The next day we had a marvelous BBQ, with plenty of people attending. Barney was as good as gold, quite literally being the best behaved I have known. On one occasion he just stayed asleep in the group, while I went to help someone who had arrived with an unusual small boat on a trailer, that required unloading. In the afternoon I refueled in readiness for the return, before we had a short cruise with a couple of other boats to the pub. I returned to the marina for the night, Before setting off for the trip home the next morning, bright and early, as I was awake.

I had to do the first four locks single handed, as it was still early with no one around, however a couple out dog walking, helped me close up at one. I met up with a couple of men on a NB who were happy to share locks, and locking duties with me, and I accompanied them for most of the trip back down the Soar. As I have just mentioned, Wud looks fast, and I know I was travelling a little fast for the 4mph canal limit, but slowly she looks much quicker than narrowboats. However there was only one plonker on a narrowboat that was furiously waving me down, a few others, including fishermen gave me a some odd looks, with only one individual commenting. I get fed up explaining, although I don't mind stopping, as you can cause quite a commotion revving in reverse, and setting off of course; however there wasn't time today.

I had travelled about 3/4s of the distance back to the Trent, and was just approaching a busy lock, when someone hailed me from a passing cruiser. It was non other than than than Adi, my friend who I've only met the once, and recognized my boat, despite the repaint. We stopped; he had his first look over Wud, then helped me through the lock, before we went on our way. He was returning from a boating holiday that was almost of record breaking proportions in covering a popular part of the system, the reason he was missing over the weekend.

It was marvelous hot, sunny weather, and I was pleased of the shade of the wheelhouse; no doubt Barney was pleased of the shade in the cabin, which kept relatively cool, thanks to the front hatch and portholes being open. I quickly arrived back on the Trent, and decided I had time to return though Nottingham. I could after all stay at the side of the Marina, as I had done on my first trip there if it got too late to continue. Once again the deep lock was easy, so easy I can't actually remember passing through, so must have had help as before. Beeston lock was no problem this time, and I was getting friendly waves from many of the people on their narrowboats moored on the bank. I continued and arrived at the third lock, with a pub alongside. This is a double lock, but not much difference in height in water levels, with very worn gates. Some men were drinking outside, and had some friendly chat and banter as I locked through. There were no other boats around, and I took the opportunity to go into the pub for a couple of bottle of cold beer, while I was moored in the lock. Once through I closed up, and travelled under the bridges, this time leaving it in gear, with no problems. The beer went down well on this hot day, after my exertions, and I arrived at the last lock to find a lock keeper on duty, on this busy weekend. With him helping me though, I moored briefly to re-erect the mast and antenna, before setting off down the Trent. I had thought the trip through Nottingham had taken me 4 hours going, yet I had come back in 2. Still at the roughly the same speed, so I had either misread my watch, or spent much more time in the locks.

I carried on down the Trent, arriving back at the pub at Stoke for the night. Despite it being Sunday, and I was not looking quite my best, having spent the most time yet on the boat yet, I received the best service ever in the pub. I couldn't have been treated better if I'd been an A list celebrity. I inquired of the young lady if I was entitled to 2 dinners, to take advantage of their offer. Not only would they let me take one away, they asked me to tell them when I was nearly finished, first finding which one I wanted to eat there. I had chosen chicken and chips to take out, as I thought I could share the chips with Barney on the boat, and keep the chicken for the next day.

While I was dining, the manager came and sat with me for a chat, seeing I was alone, the spare meal was delivered to me, all wrapped in foil, for me to take out just before I was ready to leave. Also when I returned for a drink, the bar staff were genuinely friendly, and very sociable. If the service offered to all people, were as good as this in all pubs, there would be none go out of business.

I slept well again that night, setting off early on another glorious day. The trip went so well, I kept going, stopping only briefly in Newark for a spot of lunch, and letting Barney off to toilet again. I arrived at Cromwell to find plenty of water, and almost perfect timing. It was still only early afternoon, and with luck I could get back to Lincoln.

