I have had a few trips to, and through Lincoln, once going to the Lincoln Boat Club on a Friday night. I had intended walking home after mooring up, but 'an extra shandy' due to the barman of the night having 'a lockin' meant I slept aboard. Didn't overdo it though, as I didn't have a hangover the next day (grin).

On another trip I took a couple of Polish friends who have come to work over here. We had a pleasant trip to the Pyewipe Inn just along the Fosse Dyke. It was a lovely hot Sunday, and when we arrived the riverbank was full of people, this also being a pleasant walk and cycle from Lincoln. The moorings were nearly full, so I nosed in, we then proceeded to manhandle the boat between the narrowboat and the fisherman. Barney is now very good, always asking for permission to come ashore; probably more due to his falling in when he first got off without waiting for me to tell him it was safe. He is never a problem with people, and is used to this riverbank, so I didn't mind when he wandered a short distance away.

Once moored I looked around to find him, only to see him sniffing at a mans trouser leg. The man was lazily drinking half a lager, and not really looking around at all. I had an awful feeling I knew what was going to happen, so I shouted Barney loudly. Although a timid dog, he is quite dominant, wanting to establish his territory by scent marking, which he does before leaving. Well whether he thought we were leaving, or whether he just thought he would cause me maximum embarrassment, I don't know, however he marked the mans leg. He has never done anything like this before, but certainly chose his moment. I went over and apologized profusely, something the man didn't seem too worried about, so maybe other dogs have done the same. I guess I'll live it down, but I'm SURE I saw a smile on Barney's face when he came back; there was certainly one on the faces of lots of the people there.

After a pleasant drink we returned in the glorious weather, with an uneventful journey back. He has worked as a lifeguard, so is used to boats and boating, making for the perfect crewmember. I could leave him steering in confidence, and also didn't have the worry in case I, or someone fell in. Pity he has moved away.

I finally got to go sea fishing into the Wash, another of the things I had in mind when I bought Wud-E-Nuff. That is partly why I bought the inflatable and the new outboard. We journed to Boston the previous evening, and awoke to a glorious day. Alan, my friend who had accompanied me on my Drains trip, was coming, and duly arrived on schedule. I had discovered the tide times etc. although had mistaken GMT for BST. No problem as it just meant we left an hour later. Now I am not a good sailor, and easily get seasick; one of the reasons I nervously waited for the lock gates to be opened. Not as bad as waiting for the off in a Stock Car on track, but enough to get the adrenalin pumping all the same. At Boston the sea is higher than the river, so the gates cannot be opened until the water is level. This is usually around 2 hours after high tide, however today it took more than two and half hours.

We set off at last, following Fred in his boat and enjoying a very pleasant trip through Boston on the tidal Haven. On route we passed Ken on his boat, who had brought Alan. He couldn't come with us today, as he had to get some work done to get his boat serviceable. If you remember, I towed him down to Boston last year when he first purchased Tommy.

Click the picture for many more photos...

At the end of the Haven we followed Fred along a line of marker buoys until he dropped anchor at the start of the Boston Deeps. I got my small anchor ready and with Alan's help, changed it for the large one that is attached; I thought it would be easier for Alan to lift back on board. We then found the knot attaching the rope to the anchor chain would not go through the hole into the boat, so I had to cut if off and retie it. We had drifted down the chanel in the strong current, and when we finally did drop anchor, I found we were still moving slowly. Ken had lent me his hand held GPS (remember I've lost mine) so I could tell we were dragging the anchor, however there is plenty of space, no other boats were about so it was not a problem. One of the boats waiting to come out with us had said it was poor fishing, with non-about. He was in fact correct, as the fish-finder screen was blank, other than for the fishhooks under the boat. It did not detract from the day in anyway though. Not too far from the shore, nor a sand-bank, it was just like being in a large lake; perfect for anyone queasy like me, for as long as I can see the horizon I'm fine.

We spent a lazy day basking in the sun, until it was time to return. I was extremely thankful I had picked the best day for it in a couple of years. I had mounted my outboard on the bracket, so used that to get back to Fred's boat, and we then went back to Tab's Head, the mouth of the Haven. It had taken about an hour to get where we were, but with the strong current, we were carried back in around 10 minutes, so had a very slow ride up the Haven in the shallow water, to arrive at the sluice in time to lock through.

