Wargrave to Cliveden, 15.5 miles, 5 locks
Grey and wet this morning when I woke up, but by 10 it was brightening up and a while later the sun came out. After checking the water levels in the engine; and adding a couple of litres and wondering whether I should be worried at this, I unmoored from the trees I was attached to and set off. There was an EA 'mooring' notice near the tree that the prow had gone through yesterday and as I set off I realised that this marked the end of the mooring, and on the other side of the tree was a lovely clean stretch of bank with proper mooring posts, which was the official mooring. Oh well, that'll teach me to arrive under cover of darkness. My GPS wasn't working, so I had no idea what speed I was doing which I hate.
Not long after I set off, I went past Poplar Eyot and a couple of other little islands, then round the corner and into Marsh lock. Nothing remarkable there, except for a large hire boat where the captain didn't seem to have a clue what he's doing and at one point looks to be in danger of turning his boat around within the lock, rather than getting it tied up.
After leaving there, the Thames is suddenly full of rowers and this continues as you go through Henley. I'd forgotten how lovely Henley's waterfront is and how unspoilt the town seems. I guess this all changes during the regatta. The regatta dominates the river once you're under Henley bridge, with land on both sides seemingly belonging to it. On one side there are large fields; on the other there is the large Victorian-looking wood and glass building where one imagines Her Majesty would sit and watch. The regatta is run over a very straight section of the Thames and today there was a freezing cold wind whipping down it, that seemed to penetrate through your clothes and through your skin. My fingers were numb with cold—all of it 'wind chill'. Eventually you go past Temple Island, avoiding the rowers as best you can and round the corner to Hambleden lock.
Hambleden is one of these locks which has a lay-by made of stout black upright pillars, with the walkway cantilevered behind. I brought Oothoon in tidily, but as I landed a man walked towards me along the lay-by. I naturally assumed that he was the lock keeper, come to tell me something important, but it turned out to be another narrowboater who was just being friendly. I was so busy concentrating on getting Oothoon under control and talking to him that I wasn't really taking much notice of other things that were happening, however I did notice that Oothoon shuddered at some point and there was a large 'crack', but when I looked around I couldn't see why. I assumed that she must have hit some submerged debris but I found the actual reason once the lock gates opened and I had to take her in: the wooden end off the tiller had obviously caught on one of the lay-by's uprights and Oothoon's inertia had been too much for it to resist, so it had broken off. but not before bending the metal bar that it was attached to. Without the extra 8-10" (20-25cm) of leverage on the end, the tiller was much harder to turn. I hope that the river isn't too rough and that I don't need to make any sudden turns.
Through Hambleden and off along a slightly windey bit of the river, but at least the wind isn't in my face any more, which gives me a chance to warm up. It's all rather lovely, at times making me think that I might be in the Canadian outback rather than just a few miles from Heathrow, although the caravan site just before Hurley lock rather shatters that illusion.
Hurley has a sanitation station that I want to use, but when I arrive a plastic gin palace is at the water hose having a drink. I pull over in front of it, since there isn't room behind and stand waiting, holding Oothoon on the centre rope because I assume it won't be there long, but after the tank is filled, the captain merely puts away the hose then goes and sits aboard. I wonder whether there's something else going on, not being too familiar with the needs of gin palaces, but after a few minutes I decided to tie up and walk over to ask. The captain seems oblivious to everything, especially me waiting to use the water point, however he does finally shift his boat, although you'd think the effort was in danger of killing him from the slowness with which it was done. With him gone, I start to fill the water tank and also wander over to the sanitation station to look for where to empty the loo. For some reason I'm thinking that it'll be indoors, and although there's a men's toilet, a disabled toilet and a mens/woman's toilet, I can't see anything for Elsans. I try wandering round the back, but there's a pen with bins there. There's another building nearby and I try that, but it is completely locked. In the end I decided that the mens/ladies loo will have to do and take my toilet there. I've had to empty Elsans down conventional toilets before so know the routine, which mainly consists of trying to stop it splashing. Once I've taken the loo back to Oothoon, I figure I should empty the bins while I'm here, so carry them over to the bins that are behind the sanitation station. There, right in the middle of them, is a large hatch in the ground marked "Elsan Disposal" and a sign explaining why you shouldn't pump out your toilet into it. Wonderful. After emptying the bins, I walk down a little ramp, rather than down the steps that I originally used and there on the corner is a small sign, barely large enough to hold the lettering, saying "Chemical Toilet Disposal". 10/10 for discretion, Environment Agency.
