My trip to, and through Foxton Locks.

My preparations for the trip on Friday started well, arriving at Thurmaston just before 2pm. Alan had some shopping to do for provisions and petrol for the trip. He also did some entertaining shopping related to his work. We then went to the chandlery to get the required license, and some bolts for the rudder, plus a few other bits and pieces, including a spare lock key (windlass). Back at the marina we bolted the rudder together, then Alan took Fuzzy to the slipway, where we soon had it attached. It could do with the front strap shortening, as I deliberately made it with some to spare, to go around the leg. It also requires another bolt, just for safety, but time was against us already.

Back at his house, Nikki greeted Barney and myself with her usual warmth and enthusiasm, and we enjoyed the generous hospitality provided at the Thurmaston residence. Barney is now getting so excited when we approach it is almost a problem, and something I must deal with.

The next morning we woke at 5am??? (I don't usually have any numbers on my clock before 9.00 LOL) but clearing and readying the boat still saw a post 9am departure. It was immediately apparent the rudder was a huge success, something I admit to being very pleased with. It's not always things turn out so well.

We quickly arrived at the first lock, and with Alan the designated lock keeper for the day (I can't/MUST NOT do locks) we got through ok, although were emptying it with a top paddle raised for a short while. Hmmm ....... 26 to go, MUST DO BETTER. Alan drove through Leicester, and I enjoyed the sights, taking over to drive Fuzzy into the locks. After a few we got into our stride, but I wished I had been fit, as I enjoy doing locks. Passing through Leicester, there are a few unguarded weirs, which can be a bit un-nerving. All it takes is for the engine to stop, run out of fuel etc. and you quickly need to be dropping anchor, which of course is on the front, and requires climbing along the outside of the cabin.

Although waterside fronts in towns can be interesting, showing parts only seen from waterways, I find one factory brick wall looks very like another. I'm not a townie, probably because I lived for the first half of my life in the countryside. Every tree, flower and shrub is unique. This said, I still enjoyed the sights of the trip through Leicester, and it's suberbs. The lingering mist had almost cleared by the time we arrived in the rolling Leicestershire countryside, allowing me to see what it is like to see over the banks, unlike the Witham. We were now making very good progress, with poor Alan getting lots of (much needed) exercise. I have a stopwatch on my phone, and we started timing ourselves, just to add to the adventure. We found we were locking through in an average of 7 minutes. Not a disgraceful time, especially going uphill, although not using the fastest procedure.

Unless gates are cracked, open a paddle then a gate. Close the paddle/s as the boat enters, closing the gate behind. Quickly walk to the top paddles, opening them all. The person on the boat should have secured it by now. Holding a centre rope onto the rung of the ladder above the waterline is the best method for relatively small boats. As soon as the lock is full open the gate. This is usually determined by rocking the gate wben the lock appears to be full. Open the gate, closing the paddle as the boat passes through, NOT BEFORE opening the gate for the boat. Close the gate behind the boat then jump aboard.

There is another way, although frowned on by BW. When going uphill, put the bow of the boat in the crack of the gate. If the lock is empty, these should be pushed open. If not climbing off to open the paddles is required. The boat left in forward, ticking over will then enter the lock when the water is level. Close the paddles, then go to the top gates and open the paddles. The gates are not fully open, so close with the water flow. The boat will again stop in the centre of the top gates, even if no one is at the helm. As soon as the gates crack open, close the paddles and jump on as the boat passes through the gate. Hard acceleraton should close the gates, unless they are very stiff. A NB is usually better for this procedure than small cruisers, but it can still be done. I'll say again, this is definately the NON PC way, and should never be attempted.

We were now making very good progress; locks all in our favour, sun almost shining, calm weather and Fuzzy running well.......it couldn't last. The locks started coming thick and fast, and after passing through one we had found set against us, I got off, quickly grabbing the rope in my haste. We had a centre rope; essential on all boats, however we were storing this on the cabin top, through the new windows, yet to contain any glass (Perspex). We were also keeping the lock keys (windlasses) on here as well, with the window frame holding them from falling off the sloping roof and into the cut. As I pulled the rope, the end got tangled around the windlass, and pulled it off the boat. Before I could catch it; splash. Muttered oaths, and a shout to Alan, who came to see what the fuss was about. Murky water and no magnet meant it had to stop there; never mind, as least if was not the new one he had just bought. Seems our luck had run out, at least for the time being.

The last few locks had the paddles handcuffed; to prevent the yobs opening them and draining the canal. To the uninitiated (including me up to now) this means each paddle is locked up, and requires opening with a BW key. Fiddly and time consuming, with 6 paddles per lock. However despite this misfortune we set off, a bit disconsolently all the same. Approaching the next lock we found Alan had left the BW key in the last lock (mine as it turned out, along with the float key ring). I had distracted him when I dropped the windlass; anyway it was too late to go back. A couple of locks later and the paddles weren't locked anyway, and we still had 2 with us. Of course the locks now started to be set against us, however strangely they often alternated, but no boats were to be seen. Must have been the towpath walkers.

