What went on in July...

July was over before it seemed to have begun (as has been most of the year to date) - possibly lost in slow motion along the Kennet and Avon canal…the summer travels have begun and it feels wonderful to be on the move again. The plan is to have 3 months properly travelling; a Gold Licence this year means unlimited time on the Thames and any other river that’s not under the Canal and River Trust’s jurisdiction. Messing about on the river, all the way up to Lechlade via Oxford, is a lovely thing to do.

There were a few things happening before I started clocking up those slow miles along the canal…not least, the emergence of this year’s damsel- and dragonflies. They seemed to emerge from one day to the next, starting with the fabulous Scarce Chaser dragonflies and followed soon after by the pretty tiny emerald damselflies…oh, I really must mention the Ranatra Linearis that was pulling itself along the side of the boat, just underwater. I’d never heard of it so kind of thought we we’d discovered something completely new living in the canal! It’s known as a ‘water stick insect’, has the attributes of a praying mantis, breathes through its tail and is an underwater predator - how about that?!

Then, I went on holiday though there were plenty of times when the memorable line from Withnail and I came to mind: “we’ve gone on holiday by mistake”.

Highlights- catching up with great friends in the gorgeous harbour town of Portsoy in their fabulous Port House cafe; seeing puffins, razorbills, seals and thousands of other birds at the rspb Dunnet Head nature reserve; eating fish and chips in Whitby; coast walking from Whitby to Robin Hood’s Bay.

Lowlights - there are no highland cows in the Highlands (trust me on this); driving 1400 miles in 4 days; the rain, the relentless rain that made camping impossible in Scotland; eating fish and chips in Whitby (enough is enough!); seagulls at 4am (there’s no double glazing in a tent).

A big, even massive, boost this month photography-wise came in the form of a front cover and 2 page spread in Amateur Photographer magazine, where I was asked to talk about my favourite lens, the Sigma 105mm, and to submit some photos taken with it. The delight I got from this was made even greater when my SheClicks friends amassed a load of copies and sent me a photo - where would we be without the support of like-minded people?

And finally…July began with immeasurable sadness as we said goodbye to Dad. The fact he’d been suffering for too long and his passing happened with relative speed and comfort didn’t seem to make things any easier when it happened. He would be so proud of me and just the few things I’ve begun to achieve with my photography, so this is for him. RIP Dad xx

All the way on the Oxford canal

This was supposed to be a blog about counting locks rather than miles on the Oxford canal - but before I got to write it, we’d passed through all the locks and emerged into some sort of wondrous country where there are no locks…imagine travelling more than 8 miles a day with minimum effort!

Coming onto the Oxford canal after the river was quite a shock; after barely 3 weeks on the Thames I was fully accustomed to pressing buttons or turning easy wheels to fill or empty locks. Opening the gates was never a full body battle for me.

The very first Oxford lock is quaint; wide enough for just one narrowboat (widebeams aren’t welcome here) and charmingly rickety, I was reminded how each lock has its individual character – some are loveable, and some are decidedly unfriendly, consuming all my efforts, body weight and forgotten muscles before they move

The first stretch out of Oxford is a mix of locks and lifting bridges, nicely spaced and a gentle start to the canal…apart from one particular lifting bridge that beat me last year and beat me again this one, thank you helpful dog walker. The canal winds its way through open countryside, through tree-lines glades and narrow reed-filled stretches. We passed liveaboard communities, desirable lock-side cottages (and one that’s burnt out and derelict) and villages where weeping willows drape over the water.

But the locks…one day we travelled from 9 til 5, we did 13 locks and covered 9 miles. The next day, 9h30 - 15h45, 9 locks, 8 miles…it’s best not to be in too much of a rush and never stop thinking of the pub that is that day’s destination.

After all the locks and the disappointment of last year’s favourtie pub having moved its operation into a drafty marquee with minimal heating and dubious adherence to current guidelines, we moved quickly on to the northern part of the Oxford canal - exciting new territory to discover at last even if neither of us had realised we were entering suburbia and finishing just around the corner from an immense national grid power station; it felt as far removed from the ‘other’ Oxford canal as could be.

