Shiver me timbers

 Boy hasn’t the weather turned awful recently. We must have been near to first frost a couple of weeks back, but then it started to rain. Whilst it hasn’t poured down every day, at least not while travelling, it has made the country I pass through damp and dreary. I’m not complaining though, all you need to stay dry is sufficient waterproof layers. There is also an advantage to rain, it generally means the temperature isn’t too low. It does have a tendency to sap your strength though, gradually washing away your enthusiasm as it invariably seeps into the slightest crease and crevice of your defensive layers. I find it easier to keep the water out on a motorbike, once adopting the best posture, and wearing reliable waterproofs, you’re pretty immune to water ingress. On a boat you have to move around, hopping on and off to tackle locks, skipping down gunwales to secure fenders, tying ropes, untying ropes, it can be a hectic time while cruising. I do have good waterproofs, but it’s the hands and wrists that allow the water to infiltrate. I really must try my waterproof bike gloves, even though I know they’re not designed for such use. Generally it’s easier to cope with bare hands, easier to handle the ropes when they’re sopping wet, gloves stay sopping wet and leech away the warmth. I could try Marigolds, but honestly, can you imagine me wearing bright pink or yellow rubber gloves in public? I do have some pride you know! (Photo: Natural rock tunnel. It was meant to be a lot longer but fault lines in the rock caused it to collapse, so they made it shorter.)

I’m in the British Isles, of course it’s going to rain, I’m only surprised it hasn’t done so more. We had a rather fabulous summer, in my fair eyes at least, and autumn has been especially kind as well. But the swallows seem to have departed already, which would indicate the oncoming of winter, and the geese are gathering to migrate too. It never ceases to amaze me how coordinated these migratory species tend to be. At the same time it’s perplexing to see the odd couple flying in totally the opposite direction as every other creature of that species. I suppose that’s survival of the fittest, they’re either the ones to spawn an improved offshoot because they’ve found a more efficient route/procedure, or they’re going to their inevitable doom because they’re so dumb. But being in tune with nature than my fellow human beings delights me, no offense folks, but your average animal is less offensive than the average human. I see kingfishers daily, and to think before life on the canals I actually thought they were quite rare. And they are the same as ones I saw in Borneo, with the ruddy coloured chests and the iridescent blue markings on their backs/wings. They’re forever flitting across the water in front of the boat, darting from one perch to the next, frightened off by the engine noise of an approaching boat. (Photo: One of the countless herons seen, not a day goes by without spotting a few)

 Now and again I encounter a brave soul, who stands his ground. A recent highlight was to spot one hovering, fluttering furiously like a kestrel to maintain position while scanning the waters below for prey. It then lunged into the water, emerging, with a quick flutter of its whole body to dispel water from its plumage, before darting into the reeds to devour its catch. Having seen pied kingfishers in India and Tibet employing the same tactics fails to detract from the experience. I’ve been spoilt by the exposure to so many exotic creatures on my travels, but I’m glad to say it hasn’t diminished how wonderful I find nature in the UK. For sure there is less of it, but it still inspires awe when spotted. The majority of the canal I’ve travelled so far has been through open countryside, and I really appreciate it. There are plenty of birds of prey, though most I observe without reaching for the camera. Trying to view life through a lens too often means you miss it, so I watch and appreciate rather than try to capture the moment for others. Besides, it can be a mad panic trying to steer, grab the camera and get a decent photo. The moment is all too easily lost. Every time I’ve spotted kestrels they’ve moved off too quick, it may seem as though they hover for ages but only until you reach for a camera. So I watch, contented with the experience, and move on. A picture never truly brings the experience to life, it is but a fleeting glimpse. (Photo: Picturesque Canal walkway, Nr Brewood, Staffs)

