Rats, rats, rats.

This is the third day in a row that we have seen rats. The most disgusting sight was round the back of Hatton Top Lock Café, where two rats scurried away from a ground-level electric fan unit as we approached. Today I saw a rat in the undergrowth at Long Itchington. Has anyone else noticed more rats about? I have no photos of the furry rodents ... but here's another example of broad daylight nefarious goings on:

This graffiti painter's work to me seemed pure vandalism, certainly not up to the standard immediately to his left. This was in Leamington Spa.

[Update from Pip and Mick: The chap in Leamington was working on a piece for Leamington Mural Festival, the artists name is Lune. All above board.]

As we emerged into the countryside there was a field with broad stripes of buttercups. Why? How?

And then, the other side of Bridge 31, as indicated on Waterway Routes, the dreaded HS2 crossing point. To the north the earth movers were lined up, all big wheels and yellow paint and looking like they mean business.
 

To the south a new silver city and a huge heap of earth which will form the basis of the railway bridge over the canal.

We shared many of today's locks.  Here we are going up the Bascote Staircase, our last locks before we tied up at Long Itchington.

After tea on board we went for a walk, discovering first that we had moored on the aqueduct over the River Itchen.

In the village itself a spoof blue plaque caught my eye.

There was nothing fake about this song thrush singing loudly and clearly in a tree by the canal.

Stop! Thief! That's my bike!

Inspired by Jim's bus exploits on http://narrowboatstarcross.blogspot.com/ (Blogger has changed: I can seemingly no longer insert a link in the old way) I decided to use the bus as part of the journey to get our car from Fazeley where we had left it. I was starting from Market Drayton which, sadly, no longer has a railway line - let alone a station - leaving bus as an essential part of doing this by public transport. I started with the crazy idea of doing the whole trip by bus, but it would have entailed multiple changes and would have taken a long time. I decided, then, to use bus and train - and cycle where necessary. Jim would have relished the bus challenge, but agreed that my route was easier and more suited to a bus "novice" such as me. Having been assured that buses can take folding bicycles I waited at Market Drayton Bus Station for the 1111 bus to Hanley, i.e. Stoke-on-Trent. The bus arrived from Shrewsbury a few minutes early, giving me and three or four other passengers plenty of time to board. I really can't remember the previous time I used a bus. When it got under way it felt most odd not wearing a seat belt. Between Market Drayton and Newcastle-under-Lyme we went through a couple of villages off the main road, negotiating some rather narrow country lanes en route.

From Newcastle-under-Lyme the bus went near to Stoke-on-Trent railway station before finishing up at Hanley Bus Station. By the time I realised the proximity of the railway station it was too late to press the button to ring the bell to stop the bus, so I got off at the end of the run and cycled down the hill - crossing the Caldon Canal on the way - to get the train.

Here I made my first proper mistake. There was a queue at the ticket office so I used a machine to get a ticket for Stafford, forgetting to use my railcard and thus forgoing a discount of £2. This is the train I caught, here at Stafford Station at the end of this third leg of the journey (bus, bike and train 1).