But this is where we discovered the joy of lockless cruising; 15 miles a day no sweat, with late starts and early stops. The only thing missing was the sunshine. We travelled the full length of the Oxford canal in 9 days; we could have taken more time but barbecue season seemed to have ended abruptlly and the rural idylls were behind us…onwards to the Coventry canal…

The best pub? The Victoria in Jericho, Oxford. Everything a local pub should be; great beer, brilliant staff and atmosphere, allegedly excellent pies and lots of space for a relaxing few hours. Plus decor that creates talking points if you’ve nothing really new to say to your partner!

Next post will be wildlife themed…the kingfishers have shown me a bit of love recently.

Until then, stay safe and stay warm…it’s getting cold out there.

Phil xx

to the top of the Thames

Having gone as far as Teddington, the limit of the locked section of the Thames heading south, we decided we absolutely had to go as far as possible in the other direction; we joined the Thames at Oxford last year, vaguely aware of the meandering opportunites if we took a right turn but more interested in heading south towards friends in Henley and castles in Windsor - we weren’t disappointed; it was a fabulous sunny week at the close of summer and we had a long lazy evening on the river bank at Eton, shared an apple with a bank vole at Cookham and drinks and dinner with those friends in Henley before joining the Kennet and Avon at Reading.

This year, though, we’re taking more time, slowing down (yes, we’d begun to feel that even our 3 miles an hour average speed on That’s Amore was taking us through places a little too quickly) and so a slow-paced adventure to the navigable start of the Thames just had to be done.

Heading north and then west from Oxford, the river does more than meander - it almost goes round in circles in places; travel any faster and it would be like a dizzying merry-go-round. But at 3mph the main concern is what lays beyond the switchback bends; it could be an oncoming boat or a tree half-blocking the way, whichever, there’s not a lot of space for complete relaxation at the helm.

Navigational hazards aside, it’s a beautiful stretch of river. From Godstow Abbey (linked historically with The Fair Rosamund and currently with an inquisitve herd of cows) to Newbridge (originally built in the 13th century but not quite the oldest on the Thames) and on to Lechlade, their are snippets of quirky history and delightful names - who wouldn’t stop for the night at The Trout at Tadpole Bridge?

We finally, lazily, arrived at Lechlade - the furthest point possible in a narrowboat - and felt quite a sense of achievement - maybe not quite like reaching the source of the Nile, but a definite feeling of completion. We walked a little further along the river and had a wander round Lechlade, a Cotswoldy small town with a fair selection of pubs with a fair variety of rules and regulations to keep us safe from Covid 19 and a shop selling only Christmas things. This unfortunately will be my abiding memory of Lechlad.

We’ve now turned around and will soon be back on the Oxford canal. I would have written that the wildlife has been quite non-descript; a few swans and geese, one heron and the odd moorhen. Until, this morning, when that most frustrating of birds flew past me and disapperaed into a tree. It did a great impression of an autumnal leaf (but they don’t dive for fish) and then, finally, it settled on a bush straight opposite me and l grabbed a couple of shots. So we’re staying here for an extra day, in the hope that the lovely kingfisher will show itself again, when the light is perfect and I’m in position in the cratch, that it will land on a clear branch for a minute or two then dive and catch a fish…I’m still the eternal optimist…

and the best pub of this blog is…The Trout at Tadpole Bridge - mainly because of the name, but also because it’s a wonderful place to park up - don’t buy the peanuts (£3.50 a bag!!!) and don’t expect an internet signal on your boat (walk up to the beer garden for that) - grab a pint and enjoy watching the paddle-boarders, dog-walkers and swimmers scrambling up and down the bank on the opposite side of the river.

Click on any of the images above if you’d like to see them full size, comment or message me if you’d like and, above all, stay safe, well and happy.

Phil xx

The River Wey Navigation, 1st attempt

Bad weather certainly stopped play for us.

