Narrowboat Firecrest – Coddiwompling with Narrowboat Firecrest

Mooching around Middlewich

We have a bit of time on our hands as we wait until Nick can fit us in to have the port holes fixed so we have been mooching around Middlewich for longer than usual. It’s not high on the tourist attraction list, usually a place we pass through without exploring. Although King’s Lock chippy is an essential port of call. It does one of the best plates of fish and chips on the cut.

Are we getting old? Even sharing a portion of chips seems too much these days.

The mooring at Booth Lane is nice and wide, has rings and has full sun all day, so you could say almost perfect, but the downside is the road noise. It’s relentless and pervasive, so we unchained the boat and set off through Kings Lock

Down King’s Lock going past the Middlewich branch

And moved to the other side of town, where it’s also wide, has rings and (when its not cloudy) is in full sun. And despite being closer to walk to the supermarket than Booth Lane, has a rural tranquility, definitely perfect.

Eric settled down to work whilst I settled down to do a bit of exploring. Middlewich is a town that is built upon salt, being the middle of the three wich towns, the other two being Northwich and Nantwich. With wich being the suffix meaning salt town. Of course the Roaming Romans took advantage of this gold mine and the confluence of several rivers to build themselves a settlement here. Being an explorer myself, I saw the reference to the Roman fort on my OS map so I followed the foot path over the canal bridge, and through a pretty wooded area

into Harbutts field to see for myself.

Just in case I’d missed something I walked around the other side to check out the view from the west

And to be sure from the south

OK I confess I may have got the north south east west orientations out of order but you get the impression. At least there were info boards to help me see what I was looking at.

And this is board 7 so there must be more…

As we cruised through the town I’d seen a standing stone just off the canal near the Andersen hire boat yard, so I thought I’d investigate Middlewich’s prehistoric culture.

Alas there was no info board, or dedication plaque, so I’m non the wiser as to how and why this Monolith appeared. With a Scandinavian name like Andersen, I wonder if the vikings also came to take advantage of the salt pans, and the carving on the rock face really is a longboat not a modern narrowboat.
However undeterred I wandered back to the boat via the High Street and discovered a good butchers, which we will return to on our next visit. Middlewich really isn’t a tourist attraction, but its home to around 15000 people, and although somewhat run down in areas, is a very useful stopping place for boaters like us, just not for a whole week.

Moving down to Middlewich

After our traumatic wake up sliding ungracefully out of bed on Monday morning, we were relishing a few days of a rural idyll. It’s funny how coming through the Harecastle Tunnel is a bit like teleporting us into a completely different world. The rundown redbrick industrial revolution makes way for green growth and rural beauty. It’s the contrasts that keep this living adventure alive and so exciting for us. Even the same stretch of canal can look very different as the seasons change. Today we woke up in Cheshire not Staffordshire- where Firecrest had been since the 3rd May 2025. The actual county border is where the Macclesfield canal aqueduct crosses over the Trent and Mersey Canal at Hardings Wood Junction although we weren’t in the right frame of mind to celebrate at the time. Today we were setting off down the hill, aiming to get back to the Paintshed where Nick was going to reseal our leaking portholes. But we weren’t rushing. It might only be 13 miles to Middlewich but there are a lot of locks to work through. At least they are pretty.

church lawton locks

We broke our journey at Rode Heath, where there’s a good length of visitor mooring, and it wasnt busy

The sunshine is making everything look so pretty

Even the obligatory photo of us passing under the M6

We moored up quite close to the motorway, its just a gentle hum in the background rather than being invasively noisy.

Eric decided it was time to screw the new pole support onto the roof – only a year after our repaint.

Always an anxious time drilling holes in your roof

Some early morning wake ups are worth waking up for

We stayed here a few days before completing the last of the Wheelock locks.

And another quiet mooring at Wheelock.

Where is everybody?

Eric’s cousin lives quite close by so we arranged to meet up for a meal at the canalside Italian restaurant Barchetta, and I must admit it was a very enjoyable meal. Not only was the company good, portions were generous and service was friendly and attentive. And they do an early bird menu till 6:30 for £15. We’ll definitely go there again.
Final days cruise in this little trip found us a mooring in Middlewich above Kings Lock.

Booth Lane moorings, nice and close to King’s Lock fish and chips shop.

Through the Tunnel and a bit of a scare.

The tomato soup (iron oxide ground seepage) was looking good as we pulled up at the tunnel entrance to await an unbooked passage. There was a boat coming south, so the gate keeper agreed we had plenty of time to fill up with water.

