The highlight of the year, must be the trip to Thurmaston near Leicester, to my boating friends BBQ; also the longest trip I've undertaken up to date.

The main problem as usual was finding slaves (crew) to help with locks, and give me a break when required. I had thought I had worked out the tide times for Torksey to Cromwell, however when I inquired I was totally wrong. I had given myself plenty of time to arrive at Thurmaston by Saturday, so this was actually a bonus, as it meant I only had to get to Torksey that evening, not early afternoon, so in effect, giving me an extra day to prepare. I managed to get a friend to join me for the trip to Torksey, which would help me through Stamp End lock, amongst other things. After that all the locks were manned, or automated if the lock keeper were not on duty, until I got to Nottingham.

Well he arrived at my house, and we took both cars to Torksey, leaving his there; the extra journey a small price to pay for his friendship and help. On arriving at Bardney I commenced to unload the car, and went to bring the boat up to the lock, to save some distance carrying everything. Well; DISASTER. Only a couple of days before I had been at the boat, and with the help of a fellow boater, had given Wud a full service, checking everything, which included the propshaft coupling. I had also cleaned and tidied the boat, so thought I was properly prepared for a long voyage for a change. But I had barely backed out of the finger mooring when the shaft pulled out of the coupling again. I've not felt so gutted for a long time, and was sure I would have to call the trip off at first.

The breeze was blowing Wud onto the side of the river the moorings are, so we only had to manhandle her past a couple of boats to an empty space to work on her. I quickly took the coupling off, and discovered the problem. When it had come out the first time this year, and I was forced to remove the stuck grub screw, I had to file the end to get it out. I had difficulty getting replacements the same size, and thread, so had used the original, however the end was too flat to go into the indent in the prop shaft. I had filed the end of the grub screw to enable me to get it out, and this had removed the taper, so the screw did not locate in the indent in the shaft to stop it sliding backwards. I filed a new taper and reassembled everything. After trying it by going into forward and reverse a few times while still on the mooring, it appeared to hold, so I decided to set out and see what happened. If there were still further problems, I could always leave Wud at Lincoln. No doubt a friend could help in taxing us to our cars.

So with the help of my friend we carried the provisions down to the boat, and I was about to set off, when he said I should go back to the car to check I had not forgotten anything. Good job I did, as I had not forgotten to bring everything, but had forgotten to lock it; in fact the rear door was wide open. I locked up, and walked back to the boat, the oversight of leaving it unlocked caused, no doubt by the distraction of having to repair the boat.

I was, understandably nervous. I was about to set off on my longest voyage, and to parts of the rivers and canals that were 'uncharted territory' for me. Yet I had experienced a breakdown within the first few yards. After my previous experiences with boating, what on earth was in store for me this time!

On the way to Lincoln we came across a newish very wide broads cruiser stopped on the side. On passing I inquired if he needed help, and he said he was stuck. He had not had the boat very long, and was engrossed in looking at the view of Lincoln, and the cathedral he did not look where he was going and ran aground. It was a little windy, but I backed up to see if I could pull him off. He was stuck fast, and as I backed up to have another go, I kept going when I had repositioned Wud, not noticing the rope was around the stern fairlead. I shot off with a jolt, and only when I saw it missing when I looked back I understood what had happened. Of course it had to be the brass one didn't it.

I repositioned Wud once again, telling the man to attach the rope to the stern of his boat, and this time managed to pull the back out so he could reverse out. He thanked me and I set off again. Yet another incident, and I'd hardly started!!!

I got to Lincoln, then checked the coupling when we got to Stamp End. While my friend emptied the lock, and opened the gates, I retightened the coupling, which seemed as if it might actually last the trip. My friend has lived in Lincoln all his life, but I think this is the first time he has travelled through on a boat, although he has been boating before. Anyway he thoroughly enjoyed it, and we passed through in good spirits. Later up the Fosse Dyke we met another of my friends, who had stopped on his way to Saxilby, and was sitting on the bank. We had arranged to meet and go for a pint, as it was his birthday. Being on the boat, I could of course enjoy the odd pint or two and, on this unusual occasion I could buy everyone a round of drinks. They have been very good in looking after me, knowing of my situation, and I was happy for once to repay their kindness. After a pleasant time in the pub, we said cheers, and left for Torksey, after I had once more checked the coupling, and arrived a little after dark. I walked up with my friend to his car where we had parked at the lock, then returned for a meal from my provisions.

