With our first canal trip in October 1972 - this was our Anniversary year and we planned to circumnavigated the Cheshire Ring to celebrate it, unfortunately due to engineering works this wasn't possible - so read on .....
Saturday.
We all descend on Middlewich from different directions. The cars from Kent and London manage to arrive at almost exactly the same time. We meet up at the Narrowboat for beer and lunch - JOC preferred the solid fare from the pie shop opposite. When we saw it was pouring with rain we decided it was time to load the boats up. The weather picks up and JohnH and RonB treat us to the first mincemeat of the trip, spaghetti bolognaise, but without the spaghetti. We arrive at the Cheshire Cheese for Hydes and live music plus afters and, for a lucky few, a dance with Pat, the drummer’s moll. Iain impressed the crew with his chat up line of ‘Money isn’t everything, big knobs are better!’ Pat, the lady he was talking to thought better and exited stage left.
Sunday: an early start heading for Kidsgrove for lunch. On the way Ron K - wearing an amazing big Guinness hat - nearly kills our new Navigator along with Steve, Colin and Jake who made the elementary mistake of thinking they were safe from him if out of the Cut. Ronnie’s swipe at the lock gate nearly tumbled them into the lock, causing him great amusement. Not to be outdone at this early attempt at the Academy awards, JOC was having a sneaky pee over the side of the boat as it rose in the lock when Iain warned him a woman was coming. John typically turned the wrong way to give her a full frontal. The Titanic Iceberg went down particularly well during this excellent session in the Blue Bell - a brilliant pub. The evening meal was more mincemeat in the form of Cottage Pie from Dude and JOC. In the evening a stroll down to the Beartown Tap in Congleton; Kodiak Gold proved a good session beer, not least because of its price of £1.40 a pint. Mind you, the stronger beers were only £1.50! This drinking was accompanied by a quiz, lost on penalties by Cat. At the time we were upset that we weren’t going to be allowed afters like the expectant locals but as subsequent events proved, this would be a blessing.
Monday morning started dull as we climbed up the 12 locks of the Bosley flight and soon were in the outskirts of Macclesfield. At the water point Ron K gave us all a laugh by telling us the water was trickling into the tank. This in itself was a miracle as the hosepipe had been cut in half in order to repair it. He then pointed at the shower outflow on the other boat and asked if it was the water overflow on his. Thank God Ron’s such a good Whip Manager. Having allowed ourselves a lie-in that morning, time was getting on when we finally tied up near the Buxton Road Bridge, opposite the mill where Hovis was invented. We headed for the town centre and the Waters Green Tavern. The big Tetleys warning sign on the façade gave no indication of what was to be found inside – an excellent range of half a dozen handpumped ales. Because of our late start we didn’t get there till about 2 o’clock, and the pub closed at 3, but we were sufficiently impressed by the beers and the friendly service that we agreed a visit on the return leg might be in order. At this point Joe and Cat had to go shopping and the rest of us decided to have a pint or two while we waited. Just around the corner was the Queens, a grand old pub near the station now owned by Holts. This pub seems to attract an older clientele maybe drawn by the prices: £1.17 for mild and a swingeing £1.24 for bitter. Some were upset that we were sitting in their area and pointedly put down their shopping near to us, which was noted by the sharp-eyed Colin but not dozy Doc. Meanwhile Cat tried desperately to win the Adventure’s award by hunting high and low for fresh chillies for the evening’s meal, having been wound up by Steve. Needless to say this brought on his thirst, which meant that dinner was delayed as he and Joe didn’t leave the pub till after 5-15pm. On the way out Colin ensured that Doc was extremely embarrassed by getting him to pick up the pensioners shopping on his way out. The evening’s mincemeat prepared as Chilli Con Carne was very tasty - in fact it tasted of coriander. With dinner consumed we made our way through the drizzle to the east side of Bollington for the Poachers Inn. Here we met the CRAPS team: Paul, Liz and Jacky, who had made the short journey across from Buxton. A pleasant and convivial evening was spent with our new friends, again not being rushed at closing time, before we had to trail back through the long main street.
