Hedgerow Jottings: Carl's Turning Japanese

Christchurch, Oxford

Well, dear readers, here I am again. Wheels within wheels, drawing the short straw, call it what you will. I am tasked with creating another nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat, roller-coaster-ride installment of the jottings.

We chugged from bridge 155 to Banbury last Monday. There were locks that stood between us and our destination, but we heroically overcame them and moored up in Banbury just after mid-day. Lunch was eaten and shopping obtained by giving various shopkeepers some money. Later we cast off, passed under a lift bridge (think drawbridge), through Banbury lock and made our way to Haynes lift bridge which is normally open but today was closed against us. To allow passage under, one of us needed to disembark, cross the bridge and heave on the chain thoughtfully provided for the purpose. As one bank was a medium sized Amazonian rain forest and the other bank was an African jungle, getting off the boat was problematic. With a decision born out of desperation we slowly edged our bows up to the bridge and I leapt across the void. Successfully landing unhurt on one knee, I limped across the bridge, jumped up to grab the chain and held on, in Quasimodo fashion, while the quivering, stubborn bridge slowly lifted. Linda then somehow fitted a seven foot (approx) wide narrowboat through what seemed like a seven foot 1 inch gap, made even narrower by the brambles and nettles reaching out from each bank. I forced the bridge to close again and, as we were both tired by now, decided to moor in a handy gap a few yards further along.

Tricky in the shade

The next morning was mild and sunny and the gentle cruise to our next mooring spot was idyllic. We passed under several more lift bridges, all open, and down the next two locks; Grant's lock and King's Sutton lock, and found a quiet place just below bridge 186, about a mile and a half from the village of King's Sutton; an ideal spot to tie up for the rest of the day.

Diamond Lock

Diamonds are a girl's best friend. Diamond locks aren't. Let me explain. The South Oxford canal shares part of it's course with the river Cherwell. The river parts contain diamond locks. I think there are two in total. The design holds vast quantities of water, which helps to fill some of the deep locks further down. Also, containing such a large area of space, these locks are supposed to accept more that one boat at a time. My theory is that when the early engineers were planning the diamond design, they were drunk. Diamond locks are rubbish to negotiate. A fifty seven foot narrowboat always ends up crossways on. Leaving the lock requires a scamper down the gunwhales and a herculean push to get the bows to swing towards the open gate, followed by a mad rush back to the stern in order to drive out. In an ideal world, ie one that doesn't contain hand dryers mounted so high that your elbows and upper arms get soaked, diamond locks wouldn't exist.

Somerton Deep Lock

Mid-week found us at Lower Heyford. Now, there's a railway station here, right by the canal. Unexpectedly, trains bound for Oxford sometimes stop here. This revelation compelled us to seek out a train to those 'Dreaming Spires' the very next day. A return ticket was only five pounds forty, and dogs were free. We already had a dog, so didn't take one of the free ones. We alighted at Oxford Station and set off for the city centre, where we wandered about awe-struck at the splendour of the churches and colleges - they really are a photographer's paradise. What a great day we had, although it was a bit much for Tricky, who was desperate for a pushchair by mid-afternoon.

Christchurch College

We were back on the canal by teatime and decided to have an evening cruise. We headed for the next winding hole and turned the boat, then it was a simple case of retracing our steps back to Somerton Deep lock, where we hoped to tie-up that night. The sun was shining and there was no wind, which is always nice. We only met a couple of boats coming the other way. For this I was grateful, as the canal was becoming very shallow and moving over to pass oncoming craft could easily result in us becoming grounded. By the time we were covering the last mile to Somerton the sun was dipping down to the horizon.

Next morning, we set out early and planned to moor just outside Banbury, ready to meet up with our friends on Saturday. As we rounded a bend, we spied a crane-on-a-lorry, just coming to a stop in a field. Three men jumped out, one of whom was wearing an orange high-vis jacket. From a distance he looked like an orange drink on a stick. They began hauling a massive chain from the truck, one end of which was attached to the crane. The other end was dragged towards a river cruiser which was moored by the field. As we drifted closer, we watched them attach the chain to the floating craft. We were just opposite when the chain began to be winched in. Just as the cruiser was half out of the water, the chain snapped clean away from the boat and flew back like an exocet missile, missing two of the men by inches. It smashed into the side of the lorry, hitting it with a crash like thunder. As we increased our revs to make a not quite-quite-as-slow getaway, the drink on a stick one stalked across and began paying out the chain again. We were happy to reach the lock after that, I can tell you.

Heave Ho!

Journeying from Somerton to Banbury was pretty grim, if I'm honest. The water level was so low that we were barely afloat. We tried to moor up twice and couldn't get within six feet of the bank. With the trees and bushes spreading across the canal in some places it was almost unnavigable. We were glad to eventually pass through Banbury Town lock and moor up in deeper water. Our friends arrived on Saturday and we had an enjoyable day in Banbury, chatting in little cafés and eating lunch in a sushi bar. We'd never been in one of these before, but the food was excellent, as was the company and Japanese beer!

Japanese Lunch

That's it, rant over. Linda will definitely be back next week!

Love from

The Chandlers Afloat

PS Now that things are cooling down a bit weather wise, Linda has let it be known more than once that it's nice to have a wood burning stove on the boat. Sometimes she'll add that her joy would know no bounds if there could actually be a fire burning in it. These words spur me into action. First, there's a bit of rummaging around for firefighters and kindling. Then, a further rummage locates matches. Finally, a fire is laid and lit. In no time at all, bliss! A toasty warm boat.

PPS There was another sacrifice to the Canal Gods this week, Linda's boot fell off her foot and down the gap between boat and bank. This time there was enough time for me to fish it out before it sank to the depths. Linda was very happy about that!