Over the winter I removed the gearbox to investigate the movement in the shaft. On removal, I discovered the coupling flange on the propshaft had worked loose. In fact I was lucky not to have suffered a breakdown, as further investigation found the key had in fact come out. The boat had been driven for some time by the grub-screw in the small indent in the shaft. This had elongated into a slot, and was the source of the 'clunk' I could hear, when going from forward to reverse.

The gearbox proved to be a heavily engineered simple unit, in relatively good condition. The bearings on the mainshaft had spun in the housing however, making them slightly loose. A friend sent me some special Loktite with which I was able to fasten them in. I did have one bit of very good fortune. I required a short length of 1/4inch square keyway. Now this could be difficult to find nowadays, let alone at a remote spot in the countryside. The one other person that was there has a narrowboat he built, and had in fact some 'in stock' so I got some there and then. A few hours each day quickly got the job completed.

A mild week in January gave me the chance for a 'test drive' to Lincoln. All went well, except it was a damp day, and in Stamp End I slipped on the deck. I was wearing my best non-slip shoes, and was safely holding onto the rail, however I sat down hard. Followers of my stories will know I have worn this part of my anatomy, so rather than just saying "ouch" this could have more serious consequences. The next few weeks proved this, however thankfully I appear to have recovered to my previous level.

After a cold spell through February and March, where I didn't leave the house far, except for Barneys daily local walks, I finally went down to ready for the year. I have managed to pay moorings at Bardney until the end of September, so must make the most of this summer. The lower Witham water level was raised on 31st March, as at 1pm a boat with a 4ft draught, waiting at Bardney could set off to go to Boston. On my suggestion Roy and myself had our first trip ourselves a few days later, going Tuesday and coming back Wednesday.

On my departure, I took some photos to post instruction of how to take a boat through a lock. Many people, both at Bardney and online have asked how, and this is one instance where a picture is worth a thousand words. It was a windy day, but I managed to take enough, with someone to help for the latter part of the operation. Once through I noticed a smart sports-cruiser approaching. It had been bought new last year, as I learned while I helped them through, before setting off myself.

I had left home in good time, but despite refueling the previous day, it was still eleven-O-clock before I arrived, and ten to two before I set off. I had arranged with Roy to wait at Chapel Hill until 4:30, however he had arrived in good time, and phoned when I was still on the way at Tattershall. The trip downstream was backwind, and probably assisted with a slight flow I made good time. As usual, after not boating for a few weeks, the pace seems a little slow, but after the first hour or so I had re-acclimatized to the 'slow lane' again, and was enjoying the trip.

I met Roy as planned, and after a cuppa we set off. I had never been more pleased I didn't have a coffin (narrowboat) as the cold wind was accompanied at times by a hail shower. However I had lit the stove before setting off, and there was still some residual heat in the cabin, despite my leaving it to go out a while ago. The rest of the journey from Chapel Hill passed quickly, and we arrived at Boston to take our pick of the moorings. I relit the stove from the bags of pine offcuts; sadly the last as the people in the house have left, and there will be no more. Within minutes I had a roasting fire, and making sure it was safe, we went to Andy's (chip shop). We returned to Roys' boat, which was warmed by a tilley and a new paraffin lamp he had bought.

After a rest we went to the pub, and was surprised to find a busy 'quiz night' despite the early time of year. Luckily we were too late to take part, as I still found I hardly knew any of the answers. But everyone was welcoming, the beer as good as ever, and in fact it was almost as if we had visited the previous week. We returned to the boat where I relit the stove before bedding down. I left the door ajar for ventilation, however the wind caused a slight chop on the wide river, and the rocking of the boat must have opened it a bit. I woke around 4.30 and it was almost as cold in the cabin as the -3deg outside. However I had Barney to keep warm and only one hand was freezing. I stayed like that, hardly daring to move until around 6.00, before getting up and lighting the stove. It was like the tropics again in no time, in fact I had to sit in the back for a few minutes to cool off. I walked down with Barney to use the new facilities, before returning to finish my sleep in the warm cabin.

Around 9.00am I got up and had a dog walk, before joining Roy for coffee. He had woken up freezing as well. Around 10.30 we went to market, returning to do the few jobs before heading back around 1:00. The return trip was more enjoyable, the sun streaming through the windows, more than making up for the cold headwind. I moored briefly at Chapel Hill to help Roy moor his boat in the strong wind. Soon we were on our way again, and the cruise along my favorite stretch of the Witham, Chapel Hill to Bardney went well, although a slight flow and head wind saw it take 2hours 12 minutes. I arrived back to find the lock set against me. A pity as if it had been open, as I'd left it the previous day this would have provided a sweet end to the first proper trip of the year. However I managed to lock through without incident, and moored up quickly and easily. A promising start to boating for the summer.