24 hours into our 3 week exploration of the River Wey Navigation 17 trees crashed down - they narrowly missed a holiday boat (who knew a narrowboat break could be so exciting?), blocked the canal and towpath and thereby stopped us where we were, which was one lock on the right side of not being totally stuck.

The River Wey Navigation (I do like its full title) is a little-known section of the British waterways that joins the Thames at Shepperton and starts (or ends) in Godalming, Surrey - it was opened in 1653, allowing goods to be transported in both directions on horse-drawn barges built to carry 30 tons. Oak was carried downstream to the Thames for use in shipbuilding and corn brought back upstream for the mills along the waterway (thanks National Trust for the historic details).

After 72 hours the canal was still unpassable, so we turned around and moved back onto the Thames where we’re waiting to see if we’ll have time to get back on the Wey before the weather becomes too unpredictable for us and our little boat.

So, 72 hours, 4 miles and 4 locks…that’s not a lot of time or distance and yet, it was quite magical in parts, and quite drearily wet and sandy in others.

Magical smoking nettles puffing gently into the late morning air. I swear they smoke more if you don’t look at them directly.

The Navigation is part man-made canal and part river; the lock gates are ancient and heavy, the locks are deep and the water flow when filling is jaw-droppingly powerful - and the 1653 heritage plaques made me stop and think.

After Coxes Lock it’s very much like pootling gently down a country stream wth ancient oaks lining the towpath on one side and lilypads crowding the water’s edges. Ratty, Toad, Badger and Mole would fit in very well here although the wildlife was actually pretty scarce - an unexpected cormorant, some coots and ducks by the millpond at Coxes Lock and one family of swans. Maybe the rest are stuck on the other side of the fallen trees.

To interrupt this pastoral idyll, let me introduce the M25 that roars overhead and below it, the official toilet-emptying station - a perfect match, you could say.

Sand, sand and rain…I’d not realised how sandy this part of the country is and as everyone who’s ever set foot on a sandy beach knows, sand gets everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. The towpath is basically one long sandy way, albeit slightly less sandy now as so much of it made its way inside the boat, trapped in the mooring lines, on the roof, in the cratch…

Hopefully the trees will be cleared soon and we can continue right to the end of the River Wey Navigation - I am keen to see what other wildlife there is on it, keen to see if the sand runs out at any point, and above all keen to see family that are so close and still so far.

This week’s pub recommendation is from the river Thames (not enough time for proper research yet on the Wey!) - the Red Lion on the river at Shepperton was a gem of a find. They have private moorings, excellent service, extremely fine food (there’s a great chef with a deft but light touch in the kitchen) and the best house wine I’ve had in a long time. www.redlionshepperton.com

Take care everyone, and stay dry!

Phil xx

my 'itinerant photographer' website is launched!

As an itinerant photographer (or simply someone working on yachts overseas with a camera ever to hand), there never seemed to be the time to stay still, take stock and, for example, build a website to showcase my work. Around this time last year, when my husband and I realised what everyone does sooner or later, namely that life’s too short to live to someone else’s demands, we bought a narrowboat, moved back to England and started travelling on our own terms.

When the towpaths muddied over and ice started creeping into the puddles, we came back to our house in south Somerset to tidy it up, pack it up, and sell up. Before part 3 of this master plan was complete, the world and England’s canals had closed down.

I’m by nature an irrepressibly optimistic person and can’t help but find good in amongst the bad. So one result of my enforced lockdown and isolation is this website, the building of which has fried my brain in the most pleasurable way. My solitary walks along the ancient footpaths and rarely-visited woodlands on my doorstep let me experience my first British spring in decades - who knew it could be so green and lush and inspiring? Many of the intimate flora photographs on the website were taken on these walks.

You’ll get to know more about me, my photography, where I’ve been and where I’m going, in other blog posts - in the meantime, thanks for your time, I hope you like the photos and the stories, and I hope you’re staying safe

Phil xx

ps

I’m female and Philippa, but most people except my husband call me Phil