Woke up to rain. There's a surprise! This was the view from Willow at 0735.
Spent the morning in the drizzle under London Bridge working on the charging problem which had been with us since the start of the holiday nearly two weeks ago. Even though most of the boat was under the bridge I still got wet as the wind was blowing the rain in. I chose dampness over darkness (if I'd moved the boat further in I might have been drier but I wouldn't easily have been able to see what I was doing. One alternator belt had arrived (the other, spare, was ordered and came quickly) so I fitted it. I have already described the symptom and the diagnosis here, here and here so I'll cut to the chase and reveal that it was an intermittent battery isolation switch all along.
There are fears that Thorn Marine will be forced to close. The owners of the freehold, Peel Holdings, apparently want to demolish the shop and build houses. In 2003 the Northwich Guardian reported on a boaters' protest against closure. We came away after lunch with a couple of "Save Thorn Marine" window stickers.
Here's an interesting phenomenon: a patch of canal ahead is glassy smooth, whereas an adjoining patch of water is disturbed. The junction of these two areas is clearly defined, but there seems to be no obvious reason for the difference. Must be wind, I suppose, but there was no discernible (to my eyes) shelter difference between the two locations.
Approaching Preston Brook a large brick or stone structure dominates the skyline to the north west. Presumably a water tower. Am I right?
Claymoore Navigation operates from Preston Brook. A pity their signwriter didn't check the spelling of Consall Forge before committing the paint! Their website gets it right.
I like the corrugated roof over the stop planks at Dutton Stop Lock. Sort of narrowboat proportions. Why have the words "Dutton Stop Lock" been painted out, though? Is BW renaming it?
Just after passing through Saltersford Tunnel (or was it Barnton?) there was a very loud bang from under my feet and the engine stopped dead. Fortunately we were creeping slowly past moored boats and we didn't hit anything. We came to rest on the offside, though, but pushing with the boat shaft brought us safely to the towpath. Was it the engine? The gearbox? Thankfully, neither of these, as a feel in the weedhatch revealed. The most enormous semi-floating log had managed to get between a prop blade and the boat. Getting it out was surprisingly easy once I'd stopped pushing it into the clay puddle: it semi-floated away and I hauled it out of the cut. Don't want any more of these, thank you.
Tied up at Marston for the night: looked round the Lion Salt Works and patronised the Salt Barge pub.
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