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As we leave our now familiar mooring in Rugeley, we are planning to turn at the winding hole just before Wolseley Bridge. It’s not actually just before, I’m lying, bridge 69 is between Wolseley and the winding hole but I have a clear map in my mind that is slightly different from the canal map. Just as we move from the mooring, a chap in a kayak passes us with a cheery good morning and we follow him although he rapidly becomes a little speck in the distance. The winding hole is immediately past bridge 68 (cheek.ranges.option). We are approaching the sharp right turn onto the aqueduct which takes us over the River Trent when I move the boat to the side, allowing the lovely Toby and Gina to pass us (an enjoyable few days they have had 🤩 and today had the misfortune to follow us through Rugeley on their return journey to Stone). I knew that I would be winding after the bridge and didn’t want to hold them up by making them wait for me to fight force 10 gales whilst failing to turn the boat. I have history when it comes to turning the boat, none of it good or elegant, bloody boat is like a recalcitrant child refusing to do anything I ask, especially if people are watching. Anyway, after waving madly and a quick chat as they pass us, they decide to temporarily moor up just past the aqueduct! Buggers, there was me trying to be nice 😂 We bob past and apologise for what we are about to do. I’m really pleased to be moving again after being stuck, but it feels as though I don’t have quite the oomph I would usually have. There is nothing wrapped around our prop so we’ve decided to carry on at a gentle pace. She is also a long boat with a fat bottom and the wind is against us, so this may be why she feels as though she is swimming against the tide.

The chap in the kayak has stopped just after the winding hole for a spot of lunch and watches us as I put my nose into the apex and try to bring my bottom around. After a while he wanders down to offer assistance. I have my bow buried deep into the apex/reeds/mud and am trying to move my stern to the left but every time I gain a bit of swing, the wind then pushes me back to my original position. Keith helpfully suggests more power, I kindly let him know he is not bloody Jeremy bloody Clarkson and that I don’t have any more bloody power to give, also it’s swing I need in the opposite bloody direction to the bloody wind (or thereabouts, this is a very rough approximation of my exact words!) The little green stone boat is waiting under the bridge as there is nowhere she can go because my bum is blocking the canal and Gina has come onto the towpath to see if there is anything she can do to help. Unfortunately, the only thing our onlookers can do is provide a somewhat bemused and supportive commentary, both being extra nice about my inability to wind my boat! I notice Toby on his green boat get into a little difficulty under the bridge but he manages to sort it all out with quiet grace, oh, how I wish I could demonstrate any competence at all!! We eventually have the boat turned by dint of Keith and his barge pole but the wind has posted us firmly against the bank opposite the towpath. We sit here and let Toby and Gina past before we hold their day up more than we already have and are only really able to get off the bank as we come back through bridge 68. I shout my facebook details to them as they disappear into the distance (because that is what is now socially acceptable) and have a vague idea that one day, when I’m retired, I might write a blog detailing all of our shortcomings as boaters…

At Armitage tunnel (hours.remission.anchorman) I hold the boat at the entrance while Keith walks through to check it’s clear. He signals and I move the boat into the tight cutting (I have posted some more pictures of the boat going through the tunnel in Instagram nberinillie – have look and follow me if you like 🤗) I am about two-thirds of the way through the tunnel and can see Keith waving at me but have no idea what he is going on about. The walkie talkies are still charging so we are back to communicating through interpretive dance. I slow down to almost a stop as I’m going less than walking pace already and wait to see what the issue is. Ah. A boat coming straight at me. She has entered the mouth of the tunnel and is just going for it, having not stopped at the sign and not checked that the tunnel is clear. Keith had stopped just shy of the tunnel entrance to check on my progress, turned and saw her nose coming into the tunnel. A major incident was averted as Keith ran up and spoke to the captain who hadn’t realised that he needed to send a crew member forwards, so he reversed and let me continue through. Good job to, there is no way I’m reversing my boat through that cutting!

After a bit of discussion we decide that we would like to be out of civilisation for the night and plan to moor around the Woodend area. After a long cold day at the tiller, we are struggling to find somewhere to moor, I did not realise that the towpath side on the stretch of canal coming past Kings Bromley Marina would be so difficult to moor on. There is little armco and fewer straightish edges to moor against. We have mooring pins and a plank but I am not up with the idea of having to use the plank to get from the boat to the bank – this is a surefire way of me going into the cut! Dusk is deepening as we find a place to moor, just past a hire boat but still the area is beautiful.

Early the next morning we are up and away. The day is cold and bright, the leaves have turned and are falling off the trees as we pass, it is stunning and the pictures definitely do not do the area any justice. The boat just doesn’t feel right but I can’t identify specifically what the problem is. I don’t have great propulsion but it is no worse than yesterday, I can stop and reverse and steer. We decide to go into Fradley and investigate further, that way we are not out in the middle of nowhere or difficult to get to if we need help. We come through Shadehouse Lock with no additional problems but coming out of Middle lock I have very little power. I feel like there is something wrapped around the prop and give a burst of reverse to try to free myself up. This seems to help a bit and there is nowhere in this pound to stop as the visitor moorings are occupied. I approach Junction Lock and have to wait for Keith to open the gate. I stop the boat but don’t go into the side, I just sit in the pound and wait. Somehow I coax the boat into the lock and find myself having a chat with a gentleman who informs me that we are living his dream! I almost give a sarcastic laugh as I am close to tears but manage to have a polite conversation with him as the lock drains, before willing my boat out into the next pound.

We moor in the 48hr visitor moorings and open the engine bay.

Ah. My rudimentary mechanical skills suggest that the engine oil should actually be in the engine and not the bilge. Keith agrees. I open the wine…