And it gave me a chance to wander around and see the second tunnel

The second tunnel was actually the first. Built by James Brindley as part of the initial canal structure in 1770. At 1.6 miles long, it was the longest tunnel on the network but its 7 year construction was fraught with engineering difficulties as the ground structure changed from soft earth to hard millstone grit. The tunnel was narrow and it took 2 men 3 hours to leg through. The boat kids walked the ponies over the top of the hill along Boathorse Lane. It was decided that the ecconomic value of the canal to the potteries warranted a second tunnel, this time built in 3 years by Thomas Telford. It was wide enough to accommodate a towing path, although the ponies still didnt like being underground for such a long time. Average transit time was now 90 minutes. Despite its limited capacity and frequent structural problems, Brindley’s tunnel remained in use until 1914 when it became uneconomical to repair. Telford’s tunnel also had its fair share of subsidence with the towpath sinking below water level. In 1914 electric tugs were used to haul the boats until the mid 50’s, when most boats had a diesel engine. Major repairs were needed in the 70’s so the authorities removed the towpath completely.
Nowadays it takes between 30 and 40 minutes to complete the passage. CRT operate a booking system, to manage the traffic, although there is still turn up and wait option from 10 until 2 each day (please check their website as these times change)
And we made it out the otherside.

There’s a very convenient Lidl on the canalside just after the tunnel, so we moored up and I went off to restock the fridge. We had full sunshine and it fell safe and secure so we stayed put for the night. Besides I was busy trying to take photos of the ducklings.

If only they’d keep still for a good photo

Safe and secure we thought…. until the following morning when we fell out of bed, literally, and I do mean literally. The boat was listing at a horrible angle. It was barely light, but we realised that there had been a significant drop in the water level and we were hanging on with our ropes. What with last year’s Bridgewater Breach and this year’s Whitchurch Breach we were relieved not to see any water rushing past us, but even so, with a drop of two foot, that was significant. And yes we were quite worried.

We could barely stand up inside, and things had slid onto the floor. Luckily no breakages. It was difficult to get off the boat with the combination of the level difference and angle.

And I dont like the look of that Armco either

But our first thought was that some *%&£@ had left the paddles up on the lock below us. We walked to both the locks above and below us and all the gates and paddles were closed, and the adjacent water levels seemed to be correct. It was only our pound between locks 45 and 46 that had lost water.

The angle the boat was at was a lot more scarey than it looks

The obvious solution was that we should simply run some water down from the pound above us, but what if this level drop were a structural incident or an imminent failure. At 6.30, having spoken to the other boater in the same plight as us, we decided to play the better safe than sorry card and call the CRT emergency line only to get a recorded, “all our operators are busy right now” message. Not even an option to leave a message. What would have happened if this had been a serious breach or real emergency, ok I’d have dialled 999 but even so what good is an unmanned emergency line. When I did get through at 7.30 . Stating we were moored between 45 and 46 on the Trent and Mersey, the operator, then asked “exactly where are you” …between locks 45 and 46 on the T&M… “and where’s that?”… Kidsgrove, near the harecastle tunnel…”I can’t find that on the map” ….Eventually, they located us, and said they’d contact the local team who would call us back. Come on CRT, forget installing fancy signage and food waste bins, how about a better map system for your operators. By now we were thoroughly cheesed off, worried and annoyed and other boaters were also chomping at the bit. By 9.30 some volunteers had turned up. And they did what we should possibly have done 3 hours earlier. They just opened up the lock and ran water through. We never got our call back. We have no idea if any investigation was done as to the cause of the water loss. They just patted us on the back and said someone must have left a paddle up. Of course I should really have filed a “near miss” complaint. The what ifs dont bear thinking about. And I’m not even going to think about the state of that Almco below water level. Out of sight out of mind.

That’s better, I can stand up straight now.

Once we were refloated we just escaped and worked our way down the next 5 locks and left them too it. We were going to enjoy a late brunch and some peace. Our emotions had been put through the wringer and we’d had enough for one day.

Grumpy Bastards and Mean Machines

As you know I like to snap photos of things that make me smile, and as Eric set off on Firecrest towards the Harecastle Tunnel, I took one last stroll along the crumbling victorian buildings. The day before I’d seen this boarded up building, with a sign pointing down to Grumpys.

But today, it had come alive, the shutters pulled up and the Grumpy Bastards were out partying. All was revealed.