Tuesday. We now had a lock free day as we continued north in the general direction of Manchester. At Marple we stopped to fill up with water much to the annoyance of the local boaters who wanted us to fill up with water elsewhere. Doc also impressed by speeding past a moored boat call the Dutchess whose owner was painting it. Having tied the boats up round the corner we drifted into the Ring o’ Bells by the canal. Here Cat brought out his old joke of “Cocaine is not all what its cracked out to be.” This pub had possibly the loudest muzak ever heard in a canalside Robinsons pub. In the afternoon we were on the Lower Peak Forest canal, a very picturesque route, even on what was now a dull day. We had intended to take the left fork at the end and spend the evening at Buxworth where the Navigation was reckoned to be worth a visit. However, we found out that the basin at Buxworth was closed so we had to fork off to the right and stop at Whaley Bridge instead. Ian and Doc attempted to feed everyone in one sitting and for a change tried chicken instead of minced meat. Helpings weren’t up to requirements so the hungry ones tucked into the previous day's chilli, which all agreed had improved with age (the coriander had matured). After prising ourselves away from the meagre fare provided by the cooks we popped into the Railway, next to the station for our first pints. This was a fairly drab Robboes house so we didn’t hang around. We made our way further down the road to the Shepherds Arms, which was a big improvement. Apparently there were a few guitarists performing in the public bar, but we could hardly hear them above the hubbub of conversation. Service was very friendly and welcoming – asked when the pub closed we were told “when the last person leaves!” We didn’t actually put this to the test, but it was past one o’clock when we dragged ourselves away. Earlier in the evening, Tom and Les had walked over to Buxworth to check out the Navigation. They reported a nice pub, but there was little choice of beer, and what there was cost £2 a pint. What’s more the landlord didn’t like boating types! (perhaps he just didn't like Les and Tom) So this change of plan worked out well for us if not for the Kentish duo.
On Wednesday morning we started the return journey with the Admiral helping out the crew driving in his dressing gown, as all the lazy bastards on board the Emperor were in their pits, because of the previous night's afters. There was another amusing water stop at Marple where again we were all but barred from taking on water. This was enhanced by Hinsey’s antics on the tiller near the ‘Dutchess’, which ensured that a traffic jam occurred, Tom actually touching it with un-gloved hands. High Lane for a gentle lunch break in the Royal Oak, Burtonwood pub. En route to Macclesfield we attempted to return a stray moorhen chick to its nest by unorthodox means, almost certainly failing to save its life. Iain thought it would make a good meal for 14, but luckily he'd done his cooking stint. Les and Ron went over the top by serving a four-course meal, which had the added bonus of RonK being on permanent washing up duty throughout. Afterwards we made our way to the Waters Green Tavern once again. As promised the governor put on a fresh barrel of Oakham Bishops Farewell for us which was much appreciated by us and was finished in less than three hours. By this time the pub had become fairly busy and considerable quantities of ale were being shifted, not just by the Navigators. As the evening wore on we got chatting to mine hosts, Brian and Tracey, who were a very keen and friendly couple. By now, conventional closing time was long gone but still the beer flowed. Eventually most of us dragged ourselves but the insatiable Catweazle hung around until about 3 in the morning. Those on the Viscount continued the party, 'singing' along with Dessie O'Halloran and along with Joe conga'd into the darkness and smelly depths of the Emperor where they all attempted to get into bed with Doc.
After a dull start Thursday turned out to be a pleasant day and we lunched by the canal in the Queens Head, which in view of the previous night's excesses begun as a rather subdued affair, but the guest beer Cottage Champflower soon got us back into sorts. Steve also gave the thumbs up to his lunch of Guinness and bitter bangers. In the evening we were back at Hardings Wood Junction for a return visit to the Blue Bell and another quiz again lost by Cat on a “penalty shootout”. The pub became pretty packed later on, with some dodgy characters hanging round the bar (and I’m sure they thought highly of us as well!) As 11 o’clock approached the barman came and closed the curtains, a giveaway every time. However, after three late nights, and an early start beckoning, discretion was the better part of another few pints so we crept discreetly back to the fleet.
The early risers woke to the sound of heavy rain on Friday falling, which soon stopped but was then started to blowing a gale. We never got bored with the weather that morning – it was either lashing down or sunny, with cloudy spells – and all the time that howling wind. Anyway, the early start paid off, for we hit Wheelock shortly before noon. Our advance party were accosted by the landlord of the Cheshire Cheese and dragged in for a drink – there was no struggle. The last lunchtime of our trips was time for the Academy Awards, where Jake was taken completely by surprise by winning “Man of the Canals”. Then we went on the final leg of our journey, back to Middlewich and the evening meal in the Big Lock. Here the final wind-ups took place, Colin completely ignoring Doc’s choice of food and instead ordering him a chilli con carne instead. The waitresses then got in or the act and kept those who ordered ice-cream waiting and waiting and waiting. The rest of us had long gone, fighting our way through the drug dealers and users in the town centre back to the Narrow Boat where we had all met up a week ago. Once again we witnessed the ritual of 10 minutes to 11 curtain closing, but once more we were not to be tempted – after all, we’d hardly gone dry in another highly enjoyable week afloat. |
