The trip up the Kyme deserves telling in more detail although it was done before I have taken the boat out and straightened the shaft. Wud-E-Nuff is now usable, although she still requires a new shaft for the propeller, as it is very worn. Also when she was transported, she fell off the rollers on the trailer, and has made a join in the planking leak. Although not serious, she could do to be taken out, and at least this join re-corked. However, both are jobs that can be put on hold for a while.... It's time to use her, instead of just working on her, even if some of that use is as a 'country retreat'.

Other than a few short journeys to the pubs with friends, mostly to find them shut, so no free pint, there were only four of any length. I went to Stamp End to fetch the pipe for the rubbing strips. I had asked several people if they could take them for me, as they would not go in my small van, but they either forgot, or couldn't spare the time. The trips to Washingborough and Boston were uneventful, except the Boston trip was the first time I slept on board. The following day was rain, so I didn't trudge to market, but came back.

The only eventful trip was my first to Chapel Hill. As I've said, I inadvertently topped up the diesel tank with a little petrol. Obviously not to be recommended, petrol or paraffin was added to diesel to stop it freezing in winter when this engine was designed, and was even the case when it was made in the 1970s. Shortly after I set off, the engine started running unevenly, and about four miles into the trip it stopped. I struggled to fit the small outboard, especially as I had knocked the bracket, and bent the locating bar again. I bled the engine, which started ok. On reaching Kirkstead Bridge I had to stop for petrol; I needed a full tin in case I had to use the outboard to return to Bardney. The engine died again and needed re-bleeding to start. At Chapel Hill the same happened, so I struggled against the normal gale at that spot to get alongside Fred's boat. After a brief chat, he had to go for his tea, as it was now early evening. I re-bled the engine, and came home. Apart from stopping to fasten the canopy, where I had to re-bleed the engine to start, it came back at almost full throttle with no problems. Remember I was still in reverse, so the prop was slightly undersize with the lower gearing.

It was on reaching Bardney that I had my disaster with the boat hook. Despite going slowly, when I throttled back the engine died leaving me with 'no brakes'. I put the boat hook on the ladder, but it pulled it out of my grasp. The boat carried on hitting the brick wall head on, however it was well built and did not fall down . Had she been a modern GRP boat she may have sustained some damage.

Investigation the next day found it nothing to do with the petrol, but a combination of settling in of the new fuel tank and pipework, plus the wear in the engine governor needle valve. As I now realize the engine has hardly been used since installed, this wear was hidden by the lack of use.

On the next trip to Chapel Hill I had fitted my usable prop of the correct rotation, however I had not straightened the shaft, which was vibrating quite a bit. It was an uneventful journey, except I was trying to catch the narrowboats that were going up the Kyme/Slea. They were too far ahead, so I headed up on my own.

Luckily I had stopped to see friends on their boat shortly before arriving, at Tattershall Bridge, and had taken the mast and gps antenna down, just in case I could get under the bridge into South Kyme. I had totally forgotten the road bridge at Chapel Hill, and would have broken them off, as it is not very high. Passing slowly and carefully through the floodgates under this bridge, I soon encountered weed. The riverbanks are being heightened, part of the Environment Agencies flood defense scheme, and I had spoken to a worker while passing. He said the boats had gone up, but had got stuck about half way to the lock; not an inviting prospect for me.

I struggled along; hoping the deeper water through the lock would lift me over the worst of the weed. Sure enough, I also encountered problems at the bend half way to the lock, but reversing cleared the prop enough to allow me to continue. Once moored at the lock I opened the gates, and lifted the guillotine a little to try to clear the lock of some of the rubbish and weed. While waiting I cleared the prop of the weed. It was a bit of a pointless exercise, as I had to motor through a great patch that had collected just the other side of the guillotine.

I reopened the gate that had closed, and taking the long rope from the front, pushed my boat around. This was with considerable difficulty, as the wind was in the wrong direction to help; however I finally managed it, without hurting myself too much, and also managed to drag the boat into the lock. I tied securely and opened the guillotine a little, but the gates had to closed a little by hand; funny one closed on it's own when I wanted it to stay open. Winding the guillotine up to fill the lock is not difficult, as the low gearing helps regulate the flow, making the task easy, even entertaining. After filling the winding becomes tedious in the extreme, as I believe 600 turns are required to lift the gate enough to get underneath. Usually you can lock the gate in the raised position, but as they are working on the banks and the lock leaks, it had to be left in the lowered position. I learned this from the instructions, written in scrawled writing on the guillotine frame. Pulling my boat through the weed was no mean task, and there is no mooring topside of the lock, only a tiny piece of concrete for supporting the guillotine gate. I tied the back of Wud-E-Nuff to this, and lowered the guillotine, all the while having to keep the back of my boat from hitting the gate. Cursing myself for not setting off sooner, and so getting the narrowboaters to help, I continued with the hoss (horse) work of locking through. The whole process had taken about an hour and a half, and I was almost done in when I boarded with Barney and set off.