Other than a short break, this was my first week away from home for some years, so I had awarded myself some 'pocket money'. This was to buy myself some meals amongst other things. I have the small portable stove, and a couple of pans, but I like to live simply when on the boat. I had bought pork pies, sausage rolls; fresh fruit, bread, ham and jam amongst a few other odds and ends, and these provided a good meal. I also fed Barney, then went for a walk to a pub. It was a pleasant evening, and I bought myself a pint and sat outside with Barney. We met a nice, talkative couple, who had also looked after Barney while I went to get a drink. Before closing time, I returned to the boat, and retired for the night. However I did not go to sleep, but that often eludes me nowadays. I eventually drifted off, and awoke refreshed the next morning. After letting Barney off briefly, I walked down to use the showers and facilities that are provided here. When I returned it was time to move Wud down to the lock. I had been told the time to go was 9.15 to catch the tide for Cromwell, but in the end it was 10.00 before we were called. Several boats were going and we were in the third group to go though, however it was only 2hous 10minutes to get to Cromwell, with a trouble free, and enjoyable trip this time, so things were starting to look up. There was also a high tide, meaning there was plenty of water, so I had little fear of running aground. I still kept an eye on the chart, but encountered no problems, even remembering much of it.

I was expected at Cromwell, along with a few other boats, and soon was heading up the Trent to Newark. Remembering the first time up the tidal Trent, and the incidents I had encountered, I was much more prepared this time, more mentally than physically. I had studied the chart again, and remembered some of it, and the rest of the journey to Nether lock passed quickly. I moored for a while in Newark, where I stopped for a quick break and cup of tea, letting Barney off to stretch his legs, and toilet again. After a break we went though Town lock, which only has a small rise, but is right in the centre of Newark, and a popular visiting spot. Several spectators seemed taken with Wud, even commenting on the mouth, with a smile.

We proceeded through Newark and up the Trent, passing through the large, manned locks without difficulty; in fact I was getting quite proficient at roping the boat to the sliders in the lock walls, soon having barely to get off the driving seat. I had both fore and aft ropes in the cabin next to me, so drew level with a slider and put the front rope around it. I then reversed until I was level with the next one, or the ladder, where I attached the stern rope. All I then had to do was hold on, as the lock keeper filled the large locks. If I had roped to a ladder, I had just to move the rope up a few steps once in a while, which could be a bit unnerving if I missed, but no problems arose. While the locks were filling, I even had time to tighten the coupling, as I could manage this while still holding both the ropes. What a change from my first passage upstream, and I even had help that time.

I carried on through the evening, making it all the way to Stoke, and the pub where I had stayed overnight on the return of my trip the year before. This is a good run from Torksey, and the majority of the distance up the Trent to Nottingham.

I treated myself to a meal in the pub, noticing they were doing a 2 for 1 offer, where you only pay for the most expensive meal. I wished I'd brought a friend; it's not often you can treat someone for free. After a nice meal, and a couple of pints, I had a good nights sleep, and awoke in good time for a reasonable departure. After the centre of Nottingham I was journeying to parts that were unknown to me, and I now like to know the territory before hand, so was a little apprehensive. Also I had 17 unmanned locks in front of me, most of which I would have to do single-handed, unless I could find local help.

We passed through Stoke, then Holme lock with several other boats, the latter being a huge lock, that takes half an hour to fill. I like to be at the back, away from the huge waterfall that first appears when the paddles are initially raised, however found myself at the front a few boats. Even this was no problem though, and I easily held Wud with the front rope. I did leave the engine running for the first part, although stopped it when the water settled, so I could chat to the other boaters, as we waited for the water to rise.

I got to Nottingham, and the Beeston Cut, and the start of the unmanned locks, to find a NB about to pen up. I joined them, and the lady recognized me after a few moments. A couple of weeks before, they had moored at Bardney overnight, and I had given her some fruit and milk I had left, after a trip to Southrey. We both did not tie up in the lock, which I think was a mistake. The reason was I cannot go alongside a narrowbeam in these locks, as they are only 14ft wide, narrower than ours are, at home on the Witham. However we managed ok, and thanking her as she said I could continue and they would close up, I proceeded along the canal. I had been along part of this before, but was trying to be cautious, so was 'freewheeling' under the bridges.....just in case. At the next lock I caught up with a clean Mk2 Freeman with a youngish couple on board. I locked through with them, explaining my situation, yet again, although they didn't seem too sociable. After this lock I didn't see them again, so had to proceed into new waters alone. It seemed to take an age to get to Beeston Lock, past rough liveaboards on narrowboats, and a downtrodden looking area, but there were no problems, and Wud was behaving herself. Eventually reaching the lock I found it was a busy, and popular spot, although I was the only boat travelling through. I started locking through, recruiting some 'slaves' from the kids hanging around, who were only too happy to help. I had almost finished, opening one of the gates and walked round to get onto the boat. The kids wanted to be shown what to do, so I walked up, leaving the rope I had just untied trailing onto the towpath. While I showed them what to do to open the gate, I must have been slightly delayed, as I returned to see the end of the rope disappear into the lock; oh dear !! or words to that effect. Both gates were open and my boat was loose, floating out of the lock, and with Barney aboard. There were boats around at this end, so I wasn't too worried, but slow thinking all the same, as all I had to do was to shut a gate, as Wud will not fit through one gate on these locks. However I just stood watching her float away. Luckily all boats seem to prefer to be crosswise in locks, and Wud got stuck across the open gates. After a moments thought, I walked back around the lock, partially closing the gate that was farthest from her bows, then proceeded to climb down. I was VERY CAREFULL not to slip, as the gates were very greasy. I had provided enough free entertainment for one day, and didn't want a rescue from drowning to be part of it. That would make the papers most likely.

