In Gloucester Docks

Tied up in the atmospheric surroundings of Gloucester Dock

Well here we are safely tied up in Gloucester Docks surrounded by tall brick warehouses and the lasts of square rigged sailing ships. It's all richly redolent of a past age of ships and shipping. But more of that tomorrow after a trip round the Waterways Museum and some more exploring round the docks and the city.
For the moment, this is just a quick update to say that we are here, that the trip today was a whole lot let wild and windy than yesterdays – we even had moments of sunshine – and even the notoriously tricky entrance to Gloucester Dock's Lock was a bit of a pussycat.

Heading towards the lock; the main river flows past it to the weir

It is easy to imagine, though, that it can bite with some very sharp teeth should the river be running hard and the tide be high. The Seven actually splits a couple of miles out at Upper Parting where an un-navigable channel takes half the flow away towards the estuary. The remainder, now running in a deceptively narrow and appealingly rural channel brings us swiftly towards the city and the lock.
It's time to phone the lock keeper and have him prepare the lock ready for our arrival for the main river rushes right past the mouth of the lock and straight on towards a weir. It's not a place for dithering and the advice was 'drive straight in; there's plenty of room to stop when you're safe in the lock'. Which we did – and still felt the flick of the weir stream across our tail as we went through.
The monster, 200ft long lock takes an age to fill and gradually the tall warehouses come into view. We came out into the wide open space of the dock basin, spoiled for choice on mooring spots and eventually found ourselves a slot on the western wall just beside a handsome Dutch barge.

Wild and windy

More like the tidal Thames than the River Severn today

It's been a wild and windy afternoon on the river. Four hours into a bitingly cold headwind downstream from Worcester felt more like ten and we were glad to moor up. Even if the pub we were moored at turned out to be closed on Sunday evenings.
We woke up this morning to find that the river had risen a foot overnight and was lapping the riverside path beside us. A reminder that the Severn is a big river and starts way up in Wales. Where it always rains! It was flowing much faster too with assorted lumps of tree drifting past at speed. Nothing to seriously alarm us, though, or stop us casting off after a morning stroll around the city.
I was anticipating an undemanding run down to Upton upon Severn but things didn't quite work out that way. The Severn is often called a dull river to boat along, with its high banks hiding the outside world and few riverside villages or towns to catch the eye. But this first stretch from Worcester was anything but. A little bland in parts, perhaps, but gloriously tree lined in others, then breaking out into open views of the distant Malvern hills before closing in to run past steep red stone cliffs where trees clung perilously for grip.

Riverside cliffs have trees clinging gamely to them 

Upton is a bit of a magnet for visitors with a cluster of waterside pubs – which perhaps explains why we were waved at with noisy exuberance by a few people who'd perhaps been sampling their wares for too long.
In the event we didn't stop. We tried but failed and I nearly collected an innocently moored little plastic cruiser in failing. The pontoon moorings were full (we could have breasted up but I don't like inflicting Seadog Brian's yapping on others. It's bad enough that we have to put up with his high pitched 'separation anxiety' let alone anyone else!). Then I tried (twice - the cruiser nearly copped it first time) to moor by the town steps, only to find the first step was under water, leaving us a wet 18 inches from dry land. 'Do you want to stop?' I called to Harrywoman in the bows. 'Do you think I've got webbed feet or something?' she responded in an acid tone. It was one of those moments of husband-wife tension that seem an integral element of boating. You can feel the electricity in the air when you pass someone's boat where one has just occured. So can Brian, of course, so he joined in with some merry high decibel yapping of a particularly ear splitting style. And nearly found himself cast adrift!!