Luckily after about half a mile the weed thinned, and faster progress was made, although this slowed again near to South Kyme. I saw bits of weed floating on the river, and encountered the weed cutter working at the bridge. I know this man from last year, so had a pleasant chat for a few minutes. The narrowboats were going to cut the willow trees that span the river in the village (see pictures from last year) and I now know this is because quite a few narrowboats are going up soon: In fact Fred, who is moored at the entrance said two went up this morning. Others are going up when they arrive. Hence all the activity to clear it. Had I known I may have delayed my attempt, but I thought I had better take the chance while I could.

I found I could not get under the bridge without taking the lights and hooters off the roof, and then may have to flood the boat, to lower it an inch or two. The best way of mooring was to nose into the corner of the bridge, something, which proved fairly easy and a mooring point for the future. I have also learned the golf club which is almost next to the bridge has opened up it's premises for drinks and meals, as the shut pub has not yet been sold and reopened.

I walked across the road, and along the banks to find the boats, had a chat and watched while they sawed most of the overhanging branches from the trees. I accepted the cup of tea, and piece of cake before coming back to the boat and the return trip. On their suggestion, I would lift the guillotine and wait their return for locking through. The trip back was not too difficult, if a little slow, but enjoyable none the less. I arrived back, laboriously wound the guillotine back up, and made a cup of tea, to await the others. I took this opportunity to take a well-earned rest, and they rolled up about an hour later. Their trip had taken so long their teas were ready, so one begrudgingly helped me lock through. They were staying there the night.

However the toughest part of the trip was still ahead for me. The weed leans the way of the flow i.e. the direction I was going, and usually this makes for slightly better progress, but the river must have dropped an inch or two, as I was soon fouled, almost to a standstill. I struggled along, sometimes having to go into reverse to free the weed. Coming to the crossing with the underwater obstructions, where you must stay in the middle channel, I saw a clump of weed right in the middle, and going nowhere. As I passed over it the prop fouled and I had to stop. I looked down to see some bags or something, and luckily managed to get it off with the boat hook, while leaning over the back of the boat. It turned out to be a plastic tablecloth !!! When I resumed the journey back the weed was worse than ever, and I continually had to stop and reverse. I passed an old chap sitting on a seat; he had a small boat moored on the banks. I stopped and chatted to him, and the younger woman, probably his daughter for a few minutes before proceeding the tortuous journey. The floodgates have never seemed so welcoming, and even the last few yards needed frequent stops. Once through the gates, I motored slowly along with the weed fouled prop, until I reached the small mooring I use when staying there, which thankfully is still unused.

That evening I went to the welcoming and friendly local pub for a well-earned pint. I spent a pleasant hour chatting to an acquaintance from a previous visit, and the friendly landlord, before returning. Considering my endeavors I didn't sleep as well as expected, waking up in the early hour to duck fights along the hull, and small monsters running up and down the roof??? However I had enough rest to be refreshed the next morning. Barney must have thought I had deserted him, as my long walk to the park toilets took ages, as I encountered friends and acquaintances to talk to, however I made it back, then attempted to find somewhere to clear the prop. Local moorings were too high, so I motored up to the club moorings where some friends were moored. These were the people I had helped when they encountered problems at Bardney a few weeks earlier, and whom I had followed to Washingborough. Using their dingy, it being easier than inflating the inflatable, I cleared my prop, and returned to say goodbye to Fred, who had rung to see if I had deserted him. I also saw another man I know well; who liked my boat in the short time he had to see it. While moored clearing the prop, a very experienced boater from Lincoln, who I know from the boat club arrived, and I learned some valuable information regarding getting a new shaft; although this will not be until, or if funds allow.

I motored back to Bardney at a brisk rate, hardly seeing a boat, and locked through without incident. Despite the punishing trip, Wud-E-Nuff had stood the trip well, and had given me new found confidence in her abilities. I had achieved something I had wanted to do, which is to go to South Kyme, found the trip possible, and with no weed, would be a very pleasant trip, especially to take friends for the day in the future.

