|
IT WAS six years ago that Crown Narrowboats built Rhapsody in Blue for American owners Sharon and Dan, who spend the summers on our waterways, part of this year attempting Standedge Tunnel—here's Sharon's story:
Well...we haven't been where we said we were going—through Standedge Tunnel—but not because we haven't tried. Dan did walk up above Lock 11 on the Huddersfield Narrow and talked to several boaters as well as a BW chap (who knew less than nothing about the water problems).
Night down in lock
One hire boat had been through the tunnel (we didn't think any of the hire companies let their boats go through the Standedge Tunnel, but apparently Silsden on the Leeds & Liverpool do) and had spent the night down in Lock 11—and was not impressed.
 Dan called BW again—we're getting quite friendly with Debbie!—and she said that a boater had let some water down so there was a huge shortage and they hoped to be able to have the water back by Monday, but no guarantees...it might take much longer unless it rained.
Meanwhile, two boats came through and said there was "No water! Don't go!" And so, in the end, we went on through Lock 7 (still in Stalybridge—but on the other end of Tesco), turned in the small space, by Dan on the rudder stirring mud (and I do mean mud) while I pulled on the bow rope, and we went back into Lock 7 and down the flight. Seemed like a piece of cake. The water was down, but no problems...until we got to Lock 1. We were met by a BW chap who said there was a problem, we should moor up and they'd sort it. OK. Done.
 So, narrowboat Betty B was down in the lock; her owners were both up top. Turns out they'd been down in the lock for an hour at that point. Seems the bottom gates—which are hydraulically operated from a huge box off to the side—wouldn't open. The BW chap had arrived, been unable to fix the problem because he had no key to the box, so had called for a key. So, we all had a chat and waited. Finally, another BW chap arrived with a key...to a lock on the Ashton Canal—and we're on the Huddersfield Narrow so the key wouldn't work. He said he'd go get another key. No problem.
Key wouldn't fit
The BW chap came back with the key! But, it wouldn't fit—and it was the last key left in the cupboard. Groans all around. So, BW #2 is back on the phone trying to figure out what to do next. Debbie has gone home and both Betty B and Dan & I say we really should be telling Debbie what's happening as we've both been talking to her for the last two days—several times a day. We all had a good laugh over that. Now BW#2 says he's off to get a generator, but we're not to fret as he'll be back. And, BW#1 is back—with lady friend in tow. We all settle in for another wait.
In a short while BW#2 arrives with generator, cutting torch, and goggles, and they cut the lock off the big box and open it up. Of course, now they need an allen key to get the box open that holds the hydraulic fluid. "Do you have one, Trevor?" "Not sure, might be on the truck." All of us on the boats piped up that we had one and would gladly lend it!
Not a drop of oil
By now, we're on first name basis with BW—it's Ian (boss) and Trevor. They start moving things around inside the big box discovering a brick! (What's that doing in there?) and...there is an allen key! So, they open the oil box (at least a dozen screws to get it open) and there's not a drop of oil in it. No wonder the gates wouldn't open! So they poured what oil they had, and it filled about 1/4 of the way—and the gate worked.
They said someone would be back first thing Monday morning to put a new lock on the box, find and fix the actual leak on the far gate, and fill the hydraulic fluid tank. Meanwhile, Ian would stay and work the lock for all of us. We'd been there 1½ hours—but Betty B had been there for 2½ hours. Ian insisted that I get on the boat and he would work the entire lock for us. Lovely!
 Went back and spent the night where we'd stayed before down near Portland Basin, and then got up at 4:30 am to head for the Ashton Flight and get down it before the yobs came out to play havoc. (Picture shows a leaking lock gate on the Ashton.)
Ran into a problem just as we reached the lock before a stadium. One paddle wouldn't work at all and there was obviously something blocking the opening of the paddle I had wide open. The water simply stopped going out—and I couldn't close it down either. There we were stuck half way down (or up—but we were trying to go down). Just as we were looking for the number to call Debbie again, found was off for the weekend so we'd have to call the emergency number—who should appear but a truck with two chaps. Yay!
They were about to pass us by, but I yelled that we needed help, and they happily jumped out and came to assess the problem. They got a large pitch-fork out and had a go at the gate—and it opened. And then they went over and banged on the other paddle and it began to turn. Problem solved. I mentioned the problem from the night before and turns out, this was the chap they'd been talking to on the phone who was okay-ing what they were doing. He asked how they had gotten into the box and just nodded and said, well, we'll sort that on Monday. The rest of the Ashton was a piece of cake! Stopped at Piccadilly for a bite of lunch and thought we'd go on down the dreaded Rochdale Nine (through the center [centre] of Manchester).
 Well! The Rochdale Nine was not a piece of cake! The water was flowing so hard and fast that the towpath was flooded in many places (where it exists). I said I'd work...and Dan said there was no way I could either climb up on the beams to get over to the other side (my legs are too short!) or that I could turn the heavy rollers (with chains) to open those gates or push hard enough to open the ones without chains...and that I would drive the boat. Okay. So...off we went.
 To say that we had a domestic in every lock might be putting it mildly. There was so much water pouring over the top gates (which were behind us as we were going down) that it was almost impossible to get the bottom gates open, I had to stand up top with the rope until the boat got low enough to hold it on the bollard (if there was one) or the ladder rails and could climb back down to the boat.
Getting from one lock to the next was fun because there was a wind-tunnel effect in action between the buildings and Dan was constantly yelling directions which were totally confusing and made no sense to me (he obviously didn't trust me to do it on my own!) but my instincts were kicking in and I seemed to be managing until he would yell to do the opposite of whatever I was doing...and then I'd slam into something. Oh, it was lovely! And, then about three locks from the bottom, a chap coming from the other way, pinched the next lock...which Dan said was okay (he welcomed the rest) while I was left holding the boat in the 'wind tunnel'. Lovely!
 The last lock was the absolute worst with literally around 100 people in the pub above us peering down or standing beside the lock watching, I'd managed to not get on the boat as the wind caught it just as I was walking to the back of the boat to get on (and still had the rope in my hand). It took both of us to get it back again and then Dan decided it was too deep for me to climb down. So, we're both up top and Dan had a terrible time getting the gates open, but finally managed it (while I had visions of him having another hernia!)
Nothing would do but that he would climb down and take the boat out of the lock....leaving me to shut the gates. Piece of cake, right? Ha! Not one of those gadzillion people offered any help...and I struggled mightily...and finally managed the right gate. Both were open as neither opens fully—so off to the other side I went nearest all the gongoozlers—and struggled and struggled and struggled....and struggled! And finally managed to get the damn thing closed. Whew! I've vowed that we will never again do the Rochdale Nine through Manchester—Never Ever! If all boating was like these nine locks, we would never have bought a boat!
Sharon and Dan Nb Rhapsody in Blue
|
