

The rest...

Yes – I know.. but this time I have the excuse of very little reception – and also struggling to overcome the floods. So things have been a little busy, and the last thing on my mind was writing a blog! When I left – we were having a beautiful evening by the reservoirs – and the following morning I got up and moved the boat to Alvechurch Marina. It was a lovely morning – and I think it is about the best time of day to boat – at least when the sun is out…

The show at Alvechurch was a great success. I had been a little bit worried, because with a venue that we haven’t done for years, there is always a risk that the audience turnout won’t be that great – it takes a while for things to register with people, and it often takes a couple of years to build up an audience. But I needn’t have bothered, because the landlord had obviously been doing his stuff – the audience was so good that we ran out of chairs! Once we had emptied the boat of all our sitting implements, we just had to get people to improvise. And the evening was great fun. The guys from the mooring that we had stayed on the night before even turned up, which was a nice surprise. Unfortunately, the landlord is moving on next year – so we will have to try and persuade whoever takes over that we are a good idea, if we are to carry on going there. Which I hope we will…

The only problem was that we discovered a lot of water in the front bilges. It is always slightly damp – but ever since Tardebigge, there has been more than I would have expected. And 3 of our lights decided to blow. Which is really unheard of.

And then we went on to Worcester. And avoided getting stuck in the lock that seems to catch us most years – I wonder if we have finally managed to remove enough bits of brickwork to let us get through properly…

The Commandery has been closed for the last few years – so it was a new venue to me. Because the weather had been threatening, they had arranged that we would perform in the Great Hall, which was a proper Tudor hall, complete with minstrel’s gallery. It wa a stunning venue. Unfortunately, it had suffered from the loss of awareness caused by a prolonged absence, and despite a few die hard Mikronites arriving an hour and a half before the show in order to get good seats, the turnout was not very encouraging. The show went well, though, and I think that those that were there appreciated it, and the setting. Let’s hope that next year we can get a few more people in…

And there was more water in the bows. In fact, there was so much that I needed to have a look at it while it was still light – and it was just as well I did, because, once all the set had been removed, I found a quite considerable leak. Which is never a good thing to find. So out it was with the greasy rags, and a make shift arrangement of stage weights and sticks to try and keep some pressure applied. It seemed to stem the flow a little, at least.

The next morning, we were due to set off to Tewkesbury. But, of course, the show had had to be cancelled due to the venue having been swept away. Which is about as conclusive a reason as you can get. The next show had had to be cancelled too, and I had also been told at the lock office that the Severn would not be open for at least a week, as there was so much debris floating about that they were sending boats down to clear it before anyone was allowed on. So the others all went off to have an extra four days holiday, while I hung around to pump the bows out morning and night. I didn’t fancy leaving Tyseley by the Commandery, as it is rather exposed, so I claimed safe haven from BW Marinas, and was allowed to moor in Diglis Basin, which is much safer. Of course, the next morning, the lock keeper turned up, not having been told that I was allowed to be there – but it is just as well that he did, as he informed me that the river was open. And had been for a day or so. Communication is a great thing.

Anyway – the the prospect of getting back on track with the rest of the boating was good enough to swing the Mikron gears into motion, in order to try and get some crew to move Tyseley to Pershore for the return of the rest of the cast.

By the next morning, I had managed to coral my friend Ian, who has a boat, and I hadn’t seen for ages, and also Steve and Mandy – of washing fame, if you remember – so that we could do the move in 2 days. Easy, short days. In theory.

But as these things are wont to turn out, nothing was going to be as easy at it seemed. The first problem was that Ian was delayed in getting here by an unexpected call at work. So what had been an 11 o’clock start turned into a 6pm one. And what was going to be a leisurely potter up the Severn to Tewkesbury turned into a race against sunset. Which was made more entertaining by the knowledge that we had had to sign a disclaimer before setting out saying that if we hit any debris, it was our own stupid fault, as we had jolly well been warned. Evidently, the boat had not been down to clear it yet. As the sun got lower in the sky, we started to try and work out our groundspeed in order to see whether we would make it to Avon lock in time. The trouble is that there are not a lot of places to moor on the Severn, and once you have gone past one, you are really committed to at least 6 miles of further boating before you are likely to find another place to hole up. Having calculated that were probably making about 9 mph ground speed, we decided to risk it. And we made it, just. Although we obviously missed the lock hours by a long way, and stopped off beneath the lock to wait for the morning to go up and onto the Avon proper.

Tewkesbury was not as devastated as I had expected it to be – most places seemed to be reopening, and we found a restaurant and a pub that were open for business without any difficulty. Which was a pleasant surprise.