At last I had 'got going' i.e. I had a usable boat. All I needed now was a crew. Several of my friends who accompanied me on Naiad must have had their fill of boating, as none appeared to show any more interest; however new friends were turning up all the time. I had befriended someone who had a narrowboat moored at Bardney, and he is only too willing to spend a day or two boating with me.

After an hour or two of fruitless searching for the prop I dropped in the river, we journeyed downstream for a short trip to Southrey, as it was too good a day to waste. He commented on how nice my boat now was, and what a difference to when he had first taken a very short trip a few weeks ago. That was before I had found and fitted the new prop, among many other jobs. On our return I went around the corner into the clear water of The Old Witham to let him see the prop. While showing how good it started and stopped etc. with a larger prop fitted, there was a kind of thump in reverse, with a little more vibration. There were no obvious signs of anything amiss however.

The following Saturday he was there and at a loose end, as it was unsuitable weather for painting, and his wife was working, coming to join his the next day. He readily agreed to take a trip to Lincoln with me, so I went to ready the boat. While backing out from my mooring I lost drive; had the prop come off; surely not, as it had been hammered on, and the new nut was tight, plus held on with a split pin. Investigation showed the result of the flat out reversing I had done previously. As the prop was a little too large, I had only inserted the shaft into the coupling until it passed both grub screws. This allowed the prop to stay in the largest space under the keel. I had not thought to re-tighten the grub screws, and the hard reversing had pulled the shaft out. Drifting about on the opposite bank for a while I rectified the fault, finding an indentation in the shaft for the grub screw to go into, so preventing it from happening again. There was still clearance between the prop and the boat, but it was now only just clearing. The shaft however was running close to the cutlass bearing, and using an unworn part, so was in fact in the best place, and had almost cured the vibration.

We had an enjoyable, and uneventful trip, taking the photo of my boat under the willow tree in Lincoln (see photo albums) There was a lot of weed across the river, and Wud-E-Nuff handled this as well as any, and better than most. To such a degree, I went into the thick of it to retrieve a fishing float my friend spotted when we were leaving Lincoln on the return trip. A little later, I noticed an increased vibration, which concerned me at the time, but later turned out to be the rudder. The hinge pins are worn, and as my grinder had packed up, I had not managed to build them up with weld sufficiently. The liberal coating of grease had worn away so causing more vibration. The large prop puts quite a thrust of water onto the rudder. I have since repacked the hinges with metal pipe, taking up most of the play, and eliminating the problem.

I next experienced the only nasty incident I've had at Bardney this year, now all over and done with, so best forgotten.

A few days later I saw a couple of boats breasted up coming downstream slowly. When they got closer I saw one was non other than Macanor (I didn't know the name then) This is a boat I like, which is moored in the Brayford. It is of special interest to me because this is the boat I was looking at which planted the thought of getting a boat myself. Last year, my friend who I sold the first boat I bought to, and who does work for people occasionally, asked me it I could help to bring it to Southrey for him to do some work on it.

When the boats had almost arrived, I walked down to see the one doing the towing had broken down. I assisted with mooring, when they drifted close enough. The chap remembered me from a previous visit last year. His boat is an ancient and decrepid metal boat. After a while I returned with a bolt for him to mend his. I found him and his girl friend 'liked a drink' Oh well, I could see some 'free entertainment' on the cards, although no doubt at some cost .. still nothing ventured etc.

Later that day I helped lock both boats through, and his girl friend wanted to go to the pub in Bardney. Having nothng better to do, I accompanied them on Macanor. He needed to rest, he has knee injuries so I drove the boat down. A bit of a highlight this, as not only was it the boat I've walked past for 3 years, but also it appeared to steer as well as any I have driven. I later found out this was because of two round pods on the rudder, inline with the prop. I have also since learned a little of it's history, as it was built by a Lincoln boatyard. Quite an upmarket boat in it's day, made obvious by the high quality of the drive train and fitting in the boat.

After a pint or two I suggested fetching Wud-E-Nuff, and taking Macanor to Southrey, where my friend was going to take it out for the bottom to be blacked. We returned and fetched my boat. On the walk back to the pub I phoned my friend, but found out it was carnival weekend at Southrey, so could not take Macanor for a few days. Much later, almost dark we emerged from the pub to return. I had not had much to drink btw, but his girlfriend had been in there since the afternoon. I supported her to my boat, marveling at how she managed to walk at all. Once onboard we set off in the dark for the short trip back. She managed to light a cigarette, and while watching her, as she seemed about to drop it, I almost rammed the bank. The large prop has a tendency to turn the boat to the right, and I looked up to find I had turned to the right and was heading straight for the bank. I turned, avoiding a collision, but ran the prop aground, and fouled in the thick weed. After not inconsiderable trouble toing and froing, I extricated the boat, cursing myself for not looking where I was going. Examination later showed some small damage to the edges of the prop. As I'm hoping to cut it down a little, this is not too serious, however it has introduced some small vibration again. Like I said; there is always a cost.