At Stafford I bought my final train ticket, this time from the ticket office with my railcard, to take me on to Tamworth. I could have got a ticket from Stoke to Tamworth but splitting here, where I had to change anyway, saved £6 or so on the full price. This is where things got interesting. I boarded the train and leant my bike against the folding seats next to the loo, as I had done on the previous train. At Rugeley Trent Valley some passengers got off, and I glanced over towards the loo and saw NO BIKE! One of the passengers, a young man, was calmly pushing a bike across the platform to the exit. I grabbed by bag, leapt off the train and ran after him. Hey! Stop! That's my bike! I shouted as I charged past the two or three other people who had got off. The thief stopped and looked round at the lunatic who was running towards him. Only he wasn't a thief. It wasn't my bike. Oh no! What had I done? What an idiot! I raced back to the train, still stationary, but the doors were locked and unresponsive to my desperate jabbing at the button. As the train pulled away, with my bike heading to London, I looked around. Rugeley Trent Valley is an unmanned station. There was a help/information pillar, but it wasn't exactly a 999-type of emergency, and I didn't want train timetable information. As I stood there I noticed two workers in hi-viz just outside the station. One was Openreach - and the other was an Avanti West Coast (train company) person. I explained my predicament. He calmly went to his car, tapped away on his laptop for a bit, asked my to describe the bike and then made a phone call. In the heat of the moment I couldn't remember the make of my bike, so I phoned Jan - whose head was clearer than mine - and got the make and colour (!). The Avanti angel finished his call and told me that my bike would be taken off the train at Tamworth and would be waiting for me in the ticket office. Wow! All I had to do was get the next train and hope the bike would be looked after as promised. As I ate my sandwiches in the shelter on the platform, trying not to let the wind blow the rain on me too much, I mentally kicked myself for being so stupid. I worked out that the eight-coach train was two four-coach sets joined together, with the loo compartments next to each other. I had somehow got confused about which loo my bike was near. I also thanked the Lord that he had provided such an amazing means of resolving the problem. At last the hour was up, and the 1405 rolled into the station. No sooner had we got under way, though, than the next part of the saga started to manifest itself. The guard announced that it seemed that there was a problem ahead and that we should listen out for further announcements. It soon transpired that a person had been hit by a train in the Rugby area. We pulled in to Lichfield Trent Valley Station. The guard announced that there had been a fatality near Atherstone and that the train we were on might have to return to Crewe. How terrible, and it put my bike worries into context. After a few minutes the guard suggested that London-bound passengers might like to transfer to the high level platform where they could get a train to Birmingham and continue their journey from there. I went to the ticket office and asked how long it would take for me to get to Tamworth via Birmingham. Ooh - it could take an hour and a half. Better get the bus, love. Well, I reasoned that I was in no particular hurry, that a bus would cost me an extra fare, that continuing by train would not cost me anything and that I'd see some more bits of Birmingham. There was another option, which was to ring my friends in Fazeley, eight miles away, to see if they could pick me up. I knew they had gone out to lunch; by the time they returned my call I was already on the train to Birmingham. We stopped at stations I didn't know existed, including Gravelly Hill. Claim to fame? The motorway interchange known as Spaghetti Junction, of course!

So that was leg five completed, having stopped at just about every station between Lichfield Trent Valley and Birmingham New Street - here's the train about to continue to Redditch.

I didn't have long to wait for the train to Tamworth; once on board I wasn't expecting any further incidents. I was wrong. The train started to go really slowly, just creeping along for what seemed like ages. Then BANG! Some substantial branches of a "windblown tree" (as CRT sometimes puts it) crashed and thudded along the windows right where I was. The train wasn't merely brushing past foliage: that had already been ripped off. A few seconds later, when the driver had judged that the train was past the tree I suppose, we speeded up again. At last I was in Tamworth Station. I asked about the bike ... and YES! Hooray! They had it. I filled out a form to claim it and there we were, reunited. The staff there were very friendly, as, of course, had been the Avanti chap at Rugeley. So top marks to them all. The time was now 1650. I cycled to Fazeley where David and Mary gave me cups of tea and some food; just before 1900 I set off in the car for the hour and ten minute drive back to Market Drayton. Even this journey had "interest": the strong winds had blown plenty of debris from trees onto the road. At one point an oncoming car had to stop because of a large piece of tree in its way. I half expected the day to be rounded off with a branch through the windscreen but, fortunately, nothing further untoward happened. I arrived back in Market Drayton just after 2000. Cost of tickets: bus from Market Drayton to Hanley £3.60; train from Stoke-on-Trent to Stafford £6.00; train from Stafford to Tamworth £4.45. Total: £14.05 (but should have been £12.05 if I'd remembered the railcard earlier). Of course, I could have done it for nothing if I'd cycled the whole way, and it probably wouldn't have taken any longer! More posts will follow on our boating from Fazeley to Market Drayton, where we have a new mooring.

Balance beam repair

I was slightly concerned last night that our choice of mooring perhaps wasn't the best, as a satellite image showed we were right next to Aldi's distribution centre in Atherstone. In the event it was absolutely fine.

At Atherstone Bottom Lock the towpath side bottom balance beam had been repaired with angle iron and bolts.

As we travelled vaguely west towards Fazeley I was aware that I had seen no trains at all on the line which runs approximately parallel to the canal. At the railway bridge (50B) I realised why. There were workers on the line.