If you were into Harleys and America classic cars

This was the place to be
Grumpy Bastards is a club and music venue for people with a passion for the classics, motorcycles and americana.. And if you time it right, the reverent Tarquin Bounder will have opened up to polish the paint

And rub the rust

And generally enjoy sharing the love (aka showing off)

Behind the shuttered door is a bar that caters for bikers of all shapes and sizes,

And is full of memorabilia including this bugatti grand prix winner

But the bike takes centre stage

Of course not everyone wanted to stick around, but escaping isn’t easy as this poor guy found out as he tried to drive away, I didn’t dare look for fear that he was going to nudge one of those beauties.

Which he almost did, luckily someone had the sense to fetch the bikes owners, who moved their pride and joys out of the way. I’d retreated to watch from a safer distance. I wasnt sure what fireworks might fly as the tension rose.

Down the alley is a garage/workshop

There was food and drink to be had, so bought some street food rushed back to the boat to share it and some happy memories with Eric. When I was about 10 my family lived in South Africa, where big Chevrolet’s were the car of choice. I have fond memories of “aunty Nora’s” chevvy being this colour, although hers wasnt a pick up.

My dad drove a Bakkie , the South African word for a pick up just like this one

And the family went exploring in a proper VW kombi

I dont generally think of myself as a petrol head, but sometimes you’ve just got to live the moment. Everyone has to start somewhere.

And everyone can dream

But for now, I went happily back to my slow pace of life with a silent electric motor as we approached the tunnel for the next stage of our journey.

Messing about at Middleport

We have a vague memory from back in 2017 when we moved aboard, of us saying we’d always try to moor in a different place. Middleport pottery quickly fell through that net. Its not the perfect mooring, but its a mooring we enjoy and we seem to keep coming back to it. Probably because its within easy reach of the Harecastle Tunnel, and we dont have to put up with honking geese and goose poo if we were to moor at Westport Lakes. And of course, we love the architectural heritage of being able to moor right opposite a pottery built in 1888. I can’t get enough of bottle kilns.

Being Easter Weekend we assumed we’d get some bad weather, but Saturday proved to be dry and sunny- until storm Dave put in an appearance and blew the cobwebs away. The pottery was hosting a Steam Punk extravaganza on the Saturday, alas victorian sci-fi fashion isnt the most practical boat wear so we donned our jeans and waterproofs and went to admire what others were wearing.

I love the idea of creating a unique outfit, where rules are meant to be broken, but not all steam punk is quite so relaxed. We came across the highly competitive sport of tea dueling.

These two starving urchins had been dragged off the street for our entertainment with the temptation of being allowed to eat a whole malted milk biscuit. However, they were first to endure a tortuous duel. Having dunked their biscuit into a freshly poured cup of tea for precisely 3 second, (as counted down by the audience) they competed to hold their biscuit upright, without it breaking, for the longest time without devouring it in one greedy mouthful. One urchin lasted 41 seconds the other 42. And the audience was well entertained.
We resumed our self guided tour of the pottery, which although it has developed as a heritage site, preserving its old buildings, it is still a working pottery and a teaching site for budding potters. I’d have loved to have joined a class but they were all full up this weekend. Instead we had a look at the bath house. Right up until the 1950s it was unusual for the workers terrace houses to have an indoor bathroom, or even a zinc tub of their own, so the Mills would often have bath houses available for their employees to use. During world war II this bath house was the designated bomb shelter to accommodate 38 people. The factory employed over 200.

Whilst we were enjoying Middleport, I saw directions to Oatbakers. Which according to various online reviews serves the best Staffordshire oatcakes available. As you would expect Eric opted for the challenger, a giant Oatcake. I always thought an Oatcake was a crisp biscuit that you’d eat with cheese. These however are more like a pancake, served with a sweet or savoury filling. We chose cheese and bacon. If you moor at Middleport or at Westport, the bakery is within easy walking distance, and worth a visit.

Despite the area being quite run down, theres a great community spirit. Even though Port Vale lost against Chelsea in the football FA cup quarter final. Someone has a sense of humour creating the secret garden

I was curious to know what was behind the doors. And I just happened to meet a local who had lived in Middleport all his life. This building used to be a state of the art bakery. But it is now crumbling away and the secret garden is just a teaser, someone covering up a boarded up entrance.

We stayed 4 nights at the Middleport Pottery, this time. I am sure we will be back. But for now we were preparing to say goodbye to Staffordshire as we cruised towards Cheshire, so I couldnt not share this Staffie who came to say hello to us.

From Stone to Stoke

But first, a special first, the first ducklings of the year 6th April.

