Just Bobbing Along….

Weekend in Atherstone

We were keen to get back out on the boat this weekend after the success of our last trip. Our opportunities are going to be limited as we head into winter, work and holidays will take up five weekends, the days are getting shorter and of course there is the weather. The forecast for this weekend indicated that there would be rain on Saturday afternoon but otherwise dry and cloudy. We provisioned the boat on Thursday afternoon ready for a quick getaway on Friday, unfortunately in our haste we left some food in the car! We left the marina by ten to four and cruised to Burton Hastings before mooring up about an hour later. Dusk fell soon after and by the time we had eaten dinner, it was completely dark. A game of dominoes and a dvd before retiring to bed at 10 o’clock finished the day.
We awoke around 7am and got dressed before having breakfast of bacon sandwiches and tea. The trip to Marston Junction took less than an hour but seemed quicker, probably because the route is already becoming familiar to us. Turning right at Marston is a lot easier than turning left, however a feature of today is the wind which meant a bumpy passage through the narrow exit from the Ashby canal. The canal passes through countryside before reaching Nuneaton, Sue has lived in this area all of her life but is surprised to discover a boatyard in the town centre. This surprise was nothing by comparison to the moment that we emerged from under the bridge next to the home of Nuneaton Borough football club ~ it had gone! All that remains is a building site, another bit of Sue’s past has been demolished, all that is left is the memory of the day her Dad took her to see a match there and all that she and her brother were interested in were “pop and crisps”. Before the urban landscape of Nuneaton gives way to countryside again, we see the strange volcano shaped spoil tip next to a granite quarry, a very deep quarry. There is hardly any traffic on the Coventry canal so other than the odd solitary fisherman we don’t see many people at all as we pass through Hartshill yard on the way to Atherstone. Eventually we reach the top lock at Atherstone where we turn around and take on water. We could have gone through the locks but with the short days and impending rain, it would only be doing it for the sake of it. Instead we tie up and head into town, doing a bit of shopping before making our way to “The Library” in the Red Lion on the main street. An enjoyable couple of hours with the papers and a bottle of wine is very much in keeping with the slow pace of life that canal cruising brings.
We return to the boat before the rain comes and while Sue prepared the evening meal, I set up the satellite dish so that we can watch television. The rain fell but we were snug inside with the tv and a well stoked fire, the clocks go back tonight but we’re so chilled out that we can’t be bothered, in our world the clocks will go back when we decide, which will probably be when we get back tomorrow.
Sunday
The weather forecasters have got it wrong and it looks like the rain will happen today, this isn’t a problem since we both have wet weather gear on board. A breakfast of bacon, egg, beans and toast along with the obligatory mug of tea is first on the agenda. The eggs came from 19gales, a farm shop in the middle of Atherstone, they are free range, the yolks are orange and they taste like eggs used to taste like! Soon after, we slip our mooring and start the return journey home to Hinckley. The sky looks heavy and sure enough it is not long before the rain starts, the wind is even stronger than it was yesterday so the steering is difficult as the boat acts like a large sail in the crosswind. The weather is no deterent because we are prepared with waterproof clothing, as Billy Connolly once said; “I hate all those weathermen who tell you that rain is bad weather. There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothing.”
There are lots of fishermen along the towpath today, I’m sure that they would describe themselves as being serious but they just seem miserable. Perhaps they are resentful of boaters interrupting their fishing but do they ever ask themselves where they would fish if British Waterways didn’t maintain the canal? I can’t imagine that the fishermen pay the same money to BW as the boaters do.
All too soon we reach Marston Junction again and the start of the home run. We stop at the place we moored at on Friday night for a spot of lunch, a couple of pasties from the farm shop and they are delicious as well as filling. After setting off again, our thoughts turn to how we are going to get back into the marina on such a windy day. In the event, we make it relatively easy, mainly due to Sue’s expert efforts with the barge pole. I can see her working a Gondola in Venice in the near future.
Back home for two o’clock and we can then join the rest of the country in turning our clocks back to GMT

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