The barge fleet runs just a brief two mile trip between two gravel wharves

A big passenger barge was one of the few on the water today

Anyway, failure here condemned us to another half a dozen chilly miles. We passed a gravel wharf where four barges were tied up: oddly, these seem to run on just a short, two mile route between here and a second wharf down river. We also met a large passenger barge heading upstream, one of only three or four craft on a perhaps understandably quiet river.
Past yet another of Telford's trademark beauties, the iron bridge at Mythe, we ignored the entrance to the River Avon and Tewkesbury – we're saving that for the return trip – and entered the enormous Upper Lode Lock, the last before Gloucester. Having admitted we were first timers, he lowered down a bucket of leaflets about the Docks and the correct procedure for entering the Lock there – and avoiding ending up on the weir instead.
After Upper Lode, the river suddenly decided to become bad tempered and developed choppy waves a couple of feet high – high enough enough at times for the spray as one hit the deck to be seen over the roof. It is tidal as far as here at Spring tides but this was not the time of a  Spring tide so maybe it was just disliking the cold harsh wind as much as us.
Still no mooring for us though. The pontoons were full again at Lower Lode but, finally, a mile further, there was an empty pontoon at The Yew Tree Inn. It's not the most handsome looking pub but when you're freezing cold and eager for a pie and a pint, any pub is a good pub. Except one that closes on Sunday nights! At least the landlady let us stay overnight so here we are and nicely warmed by a couple of Harrywoman's speciality – 'steamed treacle pudding in a cup'.

Onto the river

Approaching the towering presence of Worcester Cathedral

We're back on the move! After a month of dawdling, boat repairs and then a short holiday abroad, we are back on the move. And not just on the move but heading for unfamiliar territory.
We left Martin Brookes' yard with our repaired rudder a couple of days ago and headed (once more) for Stourport. Then after a re-stock at the canalside Lidl and a scull round the town's charity shops – of which there are nearly a dozen – we headed out onto the River Severn, heading for Gloucester.

Heading through Stourport Basin en route for the river

It's a complicated escape route from the canal through the wonderful basins of Stourport. A single lock dropped us down from the canal into the basin complex, then we swung right across the first of the basins, avoiding the left turn that is the broad beam route through to the river, to the next basin where a pair of two lock staircases gradually dropped us down to river level, with the town's gaudy funfair in the background.

Bye bye Stourport and its funfair as we head off onto the river

 The Severn is Britain's longest river though it's only navigable for the relatively short length down river from Stourport to Gloucester. It's a big, wide and at times dangerous waterways as those living in the regularly flooded riverside towns will testify. Two days ago, after a short spell of heavy rain, it was up into the 'red' zone but today was a mild kitten, its level safely back down into the 'green'.
It's a largely rural waterway: just a scattering of remote riverside pubs mark the way. Oh, and a sprawl of ugly caravan sites and chalets every now and then. More appealling, in a hill-billy sort of way, are the riverbank timber shacks in varying stages of repair or otherwise, ekeing out a risky existence along the flood prone banks.
There was just one sparkling gem along our route today - Thomas Telford's supremely elegant iron bridge across the river at Holt. A mile or two downstream we passed the entrance to the Droitwich Canal – another time for that one –  and headed into our third and final lock of the day. Bevere, like the others, is a big beast but all the work is done by lock-keepers so no worries for us there.

The elegant arch of Telford's Holt Bridge

The approach to Worcester is delightful. The river swings left after passing a clutch of large and handsome thirties houses and then is lined by apartment blocks on the right and, though hidden from immediate view, the famous race course to the left. Then the big, solid cathedral rears into view ahead, beyond the big stone arches of the town bridge. We swung round upstream and moored just below the rowing club on the town moorings by the racecourse. All was quiet. We'd only met three boats on the river all morning and just two more were moored here.
It's an easy and enjoyable walk down the river towards Diglis Lock where the Worcester & Birmingham canal meets the river. We passed the Watergate where a small ferry has traditionally taken people across the river from the cathedral. It still operates, though trade was slack today and the ferryman was relaxing in the sun reading a book. The Watergate wall, incidentally, has a series of plaques marking flood levels over the years. Scary evidence of the river's power.