Despite the setback, and stopping for a coffee earlier in the old lock keepers cottage, we got to Kilby Bridge in good time, enough for a pit stop (pub stop). Refreshed we set off again with renewed vigour, and we needed it. The frequent locks almost became a staircase, with 3 sets almost in sight of each other. Several were so close we could walk to the next one readying it for locking through. It was while at one of these the engine stopped. I called Alan (it was his boat) who found it had run out of petrol. While we were refilling the tank, we saw the lock gate had been shut; must be a boat from the other direction. They could have asked if we were locking through though. Leaving Alan to put the tank back on Fuzzy, I went up to investigate, only to find a chap on a pushbike with his son putting our new lock key on the gate.

He had found the key on the top gate paddle where Alan had left it, and had decided to show his young son how a lock worked; brilliant. Not only were we running out of daylight, we now had to do the locks twice. I re-drained the lock, recruiting the man as a slave to open the gate. Well if he wanted to be a lock keeper, who am I to complain (grin) I'm actually pretty good now at recruiting slaves for this job by the way.

We penned up, waving goodbye to the chap, leaving him to close the gate, and plodded on through the gathering darkness, with an even greater sense of urgency. Still finding full and empty locks with no sign of anyone, we arrived at the final set of 3. I walked ahead to open the middle one, as Alan was understandably flagging, and I hoped I've regained some fitness. Last Monday, I overdid it again playing with Barney, and on Tuesday, had even thought of phoning to say I may have to cancel, however a few days of rest seems to have worked.

Now I'm used to boating in the dark, and also lock-keeping, being as my boat is moored at a lock, and I spend a lot of my time doing just this. Actually I spend the time talking to the people locking through, but I'm well used to walking safely around locks, and dykes and rivers in the dark, without falling in, or tripping over. I was however inexperienced with canal locks, and all my countryside training of walking around at night (there are no street-lamps in the countryside) was no help to stop me falling into the mantrap. Actually it was the spill weir; a small brick lined open channel taking excess water around the lock. The mist or cloud had obscured the moonlight, and as I walked back through the longish wet grass, I decided to walk on what appeared to be a path. Stepping onto it, the ground opened up, and I fell sideways, getting an almighty crack on the head. Wondering where I was I scrambled out, but this was a serious blow. I limped back to the boat, and we carried on, but my situation deteriorated. Luckily it was almost the last lock, and we carried on through Saddington tunnel, illuminated by Alan's terrific head held lamp, and a powerful hand torch. But soon my nausea overcame me and I had to clear the bunk and, much to my disgust lie down.

I managed to get up, and help Alan to moor when we arrived, after deciding on a vacant place. He quickly went to the pub in search of a meal, while I lay down on the boat, feeling pretty wretched to be honest. The man with the 7-pound hammer in my head had changed it for a 12 pounder, plus to add to my woes my knee was hurting again. I had pulled my carteledge a few weeks ago, and it had almost healed; now I'd injured it again, and it was very painful, and far worse than before. I seriously thought I might have to abandon the weekend, as I drifted in and out of sleep.

After a restless night, I got up the next day feeling a bit sorry for myself, and cursing myself for my own stupidity. I feel life is a little unfair sometimes, as I had the hangover, despite not being the one to go to the pub. I limped off to take Barney for a walk; however, my head cleared a little and, although still there was bearable. The early morning walk in the lovely countryside soon lifted my spirits and, helped by paracetamol, my head had almost cleared, and the pain in the knee subsided to make walking possible. On my return Alan agreed with my suggestion to go up Foxton, take a cruise and return to meet Nikki, who was to join us later. She had been feeling tired, and needed to rest before boating.

Alan had a look around, including a visit to the chandlery. He came back with a new BW key, and a float keyring, which he gave me. I was touched, and helped enormously to further raise my spirits. He took Fuzzy to the bottom of the flight, while I spoke to the lock keeper. All was clear, and we were given the goahead, so I readied the first lock (if only all locks were as easy as these were, I could operate them without any problems). Again Alan agreed my suggestion, he would do the first three; I would then take the boat through he middle five with Alan doing the last 2. He entered the staircase, and we started penning up. What a joy it was for me to operate these locks. Other than one or two of the paddles being a bit stiff, the small gates could be opened with one finger, literally. In the third lock we swapped places, which meant I had to cross the centre pound. We had to wait to allow a coffin (narrowboat) coming down, but no problems. There was no steering required going from lock to lock, but an occasion nudge was felt, when the front of the boat touched the frame of the lock gate.

Click to see the photos...

We swapped again, and after penning up, had a delightful short cruise in the thinning mist. Glorious weather for mid-summer let alone October. Even the fishermen at the fishing match were friendly, although I was told by one to keep to the middle. I nearly died of shock, as if you don't go around them, almost in the mud on the opposite bank, you usually get abuse and even stoned around here.