We got to Fazeley Mill Marina at 1655 hoping to be able to get diesel and gas, expecting it to be open until 1800 as per the website, but were told that it shuts at 5. We are now outside ready to get topped up in the morning.

These gates cannot be long for this world

At last! A morning when we didn't need to make an early start. Nevertheless we were under way by 1015, after I had walked over the bridge to Uxbridge Boat Centre to return some brass screws which I didn't use.

Before we were ready to go Brandywine came past; we caught up with them at Denham Deep Lock. This is Ivor Caplan (IWA chairman) looking back at me from Brandywine as the boat slowly rises in the lock.

With this amount of leakage it's no surprise it takes an age to fill.

When it was our turn to exit the lock a widebeam tried to come in to a lock landing which was almost all taken up by another widebeam which wasn't going anywhere.

More fun and games as we crept round to the right.

The boat's name says it all!*

We stopped briefly at the canalside Tesco at Batchworth as I was running out of bananas (!) and tied up just after 1600 at Cassiobury Park. Before tea we walked to Watford Underground Station (because it was there) and returned through the park and along the towpath.

Watford Underground Station

Watford is one terminus of the Metropolitan Line; this morning we were at another terminus, Uxbridge. Speaking of which, in the pub last night there were many old photos of the early railways; there was also an old topological map of the Metropolitan Railway (predating Beck by decades).

*Absumus = We are here

Unsafe railway track work?

During the night last night, and continuing throughout today, a section of railway track was being relaid in Thrupp. In the early hours of the morning I heard the occasional hoot of a locomotive and a constant diesel engine running. When I looked out from the boat I could see a stationary long train of yellow ballast wagons on the line.

We walked to church at Shipton-upon-Cherwell; as we were early I nipped across towards Hampton Gay to see what was happening on the railway a bit closer. I returned with my camera after the service and took these pictures.

I saw diggers grabbing ballast out of the wagons and offloading it, presumably onto the track; I saw packs of concrete sleepers similarly being offloaded.

Here, not that you can really see it, a noisy machine seemed to be jiggling the ballast, presumably getting it into the right place.

This is the bit the title of this post refers to: a footpath runs under a railway bridge over the River Cherwell. A sizeable quantity of ballast had spilt down between the tracks onto this footpath. There were no banksmen controlling access to the footpath. If even one piece of ballast had fallen on your head as you were walking underneath you would certainly have known about it.

I managed to talk to one of the workers through a fence and told him about it; he said he would tell his boss. Rather after the event, though.

In the field next to the railway I saw a lot of black stuff on some stinging nettles.

Closer examination revealed it to be masses of spiky black caterpillars, with white spots, stripping the leaves of the nettle plants. And they are ...?

Back to boating. We moved on from the delightful village of Thrupp, dropping down another three locks and negotiating two or three lift bridges, to Oxford. I took the boat onto the Thames through Isis Lock in order to wind.

Having come back through the lock we reversed to the end of the Oxford Canal for the obligatory photo, then we moved on to one of the two-day visitor moorings.

After tea (and the Grand Prix) we wandered around the city for a while in the warm evening. Jan said she fancied an ice cream, so we shared a pudding of pancakes with maple syrup and ice cream at the Wetherspoons. Jan had the ice cream.

Back on board we learn that a thunderstorm is forecast for tonight. We'll see (and hear?).

Sheringham level crossing sees action

In a short break from boating, we drove to one of our favourite north Norfolk spots yesterday: Sheringham. It so happened that our visit coincided with a fairly rare transit of the recently restored level crossing linking the Network Rail station (and line to Cromer) and the North Norfolk Railway heritage line.

Once a month a lunch dining train leaves from Sheringham (heritage) Station, crosses to Sheringham (main line) Station and on to Cromer, stopping there an hour before returning to the heritage line.

A small army of volunteers puts up temporary barriers across the road ...

... a man holds up a green flag ...

... and a beautiful diesel loco pulls the train across.

At this point we walked down to the beach to eat our sandwiches. I returned to see the train come back, this time steam-hauled.

Did the locomotive pull tube trains when the electricity was down? It was in gorgeous condition.

This excitement over, we walked up the road to Upper Sheringham, a hamlet built of flint.

From here we walked into Sheringham Park ... but I am boring myself as well as you, so I'll stop.

