Well I have spent the best part of last year getting my boat ready, so I hope to use it a little more this year. Only I know my limitations better, and so most of it will be on this river, not cruising the country. There are several miles of tributaries to explore, which I am capable of doing, provided I don't wait until the weed growth stops me, so there should be some more tales to tell soon.

I always need slaves, to drive, or just to relieve the boredom of boating alone.....so if anyone wants a free holiday afloat, just get in touch.

With April came the better weather, and also some boating activity and dog shows to attend.

I journeyed to Mildenhall to help our friend Ann with here show for raising funds for rehoming the retired Greyhounds from the track where she works as a trainer. I acted as steward for a nice man to judge the greyhounds, while Barney was back to his winning ways in the fun show ring. Through the Internet, I had made contact with an elderly couple with a Lurcher who lived not too far away. Shortly after our arrival we met, and the elderly man took Barney to save him being stuck in the car all day. I suggested he enter him in a few classes, so Barney ended up winning Best Crossbreed, Best Over 23inch Lucher and 4th in Judges Choice.

My day was just as enjoyable, and in the evening we visited the local pub, which remained open until the early hours. In the morning I rested to recover leaving after Ann had gone to work to an arranged meeting with a chap who was buying my original outboard to repair.

A pleasant journey to his house, without getting lost, resulted in another friend being made. We visited his boat and had a short journey into March, which proved a delightful trip along the riverbank cottages. Leaving at around 5pm for home, we had got to Peterborough when another Internet friend rang to say she had arrived in Kettering for a tempting job. She had brought me her spare computer monitor to replace mine, and suggested meeting for a meal. I remembered a restaurant at Barnewell Park about 1/2 way ... the perfect meeting place. She could not have rung at a more appropriate moment.

After a pleasant meal and chat we left for the remaining 80-mile journey. So a terrific weekend to start the year. Not only successful for Barney, I had also supplemented my boating fund, met three Internet friends, and had my defective monitor replaced.

Plenty to do, including sleeping aboard.

The next weekend, a bank holiday, I had arranged to go downsteam on the boat with my friend on his. After staying the night we were to explore the small tributary to Sleaford. This long disused canal is being restored by volunteers and a large grant, and is navigable to the small village approximately half way.

However we awoke on the Saturday morning to a cold strong wind, so came back to Bardney instead.

The next weekend was the Tattershall CMC dog show. We attended, met our friends, and had a nice day and a fourth place. Afterwards we visited our friend John, who lives not too far away. After enjoying a nice meal we had a ride to see the small river. A lovely walk along the banks strengthened our determination to explore on the boat.

The following weekend, another bank holiday saw lots of activity on the river. My boat club were having a cruise to Bardney Lock, mooring just around the corner against the banks on the Old Witham. The Sleaford Navigation Trust were having a cruise in their narrowboats along the Kyme, the river I wanted to explore.

A neighbouring boat left to go to Lincoln, but got a large fishing net around the propellor. The boats from my boat club coming to Bardney rescued them. I helped to free it and in the evening suggested visiting the club barbecue with a bottle of wine as thanks.

Friends were possibly coming to the lock for a barbecue, but unknown prior arrangements prevented this. We went around the corner on my boat, but poor weather saw the communal barbie canceled, with everyone disappearing onto their boats after cooking their food. After a walk along the riverbank we went back on mine and had a nice chat. My friend John had joined us...saying on our return for a chat with me and a game of chess.

I stayed aboard, probably kept awake by only having a corn beef sandwich all day. The next day brought far better weather than forecast, so I rang John to see if he wanted to join me for the Kyme trip. He agreed, so I found myself washing the mud from the boat, and preparing for the trip....reminiscent of the stock car days .

I left for the 2 1/2 hour trip to the moorings at the mouth of the Kyme, only to run into a very strong wind just after I turned the corner under the bridge leaving Bardney, however still made good time arriving at around 1pm. I had just got a little gas stove, and John arrived just after I had moored, so we had a cup of tea before setting off down the Kyme.

My other friends arrived just in time to come along ....prefect timing. So my little boat was almost full, containing four adults, two young children and one dog. Turning the corner onto the Kyme reduced the gale to a brisk wind; far more enjoyable. A short while later we arrived at the lock. I have been told at length about this lock, and how the guillotine is hand wound requiring lots of turns of the small handle. The volunteers had done a good job of tidying the grass, and the whole place looked very inviting. I found my windlass; the handle needed for winding the paddle was too large, but had enough tools to effect a spacer to make it useable.

A narrowboat had just arrived at the other side of the lock, and was non other than the chairman of the trust....a lovely chance meeting, also more hands to help with the winding. After pleasant introduction we locked through and continued up this pleasant little waterway. We met one other narrowboat before coming across the remaining 5 moored across the river in the small village...much to the surprise of some of the occupants. A very warm welcome was offered both by the boaters and villages. After a short walk around we headed back, and my friends had to return to their guest coming to their house in the evening.