We refueled again, with Alan changing the fuel connector to the larger tank he carries; a remnant from the thirsty 2 stroke that came with Fuzzy. Back at Foxton we moored at the top, retiring to the pub for a refresher. As time was progressing we had to start penning down, due to the last locking started at around 5.10pm. Alan did the first 2 again, following a short NB (narrowboat) into the lock. Talking to the owner, I discovered this was owned by someone from Alan's locality, and who took disabled people boating. Little did I know he was letting his friends drive through the locks, I might not have been so keen to join them. I organized the woman from his boat with the windlass, only to find I'd sent her to the wrong paddle. Soon put to rights by the lock-keeper, I blamed it on the beer I'd had, however his friendly 'pat' on the head while correcting me didn't go down too well, given my experience the previous day. In all seriousness, I had been lucky not to sustain serious injury. It was a shallow gully, almost dry, and I had fallen in almost flat, without hitting my head on the side, and splitting it open, nor breaking any bones.

Easy to see how I mistook it for a footpath in the dark

We quickly penned down, and I took over from Alan. I followed the coffin through the pound; not knowing an inexperienced hand was on the tiller. He lost the front, missing the gate by a mile. The bow hit the side, richocheying off to bang into the opposite one. The NB came to dead stop with a resounding crash that would have put any self-respecting F1 Stock Car to shame, and nearly took the side out of the staircase as well. I quickly reversed to a standstill, being a safe distance behind, however the wash from the NB wafted the front of Fuzzy sideways. When the coffin had finally crashed and banged his way into the lock, I tried to follow, but ended up making an even bigger ballsup than he did. At this point I wished I'd been on a Norman, or at least Dawncraft had fitted keels (sorry lads LOL) However, years of dog training in public have dispelled any self consciousness I may have once had, and I eventually made it. No doubt the hundreds of spectators enjoyed the show anyway, especially as there are hardly any cruisers to be seen. The other locks flashed by, and we swapped again. Before you knew it we were at the bottom. Definitely an experience of a lifetime, and one not to be missed. Thanks Alan.

Nikki had arrived, but was still tired. We moored outside the pub, and had a drink in the pleasant afternoon. Nikki elected to go back home with his friend, leaving us to the boating. In the evening we returned to the pub for a meal. Alan was knackered and went back to the boat to sleep, leaving me eavesdropping on a couple with nothing better to talk about than their friends relationships. After they departed I had another pint (it was only my third of the day) in the now empty pub, watching some saddoes electing to sit outside in the cold, under heaters with a blanket (provided by the pub for this purpose). I stayed until around 10.00 then went back to the boat myself. I was quickly asleep, but awoke after 4 or 5 hours. I don't sleep for too long anyway now. I dozed until 4.30 and Alan woke up, so we decided to get going. We set off around 5am, but soon ran into fog. Now boating on a familiar river (or canal) in the dark or fog is ok, as long as you are careful, however in strange waters, not knowing what obstruction you are about to encounter is exciting to say the least. Alan drove, well crawled along. After all it is his boat, and he is responsible for it. Also I respect other peoples property better than my own (something else that differs me from most people).

As I was feeling ok, in fact, other than a slight limp, I was feeling very well, partly due to the adrenaline I suspect. I was enjoying the trip, despite not seeing any sights, as I had been lying in the cabin coming, and had said I could see them on the way home. After about an hour and a half I had to stop to toilet; the upset to my daily routine was having an effect, but no problems. This gave the daylight a chance to appear, and shortly after we were underway again, the tunnel appeared through the mist. This was an enjoyable experience, and we even had time for Alan to stop and take some photos. Daylight, or what passed for it was fully upon us when we exited, and fairly soon the first lock was in sight. Feeling fit, I offered to do the work, much I suspect to Alan's relief. I managed to do 5 or 6 before feeling any effects, and all in all I think I did around 12 of the 27 we had to do. We trundled on, stopping for the refreshing pint again at Kilby. Great pub, as you can take your dog in. This is very very important to me.

From Kilby to Thurmaston we had a steady and uneventful, yet enjoyable journey, taking turns at driving and locking. We still arriving in front of the 12 hour average, given we were stopped at Kilby for well over an hour. Alan had a refreshing shower, as well as our time in the pub.

We unloaded Fuzzy, swapping back the stuff we had to store in the car and went back to his house. So after a cuppa and sandwich with Alan and Nikki, I arrived home safely from the 58 mile drive, ending a sixteen and a half our day; not bad for a worn out old 'un. Tired but still fairly fit. Lucky to have had good weather with no wind, or rain, and after a physical day, pretty damn good. It certainly makes for a fitting end to a boating year that has seen me now cover about 900 miles. Bardney to Boston is around 4 hours, and I have done it in 3 3/4 with a bit of a flow and following wind. Thurmaston to Foxton is a couple of miles shorter yet 12 hours remains the norm. Just as there is a world of difference between driving along the side of the Kyme, and boating on it, so is the difference between walking up Foxton locks, and going up on a boat. Not an experience to be missed.

You may like to have a read of my boating adventures, and misadventures.

My Boating

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