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

Kingfishers and me

Until a short while ago I could have, with reasonable confidence, told you of 3 places on the Kennet and Avon canal where I could hope to see a kingfisher. I don’t visit hides for my photography - all my shots are taken as I’m passing through an area, or maybe staying in the same place for a couple of nights at a push - properly itinerant photography.

So, my 3 places were where I had passed a couple of times on the narrowboat and each time there was a kingfisher - sometimes I could get a shot, sometimes (most times) it would shoot off in a dazzle of emerald and gold which I don’t mind too much - I’m lucky to see it anyway.

Last year, I was witness to a most extraordinary ‘battle of the kingfishers’; it seems that one bird flew into another’s territory, causing an incredible, fast-paced fight that saw them dragging each other down, pushing each other underwater and generally beating the **** out of each other before flying off in opposite directions along the canal. It was so unexpected that I had to ask my husband (manning the tiller at the time) if what I’d seen only metres in front of me really had happened. It had, and I have a few photos that document it.

Last year also, approaching a busy area with a marina and narrowboat rental company, I was amazed to see a kingfisher fly as leisurely as a kingfisher can from boat to mooring line, settling down and turning its back on me as we passed…very unusual behaviour from this most shy and skittish of birds.

So this year, armed with all the aforementioned experience, I was ready in some specific places on the canal - long lens on, dog cushion in the cratch to support its weight, camera settings checked, double-checked and checked again…and not one kingfisher showed me even a glimmer of a back feather. I found this lack of even a sighting really frustrating, because I’d expected to see them, whereas last year every time I saw one was a novel and unexpected delight.

Deep in the heart of the Pewsey Vale I left the boat for a couple of days and got back to be regaled by my husband with stories about the local kingfisher - which did helpfully swoop low along the river that evening and then remained resolutely hidden from view the next day.

I’m writing this post now because, such is the law of the sod, I sat down in the cratch to update my website (therefore no camera nearby) and one of the little darlings flew right in front of me, then straight across the river Thames, blatantly taunting me (I’m not taking this too personally, am I?).

Kingfishers - I love them and they’re driving me crazy! Hopefully soon I’ll be able to post a shot from 2020, but for now, here are some from last year. Oh yes, I did update the website - there are new photos in the ‘Wildlife’ and ‘Kennet and Avon canal’ sections.

Thanks as always for looking, I hope the kingfishers give you as much pleasure as they do me.

If you’re passing through Great Bedwyn any time, do call in on The Three Tuns pub (www.tunsfreehouse.com) - it’s a fabulous local with a good selection of drinks, incredibly helpful landlord (sometimes being itinerant means a pub is the best address you can get!) and a large beer garden.

Also, www.phoenixwoodfirepizza.co.uk deserves a shout for just about the best pizza outside of Italy - and that is not said lightly. They roam around the Wiltshire villages near Great Bedwyn and it’s worth timing a trip on a narrowboat to coincide with their timetable.

Hoping you’re all well and all still staying safe,

Phil xx

Conquering the Caen Hill Flight

first, some hard facts about the famous Caen Hill flight of locks:

1. it’s one of the longest continuous flight of locks in the country - a total of 29 locks with a rise of 72metres in 3.2 km (237 feet over 2 miles) - on the Kennet and Avon canal - if you want to head west past Devizes towards Bath or Bristol, you can’t avoid it

2. The flight of locks opened in 1810; by 1818, seventy 60-ton barges were working on the canal, mostly carrying coal and stone

3. A back pump at Foxhangers is capable of returning 7 million gallons of water per day to the top of the flight. That’s one lockful every 11 minutes.

4. people actually hire narrow boats to ‘climb’ the locks for fun

5. the locks have opening hours; in summer, they open at 8h00 and close at 17h00 which allows the last boats through to clear the top lock by 20h00 - you’re told to allow 5 to 6 hours to go through all the locks

6. the pounds by the side of the locks (they store excess water from opening and closing the gates) are teeming with wildlife - herons, swans, ducks

Now, some fun facts:

1. last year, going down the locks on our own (it was the middle of winter and noone was travelling) I walked almost 15km doing the 3.2km of locks. This year, on a busy summer day with another boat next to us through the flight, it was the much more sensible distance of 6km

2. there are volunteers there to help where needed…one was a man on a mission opening and closing paddles, another enjoyed patrolling on the quad bike in between greasing the mechanisms

3. the man on the boat in front of us was on the vodka and coke at 10am

4. swans will happily hitch a ride with you through the locks

5. there are lots of visitors to Caen Hill, mostly enjoying the spectacle of slightly out of shape people wrestling with stiff lock gates and saying, ‘‘call that a holiday?’ (my cringing reply towards the end of the day - ‘it’s not a holiday, it’s my life’ oh, the embarrassment)

6. there is always one more lock than you think (around the bend, where you’re slowly heading)

7. it really is great fun

there can only be one recommendation for refreshments…the Black Horse Inn, canal-side at the top (almost) of the flight into Devizes. We arrived 20 minutes before afternoon closing time, were warmly welcomed and enjoyed recovery drinks in lovely surroundings. Thoroughly recommended. At the moment they close mid-afternoon to deep clean before re-opening for the evening session, serving good food and a decent range of beers and if you’re on your narrowboat, you can tie up right next to the pub and settle in for the night.

Goodbye Somerset, I shall miss you

Lockdown is (mostly) over, the pubs are open and I’m moving back onto the narrowboat – what a week this is.

My first British spring since 1990 was not spent pootling along the canals as planned; instead, my husband and I put all our energies into transforming the house from top to bottom; we grew tomatoes and potatoes and basil; on my permitted daily walk I would head off armed with my camera down the local lanes.

I shall miss those ancient footpaths that lead off in all directions from the recently-sold house in south Somerset; it’s been an absolute joy exploring them during the last few months, seeing the new shoots of spring give way to summer wildflowers buzzing with insects.

I’ve seen foxes and squirrels and peacocks (really) on my lockdown walks. I’ve learnt the names of common wildflowers that were not common to me (forget-me-not and herb robert, anyone?). I saw that lots of bees rummage around the ground rather than in flowers – and I learned some of their names, too.

I took so many photos, a visual reminder of the strange months that saw me connect with a place I’ve known for over 30 years without ever fully appreciating; I shall miss Somerset, for sure.

The next adventures are back on the narrowboat – the green and wondrous Kennet and Avon to start with; I’m already itching for the stretch by Avoncliffe where the autumn trees cast golden reflections as far as the eye could see, looking forward to seeing them in full green summer leaf…

The next post will be from on board the good ship…

Until then, please stay safe and well,

Phil xx

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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