How did I miss that stoppage?

Oops. When planning our cruise on the south Oxford Canal (only four days to go) I somehow missed the stoppage at Marston Doles Lock 16. Grrr. The carefully structured scheme to visit Bones and Maffi by water goes down the plug-hole.

So it looks like it'll be the north Oxford, then. Now, where's that Canalplan AC link?

Here's a man who's not afraid of getting his hands dirty

Edwin Fasham on the right, with MV Logos Hope

We've just got back from the annual general meeting, in Nottingham, of the Boaters' Christian Fellowship. Three hours' drive there, and three hours' back; but it was worth it. One highlight was a talk by Edwin Fasham, illustrated with photos, on how he singlehandedly rebuilt a 12,000 tonne former North Sea ferry as a mission ship. OK, he didn't do it quite singlehandedly, but he described in his delightful Brummie accent his intimate involvement with much of the heavy engineering work. While he was working on the ship, the Logos Hope, an auxiliary engine seized, filling the engine room with smoke. This engine had nine cylinders, each of 11 litres capacity, and was HUGE! It took Edwin three days to free it off: a main bearing had broken, and shell bearings were twisted up (something like that, anyway). One of his photos was of the crankshaft, some 12 feet long and weighing in at 14 tonnes! (Some of my figures may be wrong - I was taken aback by the sheer scale of the project). After filing smooth the crankshaft, and straightening it (!) Edwin got the engine going again. That was just one of the many examples he gave of the mind-boggling tasks he undertook. And for no pay!


sewage pump which Edwin was working on

The presentation was a masterpiece of coupling a talk with photos. No picture outstayed its welcome; no words were wasted. As soon as Edwin had finished with one image it was "Next", and straight into the next part of the story.

(edited to add links and another pic)

Planning for November on the Oxford

Well, a week in November, on part of the South Oxford canal. I'm in the middle of a reasonably detailed plan for our cruise: suggested departure and arrival times; places to visit. I'm up to Thrupp, which is where we'll have to wind to start heading back to Stockton Top marina.

I've noticed that Bruce has just posted on NBSanity - a fine piece on a fishing competition in dreadful weather. To quote:

By a quarter past two the anglers were giving up, and by three had disappeared from the scene. I asked the last one as he slogged past if it had been worth it.

"Not really", he said, "I got covered in dog muck, broke my glasses and had to fish one-eyed all day."

It's a strange way to enjoy yourself.

I'm off to bed now; the rest of the plan will have to wait.

All's wheel that ends wheel

As an update to yesterday's post I can report that Ewan's P1800 now has a replacement steering wheel, thanks to Brian of Amazonia. He cycled 30 miles in to Norwich this morning with the steering wheel in his rucksack. I met him and Ewan in the car park, and we quickly swopped the steering wheels. While Brian was there he had a very quick look at the handbrake on my Amazon. It seems the cable has broken one side, so I'll have to take the car down to Eye to get it fixed.

"It came off in my (friend's) hands, guv"

My friend and colleague, Ewan, fellow owner of an aged Volvo, asserted yesterday morning that I'd never be able to guess what had happened to him earlier that day. He was wrong. I guessed that his car had broken (but it would have taken me a while to come up with the precise fault). As he was entering the car park the steering wheel came apart in his hands.

Whoops.

At lunchtime we manoeuvred the car into a space and had a closer look.


One of the two spokes had broken. The metal is aluminium, and virtually impossible to repair (I'm told). So Brian, who runs Amazonia in Suffolk, and who repairs our cars, is going to bring a steering wheel for a P1800 with him when he cycles in to Norwich tomorrow. I'll be there to assist, and to get him to have a quick look at my Amazon's handbrake (he doesn't know about that yet).


Must remember my mallet. I'll just go and get it...

Remember

While battling against the wind, and trying not to sink into the peat bog on Holme Moss recently, we stumbled across the site of a fatal air crash from the second world war.

According to this website the wreckage is of a Fairey Swordfish P4223. Further web searching revealed that the pilot was Sub Lt. Gerald Williamson of the Naval Air Branch (hence the White Ensign) who was killed when his aircraft crashed on 25th January 1940.

Shadow owners' meeting

On Saturday I went to our owners' meeting in Birmingham. David, my brother, came along too, for his first meeting as an owner. We had a few minutes to spare at lunchtime, so we walked up the hill to Scott Bridge over the Tame Valley Canal. David took the direct way down to the towpath!


This section, between Rushall Junction and Salford Junction, is on the "to do list" as it's one of the bits of the BCN I haven't cruised. Last time I was here the canal had lots of floating rubbish; this time, thankfully, that was gone.

A windy walk on Holme Moss

Thursday 23rd October 2008 was the last full day of our recent Yorkshire break, and we undertook another walk in the hills around Holme. During the night the wind had been rattling the sash window of our bedroom, and strong winds had been forecast for the day. (The 2500 runners taking part in the Original Mountain Marathon in Cumbria were preparing for their event: the weather worsened for them over the next couple of days.)


We set off up the road, the same route initially as our walk two days previously. We joined the Pennine Way for a while, this section being clearly defined by flagstones. At the trig point on Black Hill the wind was very strong indeed: the light rain driven horizontally, and stinging the face. It was difficult to walk without being blown off course, so I suppose it must have been at least Force 7.


Between the triangulation pillar and Jan in the photo above you can just see the Holme Moss transmitter mast. That was our next objective. To get there ought to have been simple: after all, you can't exactly get lost with something that big to aim for. The trouble was the terrain. It was boggy. And there was no defined path, so I followed the instructions for this part of the walk and set a bearing of 100 degrees. This pointed us to the left of the mast. My orienteering can't have been too bad, as we eventually found why we weren't heading in the obvious direction: we skirted a deep clough (valley). The going was slow, as we had to be very careful where we placed our feet in order not to get a bootful of water. The wind didn't help, either.

At last we reached the transmitter station, now run by something called "Arqiva".


From the nearby car park there was a superb view to the north.


At this point we decided to walk down the road back to the village, and get the woodburner going in the cottage.