The next morning, with Ian gone, and Steve and Mandy on their way, I went off to the chandlery to by some stuff to fix the leak, which seemed to be getting worse. The rag was holding I back – but not very convincingly.

This time, though, we managed to set off in plenty of time – so we were expecting to arrive in Pershore for lunchtime. How naïve. We had been warned that Pershore lock was a bit silted, but that it was being dredged that day – so the plan was to get there, and, if it was not quite ready, just wait until it was. Afterall, we were in no hurry.

The first entertainment of the day came Around Strensham lock. Everything was going fine. Steve was on the back – he has years of experience, mostly on rivers. It all started when I decided to remove some debris from the lock gates which was threatening to catch in the gear. So Steve hovered in the lock mouth to wait for me. Which was a mistake, as he was hovering close to the grumpiest man in the world, who didn’t like “dirty coal barges” on his river. You see, he was 80 next week and had been on the river for 32 years. So I guess it was only right that he owned it. The stream of abuse was unbelieveable. He even had an oar, and was threatening physical abuse if we came any closer to his boat. I think it flapped Steve a bit, who, rather than sit tight, in the perfectly sensible place that he had positioned himself, decided to get away from the old git, and then come back for me. Unfortunately, that was the moment that the wind started to gust across the stream, blowing him towards some other moored boats. I decided that the best thing to do was to act as a smokescreen to give Steve a chance to extricate himself from the bank, and engaged the bloke in the argument that he obviously wanted. I was very polite indeed. And it was all I could do to keep from laughing. Here was a guy that was giving us abuse for being a metal boat that should never be on a river, and what was he on? A metal SHIP’s lifeboat. I asked him whether his boat had been designed for use on the river or at sea – and he was quiet for a bit. But not for long. Anyway – it distracted him for long enough that Steve could get back his composure – and off we set again.

Anyway – after negotiating the weirs and tight bends at Nafford lock – we were relieved to find ourselves approaching Pershore. And in pretty good time, too. But on arrival – it was apparent that the lock had not been dredged. On emptying it, there was a large island visible in the lock. Probably enough room there to get a shorter boat in – but Tyseley? No chance. What then became apparent was that there was also no way off the lock island itself. A weir stream on both sides – and no way across. Simple. Wind the boat round, and head off back to Pershore bridges, where there is a nice mooring that is not far from the town. Except that there is also nowhere to wind a 72ft boat. We tried. For hours. Part of the problem was that the stream was still running fast – so once you got anywhere near the river itself, there was no way that you could just turn. The only solution – and we had to find one, because a phonecall revealed that the lock was not going to be dreged for a while, and Steve and Mandy had to get back at some point, and I had to do a show the next day… - was to reverse down the stream towards the bridges, and try and wind in the entrance to the lower weir stream. If that failed, we were going to have fun being swept towards the narrow arches of the two Pershore bridges. Which are on a bend, just to make things even more interesting. Well, to cut the beginning of a long story short, we did manage to wind round – and it must be the fastest turn I have ever made in a boat – I managed to get the stern in the calmer water by the entrance to the weir stream – and the current did the rest!

And so we are now staying at Pershore Bridges picnic site, from where we are taking to van to the village halls that we are performing at for the next week or so.

Pershore is quite a nice place. But there is not a lot to do. However, the leisure centre provides a respite from the tedium of coffee shops. Except that, unfortunately, it had been flooded – and so the swimming pool that I swum the channel in last summer was closed. Ruth and Adrian ran – but I can’t bear it (I am not fit enough, probably…) so I just spent a lot of time wandering around the woods where we were moored. There is a horticultural college, or something similar, just up the road – and the woods are full of exotic trees, so it makes for interesting wandering. The college also played host to the Pershore Jazz festival, which Adrian and I investigated. It was a very strange experience – sitting around not drinking because we had a show to do in the evening – and feeling terribly out of place because, if it was not for me, Adrian would have been the youngest person there by about 20 years. Still – it was a fine way to spend a few hours, sitting in the sun with a glass of lemonade, and listening to the strains of Trad Jazz drifting out from the bar.

There didn’t seem to be much point in moving the boat up Pershore lock – without the lure of the swimming pool, and with the prospect of a flooded car park, it seemed better to stay on the mooring below the lock – which was much prettier than the park. It did make the morning toilet trip a bit more of an effort – but that was a small price to pay for the scenery.