"It was this high". Yours truly marks the 2014 flood line

There's a startling new addition to the riverside walkway, the enormous, prow-like shape of Kings School Boathouse. This is – unsurprisingly – a boat house on the ground floor and a gym, training centre upstairs. Funding came in large part from a big donation from an ex-pupil. The Boathouse is just one of several striking new school buildings around the town. Talk about education for a privileged elite, eh.

The stunning boat-like shape of Kings School Boathouse

Like most cathedral cities, Worcester has a range of elegant buildings, of all ages and sizes as we discovered when wandering a roundabout route back to the boat. It also has one of the most attractive canalside townscapes where a small new marina sits easily with modern flats and converted old warehouses. All looks neat, clean and affluent. So it comes as a bit of a shock to discover the nasty sixties era shopping streets. What were they thinking about even in that god forsaken architectural era?
A bit more wandering in Worcester tomorrow then on downriver to Gloucester.

Perfect days

Beautiful woodland on a beautiful day at Kinver

Hasn't it been a beautiful week? Perfect for just lazing around in the sun, not rushing anywhere and simply wandering the local footpaths to admire the scenery and watch Spring unfurl.
Which is exactly what we've been doing. We're certainly not in a rush: we have an appointment with the boatyard crane next Tuesday and it's only four miles and five locks away. I think we can make it on time.
Having spent our allotted 24 hours mooring up in Kinver, we eased our way just half a mile out of town to the most idyllic country mooring on a sweeping bend past Hyde Lock where we could stay a couple of weeks should we wish. And we'd be tempted if it wasn't for that crane.
We've found ourselves at the centre of a little network of secretive country walks, the simplest of which was a circular route to Kinver and back, returning (via the Plough & Harrow for a pint of Bathams, the celebrated Black Country bitter) along the course of the old Kinver Light Railway.
This, incidentally – the railway, not the Bathams – rescued the village from near oblivion when it was built in 1901 and brought thousands of day trippers to visit the cave houses and Kinver Edge.

The River Stour twists and turns a delightful course beside the canal

But our truly delightful walks were in the other direction, through magnificent old woods with towering ancient oaks and beeches. The canal here, as elsewhere, follows the course of the River Stour and the woodland runs alongside them both. It's an ancient wood, only lightly managed and decaying and decrepit in places, but all the more delightful for it.

The Sheep Whisperer at work

Our route was taking us towards Stourton and the final stretch crossed a ploughed field, full of sheep chewing on some unrecognisable root crop or lying in the furrows to try and mitigate the sweltering heat. I've never come across sheep so tame – one particularly curious one came up and allowed me to stroke it. Even Brian the dog didn't seem to bother them.
From Stourton we returned along the towpath to the boat where a two mile walk deserved a beer in the sun.

Brian pays his respects at the pet cemetery

Today we explored further in the woods and discovered part was a local nature reserve, Chance Wood. This was originally planted as an ornamental wood and, hidden here and there were half buried remnants of stone walls and paths like something from a lost civilisation. Here, too, we found an overgrown Victorian pet cemetery and Brian paid his respects to 'Punch' and 'Tim' and the rest.
Yet another walk today (we were overdoing it; this was going to be a 'two beers' evening) saw us cross the canal by the lock and climb a steep track to the main road. Where the river and canal take the valley, the road follows them along the high hilltop and the views all around are superb. Then a short footpath took us down to the top of the little Dunsley Tunnel where we spotted a weasel scurrying along the towpath until he heard us coming and scuttled off into the undergrowth.
Yes, it's been a blissful few days, enjoying the delights of the countryside. Yet it wasn't always like this here. Back in the 17th century a local entrepreneur built a waterwheel powered 'slitting mill' here – one of the first – and harnessed the power of the river to slit iron bars into strips that could be made into cut nails. That brought industry to the area and it was followed by what grew into a massive ironworks along the canalside, right where we are moored now.
Not a trace of this remains; the Light Railway's razed the site to the ground and nature did the rest, incorporating the land back into the woods around it.
The slitting mill had gone much earlier, though ironwork continued and a firm making spades worked there until the early 1900s. The ironworks manager had a magnificent Victorian pile of a house, Hyde House, and when the works closed it was leased by a pastor who formed the Midland Counties Crippled Children's Guild and brought disabled youngsters from all over the Midlands to live there. Sadly, after he died home went downhill, eventually closed and the building fell into decay before being destroyed in a fire. Just a few fragmentary traces of this past remain: bits of brick wall, remains of millponds and fragments of gates and fences.