We locked though, moored for a brief stop at Boston while saying goodbye to Alan and Ken and then set off for the trip home. Despite no fish, it had been a marvelous experience, and for once I could see the attraction of boating. As much as I like 'cruising between the ditches' I often wonder why people go to such time and expense to own and run a boat, however to go to sea is much more rewarding.

Later in the year I had an email from someone interested in helping me with my boat, and accompanying me for a trip. Over the August bank holiday I decided to go to Nottingham, now I had some help up the tidal Trent, lack of crew being the reason I have not travelled there so far. Alan, and his other friend, were also planning a trip, and had agreed to come to Nottingham to meet us. My new friend Lee, was working Friday, so this meant I still had to go alone, otherwise there would not be enough time. Now I've been to sea, I'm sure I would be ok anyway. In the event Alan couldn't come, due to the Soar being in flood, but I decided to go as planned anyway.

After stocking all the provisions and clothes etc. I brought the boat to Lincoln on Thursday, walking home, and walking back Friday morning. I had to be at Torksey for noon, the time for travelling up the tidal Trent to Cromwell Lock. All went well, and I found myself with several other boats in the lock waiting for the tide. When the gates opened I motored through the debris from the Trent, passing a friend from York on his small boat, who was also waiting for the tide to enable him to go downstream. I had met him and his girlfriend when they passed through Lincoln a couple of weeks earlier.

Once under way I had no problems, either with the boat, or reading the chart I had copied from borrowed ones. On route the journey passes under the A57 road toll bridge at Dunham on Trent, where you pass under the left arch. I came across a narrowboat, and decided I had time to overtake before the bridge. As I was passing I noticed a cruiser coming from behind quite quickly. There was plenty of room for us on this wide river, however I moved close to the narrowboat, to give the cruiser room. Seeing he wasn't going to clear us in time, he accelerated to get past. Now although I was going as fast as Wud-E-Nuff can manage, I was only going a little faster than the Narrowboat, and expected it to slow down, seeing what was happening. However for whatever reasons of his own, he didn't. The result was I was much too close, yet not clear of his bow, when the large wash from the passing cruiser caught me. Unable to turn into it, I was turned sideways, only to be tipped violently by the next wave from the cruisers wash. The narrowboat was then pushing the bottom of the hull of Wud-E-Nuff upstream.......not very pleasant I can assure you.

However undaunted (well daunted a little to be honest) I carried on. Once clear, and making a mental note to be more careful, I once more started to enjoy the trip. I should not have relied on others to do the right thing, keeping myself safe and allowing for their mistakes. All went well for a while until I encountered 2 large sports cruisers coming towards me. As far as I could tell I was in the correct place on the river, which was on the right hand side of the deep channel. It appeared they wanted to pass on the wrong side, so I moved over, but they still headed straight for me. At almost the last moment the leading boat swerved to miss me, with me having to do the same. As he went past he was waving his arms as if to tell me to get off the river. Well he might think he owns it, and no one else had the right to be there, however I've been a banger and stock car driver in my time, and you don't bulldoze me out of the way quite as easily as most. But this latest incident had frightened me all the same. Whatever was going to happen next. I could see my worst fears about to be realized, and this would be the last trip I would make, ending up just another boating tragedy on the Trent. So I continued for the rest of the way feeling ill.

Never have I been so pleased to see the sign for the lock, and the end of the tidal waterway. A small sailing boat was also waiting, and he asked me if I would radio the lock keeper. I had spoken to him when I went to Torksey by car to book passage a couple of days earlier, but this was the first time I had used the radio, other than for a check with my friend back home. Now I'm not mike shy, having spent years talking on CB radio, but all the same I have to try to sound competent. I needn't have worried, and the lock was soon opened for us. Once through I moored and spoke to the lock keeper. He was sympathetic about the incidents, as were all the BW staff I subscequently spoke to, however I did not have the name or number of the sportscruiser, so nothing could be done. He also advised mooring at a pub just upstream, as it is not too long a journey to Newark. I spend a nice night there, with good company in the pub. The narrowboat that had bulldozed me upstream also moored there. She said I was lucky not to have sunk, but he said nothing, keeping out of my way. No doubt he knew he was in the wrong, despite technically not doing anything incorrect. For once I bit my tongue.

Just for the record: The prime rule on the waterways is to avoid a collision, even if it means slowing down or STOPPING.