After 10 days in Stone we were itching to get moving again. We’d gone exploring, seen family and friends, visited the dentist to have a broken tooth repaired, returned the car to our daughter. And much as we’d enjoyed those 10 days- apart from the bill from the dentist, our obligations were done and we were free to just be boaters again. Setting off up the Meaford locks filled us with excitement and anticipation about what lay ahead.

I’m always been fascinated cruising through Stoke. Its an industrial town striving to make its way in the 21st century, the old red brick factory yards are being wiped out by the many modern equivalents, huge warehouses compete with huge new housing estates. The canal runs through the centre straddled on each side with the multi lane Queensway and the high-speed intercity railway. Its noisy, hemmed in by concrete and razor wire fences, and nothing on earth entices me to stop and explore. But on this trip north, perhaps because it’s spring and the sun was shining it felt to me like there was an undercurrent of regeneration. Not quite so much litter or graffiti. Someone cares about this place, and I’m glad. People we spoke to were friendly and welcoming.

There are 5 locks climbing up through Stoke, and I usually walk that mile, and theres always something to make me smile, especially the Fritillary that im fairly sure someone had planted rather than it seeding naturally.

Some encouraging art work, even though it feels like fighting a loosing battle against the plastic.

Is that a mermaid lounging by the canal?

This boat always makes me smile with its grass roof and wooden cladded face

Stoke on Trent’s heyday began in the 18th century when the combination of natural resources and local talent came together to create the Potteries. Back in the day there were over 2000 bottle kilns firing the pottery now there are just 47 remaining standing. The Clean Air act in the 1950’s put an end to their commercial use, and the remaining kilns are all listed. Some have been lovingly preserved and integrated into new housing developments

But sadly even though Olivers mill continued into the 1990’s for the calcination of flint, where the flint is heated to over 1000°C then ground to use in ceramics production. It doesn’t seem to be so loved now.

The bone and flint mill at Etruria is a private heritage site

Etruria junction is the final lock north of the town. The Cauldon Canal branches off here into the peak district to transport products for the potteries.

There used to be a CRT bin facility here but it has moved to Festival Park Marina. And to give CRT its due, after my post 2 weeks ago from Stone, these bins deserve 5 stars.

That one cardboard box on the far bin belongs to me.

Stories from Stone

We like Stone, it’s an interesting town with a lot of history, especially for the canal. This is true Brindley country, where James Brindley met to discuss the building a canal to link the River Mersey to the River Trent, thus providing an infinitely more practical and profitable way to transport goods. Particularly the raw products needed for the potteries and a much safer way to transport the finished pottery both throughout the country (ie London) and around the world.

Despite its blue plaque, the Star Inn predates the canal by some 200 years and is more famous for its entry in the Guinness book of Records for having the most levels of flooring in a public house. Which although I can’t confirm accuracy of that claim, I can confirm that carrying 2 pints of beer across the original flagstones doesn’t lead to good photographic evidence.
The Star has many other notable claims to fame, but the story I like is the one that happened during the opening ceremony of Star Lock. Someone had bright idea to fire a cannon to mark the event….. subsequently the lock required a bit of a rebuilt to repair the damage.

We were too early in the day to enlist the merry helpers with opening the gates

Of course The Star of Stone isnt the only pub in town. The quality of the water, (from the river trent, not the canal) and the presence of an Augustine Monastery, ensured that Stone’s reputation was also for good beer, both the big breweries have gone now, but Joule’s Ales still makes use of the canalside building for its micro brewery.

If this is a micro brewery, id like to see the size of their pints

Stone’s name is derived from the Anglo Saxon word “stan” meaning stone or rock. There are several stones that Stone could be named after, including a nearby prehistoric megalith, a roman stone bridge or mile stone, but the most appealing is from the cairn of stone placed over the graves of princes Ruffin and Wulfad by their mother, after their father, king Wulfhere murdered them for converting to Christianity in AD665. this particular tale is now known to be inaccurate. King Wulfhere himself had already converted to Christianity so who knows what his sons had done to deserve their fate. The town still proudly displays the tale on two artistic railings at the entrance to the high street.

Sadly it isn’t only kings and princes that fall foul of being murdered. Colin Dexter, who wrote the Inspector Morse stories highlighted the sad fate of a young woman called Christina Collins. In 1839, she was travelling as a passenger on a Pickfords barge when she complained to the Stone lock keepers about the lewd behaviour of the crew and that she feared for her safety. Her concerns were dismissed but that night she was viciously raped and murdered, her body was weighted down with an iron chain and thrown overboard. After a lengthy trial the crew were found guilty and 2 were hung and one was transported. Last time we travelled through Stone in May 2025, Christina was so overgrown with weeds I couldnt see her, but she’s been tidied up and although I doubt she’s looking her best at least shes presentable.