John had brought some sandwiches and cakes, and after our return to the Witham I set off back to Bardney, arriving just as it got dark. Through the lock and moored and journey home by 10.30pm After a couple of days with just the odd sandwich, I was beginning to feel like a celebrity survivor so my meal has rarely tasted so good. But an unusual trouble free boating day made this small sacrifice well worth while.

A couple of weeks later, a neighbouring boater said he would like to make the trip to Kyme with me. It all depended on his outboard engine being ok when he re-mounted it, as he had taken it home to service it over the winter. Later on the Saturday afternoon however he found he would have to cancel, as a small rubber washer connecting the petrol pipe had been lost.

I came home returning on the Sunday to see if I could find someone who wanted the trip. No one did, however, mindful of the need to go before the weed grew, I set off alone. I rang a few friends, adding to Vodophones vast profit from my quickly diminishing savings, but in vain; everyone was either busy or poorly. I arrived at Chapel Hill only to find it almost deserted. Not wanting to go alone I continued down the Witham after a cup of tea and a short rest. I thought I might be able to go through Antons Gowt lock onto the Boston drains if some willing hands could be found to help me through. This proved easy, as a following sailing boat of young men moored to go to the nearby pub shortly after I arrived. The hardest part was getting Barney off and on the boat from the high keyside. Later I discovered you could moor at the far end against low grass banking.

Once through I thanked my new found helpers and slowly set off along the narrow and rather overgrown waterway. The low side of the lock has a ladder, the only point to disembark, something I had to do to retrieve my windlass (the handle required to operate the paddles at the lock). Thanking the stars I was still fit enough to climb this 20ft? Vertical ladder in the keyside (apparently some are much higher), I quickly came to the junction of the main drain under a road bridge. Looking to the right I thought there was only a sluice so must turn left. I did not notice there is another lock here. I was attempting to visit my friend John, despite the fact he was not answering either phone, and so appeared to be otherwise engaged.

I turned left on a fairly wide and healthy looking drain. I had not brought maps, but should be able to navigate from memory, plus knowledge of the area, and the occasional road sign I could see. I knew I needed to turn right onto the drain to take me to Sibsey. What I did not know was the entrance to the Trader drain was the other side of the lock I had missed. It did not matter as the one I was on takes me to only another mile away. I found a suitable mooring against the bank, just before the road leading to Sibsey. Still no answer from John's phone so I wrote a note and set off with Barney for the pleasant if slightly longer walk.

In the car this road seems fairly short, but half way down the long straight I could have sworn I was on a treadmill.....we didn't seem to be getting any nearer. A small shower necessitated the use of the light raincoat I was carrying, but at least it took my mind off the long walk. We arrived at last and had a pleasant surprise as John answered the door on my knock; he had been in the garden so had not heard the phone. He was pleasantly surprised to see us (I'm including Barney, who now regards John's house as his second home) and provided a nice meal, an evening entertainment with included watching Heartbeat our favourite program (John's and mine, not Barneys). Later he ran us back to the boat in his car, where we spent a pleasant night.

Next morning I rang him as planned when we set off for home. He met me at the lock, having first prepared it, so I could go straight in. A passing couple helped, including the man who lives in the old lock keepers house. All very nice friendly people. Once through I moored on the suitable mooring, and we had a short dog walk and cup of tea before I set off along the Witham. I used to find boating a bit boring, but now have started to enjoy it. At first it seems like you are driving a long time and getting nowhere, but when you get used to it, it's more like standing still yet getting somewhere.....odd really, but in a pleasant way.

I stopped at the Chapel Hill moorings again for a cup of tea and a sandwich, then set off for the next moorings at Kirkstead, where I had arranged to meet John. Sure enough he was waiting when I arrived. After another short walk with Barney, he jumped at the chance to come on the boat to Bardney with us, eagerly taking the wheel to drive competently almost as soon as we cast off. I took over at Bardney lock, to find it left open in our favour, fate was certainly being kind to me today. If you are rich and famous you often get privilege. To get it despite being neither is excellent. Breaks in the journey, plus his company made this one of the most pleasant trips along here to date.

So the weekend was saved, and after taking him back to his car, returned home from another successful boating excursion, and another small ambition fulfilled i.e. going to visit John by boat, even if there is a slightly better route on the drains.

The glorious trip up the Kyme Eau/River Slea.

This weekend I had press-ganged my friend on the next boat into joining me for a trip along the Kyme. I set off on the Saturday the usual 3 hours late (where does the time disappear to) and phoned my friends who came before. They were at a loose end, and just about to go for a drive so jumped at the chance and met me there. My friend I had bullied into helping then declined when I phoned him, as I had found someone else. I got there after an uneventful trip, to find they had already arrived, and were waiting patiently for me. The last time we had returned from South Kyme in just over an hour, so there should still be plenty of time for the trip. What I did not know was we had only travelled a little over half way up the navigable part to South Kyme, plus the weed had returned.