Saturday dawned bright and clear, and I journed to Newark, arriving at the first of the large locks. A boat was penning down, so I moored and went to investigate. I had just discovered how everything worked, as this was an automated lock, when the lock keeper arrived on duty. Good timing or what. After a pleasant chat I had penned up and was underway. Feeling brave I radioed ahead to Town Lock, only to find I didn't need to go that far. I had arranged to meet Lee and his wife in Newark, for the rest of the trip to Nottingham.

They arrived as planned, finding the boat, with me still waiting in the castle ground. We set off, and had a pleasant and uneventful trip to Nottingham, with Lee taking over the driving duty, leaving me free to enjoy the ride. I took over when we passed though several large manned locks, making a real hash of mooring when crowds were present, yet managing to look professional when no one was around. Nothing new there then.

At Nottingham you have to turn off the river Trent and onto the canal that links the navigable parts. There were boats under Trent Bridge, and if I had not had clear instruction could have made this common mistake and missed the turning to the lock. Back with small self operated locks again, we motored on, finding the place I've been told was safe to moor. It was getting rather late, and the planned pub meal would have to wait for another day. I walked with them around Nottingham looking for the train station, which we found with 10 minutes to spare; right by the canal. They had to get the train back to Newark, and their car. Lee was to join me the following Tuesday for the trip back down the Trent, and then to Bardney, a longish day, but easily managed.

I found a fish and chip shop, so had my meal walking back to the boat. I fed Barney and walked to the local pub. I bought a pint, then found someone outside to chat to, however they soon had to leave. Two 'coffin owners' were putting the world to rights, so I joined them. My boat had already been seen, and caused a little interest. When I first put it up for sale, someone came to view, and brought a young man who worked in a boatyard, and owned wooden boats; plural. Now I know Wud-E-Nuff is only worth around my asking price, and I knew built new would be very expensive, however I had a shock when I was told it would cost around £100,000 to be built properly by a top quality builder today. I have since had this confirmed by other ex boat-builders. So I'm not about to 'give it away'.

I related the tale to the two men, who then realized it was bedtime. Many narrowboat owners think they own the waterways, as theirs are usually the most costly boats. I retired to the pub grinning for another pint, listened to a good live band and went to back to the boat. I slept well.

I had two days to make it back to the pub I spent my first night at, just above Cromwell Lock. I was intending to meet Lee for the rest of the return trip the following Tuesday, so I didn't hurry away the next morning. An old man riding a bike on the towpath came past, with a dog, who befriended Barney. An amiable chap I was soon seen chatting with him, and no sooner had he departed than a veritable queue of interested people came up, assuming disinterest of course. After several chats, some very helpful advice I redied the boat, and started the journey home. Only 2 locks to do manually on the canal back to the Trent, and there were a few boats about, so I didn't have any trouble. Passing under a bridge I heard a ping, so probably got shot at by the youths on top, but nothing serious, and could have just been a stone. All in all not bad for a town centre. Back onto the Trent I encountered several boats waiting to lock through, and was soon asked if I was gong to be long in the mooring spot. I said I only had to put the mast and antenna up, which only took a couple of minutes, then I was underway again.

At the second manned lock there was a mooring alongside a wood, and just the place to stop for a break. A pleasant greeting was had from a chap on a narrowboat (there are many decent owners) and I enjoyed a couple of hours being entertained and given cups of tea. The lock keeper was also very sociable, and I decided to spend the night at the riverside pub a mile downstream. This was the turning point of my trip, being extremely enjoyable from now on.

Once moored I chatted to a few people, one of whom not only knew the village where I had lived, but who's parents lived in the old peoples bungalow where my father had spent his last couple of years. We had started talking when he asked about boating, as he was thinking of getting one. Once we realized what we had in common, he became very friendly, pressing to buy me a drink, and we spent a great half-hour before he had to leave. I had a meal and drink in the pub that night, with a good nights sleep in that lovely spot. Next day I set off for the rest of the journey back through Newark. I arrived in good time, having no trouble being single-handed in the large locks, nor in radioing the lock keepers. Boating is so slow you need to be in sight before any communication is made. I still got off to socialize with most of them all the same, either before or after the lock.