The latest trip up the Kyme.

I've just enjoyed what is arguably my most enjoyable trip up the Sleaford Canal (Kyme Eau/River Slea)

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Thurmston to see Alan and, along with Ken we had a nice trip downstream to Mountsorrell. While there I met Allan and Debbie on their narrowboat, Keeping Up. Obviously someone with a sense of humour as his surname is Jones. We had arranged to meet up via email when they came to Lincoln on their planned trip earlier in the year.

They arrived in Lincoln at midday, and with unusually good timing I arrived at the Pool just a couple of minutes earlier. At first they seemed a little lost, as the Brayford Trust has now closed, with the moorings empty and looking abandoned, however after a circuit of the pool, I managed to attract his attention and help moor. I am not a particular fan of NBs but his 67footer is one of the best designed, and built I have seen. He bought it new 15 years ago and looked after it well, despite being a 'proper boater' and not frightened of using his boat.

We had a walk around Lincoln, where I gave a quick guided tour, with a couple of local tips, and they are planning to spend a few days sightseeing on their return. Debbie sadly was under the weather, with a chest infection, and our walk to a pub looking for food, was at first frustrating; something that was to remain for the next few days. A tour guide (me) who does not regularly dine out, and with a poor, and fading memory is not the best source for information. However we found a nice uphill pub, where they had a 'proper' pint and some food. I walked back with Allan while Debbie went book hunting. She eventually found it in the Waterstones chain store, instead of the local smaller bookshops that are liberally sprinkled in the uphill area. So I was pleased her search had not been in vain. It was a book written in this area, hence her interest and given she was forced to rest inside, rather than face the cold wind over the next couple of days, would have something to do.

When she had returned, we set off on Keeping Up for the ride through Lincoln, where I could show Allan the interesting places, and photo opportunities. On our brief time together we had found some similar interests, and someone who could tolerate my chatter for a few days, and all enjoy each other's company. He told me Debbie is usually the talkative one, but her chest infection had made her almost loose her voice, so she felt a little left out. Later the next day though, after our meal and wine we had a good chat though.

I journed with them through Stamp End lock meeting another boat coming upstream, so as I could assist in mooring, open the guillotine as it is electrically operated, and the other boats' crew could work the lower paddles and gates, they didn't even have to step off the boat.

Once through Lincoln, Allan handed me the tiller, pleasantly telling me how well it handled, and how the construction of the boat meant it steered correctly. I have to say it is the best NB I have driven and you could place the bow, which seemed miles away after the few feet of my usual craft, over a leaf in the river. It also has a half-inch steel bottom plate, instead of the usual 3/8ths or even 1/4 today. That is only 6 or 9mm in new money.

At Washingborough Allan at first thought there wasn't enough room on the pontoon, as another NB was moored there, but on arrival there was room for his 67ft with some to spare. I left them for the pleasant walk home along the cycle track, although as I'd already walked around Lincoln twice earlier in the day, I was pleased I hadn't got to walk back.

I had arranged to meet them at Bardney the next day for a trip to Chapel Hill, with hopefully a trip up the Kyme. The next day I woke early so, despite my preparations for an overnight stay, arrived at Bardney in good time. Being bank holiday it was busy, and the LBC (Lincoln Boat Club) were there on their annual cruise. I polished my brasses, joked I'd get into a row if I didn't, as our Commodore was there LOL, then did a spot of quick rough painting on the wheelhouse.

Allan duly arrived, and after some 'normal' lock keeping with a few of our club boats going downstream we penned through. I had shown Allan the facilities at the lock, the lower platform, handy for getting his dogs off for a walk, and also Wud-E-Nuff.

We had a leisurely trip downstream, passing my club members at Dunston White Horse. I found there was room to stop at Kirkstead pontoon, and indeed moved Wud out of the way un-necessarily. Allan's boatmanship with his years of experience is a joy to behold, as with no fuss and bother he maneuvers his heavy long boat alongside to within inches, proving you can make a NB go sideways without bow thrusters. Later he told me he doesn't like them as while moving a boat for someone they broke at a crucial part, leaving him in danger of being swept over a large weir (this may require editing later if I have forgotten the facts correctly).