Fragments of a past life in this sturdy old fence tensioning ratchet

Nature has reclaimed the rest – and is making a better job of it than we probably could. Leave it to us humans and we'd probably have a Tesco and some executive style homes there.

Nature works its magic in miniature on the top of this fencepost

All hands on deck

Cheers! First time this year, out on the deck in the sun enjoying a beer

Phew, what a scorcher! as Private Eye would say. For the first time this year we've had the chairs out on deck and been able to sit, cold beer in hand, enjoying the sun.
After a few days in Stourport we are trickling slowly back towards Stourbridge to get our damaged rudder looked at. It's been an enjoyable few days here in the only town in Britain to have been created solely because of the coming of the canals.

Moored in Stourport basin with the magnificent Lapal behind us

For our final night we dropped down into the basins and managed to find one of the absurdly scarce visitor moorings. Here we were alongside a stunning tug 'Lapal' whose master cabinetmaker owner had fitted it out himself – and the result was unquestionably the most exquisite boat I've seen. Not just beautifully made but so carefully thought out in so many little ways. Made us feel very, very envious!

Now that's what you call a mooring ring Brian

Stourport was humming with visitors over the holiday weekend, though most confined themselves to the fairground and the park for the basins were very quiet. We took a walk southwards down the river and found remnants of various old wharves and moorings that used to line the edges of Stourport. The huge power station that received coal supplies from the canal has vanished completely though, with new houses in its place. Close by, a large collection of derelict brick buildings are what's left of a vinegar works.

A boat with a difference – no windows! They're all done the other side

But finally, after a visit to the launderette (most towns don't have any these days: bizarrely, Stourport has two) and a last shop at Lidl, we were off.
The journey back has been a lot easier than the trip down. No fallen tree, no drained pounds. Just sunshine and plenty of water. And another view of the steam train high above. Tonight we are moored once more at Wolverley, a village once known as a centre of nail making.

The Severn Valley Line steam train heads across the canal viaduct

Location, location, location

One of the five canal basins at Stourport and the fine clock warehouse

Yes, Stourport-on-Severn really is three locations in one. Slightly down at heel country town, magnificent Georgian canal port, unmatched in scale and quality and brash, gaudy seaside resort with its Treasure Island funfair, amusement arcades and crazy golf course.

The old Tontine hotel building now restored as apartments

All seem to lead separate lives: the townsfolk get on with their shopping and simply nod the canal a polite good day, the Wolverhampton day trippers have their funfair rides, their hot dogs, a round of crazy golf and some chips before heading home and the canal basins stand in glorious splendour, surrounded by handsome old buildings and admired by visitors.

And all the fun of the fair at Treasure Island

Somehow, though, for all their spectacular layout and scale, they are a bit of a static exhibit, almost entirely filled by marina-moored craft and with virtually no space for visitors to stop. Even more so at the moment since the fierce flowing Severn is still shut to boat traffic. But let's not gripe: the whole basin area has been thoroughly regenerated, new uses found for the old buildings and even a once built over basin re-excavated. Shame, though, that it only has a few – unused – residential moorings.

The restored Lichfield Basin is centre of this development. But why no boats?

Having exhausted all the delights of Stourport (apart from the waltzer and big wheel), toured the dozen or so charity shops and visited the towpath-side Lidl, we decided to exhaust ourselves with a four miles each way walk along the Severn footpath to Bewdley.

Bewdley's fine riverfront has been a frequent victim of Severn floods

Bewdley is a peach of a place. A major Severnside port before the canals but then supplanted by Stourport, it's a contendedly comfortable little Georgian town with an appealling waterfront and an assortment of shops up its steep main street that climbs away from the water. A sturdy Thomas Telford river bridge has stood the test of the Severn's powerful waters for Bewdley has been a regular victim of flooding over the years and now has some very substantial defences in place.