In Newark I met a man from my boat club in Lincoln, who said I needed to go to Farndon marina for diesel. This was back up the Trent a short way, so I had the delightful trip upstream of Newark twice. At the marina, I was hailed by non-other than the man from Barney who had bought a boat to live on. He was going to buy the one I got to resell, but had left me in the lurch, however as I had finally sold it for more money there were no hard feelings. I also had a pleasant surprise when I refueled as I had only used 30 litres, not bad for a 90-mile journey. I retraced my steps to Newark, locking through Town and Nether locks, and reaching the pub for the night. I radioed Cromwell lock, the start of the tidal Trent, to find out tide times for the morning. I was a little dismayed to learn I had to be at Torksey for 7am, and there was very little water, it being one of the lowest tides of the year. After some thought, and advice from the lock keeper, I arranged to go and wait on the lower side of the lock, so untied and set off again. When I got there I found a small sports cruiser waiting to go, and it was suggested I follow him, something he agreed to. He has echo sounders so can find the deep channel.

We were intending to stop at Dunham Bridge, where there is a mooring, but in the event it was full so we carried on to Torksey, arriving after dark. An uneventful trip back, even though my sounder (fish-finder) showed only 1ft at one point. It was beeping so much warning of shallow water I switched the sound off. Without help I would almost certainly have run aground, and I later discovered from my friendly lock keeper, he had organized the trip for me. Helpful BW staff, most of whom seem to like me, and my boat, more than makes up for the one that doesn't.

So that ended a long day. I phoned Lee, who arranged to join me the next morning. Torksey moorings were full, both upper and lower sides of the lock. This bank holiday is a peek boating time, and the low water meant many boats were waiting for water. I awoke early, in time to see the early start for some travelling upstream, and locked through with my new friends on their sports cruiser when our time arrived, and who thankfully made it over the cill into the lock, on this low tide.

I moored at the end of the line of boats at the visitor moorings and waited for Lee, who duly arrived on time. We had a pleasant journey back, with me getting a much-needed break from steering. I enjoy boating, but being stuck behind the wheel for hours on end can get a little boring. Stopping in Lincoln, he bought me the meal he had planned earlier, and we got back to Bardney without problems. On route I discovered a vibration that had been worrying me all year, was nothing more than a bit of floor when stood on in a certain place. Just before we got back we did get a plastic bag on the prop. Once moored I asked Lee to blow up the inflatable, then found the bag came off very easily. This had delayed us as well, so I it was another rushed end, and I was mad with myself to get caught up in rush hour Lincoln when taking him back to his car at Torksey. Not only do I rarely drive at this time; I also rarely pass by Lincoln. However I got him back for his journey home, which should have seem him arrive at meal time. I had at last journeyed beyond the bounds of the Witham and Fosse Dyke.

After the trip to Foxton with Alan (see separate story) I have enjoyed more trips to Boston, and have just been to Lincoln to deliver a shops dummy I've found in the river, for a figurehead for a boat, taking part in the Trafalgar Day celebrations. On the return I noticed the gearbox whine appears noisier, so time to investigate.

Wud had earned her keep on a couple of occasions, towing broken down boats to Lincoln. One I was asked to do, and was profitable, although I did earn my money. The first day was ok, but the second I decided that due to weather forcast we had better continue to Burton Waters, through Lincoln. Coming through Lincoln is always a challenge for the larger boats, let alone to be towed by a smaller one. This leaves me with little steering, and no brakes, yet speed must be maintained. I managed fine except comng up to the Glory Hole, the wind blew the towed boat slightly sideways, causing a tank-slapper that I only just corrected before the short tunnel. Then once through, I went a bit wide before aiming for the narrow entrance to the Brayford Pool. The sides are the remains of the swing bridge, hard concrete corners, which I found myself heading straight for. Luckily we turned just in time, so my yelling and screaming for my 'crewman' to go forward to fend off was un-necessary. I have to say I was sweating on entering the pool, and thanked my experiences of driving cars, both towing and racing to enable me to pull of the maneauvers successfully. The rest of the trip was ok, although it is a bit narrow along the Fosse Dyke. We returned in a respectable time, much quicker than the first time, when I had just taken delivery of Wud-E-Nuff.

The other time I volunteered, however poor pay and a heavy boat made very hard work, and only a day of dead calm made the trip possible.

Maybe this extra strain on the gearbox has meant repairs are necessary. Other than make a new rudder, and maybe remote steering capability I've little else to do over the winter, so shouldn't grumble really. It should keep me from being bored.