Most of my 'boating days' for the next few weeks have been spent at Southrey, only going once in my boat. Macanor had her bottom blacked, with one more small adventure for me. I had gone to help with the haul out, as it is a pleasant spot to spend time, and a great place for Barney. On the day we turned up, there were also some young men with a speed boat. They were water-skiing etc. Although the river has a 6mph speed limit, they were sensible in that they were going upstream, and so not annoying anybody. The only thing was we could not use the slipway until they had finished. After a couple of hours, I suggested bringing Macanor to moor near the slipway, as it may encourage the others to leave. There was a thunderstorm brewing and I went downstream to where the two boats were moored on the riverbank. My other drinking friend said he would push the boat clear of the weed. Barney wanted to come on board, due to hearing the distant thunder. I was happy to drive the boat the short distance on my own, although didn't know this when I boarded. The engine had been started; remember I had only driven the boat a short distance, it was not my boat, there was little diesel in the tank, and a storm was brewing.

Well I don't know if it was an omen to tell me to leave the boat alone, or a test of my boating skills. As soon as I was pushed out of the weed, and an arms length away, the heavens opened, thunder and lightening flashed, and a hurricane sprung up. It really was just as in the movies when the Temple Of Doom doors are opened. I had no choice but to go downstream to turn round, as the bow was blown that way. I tried turning, and although the boat responded excellently going forwards, it would mean going into the weed on the side of the river. This would definitely render the prop useless, and must be avoided at all cost. I reversed across the river, but the hydraulic gearbox seemed reluctant to turn, probably due to lack of use for many years. As I slowly reversed across the river, I realised another boat would not see me in the blinding rain, and I could do nothing to get out of the way. By the time I had reached the other side the bow was once again blown downstream. After several failed attempts, conscious of the fact the boat was short of diesel, I managed to turn upstream in a lull in the storm. Moments later I moored on the bank near the slipway, the rain stopped and the storm almost over.

The rest of the days at Southrey were spent with several of my boating. The man who moors his boat there, and has the tractor and trailer, blacked the bottom of Macanor, then his own boat, and finally his friends. Quite a feet for a man in his early 60s, especially as he went to Scotland with another of his friends sailing over a weekend. Despite mainly watching him work, I've used up some of my limited days out, and will have to spend a few days resting.

I have also met some new friends over the internet through the boat. We met for the first time when they visited Boston, where he was going to look at a boat for sale. We returned to Bardney, for a short trip to Southrey, and have since had two very enjoyable days on my boat. I took Wud-E-Nuff to Chapel Hill, and we cruised back to Bardney. I took him back to fetch his car, and then returned to Bardney to have a lovely BBQ n the evening. This was all the more pleasant because of a new friend on a Narrowboat did all the cooking, even turning up with a large basket laden with drinks etc. He said he liked BBQs and entertaining. He certainly made a good day great.

We have also had a cruise to Burton Waters marina through Lincoln. More an excuse for an enjoyable day, it was also to inquire about the cost of lifting a boat into the water from a lorry. My friend has bought one on the south coast, and as I have experienced in the past, it is not the simpliest of tasks to move it. If he has to take this option, I will tow him to Boston, where he is going to moor it on the Haven, the tidal part of the Witham. The boat is a project having no engine fitted at present.

The fishing trip is indefinately postponed. He was coming with me as crew, however first it was poor weather, then the other boat was lifted out, and also ill health for one of my friends, and his wife mean it would be foolhardy to attempt.

Last week we finally did what I got the boat for i.e. to go to Boston on Tuesday, go to market and come back. We took all three boats, had a really good trip both ways, and in fine weather. I think this is probably the first time I have come back without it raining at some point. One of the most enjoyable journeys back I have had, especially on my own. I stopped with them at Chapel Hill, and took my friend back there in the car, to fetch his, as he needed his boat at his mooring at Southrey for Sunday.

I have succumbed to some hip pain, which has curtailed activities for a while. Probably due to my sleeping on a damp sleeping bag. I had stowed it in the hull, under the seating….quite a silly thing to do. I have a better sleeping bag but didn't use it as it was so warm, also I was sleeping on top in my clothes for one night only. Lessons for the future? Only time will tell. However I will bring both home to air before sleeping onboard again.