After filling the water tank and emptying the loos and bins, lunch is a hastily grabbed egg mayonnaise sandwich made with some Tiger Bread, followed by a bag of Quavers and a cup of tea. Feeling full I walk up to the lock to see what is going on. The dozy bloke at the water point had obviously become bored with the lack of a lock keeper and has manually operated the lock, leaving the bottom gates open behind him. The lock keeper isn't due back for another 20 minutes, so I set the controls and start winding the handle to close the bottom gates, then swap the controls and wind the handle to drop the paddles on the bottom gates. After this I go to the other end of the lock and set the controls and wind the handle to open the paddles, so the lock will fill, and I've just finished doing that when the lock keeper turns up. He gives me some encouragement and says that he's just off to get a cuppa and will be right back, and by the time he is the lock is full and I've started turning the handle to open the gates. He slips in his special lock keeper's key, but allows me to finish opening the gates manually, closing the paddles under electric power.
The cruiser from Marsh lock had arrived while I was filling up with water and has been watching all my exertions. Now that the gates are open, they've unmoored and have entered the lock, but still don't seem to have a clue. As it's a wide boat, I can't go fully alongside, but that also means that where my prow overlaps—because they will insist on mooring halfway along the lock—I have to be particularly careful not to hit it,
It's only a short way from Marsh lock to Temple lock, so I'm a bit cross when I arrive to find that the cruiser has gone in and the lock gates are closed. They could have mentioned that I'm right behind. Fortunately the lock keeper sees me and opens the gates, but as usual the cruiser's poorly positioned. I'm not sure that he's even aware that there are other boats on the river. This is, I think, proven as we approach Marlow, where I'm not far behind him and he suddenly swings right across my path because he's decided to stop and feed some ducks or something on the opposite bank. I swerve just in case, glad that I've been trying to keep a reasonable distance behind.
I remember Marlow lock, as there's a particularly large weir and there was a queue for the lock last year. I ended up somehow stopping Oothoon from disappearing down the weir by holding on to the end of a tiny jetty that pokes out from one of the houses. Even when I got to the lay-by, a couple of lock-fulls of plastic boats went through before me, although I didn't mind so much once my situation wasn't so precarious. This year, the gates were open and I went straight in, which I was pleased about because that weir is really quite something. I had the lock to myself, but was allowed to do the descent on centre rope because there's no 'pull'. I'm not surprised—the weir must take away every last bit of current.
Under the Marlow bypass bridge, which says No Mooring but which I'm sure I had to stop next to last year, then on to the straights past Cookham. It's wooded and rather pleasant, although the wind had returned and I wasn't making much progress. At one point I did a 'Crazy Ivan', because I was sure that the prop was fouled, but no—it's just the wind. After what seemed like a very long time, I was at the curve that is the start of Bourne End and after even longer—for I was sure I was slowing down without the GPS's objectivity—I arrived at Cookham lock.
Cookham lock took an age because there was a large barge and a tug coming up, so it was about 4:15 when I got through. I was keen to avoid a repeat of last night's dash for moorings, so I checked the map and there were apparently three before Boulter's lock and Maidenhead, and all in the grounds of Cliveden House. They were after a set of thin islands, but after being hopeless at spotting the proper moorings last night, I was hoping these would be better signposted. The end of the islands came and went, but I couldn't see anything that looked like a mooring, however I could start to see where the Jubilee River takes its feed from the Thames, so by a process of elimination worked out where the middle set of moorings must be. There was a Dutch Barge moored there, so I chose a spot a little way before—between two trees, naturally—and went past slowly to see if I'd fit. As if to confirm that I was doing the right thing, the barge flashed her navigation lights, so I reversed carefully and fitted into the hole between the trees perfectly. The bank at the stern wasn't great, but I was moored, and with a fantastic view of Cliveden. I wandered along to the Dutch Barge to check that I was in the right place and the captain confirmed that I was, so I went back to the boat to settle down for the night.
Dinner was Herr Aldi's Yellow Pea and Potato soup with the last of the Tiger Bread, followed by linguini with pesto and crayfish tails. All pretty simple and delicious.
Listened to Russell Brand's podcast. Russell seems to have been in the news a lot recently, largely to do with this particular show, aired on the 18th October, when Jonathan Ross was the guest and they made stupid calls to Andrew Sachs (or rather to his answering machine). Having heard it, what Jonathan Ross came out with was outrageous—in the "bold and unexpected" sense of the word—rather than nasty, although he did use the "F" word. I'm told that there were questions about it in Parliament and that Russell has resigned and Jonathan Ross is suspended. I doubt that anyone who regularly listens to Russell's show would be upset by it, although I can understand why Andrew Sachs would be, but this strikes me as an over-reaction. There is a warning at the beginning of the podcast that this show contains "Adult" material, so you know it can get ribald. I wonder how many of the people who complained listened specifically because it has been in the news. The radio equivalent of rubbernecking.
Wow! Have you seen the view out of my kitchen window?!
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