Also there was the Lady Angela, the inspiration of my remote steering rudder. My latest invention, a small removable rudder worked by a car wiper motor, with a long wire so I could steer the boat while roaming around was working ok, but required slight adjustment to the tension of the line. For the rest of the trip it worked great, I could even have enough confidence to go forward of the wheelhouse if I wanted. For much of the rest of the journey I rarely touched the wheel, even finding I did not need to fasten it in position with the elastic cord I had fastened onto two hooks.

We arrived at Chapel Hill and Allan breasted to the two NBs permanently moored there. The only disappointment was there was no food being served, either at the clubhouse, on whose mooring we were using, or the pub. Often a problem finding a meal on Sundays, it appears bank holidays are even worse. Anyway they had provisions so we had a lovely meal on their boat; topped off by a bottle of good wine I had thoughtfully bought at Tesco earlier. Not being a wine connoisseur I had been a little nervous of my choice, especially when I learned they had their own wine merchant, however I need not have worried. In fact I learned Chilean wine is usually a good choice, and something I can now vouch for after sampling the delights that evening.

However, shortly after arrival, Allan and myself took Wud up the Kyme to the lock, to see if it was useable. A BW lock keeper had passed a day or two earlier while I had been at Bardney and said he had just tried to go up the Slea. A lock gate was jammed a little open, and even the force of the water by lifting the quillotine had failed to close it. Was this to be a major flaw in our plan; could we resolve it by some hard work? We arrived ok, only the river was a bit shallow. Both gates were shut so the trip was on. After a brief stop to allow Allan to look around we came back. With two in the back of my boat, plus the stern low due to wanting to get back there was a worrying clunk when we hit something. Allan reassured me it was just a fence post or something in the river, but I wasn't so sure, however close inspection the next morning proved him right. I did however have an issue with the oil pressure, or lack of it. In the end I resolved it, but running the engine with none will be taking its toll. It will have to be looked at soon, and I may have heard the beginnings of the 'death rattle' of the big end bearing on my return journey the next day, but the delights preceding that should more than make up for any running repairs; even the end of my boating.

We awoke up to a downpour, but the local forecast was for better weather, with sunny spells later, and was spot on for once. So a leisurely start, giving time for inspecting the boat, and getting the oil pressure saw us head up the Slea at around 11am. Allan found he could easily wind his 67ft in the fork below the river from the lock to the sluice, but had difficulty backing up to the small mooring against the strong wind. Any thoughts of backing his boat the next 2 to 3 miles were quickly dispelled. After the usual messing about with ropes, I was finally moored alongside him, and looking up, was surprised to find a small NB moored topside.

I went to investigate and found the most unsociable pair of 'river gypsies' in their presentable 35footer I've had the displeasure of meeting. They moaned about the river, the fact they had to back a few miles, the fact it was not signed as difficult, or closed etc. etc. Never mind, we eventually penned Wud up and then penned them down. My first thought was to get them to shut the guillotine, as the other paddle had fallen off the gate, requiring another 1500 turns of the handle, lovely, but after meeting them, had a rethink and suggested we send them on their way, after penning up.

We emptied the lock of some of the weed and dragged Wud inside in the usual way. All assisted in the winding of the handle, and in fact the man did have one good idea of winding some rope to turn the handle to shut the guillotine. Not actually his idea, but if we wind rope around the spindle of the handle on winding it up, then fastening the end to the boat and drawing away should shut it, or at least go some way to assisting. That is if I need the opportunity again. The liveaboards backed their boat out of the way while we struggled to pull Wud out of the lock. Guillotine gates are wonderful (not) for this job, as you have to risk falling in the get the ropes around the supporting girders. When we finally managed it, the 'fresh' wind (almost a gale actually) held Wud to the side while we rewound the guillotine down once their boat was in the lock. We assisted with their penning down, watching them depart before going to Wud to try to pull her from the bank. Debbie had sensibly elected to stay aboard their boat and rest, instead of braving the strong, cold wind, but we eventually succeeded in pulling Wud around the concrete step to board and quickly set off before being blow back into the bank and undergrowth.

Now the remains of the Sleaford Canal is always a challenge, even in the easy period in April, but I could not have picked a better time. With the late spring everything looks green and fresh, making this delightful river even more so. The water level was a little low, my depth gauge on the fishfinder only showing 2ft for much of the time, although it is a little 'pessimistic' and may be measuring the weed on the bottom, rather than the riverbed. The water was still almost clear of weed however, and only once did I have to stop and clear the prop, close to South Kyme. We had a very pleasant slow trip upstream, sheltered by the wheelhouse from the strong cold head wind. We had elected to drop the canopy, but were comfortable even shedding our coats approaching the village.

