We left Fradley and passed through the cute Woodend Lock (wire.promises.instincts), collecting a free pile of apples from the bucket on the lawn of the lockhouse – I didn’t just steal them, there was a sign, honestly! We moor up just past the lock as the weather is just like my mood – dreadful, windy and cold. Also, from this position we can shoot murderous glances at the HS2 site behind the once beautiful moorings on the opposite side of the canal. The apples are peeled, diced and chucked in the iron with a healthy splash of lemon juice before being placed on top of the log burner. They are destined for apple crumble and will tick along nicely for a few hours alongside the slowly cooking lamb tagine next to them.
Setting off again the weather hasn’t improved at all but my disposition is a little lighter due to the promise of a nice dinner and homemade pudding. I am meandering along in my own happy little world and having a good nose at the new houses going up as we come to the outskirts of Handsacre. I pull over to the towpath side to let the boat behind me pass, he has been quite close to me for a little while as we moved through a few bendy bits, clearly trying to urge me on as I’m going slower than he is and, frankly, I’m bored of annoying him now. This is a bit like driving a car though, if you are going to get intimate with me and my boat/car at least buy me a drink first!! Or Keith, he’ll do anything for a free pint. As we approach Armitage Shanks the canal passes under 2 concrete bridges and narrows leaving enough room for a single boat. I wait as a few boats pass us, the last with the most amazing wooden carving of the tree of life over their front window – I wish I had taken a photo it was beautiful. I complemented them as they passed, I’m much more chatty on the back of the boat than normal. As the canal opens out again, the factory looms over us. I’m mulling over the fact that it’s not particularly interesting architecturally, when I become aware of a high pitched whining sound…
It’s not Keith whining, I know this as I’ve summoned him by way of blasting the horn and demanding his attention via the walkie talkie thing and he is now standing next to me but the sound is no louder. The whine is coming from the panel just inside the cabin door which has all of the ignition and piles of different switches on it. I have ventured behind this panel once, to hoover out 20 years worth of dust and it contains a twisted pile of scary looking electrical cables and our inverter. The noise gets louder when the door is opened and we find that it is coming from a little black button – oooo it must be some kind of electrical alarm we reason. For what though? Keith goes off to explore and I start thinking about mooring up just in case the boat blows up in a great ball of electrical fire. Keith reappears, flame free, having worked out that we are putting no power into the batteries. Again. We thought we had solved this problem, after the last time the batteries were flat, the engineers at the marina checked it all out and replaced a loom (no, I don’t know what that it is!). We work out that the alternator isn’t putting any power into the batteries and ours are very nearly flat. We had had a normal day’s use, blithely assuming our batteries were charging, so phones and devices had been charged, hoovering had happened, the fridge was on. Oh, how we wasted our volts. Or amp hours. Or something electrical anyway…
Arriving at the moorings in Rugeley, I ring RCR for advice and get told to ring back in the morning when I cannot start the boat. Ok. I will. Luckily, the fire isn’t dependent on electricity, we have a lovely hot slow cooked meal to look forward to, hot water and an unseemly number of torches. And all of our devices are fully charged (!!) so we watch a film on the ipad and open a bottle of wine sitting in front of the fire.
Early morning, I ring RCR and the engineer is soon with us, having sorted out a boat about 100yds in front of us first. The engineer is lovely and replaces our now dead starter battery, commenting that the wire from the alternator had worked loose and needed re-crimping. This snippet of information has served us well since, as the wire does not want to stay crimped but we now know what to do with it! The engine still will not start even with a shiny new battery. Of course it won’t, this is our boat 😂. Identifying the complete lack of recent (probably years!) servicing to our engine, he replaces the fuel filters (no diesel bugs, hurrah) and works his way through the problem. Turns out a bigger spanner is required, so he rings a friend and arranges to come back to remove the maybe knackered solenoid. If only we knew then what we know now…
Overall, we spent a few days in Rugeley on the visitor moorings. While not picturesque, they are close to several supermarkets and a laundrette, so we washed everything, made sure we were well stocked and took advantage of my lovely niece to de-fur Betty. I would love to be able to hyperlink Harri here but am not technically advanced enough, her fb and instagram pages are Harriets Pet Parlour, she literally removed an entire Betty in fur on the canal side. Betty was not impressed!
The engineers ordered us a solenoid and said that we could go on our merry way while waiting for it. There was a very small risk that we may loose a bit of engine oil but this was unlikely and we could just wait for the replacement. In the mean time, they put a stop cable in so we could stop the engine and, with joy in our hearts we went towards Wolseley Bridges to wind (turn) the boat.
Of course, due to my rubbish editing skills, you already know what happens next…
Thank you. Harriet’s Pet Parlour duly noted if we ever get out of lockdown 3 and are allowed to move with our hairy hound who is getting hairier by the day!