Monday, October 06, 2003
Chester/Ellesmere Port Easter 1998
Sorry for the delay in posting this but the weather has been so nice and now
we're rather more tan than we were last week.
Where were we?
Once we'd survived the horrendous Good Friday morning sleet-storm, the rest
of the day proved to be quiet. Travelling along the canal below the Chester
city walls has much the same feel as being in a moat rather than a canal.
The walls have a feeling of solidity and overwhelming permanence, when you
look up at the heights it's not difficult to imagine lines of soldiers
standing there watching for invaders. The guidebooks say that Charles I
watched a battle from the city walls, apparently he was the first Royal
gongoozzler.
We'd heard so many horror stories about the Chester staircase locks at
Northgate, we weren't too eager to get there and lock down alone.
Fortunately a boat that had been in view occasionally along the stretch
caught up with us before then, and with the help of 'Chief' and her crew,
including three extremely helpful teenaged boys, locking down was a breeze.
Since we'd arrived at the staircase before them, we'd set the two lower
chambers. Once 'Chief' arrived, it was a simple case of just taking our
lock-full of water downhill with us as we went. It's amazing how much
simpler it is when there is another boat and extra helping hands. The view
from the top of the staircase is spectacular, the countryside drops away
into the distances, not something you see every day on a canal. It's an odd
sensation to take a boat down those locks, somehow they seem higher than
their 30-odd foot rise, it's much like being poised at the top of one of
those log-flume rides, fortunately we didn't have to slide down the lock in
one go, with our hands in the air. I'd certainly have been screaming as we
hit the bottom.
Some of the boats that were heading for Ellesmere were moored up in the
Chester basin overnight, across from the visitor moorings. They set off
early in the morning, the sounds of those wonderful engines adding to the
ambience of the basin and whetting our appetite for more. We did a bit of
shopping for provisions and then, after another fortifying meal of bacon
butties, we headed off down the canal an hour or so later.
The canal from Chester to Ellesmere is full of contrasts, it narrows, it
winds along in parts, it passes the Zoo and military training grounds. It
also has some lovely stretches bordered with reeds where we did mighty
battle with a weed-raft that must have been 40 feet long and 3 feet wide.
It almost won, but our trusty barge pole did good work for us that day. Of
course, once we got the weeds pushed aside, we ran aground on the silted up
edge of the canal. The barge pole took a lunch break after that, as we
managed the remainder of the trip without mishap.
Once we were close to the entrance to the upper basin of the museum, we
could see roadsigns on the highway directing traffic there. It's infinitely
more wonderful to come to Ellesmere by boat, following in the wake of the
old boats who gather there every Easter. Once we passed under the last
bridge and entered the basin, all the cold and tiredness vanished as we made
our way along between the antique boats clustered along the sides. It was
extremely windy as we headed for the lock down into the lower basin, as Mike
got the bow as close to the entrance as possible, I clambered ungracefully
onto the stone edging of the central island. Barely. We got the 'All Right
Now' into the upper lock and took a breather as we surveyed the mooring
situation. The lower basin was full, but a quick chat with some of the
boaters got us an invitation to tie up to one of the boats moored facing the
'Cuddington'. The problem now was going to be how we'd get our boat out of
the bottom lock and into the mooring without being blown across the basin.
The wind, naturally, was blowing in the worst direction. With a bit of
trepidation and a lot of panache, Mike got the 'ARN' out of the bottom lock,
around the curve into the wind and between the moored boats without hitting
anything.
And there we were. Ellesmere Port and the Boat Museum. It was, as
Shakespeare once said:
Oh wonderful, wonderful and most wonderful, wonderful! and yet again
wonderful, and after that out of all hooping.
Go to Ellesmere Port yourself, and see.
-Su (and Mike)
we're rather more tan than we were last week.
Where were we?
Once we'd survived the horrendous Good Friday morning sleet-storm, the rest
of the day proved to be quiet. Travelling along the canal below the Chester
city walls has much the same feel as being in a moat rather than a canal.
The walls have a feeling of solidity and overwhelming permanence, when you
look up at the heights it's not difficult to imagine lines of soldiers
standing there watching for invaders. The guidebooks say that Charles I
watched a battle from the city walls, apparently he was the first Royal
gongoozzler.
We'd heard so many horror stories about the Chester staircase locks at
Northgate, we weren't too eager to get there and lock down alone.
Fortunately a boat that had been in view occasionally along the stretch
caught up with us before then, and with the help of 'Chief' and her crew,
including three extremely helpful teenaged boys, locking down was a breeze.
Since we'd arrived at the staircase before them, we'd set the two lower
chambers. Once 'Chief' arrived, it was a simple case of just taking our
lock-full of water downhill with us as we went. It's amazing how much
simpler it is when there is another boat and extra helping hands. The view
from the top of the staircase is spectacular, the countryside drops away
into the distances, not something you see every day on a canal. It's an odd
sensation to take a boat down those locks, somehow they seem higher than
their 30-odd foot rise, it's much like being poised at the top of one of
those log-flume rides, fortunately we didn't have to slide down the lock in
one go, with our hands in the air. I'd certainly have been screaming as we
hit the bottom.
Some of the boats that were heading for Ellesmere were moored up in the
Chester basin overnight, across from the visitor moorings. They set off
early in the morning, the sounds of those wonderful engines adding to the
ambience of the basin and whetting our appetite for more. We did a bit of
shopping for provisions and then, after another fortifying meal of bacon
butties, we headed off down the canal an hour or so later.
The canal from Chester to Ellesmere is full of contrasts, it narrows, it
winds along in parts, it passes the Zoo and military training grounds. It
also has some lovely stretches bordered with reeds where we did mighty
battle with a weed-raft that must have been 40 feet long and 3 feet wide.
It almost won, but our trusty barge pole did good work for us that day. Of
course, once we got the weeds pushed aside, we ran aground on the silted up
edge of the canal. The barge pole took a lunch break after that, as we
managed the remainder of the trip without mishap.
Once we were close to the entrance to the upper basin of the museum, we
could see roadsigns on the highway directing traffic there. It's infinitely
more wonderful to come to Ellesmere by boat, following in the wake of the
old boats who gather there every Easter. Once we passed under the last
bridge and entered the basin, all the cold and tiredness vanished as we made
our way along between the antique boats clustered along the sides. It was
extremely windy as we headed for the lock down into the lower basin, as Mike
got the bow as close to the entrance as possible, I clambered ungracefully
onto the stone edging of the central island. Barely. We got the 'All Right
Now' into the upper lock and took a breather as we surveyed the mooring
situation. The lower basin was full, but a quick chat with some of the
boaters got us an invitation to tie up to one of the boats moored facing the
'Cuddington'. The problem now was going to be how we'd get our boat out of
the bottom lock and into the mooring without being blown across the basin.
The wind, naturally, was blowing in the worst direction. With a bit of
trepidation and a lot of panache, Mike got the 'ARN' out of the bottom lock,
around the curve into the wind and between the moored boats without hitting
anything.
And there we were. Ellesmere Port and the Boat Museum. It was, as
Shakespeare once said:
Oh wonderful, wonderful and most wonderful, wonderful! and yet again
wonderful, and after that out of all hooping.
Go to Ellesmere Port yourself, and see.
-Su (and Mike)
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