Due to the low water Wud easily passed under the road bridge much to my delight, so we ventured through the village, looking even better kept than usual after it's springclean. I was nearly blown into the large sawn off branch of the willow tree, which I assisted with on my first, and most difficult trip on Wud two years previously, and as I cautiously crept past, she came within an inch of being hit. The wind and lack of control due to some weed already on the prop was making life interesting again, but good to be a 'proper boater' though. Safely past we carried on and passing under the next bridge we saw the semi fallen footbridge the man on the other boat had spoken of. Wud was now on 'uncharted water'; this being past the point of an earlier trip, where I was stopped by weed, but she made it under that too with room to spare. The very low bridge came into view and, much to my surprise I found I had could pass underneath. The water was almost a foot low even on the upper level, but the recent rain would soon arrive, so I mustn't dally too long.

Once under the bridge heading out of the river it quickly became obvious our progress was soon to be halted. We wound our way through the soft silt, but the prop had become clogged with candyfloss and our progress was painfully slow. The head wind wasn't helping but.....I had wanted to come to this spot, the one with the wonderful view of the old stone tower of the keep poking through the trees, with the winding clear small river in the foreground. Must be once of the best sights in the world, and I would respectfully suggest, at least as good as the sight of the Glory Hole from the west.

Just before we ground to a halt, I turned my bow into the bank. WE HAD MADE IT. The natural turning point, where further adventure is pointless, once you have achieved the ambition of travelling to the head of the navigation. Just before we set off, I was aghast to find my camera batteries were dead. Having replaced them fairly recently, I was sure they would have enough life left, and I couldn't find my spares. Maybe they were the spares however Allan had his much better camera so we have some great pictures to record the historic event of Wud so far up the Slea.

After Allan had gone ashore to take the pictures, I struggled to turn Wud in the strong wind, hindered by a flowing stream and no prop, as it was weeded. My lack of boating experience became obvious, but with Allan giving tips, we managed to turn; however I grabbed a branch of a tree in the end, to get us pointing in the right direction. With the strong backwind and current we made good speed the few yards (less than half a mile) back to the village, and safely under the low bridges, stopped to clear the prop. As I've said, the previous few hours' rain would soon arrive in the river, and I didn't want to be trapped wrong side of all the bridges for the rest of the season, or next drought.

With the prop cleared of the candyfloss we now had full control, and should have an easy and enjoyable trip in the afternoon sun, back to Bottom Lock. This proved to be the case, but the candyfloss was green, so given a few hot days and it will soon be on the surface. I doubt the trip will be as easy in seven days or so.

We arrived back and penned Wud down. I assisted Allan to cast off, however the wind had relented slightly. He had decided to go back to Tattershall, where we were to have a pint in the pub, before I headed back. The oil pressure problem appears to be getting worse, and will soon require addressing. In fact I may have to do some repairs, as I think??? I can hear the beginnings of the 'death rattle' (the big-end bearing) on the journey home. I hope I'm hearing things, but somehow doubt it.

I arrived at Tattershall to moor in front of the liveaboards. She came out to ask how far we had got, however declined my offer to look over Wud. I informed Allan by radio, after refitting the antenna, that the other pontoon was empty, then helped when he arrived to moor in the strong offshore wind. After preparing my boat for the return journey, which involved lifting the mast, fitting the antenna, the old antenna I use as a post for the solar light, tidying up and collecting everything to be taken home, and putting the metal door back on. I then took Allan for a look at the view downstream from the position on the old road bridge, where he had another photo opportunity. Then along with Debbie we went to the local pub for a drink. Another pub not serving food, however with instruction to another fairly close by, I bade farewell to my new friends for a few days, and headed home. The headwind journey was slower than usual, however I made it to find the lock empty for once. Bulldozed my way through and moored up, pretty tired to be honest. All I did in the lock was to wind one paddle up, luckily the wind had died, so the gates did not blow shut, meaning I could pass though with both only partially open. I had put my coats etc in the car while in the lock, so only to wind one paddle up must be a record, even for me for single handed locking.

Another trip for the diary, but could it be the last up Lincolnshires finest natural attraction? Now to ponder, do I spend some non-existent money on Wud's engine, or do I risk another trip first?