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JOLLY BOATING WEATHER (NOT!) - OCTOBER 2001

The Goose Fair Gander rally at Nottingham last weekend was well-organised, with good moorings (not TOO noisy), friendly people, a good plaque (representing a narrowboat in a tunnel of lurve) and excellent entertainment on the Saturday night! I have to say this,, as we won one of the raffle prizes (a pair of Denby mugs) and I won the quiz! Seriously though, it WAS a good event, which is more than could be said for the journey home.....

The weather had been fine on Sunday morning: blue skies and white fluffy clouds. “Bet it won’t be like this when we’re heading home” said one of the entrants: he was right! The rain started just after we’d left Castle Lock and by the time we’d got to Beeston Lock, it was time to have one of those cups-of-coffee-with-something-alcoholic-in-it to fortify me for the run upriver.

The rain rained, the wind blew, and all the higher-powered craft left me for dead, plugging up-river and trying to find the slacker water on the inside of the bends. As the river twisted and turned, the wind and rain ensured I got comprehensively soaked all round, and fairly soon my wax jacket was as wet as if I’d fallen in (and I know what I’m talking about here!). We did try a bit of off-track boating, going up the “wrong” side of Barton Island, rocking gently over a couple of underwater obstructions at the upstream end, but otherwise it was just plugging away at full revs, trying to keep the rain out of my eyes. I gave up with the specs.........

Eventually the lights at Cranfleet Lock hove into sight, but this lies on the outside of a bend, which meant I had to fight against the full force of the current. At this point, Rumpus was barely making progress over the ground, and I must confess to having been fairly worried. Eventually, we hit the slack water, I wound the speedwheel back VERY rapidly and tied up to do the lock. It was only now, when I looked at the river, that I realised how much it had risen and how fast it was flowing. Having done the climb-up-the-ladder-with-the-rope-in-my-teeth bit, I shut the gate and wanged the paddles open. As I was opening the gate to leave, the locky appeared and offered to shut the gate for me.....................

The run up Cranfleet Cut was a pleasant change from hammering up the river, but I’d got to go back on the Trent to get home. As I rounded the bend in front of the sailing club, the rain, which hadn’t stopped to draw breath for some time, came down even harder and what visibility there was was reduced to about one Rumpus-sized boat’s length. It came down so fast that breathing was starting to become difficult, when suddenly it eased, well in time for me to make the turn into the Soar, which wasn’t flowing - a sure sign that the Trent was up.

The remaining short stretch back to the mooring was completed in comparative calm, the last squall having been the final fling of the weather. As I moored up the rain eased and by the time I’d stopped the engine it had stopped! Fortunately the heating was still going full blast and I’d got dry clothes on board - good job really, as I was wet to the skin. At least the mechanicals all held up well - this was Rumpus’s sternest test so far and she sailed through it with flying colours - even if her owner did get a trifle damp around the edges............

 

Created on January 6th 2002

 

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