With a few chuckles, and a little good-humoured banter, we set off once again. At the next lock, a deep one, we were lucky, as other boats were also going through, so I had only to rope up as in the manned ones on the Trent. I arrived at Trent Junction, where the Trent joins the Soar, which is well signposted, taking interest in these new surroundings. I continued up the Soar, finding help from boaters of one sort or another at the locks. As I continued upstream I came to a flood lock, where the water was level, and all gates open. Now this is my sort of lock, that involves no stopping, or work (smile). After a couple of locks with a small boat, I waited for them at the next, after quite a longish stretch, but they did not appear. A narrowboat was waiting to come down, however they kindly helped me through when the other boat failed to arrive. Loughborough came along, and I found myself in familiar territory once again, as I had travelled from here to Barrow the previous year with Alan and Ken on Fuzzyduck.

I had thought I might stay at the pub at Barrow, but found it was no overnight mooring when I arrived. Barrow lock is a very deep lock, and in the early evening it was almost deserted. I started locking through, when the lady who lives in the cottage came out to admire Barney. She helped me close the bottom gates, though while talking to her, I almost had a serious incident. I had to climb back down onto the boat to adjust the rope before I filled the lock, and as I was tired, it was getting late, and this is a particularly deep lock. I stepped onto the wheelhouse roof, instead of climbing all the way on the vertical ladder, but stepped onto a piece that had gone rotten, and my foot went though. Luckily I did not fall; had I falled in, I would have most likely drowned. However I clambered back up the ladder, noticed the lady had gone back in her house, so limping a bit on my bruised shin, proceeded to wind the paddles up on the top gates fill the lock. It seemed to take an age, even for one this deep, and it was only when it was getting full I realized a paddle was up at the other end. The lady had shut this gate for me, leaving me to close the paddle, which I had forgotten to check, after the near disaster.

Correcting the oversight, I locked through and proceeded to try to find a mooring. Nothing looked inviting, and as this was all new to me, I had not found somewhere I considered quiet enough before I was back in the countryside. I considered turning round, but decided to continue. I came to another flood lock, and then a popular lock with a pub. A perfect mooring, just right for my boat was at the end of the bank, nearest to the lock. I thought it looked a little familiar, and once moored found it was Mount Sorrel, where I had come with Fuzzy and Ken earlier in the year......so I had almost made it. After mooring I had some food, before going to the pub (AGAIN???). I bought a drink and sat outside with Barney, then found he was welcome inside, so had another in the bar. I was on my own however and it was getting late, so I went back to the boat, and settled down for the night.

Ken and Sally, my friends who live locally had said they would join me for the rest of the journey. He had been sailing the day before, so was really in need of a rest, as he has disabilities, as I have. However after they arrived, we had a leisurely start, choosing to depart when the lock was set in our favour after a boat had come through. We had a good trip for the rest of the way, with Ken and myself taking turns at working the locks. As he is a proficient boater, he drove Wud into a few, and I had the chance to see why so many people say I am going too fast. She moves through the water so well, with minimum effort, so appears to be going too quickly, yet leaves no wash at this speed.

I now understand more of her history. She is a Mevagissey Tosher, and a Tosher is a small sailing boat. Knowing she was built around 1962, from the knowledge of my friend I bought her from, I can only assume the hull was redundant for some reason, probably because of the introduction of GRP boats. These were much cheaper to make, and this material much more durable than wood, so she had been made into a cruiser, instead of a sailing boat.

We arrived at Thurmaston marina, where I met the manager, who I already knew, and arranged a berth. I sorted Wud out for the stay, then met a few others who had arrived.