Well the trip back down the Trent was joyful, although a short squall did blow up about half way. I had the canopy down, so just donned a coat, although I was sheltered in the main by the wheelhouse, unlike the narrowboats I met at this time, who must have wondered why they had taken up boating at all, I shouldn't wonder. The rain soon cleared and by the time I got back to Torksey lock the boat was dry again. I chatted with the lock keeper for a few moments, who seemed friendly towards me, and like my boat. Apparently he is not the same to all. I set off, pleased to be back on the Fosse Dyke again, and especially with my luck with the lock timing being correct, even with no planning. After chugging past the moored boats I found Wud sluggish, and vibrating a bit. It wasn't the coupling, because I had just checked that in the lock. Thinking I must have picked a bag up on the prop, or some rope I stopped to investigate, but could find nothing. However hooking the boathook over the propshaft nut, I found there was quite a lot of movement. Either I had worn the cutlass bearing out, or more likely, it had come off again. Thinking back I had hit a couple of underwater objects, just part of the canals, and with the loose coupling, this could have shaken the bolts out again.

I proceeded slowly, thinking I would get petrol for the outboard, then use that to get back. After all I had bought if for just such an eventuality. I should however have refilled the petrol can, something I hadn't forgotten, but just didn't bother to do. There is a roadside garage about half way back to Saxilby, but when I got there I found I had to climb a steep bank full of nettles, so decided to wait until I got back to the village. I got there, moored, walked to the garage and found it shut.....Typical. I fitted the outboard on the back, filled it with the small amount in the can, then set off for Lincoln. The slower speed was a bit frustrating, however I was not missing the noise of my engine, and the weather had improved for another gorgeous summer evening. I got to the outskirts of Lincoln before the outboard ran out of petrol, so proceeded through Lincoln on the engine.

I moored at the usual spot under the willow tree, next to the Witch and Wardrobe pub, but this time couldn't sample the hostelry. I walked over the Road Bridge to Tesco's petrol station, and bought a can of petrol, and some 2 stoke oil. Returning carrying a gallon can for over half a mile, I was starting to feel really weary, but having come this far, was determined to make it back to Bardney. I also need to get the car, as I didn't want to have to struggle the next day, getting Wud back. It also meant quite along walk across Lincoln, carrying the things I didn't want to leave on the boat overnight.

I still had Stamp End to do, so drove the boat to there on the main engine. Through and out of Stamp End with no problems, I settled down for the trip back to Bardney. I knew it would take longer than the usual hour and a bit, but I hadn't taken account of how the weed would affect the outboard. More than once I had to stop and lift it to clear the stuff from the prop. Then the outboard was hard to start. Tired, hungry and getting a bit fed up I hurled abuse at the river on more than one occasion. Since leaving the Witham and Fosse everything had gone perfectly, only for trouble to strike the second I was back on it. Will there ever be a time I can travel upstream from Bardney without an incident of some sort happening.

I eventually arrived at Bardney just after dark, around 10pm. At least I had done good days boating. It usually takes 2 days to get to Nottingham, and I had come from nearly there in one, also with a breakdown. I moored up, trudged to the car with the minimum of things, and came home, so ending one of the best trips I have undertaken; also the first proper break I've had for several years.

Another Trip Up The Trent...

A few weeks later, over the august bank holiday I undertook another trip up the Trent. The friend I had met while returning the last time, was coming downstream, so my plan, if any, was to go up to meet him.

Not really that much to tell this time, as another enjoyable time was had. I was really starting to enjoy boating on the Trent.

After an enjoyable, and uneventful trip there, I finally came across him at Gunthorpe. In fact he hailed me, as by this time, I was looking for a mooring for the night, and the river was heaving with boats on this August bank holiday. Luckily he spotted me, as I had been on the lookout for him ever since Newark, and had asked all the lock keepers if they knew of his whereabouts. Also luckily I had a small boat, that just fitted between his, and another small one, in the only available space at the back of the BW floating mooring.

