Day Two Sunday July 21st Our lines left the mooring posts, or bollards, at 9:00 the next morning. Our boats chugged slowly into the winding hole (turning basin). We had two 90-degree turns to make, one right after the other. The boats were too long to make the turn in one approach. Each of the vessels edged forward until it nearly touched the canal bank. Then the engines reversed and craft backed away, giving the helmsman more room to go forward, turning as tightly as possible. A couple of cycles of this and the boats had made the turns. Then, almost immediately, we met our first lock. It was a small rise, but it served to demonstrate the needs and responsibilities of proper lock operation. As we stumbled through the steps, Tom assured us that we would become much better at it. After cruising for an hour in a general southwesterly direction, we approached bridge 15, at Ansty. I looked at the area just underneath the bridge and saw normal water end. The change was abrupt and surreal . Starting just under the bridge, the normally brown canal water was overlaid with a carpet of green. Two swans and a number of ducks were paddling about, making temporary trails through the green goop. We putted under the bridge and into the muck. The canal straightened as we rounded the next bend. The green scum overlaid the canal water as far as I could see, the next turn being tiny in the distance. Somebody on our boat leaned over the side with a stick and brought some of the stuff aboard. Duckweed. I remembered studying the little green plant in college. Fish and waterfowl eat it and it purifies the water. Stretching for long distances, it seemed to occur in patches throughout the trip. This first duckweed encounter extended for over 2 miles. |
Mary & Caroline "put their backs" into pushing on the balance beam that opens one
of the giant lock doors. |
The normal water surface of the canal ends and the duckweed begins at Ansty. Click here for larger photo |
Duckweed patches such as this may stretch for miles. Click here for larger photo |
Two swans and a number of duck paddle around in the duckweed Click here for larger photo |
Our goal that day was Newbold on Avon. A beautiful little town (aren't they
all?) on the Avon River. As we approached Newbold, we entered the Newbold
Tunnel, 250 yards long and built in the 1820s during the shortening of
the Oxford Canal. Tom was aboard the Weaver Valley and we followed him in. After we were inside, I started to sing.. Well
gee, I was in a great tunnel and I needed to make some noise, but I couldn't
get to the horn. We approached the end of the tunnel. I was still trying
to get out the last verse of Shallow Brown when I heard Tom's voice joining in
ahead of us. Distant shadows entered the tunnel on the walkway that ran
along our right. I began to hear other voices joining with ours. The
Weaver Valley ahead of us had pulled over to the bank after she had cleared the tunnel and her
crew had walked back in. They were all singing and the tunnel became filled with
music. We passed them on our right about as fast as would a wide-screen
motion picture camera. I no longer was certain of reality, for surely this
was a Hollywood movie. Table of contents Start of Journal Website Main Page Finish this day's Journal Back to the Previous Day |