Curious hump bridge over old railway near Stoke Bruerne

On the road between Stoke Bruerne and Blisworth - that's the road for wheeled traffic I mean - there is a hump bridge.

Not that surprising, you might say. After all, there is a canal in the vicinity. But the canal here is in Blisworth Tunnel. I stopped to investigate.

Underneath the bridge, quite a long way down, is the bed of a dismantled railway.

I was surprised to see a flat underside to the bridge; I had been expecting a canal-style arch. On the OS map - image below from streetmap.co.uk - you can see the line of the former railway where the road crosses it, just above Stoke Plain.

The tunnel is a very short distance to the east. The railway is in a cutting here; its builders must have had to be careful not to break through into the roof of the tunnel.

The building marked on the map immediately to the west of the bridge is now a private house, but there is what looks like an old platform alongside. Was it Stoke Bruerne Station? I didn't take a photo, sorry.

Update: Consulting Wikipedia reveals that this was indeed a station, although it was misspelt "Stoke Bruern", without the final "e". The line was the Stratford-upon-Avon, Towcester and Midland Junction Railway; the station opened on 1st December 1892. It closed for passengers just four months later, 20 passengers per week not being enough to justify the cost.

Crewe railway station promotes canals

The pair of Bywater Hotel Boats temporarily blocked the canal this morning as they pushed the butty across to let their guests off.

Then they moved a few boat lengths along to tie up not far in front of us.

Ally and Josiah were getting the train to Crewe to see us today, so we made the short (one stop) journey to Crewe from Nantwich Station in order to meet them off their train.

I was interested to see the railway company recognising the importance of canals.

The poster reads "90 minutes to London, 15 minutes to countryside, canals and traditional market towns."

We walked into the town centre, had lunch at the Wetherspoon's and walked to Queen's Park. On the way was a metal "treatment" facility with an unusually good viewing point from the pavement. It was the end of the road for this poor Renault Scenic.

After it had been squashed into a rather less aerodynamic form by the crusher it managed to retain its number plate and its "Scenic" badge.

But the main point of today was to spend time with Ally and Josiah. Here he's having his first ride on a swing.

It has been slightly cooler today; but without the threatened thunderstorms. Tonight looks like being more comfortable too.

Head to head in the narrows at LLangollen

As forecast, we treated ourselves to a trip on the LLangollen Railway today. It is a splendid piece of preserved line, running alongside the River Dee ten miles from LLangollen to Corwen.

Interestingly, the loco doesn't run around the train at Corwen but pushes it back to the previous station, Carrog, and then runs around. Here it is at Carrog.

The twisty track goes through delightful scenery and offers plenty of opportunities for photos.

Back at the canal ... we were forewarned that Tuesdays and Wednesdays are the busiest as it's half-way through hirers' weeks. Here an ABC hire boat meets a day boat in the narrows east of Bridge 45.

The day boat gave way (correctly, as the current was pushing the hire boat forward). Everyone seems to be enjoying the spectacle.

As our time was up we winded at the entrance to the basin and retraced our steps to just before the open lift bridge, the other side of the next narrows. This isn't far from the end of the paid-for 48 hour moorings. Here is our view: Castell Dinas Bran, the 13th century ruins on top of the hill.

After tea we cycled back to Bridge 45 and walked up the hill. It's only a mile, but it's quite steep. Well worth it for the views - as well as the exercise, of course!

Can you spot the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct framed by the arch?

Here it is, striding across the valley, nicely lit by the evening sun.

Looking in a different direction here's LLangollen town centre, on the left; the white object towards the right is the site of the LLangollen International Eisteddfod.

When we got back down the hill we cycled along the towpath to be right outside the Eisteddfod pavilion and listened to a bit of Carmen as the sun was setting. During the Toreador song the feed to the PA speakers was cut, but you could still hear the performance through the pavilion, but not as clearly.

It's a hire boat hell haven here now. This Canaltime boat is moored on the services point. Another hire boat was barbecuing in a disposable barbecue on top of the slide (at least it wasn't the gas locker).

Fun and games. We didn't really want to leave, but our time was up. And we'd been bashed at least twice - who knows how many other times when we were playing trains? We're still a bit exposed to novice steerers at this mooring, but we'll move on to the safety of Trefor Basin tomorrow.