At last we had time for an enjoyable chat over a beer. Everyone else was friendly, and the only downside was, despite only being a couple of riverbank pubs, we actually missed each other in the evening. After taking Barney for a walk, I returned to find their boat empty. I went to the pub, but couldn't see them. They were actually 'lost in the crowd of diners' and I didn't expect them to be buying a meal. He later looked for me, and must have walked past where I was sitting, just as I had popped out to check Barney, and see if anyone had returned to his boat.

I still had a pleasant evening, chatting to two old local bikers, before discovering the other pub, tucked away at the back, with much more reasonable prices. The only downside of this was the old couple I found to chat to were caravanners........hard work LOL.

That evening they got a call from his friends brother, who had just bought a boat, an expensive, fast sports type that had previously had a rough life. It had broken down, and they had to go and tow it back, so instead of continuing down the Trent for a while, they headed back. I accompanied them to Stoke lock, where I then turned round and headed home.

Coming down the Trent with a flow of water Wud almost broker her own speed record, and I was back in Newark in no time. I moored up, and enjoyed the sights on this sunny day for a while, before setting off again. This time I got to Nether lock after the keeper had gone home, so had to do the large, automated lock on my own. It presented no problems, I let Barney off the boat before I dropped the water, and once done, and the gates open, climbed down the ladder and took the boat out, to meet him at the lower moorings downstream. A few nervous moments as I boarded the boat without him, but I needn't have worried.

While there, a man and woman came up, whom I had met before, but actually forgotten. They lived in the lock house, and actually bought the boat from the man who used to live in the house at Bardney lock, and who is now a temporary lock keeper there. Having seen my boat the previous year, they remembered her, and were very complimentary on my work I had done since.

They had said there should be room at Muskham pub for overnight mooring, but when I got there it was full, with several boats breasted up. I decided to moor on the bank, which I mistakenly thought belonged to the pub. After all, that is what we do at Southrey/Dunston when the moorings are full. There were several smart 'gin-palace' type boats breasted up at the other end, with some sort of party going on. This didn't worry me in the slightest, although I later learnt, another of the boaters took offence to the noise, with threats of cutting ropes. In fact, one of the 'captains' approached me in the pub later in the evening, shaking my hand, and complimenting me on my boating skills. Not only had he seen me moor up, but had also been in one of the locks upstream, when I had entered. Needless to say, that didn't dent my ego, and added to the enjoyment of the evening chatting to several of the friendly people who were present.

The next morning, just as I was getting ready to leave, a man was cutting the grass on the bank. He asked what I was doing mooring on his garden, also saying I had 'destroyed his reed bed'. Typical, I had moored against an unkempt bank with no sign of private. What did he expect me to be; a mind reader. I apologized, also saying that it was normal to do this locally to Lincoln. After the second attempt at apology, he begrudgingly accepted it, but speaking to others afterwards it seems this is quite a common occurrence at this spot, so I should just take no notice. Why doesn't he put a sign up? Oh! And I didn't destroy his reed bed at all; just broke a few off that would recover within days.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. I spent a pleasant night at Torksey, before continuing the rest of the way to Bardney, this time being unhindered by midnight swimmers drowning themselves. I stopped off in Lincoln to take advantage of going to market for provisions, before returning to Bardney.

Well that's about it for the year. I was unsure of where I was going to keep my boat over the winter. Several of the 'winter spots' I had found dried up, or came to nothing, and I didn't really want to put her at Boston on the tidal Haven just yet. When my moorings expired at Bardney, my friend Roy suggested I moor at Southrey for a month. There is much uncertainty at Chapel Hill moorings, where he does. I bought a license for a month to stay on the Witham, then went to stay on one of his moorings at Chapel Hill, which he has kindly lent me over the winter. I have however found him several jobs, and so income for his slipway, and with the help I have given, not only earned myself a bit of boating money, but also made him some, so have 'paid' for my mooring as such.

I have now paid for a mooring on the Haven, but for now, am stuck in the mud on the Kyme.