The Throbbing Middle of Nowhere, Still

Having enjoyed two or three of the weeks of faux-Spring/Summer we’re now back to faux-Autumn/Winter, with uber-changeable weather: warm; cold; windy; cloudy; clear; bright; as dull as ditchwater. The wind today has sprung a 180° change this morning, there’s what is oft known as a “silver sun” set among the complete mix of cloud varieties, but it’s relatively warm – not warm enough to let Mr Stove go out, but warm enough to make it problematic persuading him to stay in. Moan moan moan, it’s all I ever do. 😉 There are …enthusiastic (40mph+) breezes forecast for overnight and tomorrow, and we’re on lubberly mooring rings here, so here we’ll stay for a few more cycles.

Not so much of a problem moving while dodging gusts, especially for those wi’crew, but I don’t do it because I know full well that that single 43mph freak gust would occur just as I loosed the last rope and/or stepped off to re-moor. I’ve flown the Cardinal like a kite on many occasions, and it’s undignified. I was born a man, not an anchor.

The lead phomatograph shows my current view from the seaward side. Not a great distance to the horizon (my preference is for the farthest horizon that may be arranged, but hey ho we take what we can get), and what there is is green and pleasant (also my preference). The weather was weathering as much as suggested by those rainy down-strokes in the cloud.

It may look as though we’re perilously close to a bend, but tis not so; we’ve had two boats moored at our bow here before now. Besides, “peril” on the canals these days is measured not so much by map reference as by the sobriety of the person at the tiller of the [insert large corporate name] hire boat. Suffice it to say that we had two coats of blacking applied in December last, had it been three coats then there would have been a collision yesterday.

Tis April now, probably also so where you may be, so the Canal Company Ltd.’s unilateral imposition via License-Terms-&-Conditions-NOT-law of restrictions on most of the best moorings come back into play (48 hours versus the actual, legal, 1995 Waterways Act, fourteen days). The Cardinal and I shall have to pick and choose more carefully until Winter once more frees us from commercially-driven, “monetising” diktat.

We need services again early next week. Our choices are cruise ahead to the next winding hole, turn, go back ten miles from whence we came, service and then depart once more (since we cannot return to moor in that area for a while); cruise on down the Trent & Mersey ten miles to some services there (boring, boring moorings, twelve locks there and, should I have the temerity to volte face and return, twelve locks back…); or oik back towards civilisation and the services available on the Middlewich Branch and beyond.

I think I’ll oik back towards civilisation.

Oiking back towards civilisation is ten miles and seven locks, but it gives me more options once thereabouts in the matter of cruising onwards rather than around and about. Besides, I have things to be and people to do, as the old saying goes.

Despite the recent monsoons rains the towpath is relatively walkable, there being only a few mud-wallows. This is far enough out of (the nearest) town for there to be few walkers, those that there be being “serious” “hikers” and those “jogging” for their “health” – or other boaters.

The scarcely-tied-up unmarked boat behind us moved yesterday, praise be (since the canal rozzers have been sniffing around). The gennelmun at the helm seemed unconcerned with his various dangling and trailing ropes and miscellaneous fenders.

As far as I am aware there is no gossip and precious little (local) scandal. I haven’t spent much time digging out what passes for “the news” of late, it doesn’t seem to be a worthwhile activity.

Much better to simply drink in the countryside while one may.

Gulp.

Chin-chin, chaps.

p.s., my image storage remainsa at pre-hiccough levels, so fingers crossed that it stays that way.

Ian H.