Once all were aboard and had refreshed with cups of tea and pies I had with me, we set off, only to run into the weed as soon as we passed the moored boats and through the floodgates. There was only just room to get through, and I only found out from talking to someone yesterday who knows the system when these gates close, and how they work. However we decided to continue for a while, as we still had at least 6 hours of daylight left. We could make slow progress, and did not have to stop every few yards to raise the engine and remove the weed, as has been the case on occasions in the past.

We arrived at the lock to find the undergrowth had grown considerably in the 3 weeks since our last visit, however we all disembarked and everyone took turns to wind the handle for lifting the guillotine, after we had opened the gate and pulled the boat in by rope. No sense in risking the engine, and this is common practice in little used locks.

We all got back on while the boat was in the lock, and carried on leaving the gate raised for our return. The river being deeper this side of the lock meant the weed was under more water, so far less of a problem and we continued with growing enthusiasm. Once through Kyme we were on uncharted waters (well in our case) I proceeded cautiously, but the river widened and passage was still relatively good, if a little slow. After a while of pleasant countryside, we came to a very low bridge. I approached cautiously and found there was just 1/2 inch of space between the top of the mooring light and the bridge. We took the highest support from the canopy, just in case, and I gave instructions for no one to move; or get off as we went underneath. After what seemed quite a long time we arrived at the renovated lock shell that is awaiting gates sometime in the future. I moored in the lock and my friend took some pictures which are in the albums on Webshots. Great pictures not to be missed.

I backed out of the lock to turn round, only to run aground. The engine stopped as the prop dug into the mud. Blimey, we didn't realise it was that shallow, also with everyone in the stern the back of the boat was low in the water. I managed to get the boat started to turn us round, but then had to stop as it needed to be raised again to clear some weed. We had already done this several times, which is why I need a fit crew with me. My health limitations are troubling at the minute so to do this myself would be foolhardy in the extreme. While stopped we had drifted into the other bank, and on trying again we were immediately stopped by a length of rope around the prop in the river. It was now mid evening, and with time slipping by we were suddenly aware of the perils that can be faced when boating on little used waterways.

However we got going at last and trimming the boat by my friend sitting on the bow dramatically increased our speed, however not enough to make us cancel our stop for a pint in the pub in Kyme. I was a little sore from standing, however we pressed on reaching the lock as dusk was approaching. We locked through ok....everyone enjoying the experience, however back on the lower level our progress seemed even slower.

I pressed on, only to have one more surprise in store. I had been warned about some hidden wooden piling at the side, and to keep to the middle channel, however had forgotten where they were. Passing under a bridge there is a metal pole a few feet from the edge sticking out of the water. From my friends reminder I was giving this plenty of room, and it was now fully dark. I wished I had altered the headlight, as it looks good where it is, but all you get is reflection and it needs moving to the front if boating in the dark is undertaken. Suddenly my side of the boat lifted alarmingly as we run over something. There was no banging or noise, and it is only later I realize what I have run over.... thankfully it slid over these slippery pilings with no damage, other than to my nerves.

We arrived back just squeezing through the gates. I moored and said goodbye; everyone relieved but elated by our trip. To boat along the river in-between the fields in the still of the evening had been almost priceless.

I had planned to have a meal in the club and spend the night there, but was too late, however I had my own provisions; I was not about to be caught out again. I was probably going to be picked up by John in the morning as there was a local traction engine rally to go to, however the next day I decided to take the boat back first and go in the car later if we went at all. It was a showery day and the parking field would be very wet, anyway I met John at Kirkstead the same as last time. Some members of my boat club were on the river, and I had locked through Bardney with some of them when I left. I found the moorings nearly full, mostly with people I knew so moored on the end, to be met by John. Shortly afterwards a boat had tried to moor in a space and nearly had an accident as the gear lever broke off. Many hands saved what could have been a nasty collision, so no damage was sustained, however another example of how boating can quickly turn awkward. After a rest, a clear up and cuppa we set off with John one again at the helm as soon as we got underway.

A few had said they liked my Jolly Roger flag and wished they had one...so a net search a few days earlier had supplied me with not only these for my friends but a few other flags for myself. I had a smaller St Georges, the Union Jack (only called this on a boat apparently) and the Confederate Flag. I had jokingly told people I can now upset the purists by flying the Union Flag, as only the Queen is allowed to fly this on a boat, the Scottish and the Welsh by flying the English flag, the Yanks with the Confederate one, and everyone I have missed with the pirate flag LOL. So with John at the helm I fly the Confederate flag as his hobby is Country and Western music.

I returned to find a happy crowd at the moorings, so another successful weekend. If only the weather had been nicer, which it was when I went back to enjoy the sunshine yesterday, and watch everyone sunning with the canopies off on the relatively busy river.

While at Kirkstead, one of the club members....a excellent chap with a marvelous sense of humour told John everyone has added half an hour to the journey time to get from Lincoln to Boston.....not because of the works strengthening the banks, but to get past me, as I hold them up talking that long while they are getting through the lock LOL. It has really made my weekend.