Why do we always underestimate the time needed to load the car? After all, it was only clothes, food, drink, logs (just in case), a new portable barbecue, a wine rack (which might or might not fit), a pot of basil, ditto thyme, one laptop, 2 iPads, 1 camera and an empty rucksack (explanation later).
Arriving at the marina (following a visit to Tesco for things we might just have forgotten), we decide we must get a move on, but first we’ll have lunch. We unload and find that the wine rack doesn’t fit and we really don’t need that many logs (the sun is shining, and it’s hot). So back in the boot they go.
Our departure from the marina at 2.45 is a bit of a false start as we spend 20 minutes hovering near the entrance, our way out being blocked by two boats waiting for the first lock. By 3.45 we are through the 3 Calcutt locks and as we head towards Braunston we’re pleased to see that the somewhat aggressive swan we encountered last month is showing off his new family:
:
Quite soon the familiar sight of Braunston church appeared:
The sunshine stayed with us until we moored up about a mile north of Braunston at 6, and indeed for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow’s forecast is gloomy, but we don’t believe it:
Thursday
The weather is indeed better than promised and soon we are on our way down the three Hillmorton locks. There actually six locks here, in pairs (the idea being to speed the passage of working boats). You just head for whichever of the pair is most in your favour, ie full, and preferably with another boat having just emerged so the gate is open! This morning there are plenty of boats heading up so our passage is swift, but the advantage is lost when we stop for water at the bottom of the locks and what is known to us as “the slowest tap in the world” takes a full 40 minutes to fill our tank.
On to Rugby next, where we stop to visit – you guessed it – Tesco! Rain is still threatening, but we want to make sure of having sufficient barbecue food for the weekend. So it’ll be a wet one then. Sorry.
At 3 we head off for one of our favourite mooring spots at All Oaks Wood (not true, some of them are beeches and there are probably other interlopers). At last the promised weather materialises and it’s a pretty damp journey, but fortunately the rain stops just before we tie up and soon the blue skies appear again. It’s a lovely mooring, but the peace has been briefly shattered by a turf war between rival moorhens:
The black ones won. We think.
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