Telford's handsome bridge leads across it

On our way to Bewdley we spotted a large number of mysterious blue metal pipes sticking out of a field, each with its top padlocked off. We came up with plenty of ideas but only one fact – a Land Rover with the company logo 'GIP'. That and Mr Google solved it: it is ground testing the site for a massive £255 million scheme by Severn Trent Water to pump water from the river and send it to Birmingham via a five feet diameter underground pipeline.
The 'Birmingham Resilience Project' will provide a back-up water supply to the city so that the old Victorian pipeline from the Elan Valley Reservoir in Wales can be taken out of service in winters for badly needed maintenance without leaving Brum short of tap water.
Tomorrow the river is set to re-open, weather permitting, so the increasing queue of boats waiting here will finally get a chance to move off.

Steaming to Stourport

Severn Valley steam railway train crosses the elegant viaduct above the canal

Phew! After yesterday's antics, today's final miles to Stourport were thankfully free of drama. We even got a treat and saw a steam train from the Severn Valley railway crossing high over the canal on a magnificent viaduct.
Just a couple of locks and four short miles separated us from last night's mooring outside The Watermill pub at Kidderminster and Stourport where the canal meets the Severn.
What an odd place that Watermill was. A huge establishment devoted to providing 'twofers' for a clientele of families, pensioners, girlies on nights out and occasional marooned boaters, aiding the choice of food with menus that include pictures of the dishes for those who struggle to imagine what the words 'steak and chips' actually means. It actually means rather less than you might hope from the pic as the food was decidedly average and, if you look at the prices too, then not as tempting an offer as the two-for-one deal suggests.

First lock of the day, the pretty Caldwall Lock

Time worn steps tell an eloquent story of 200 years of use

That said, the building itself was clever: an old watermill actually built about 20 years ago but fitted out with some panache inside using reclaimed beams, stained glass, pine panels and such like. And the beer was okay, if a bit cold. Nice to get a decent pint of proper brown bitter too (Hobgoblin) after all these golden ales that Midlanders seem to like.
We were quickly past the site of the tree blockage this morning and through the picturesque Caldwall Lock, followed  by a long, steep bank of more elderly trees, any one of which looked likely to topple into the water during the next breezy night.
And then, just as we passed under the railway viaduct along came the steam train. The Severn Valley is a 'proper' steam railway that runs 16 miles between Kidderminster and Bridgnorth and uses big ex-mainline engines like the one we saw. No 43106 is an ex-London Midland & Scottish loco: a 2-6-0 for any railway buffs.
After that moment of nostalgia we came to our last lock, Falling Sands and a final, somewhat insipid run into Stourport through the flat, scrubby floodplain of the River Stour which the canal had been tracking all the way from Kinver and which was also destined for the Severn.

Once this arm led under the bridge and down to an ironworks

Stourport was a huge inland port where canal boats traded loads with the big Severn river vessels. It had its own local industries, too, but only vestiges remain. We passed a stub of canal that once led down to the river and provided a link to an ironworks while on the edge of the town another stub, bordered by a high brick wall inset with mooring rings, is the remains of a canal/rail interchange basin.
Now Stourport is an eccentric mixture of magnificent 18th century canal port, slightly shabby country town and, most bizarre of all, a sort of inland Great Yarmouth with kiss-me-quick style amusement arcades and chip shops and a huge, permanent funfair 'Treasure Island'.

Not sure I'd fancy going out in that flow: the Severn was running hard

But more of that tomorrow. Enough for now to say that the line of narrowboats moored up here waiting won't be going on the Severn yet awhile: the river is flowing fiercely and the depth boards are on red for danger.
PS Actually we did have one incident today: while out shopping in Stourport I managed to lose my special, bought-by-Harrywoman-for-Christmas glasses. So far I've walked round the town three times and can't find them. Blast.