You see – the toilet becomes an important issue for the section of tour around the Wychavon district. There is no elsan disposal in Pershore – and the next point that is marked on the map is no longer existent. So the only way to empty the Dubbya – and fill the water tank – is to take a trip back down Nafford lock. Now, this might not seem such a problem – after all it is not far, and the prospect of moving the boat is actually a real relief, as it alleviates the cabin fever that inevitably sets in after a few days of sitting still.

The problem is that Tyseley is rather too long to fit down the locks – so we have to go down them backwards. Which adds a certain amount of interest, and time, to the journey. Well – I enjoyed it, anyway! And the bemused looks from the other boaters – who were, after they had seen the amount of space left in the lock once we were in, fairly happy to have been warned off coming in with us. But with the build up of waiting traffic, winding back round was a bit of an obstacle course – but one that we negotiated with style, I like to think; performing something of a boat ballet. Even if some of the pirouettes were not necessarily intended.

And the destination? Possibly the smelliest Elsan disposal in the world. You can smell it for about a mile before you get to it, if the wind is in the right (or wrong) direction: it is situated by the sewage farm. But I believe the water from the water point is safe. At least, we are still alive…

This year, we should have had the prospect of another boat move – because we were planning to take Tyseley up to Cleeve Prior village wharf, where we intended to moor up, and perform in front of the boat. We had done it by van the year before, and it would have been an excellent venue to bring the boat to, but unfortunately we were unable to because we had to get to Apperley the next day.

However – it proved impossible yet again, because the field had been… yes… flooded, and was more of a marsh. So we had to play in the village hall, and travel by van. Next year…

So we were all looking forward to the prospect of a move when it came time to finally leave Pershore. And we were primed to reverse through the locks. But the night before we were due to move off…

It rained.

When we got back to the boat after our performance, we noticed that the level was getting higher. And when I got up the next morning – it was about a foot and a half up. You could tell, because the landing was under water. And the flow through Pershore bridges was frightening. Fortunately, we were the right side of them – but we still had to negotiate winding round at the locks – both above and below the weirs, the Swan’s Neck, and another narrow bridge, which is notorious in a strong current. I had been advised that if it was really strong that it was best to reverse through…

The journey to Tewksbury was fun. And I was glad of the beer that we had on the Tjalk – the trip boat that operates from there, and where the van had been taken so we could load up without having to trek everything across a field. I didn’t reverse through the bridge – but I understand why it would be a good idea, certainly in anything stronger than the current we had. I was glad that Adrian had put the short pipe on instead of the tall river pipe! At the speed we went through, if we had had anything left at all, it would have been 2 shorts!

Once we were back on the Severn, things were much calmer. Actually, they were calmer As soon as we had dropped down the last lock, the Avon is much wider there, and the extra water is much more easily absorbed. But even the Severn was high. And when we got to the Coal House at Apperley, I wondered why I could see the mooring. The reason was that it was under water – but at least I remembered where it had been – so we managed to find it, and tie up. But the get in looked as if it was going to be a bit wet. Fortunately, by the time that we came to set up, the level had begun to drop fast, and the landing stage was above the water. It is amazing how fast the river changes.

The Coal House had been very badly flooded. The mark at the bar was shoulder height, and they are up a considerable slope. But they had managed to reopen, with a keg on the bar, and boxes of cider. The place looked amazing. If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t have believed the state it had been in – but everyone had chipped in to clean it up and redecorate, and the result was fantastic. The weather was still looking a bit ominous, though – but we had the solution, at last… a new shelter had arrived, to replace the ancient gazebo that we had been using. This thing not only looks smart, but sets up with 2 people in about a minute. At least it does once you have figured it out. It took us considerably longer that first time. In the end, though, the weather was fine – and we had a good crowd. The pub was happy too – the barman said that it was like a celebratory reopening for them, and the atmosphere was great. I had a very enjoyable evening, not influenced at all by the perry, of course.

We were supposed to be performing at the Haw Bridge Inn the following night, but they had been unable to reopen after the flooding, and were facing the prospect of being closed until Christmas. So we decided to move up to the Camp House Inn at Grimley, which is one of my favourite pubs (something I think I share with Mike) a day early. This is not good for the liver, but it is good for the soul! I promised myself that I would not succumb to the Grimley Gorilla – and I managed for the first night. But the aftermath of the appalling weather that hit us on the day of our show meant that I was feeling a lot less resolute on the second night, and as we came to leave the next morning, I remembered why it was that I MUST avoid it next year…

Our next 2 shows were in Wightwick, which was too far for us to manage in a day from Grimley, so we met the van in Kidderminster, after a very slow day of boating back on the canals. It is a bit of a shock to the system to come off the Severn, through the basins at Stourport and onto the Staffs and Worcs, which is very shallow, and quite windy. All of a sudden, the boating gets back to normal, and you remember just how fast river boating is. Oh – and you have to work the locks again.