I’d go as far as saying wildlife around the canals has become habituated to the every day presence of humans. Certainly ducks and swans are the versions we can see in the town gardens throughout the UK. Human’s aren’t just tolerated, they’re a focus for food, and as such are actively approached for whatever morsels are forthcoming. The very sight of a boat attracts their attention, and they’re very bold, especially the swans. If any part of your body is within reach they’ll peck at you, hustling for food. Previously, in my experience, herons would fly off at the slightest sight of humans. Those along the canals, particularly the busier sections, hardly ruffle a feather unless you get within a few metres. Is this a bad thing? I’d hazard a guess the crap fed them is far from ideal for their general health. Let’s face it, processed food isn’t exactly good for us either, so why should it be any better for them? I never realised swans eat grass, actually plucking it from the canal bank. And ducks love to eat snails, so what could possibly make people think white bread could be a good substitute for these abundant natural foods? I’m as bad as others, if I have left over bread I feed it to them. Not any more though, I don’t want them to be dependant on humans. I try and eat good wholesome foods, and believe they should also. (Photo: As the canal opened up, more closely resembling a lake like environment, the geese wheeled round to land expertly, feet first and skying to a stop)

 As I wind my way northward humanity intrudes progressively onto the previously rural canal system. Bearing in mind canals were built to serve commerce this is bound to happen once entering areas of trade and industry, the Midlands is after all a huge sprawling area of the bygone manufacturing industry. Cities that used to house flourishing industries has fallen into disrepair and increasingly been rejuvenated as upper market accommodation. But it isn’t just confined to the inner cities. Housing developments have slowly encroached further into the countryside, creeping ever closer to each other, narrowing down the gap between town boundaries. These areas seem chock-a-block with moored vessels, finding a suitable mooring near a town is not so easy. Services aren’t any better either, try finding a laundrette near the canal, or at all. And as with anywhere else, the more people present it would seem the less approachable they become. By and large I’ve found those how serve the canals to be friendly and approachable, though at the prices they charge they can afford to be. They have a monopoly really, there’s never an abundance of them in any one place, so if you need their services you’re at their mercy. Trying to get an estimate for work is nigh on impossible, remaining on your feet on receipt of the bill is even harder. (Photo: There are those who have and those who have not, I assume the owners of this stately home HAVE)

As previously reported, I’ve been crippled by overheating problems. Reaching a recommended engineer nearly proved too much to bear. If I hadn’t invested so much into Pankina I might well have left her by the wayside. Spirits are at an all time low, and finding the determination to carry on has nearly been my undoing. But I got here, to Stone in Staffordshire, I only wish it felt worthwhile. True enough the boss seems to have a good knowledge of BMC diesels, if only he was doing the work. But he’s not fit enough to undertake the task himself, so an unqualified grease monkey has done it under supervision. Except the supervision is only sporadic, and I have serious doubts as to the quality of the work. I try talking to people here (meaning at Canal Cruising Co Ltd), but no-one seems too willing to converse at any depth. At first my reception was lukewarm at best, and I don’t actually think it’s got any better. It feels I’m tolerated more than welcomed, and any questions fall on deaf ears. Are the staff like this with all customers? Not that I’ve noticed, but there have been few others for comparisons. I got the bill today, and nearly fainted. What’s wrong with me, I’ve not the strength to make a fuss about it? It doesn’t help I’ve banking problems and paying has turned into a nightmare, which hasn’t improved the situation. (Photo: One of the more artistically constructed bridges, lovely ridged concentric circles)

Cruising the waterways is a lovely experience, while maintaining a narrow boat is turning into a nightmare. I’d rather not imagine what else can go wrong! Nearing completion of the head gasket my bedroom carpet became sodden, obviously I suspected it was connected with the ongoing work. As it turned out I found a leaking joint from the water tank, the whole cavity below the floor had filled with water, eventually rising through the floor. With luck that is now sorted, but all I can think is that I can’t take any more. At present if someone made me an offer on the boat I’d probably take it, as long as it wasn’t ludicrous. Cruising is fun, hard going at times, but peaceful and enjoyable. It’s the things that go wrong, and there seems no limit to them. Ok, I know I’m whinging, and it’s not becoming. I try not to slide into self-pity, but I’m finding it hard to pull myself out of it right now. Could this be the breaking of me? I sure hope not, but cap’n Kay don’t feel so hot to trot. I can’t engage my brain in a constructive or rational way, I have no self-confidence, nor the strength to get my shit together. That is not good, however you look at it. It’s not the person I’m used to being, though I’ve sunk to this level on occasion in recent years. I guess I’ll have to dig deeper because I feel ashamed of the whimpering pussy I’ve become. (Photo: Winding through wetland pasture as twilight descends, you know it's time to consider pulling over and putting the kettle on)