I think perhaps its time to move on, it seems Stone isnt such a safe place after all.

ps apologies for our disappearance from BlogLand last week, we were subjected to some unexpected site maintenance, we think its all sorted now.

You light up my life, just one of the reasons I love waking up on a narrowboat.

What a difference a few hours make when the light changes. This is actually just over a week ago when we all thought summer had arrived. We had moored at a favourite spot of ours at Burston. It was peaceful and calming, (apart from the Canada guessed

I’m usually up at the crack of dawn to make the most of the sunrise, (and a cuppa). Only the view had disappeared

I’d like to pretend I watched the mist clear over the next hour, but I didnt, I snuggled back under the warm duvet. However the next day the world had turned pink.

And I remained mesmerised as the colours changed over the next hour

The day was going to be another good one.

Im not the only one who enjoys early mornings

Of course I couldn’t ignore the sunset, although that was looking the other way.

Burston is a pretty little hamlet, a half hour circular stroll takes you over the bridge and up to the village pond where the swans stand guard

And more daffodils

Now the good thing about the clocks springing forward is I get another week or two of seeing the sunrise at a reasonable hour, but I’m off the boat this weekend returning the car to our daughter so no 7am photos today. Unfortunately it also means I missed meeting Adrian and Adam on their new boat Kingley Vale yesterday.

Calling out to Canal and River Trust

Come on CRT, this is RUBBISH and that’s the polite way of saying it. I am fed up with not being able to dispose of my rubbish in a civilised manner. This is the bin facility site at Stone Visitor Moorings (westbridge park). Seeing overflowing bins like this is a regular occurrence. It’s not rocket science, its inadequate provision. We need either more bins or more frequent collection- preferably both. Don’t blame boaters for fly tipping. If there isn’t enough space in the bin what are we going to do with our rubbish- the bin is going to get overfilled. We live on boats, we don’t have a back yard to store our rubbish, we dont have cars to drive to a local council tip- not that we’d be allowed to use them, cause they tend to be for local residents only.

I walked over a mile from the Whitebridge lane moorings (other end of Stone) to dispose of my rubbish today, and over another mile back to my boat. I am angry, very angry. The next facilities on our route north are 9 miles from here. And as a continual cruiser, I cruise gently and slowly, it will take me several days to get there. I choose to make compromises over my lifestyle but I pay an increased licence fee to help cover the “increased strain” we put on the system. It’s not unreasonable to ask for adequate facilities.

I have contacted CRT and I urge all boaters to do the same, every time we see something like this.

POST SCRIPT.

I think it only fair that I share this timely response from CRT. Recieved the same morning that I sent in my complaint.

Good morning Cheryl,

Thank you for bringing this to our attention.

I have just spoken to the local Area Operations Manager who said that contractors were scheduled to have emptied this yesterday.

He will contact them to query why it wasn’t collected on due day; and he is sending his team to check it out and clear some of the rubbish so the refuse site can be used.

Kind regards,

Andy Foxall

Customer Support Administrator

And I would hereby urge all boaters to take the time to not only send in photos of such a mess, but also to act fairly and not abuse our facilities by dumping, inappropriate rubbish such as cushions, wood, bits of DIY etc. Campaign to have facilities to take larger items provided.

Has Spring really Sprung?

How can the weather go from being rubbish to perfect in a blink of an eye? I can’t answer that one, but it wont stop the big grin on our faces to be cruising in the sunshine.

Although we’ve still had a few misty frosty mornings.

We made it up to Fradley Junction at the beginning of the week

and turned left onto the Trent and Mersey Canal. Time to flex those lock muscles that have been atrophying for the past 4 months.

Not sure if we’ll make it all the way to Preston Brook, but we are heading towards Northwich so maybe we’ll sneak in a trip to lovely Lymm whilst we are up there .

We can’t go too far each day because Eric has to saddle up to fetch the car. Then find somewhere safe to leave it, where it doesn’t cause any inconvenience to the locals.

Stocked up with groceries at Rugeley in time for a day two relaxing at Great Haywood, taking in a wander around the estate at Shrugborough Hall. The daffs are at their finest.

Although wa are watching our steps around the imfamous two bodied swan gracing the River Trent