I do like both, though – and the locking was welcome, at least from my point of view!

The Fieldhouse is a new venue to us – although not a new landlord. He had had the Queen’s Head in Eynsham, but moved up the cut. The weather, again, was awful. But we had a good turnout, considering. Next year – I hope we will be able to bring the boat closer, although it will still involve a treck because, like the Queen’s Head, the pub is not actually on the canal. But we have been promised help with the transport, if we can’t get the van there easily. I personally feel that this is the way forward. I have no objection to performing in venues that are not immediately accessible to the water – but if we can get a lift from that end, rather than playing tag with the van, it makes the whole thing much more doable – and still feels like fun!

And so we came to the last of our days of proper boating: from Kidderminster to High Offley, and the Anchor. And what a great trip to end on – especially as the weather had decided to take a turn for the better. About time, too. We carried on through the wiggles and shallows as we left the vast shopping quarter of Kidderminster, and made our way, past the sight of the fallen tree incident of two years ago, to Wombourne where we stopped for the night. And then set off the next morning in glorious weather. There are all sorts of interesting bits, with the Bratch locks being one of my favourites, and then once you are onto the Shroppie, the boating gets easier, and you can really start to appreciate the countryside. We made very good time the second day, and the weather was so nice that we carried on into the evening, through Brewood, and stopped off near just before Wheaton Aston, and had dinner before walking to the pub in the sunset.

The last day saw another fine morning of boating up to the Anchor, where we were met by old friends from last year, when we had had a fine evening that turned into another fine morning after everyone came back to the boat…

And the weather was still wonderful – so much so that we didn’t bother putting up the shelter, for the first time since it arrived. And what an evening. People just didn’t stop coming – in the end there were almost 300, which was great to see. It was almost the first time that we had seen the sort of audiences that I remembered from last year, and the night was a complete success, with music afterwards in the bar, and then whisky once we had been kicked out of there! I was incredibly relieved that we had at least experienced one of the evenings that keep me wanting to do this job!

And it wasn’t the last – the next day, we went back to Norbury, to the Junction Inn, and we had an audience approaching 200, again, more than we are used to there, and another fine show.

The next morning I wandered up to George, a large Woolwich, having been invited by Tim, who knows Mikron of old, to play with the Bollinder engine. The whole alchemy of starting the thing has to be seen to be believed. I love the magic of it – but I’m not sure I’d want to have to go through it every day on Tyseley!

But that was it – really. Because we had a 45 minute trip to Gnosall, where the boating ended. And, although the Coton Mill is a fantastic venue, and the welcome we get from the Witts is incredible, with dinner, and washing, thrown in – I couldn’t help but wish that we weren’t actually ever going to arrive – because that was where we are leaving the boat before she is taken back to Leigh for the winter, and her paint job.

But it was worth it, again – because we had another great evening, with a bigger audience than I think has ever been seen there, and fine weather yet again. If only it could have been like that all summer, as it was last year…

Although it was the end of the boating, it was not the end of the summer tour. We still had 2 shows to do – by van. The first one was at the Clock Warehouse in Shardlow, which is a very impressive building. And one that I wish we could get Tyseley to. When we arrived there, it was obvious that a lot of people had been there all day, soaking up the sun – and the contents of the bar while they were at it, judging by the state of some of them. As the evening drew on, they became louder and louder, and it culminated in a drunken lob of a football into the crowd that had gathered to see us, narrowly missing any audience members, but causeing a deal of concern. It looked as if things might turn a bit ugly – but, fortunately, the family concerned had obviously had enough, and disappeared just before we started. But the thing that will stick in the mind about this show will be – the cold. It was freezing. It had been a clear sky all day, and the night fell with no cloud cover above us. Of course, we had a beautiful sunset across the fields looking over to the raised canal, but the temperature dropped suddenly, and didn’t really seem to stop. It is hard playing instruments when you can’t feel your fingers!

And our last show was not particularly warm, either – at the amphitheatre in Stone, which, again, is canal side, and somewhere where the boat seems to be missing… But it is a cracking venue for us, and one that I hope we will do again next year – we are already going back in the Autumn, but given the temperature this time, I wonder if we oughtn’t invest in some thermals! The show over, and the raffle drawn, I was dropped back to Tyseley to spend a night there on my own, tidying up what mess was left and getting her ready for the Tupplings to take to Leigh. She is a different boat, without the rest of the company, and unladen by the set. I suspect that the hole might even be above the waterline, almost!