It has been a while since I have posted a ‘boaty blog’, so let’s assess where we are at. On the morning of Monday 6th October, I am in Kings Langley, having set off from Bletchley at the end of May. Despite slow progress at the end of Spring, I have now travelled through 47 locks, with only 21 locks separating Poohsticks and Little Venice – the entrance back into central London. I did, in fact, travel through locks 68 and 69 three times, whilst revisiting Apsley in order to host the Macmillan coffee morning two weeks back. I thought it would be best to moor in a busy area and near a train station in order to maximise my clientele. We raised over £300. This could have been a greater figure had I possessed the wisdom to not moor right opposite a popular cafe. 

Today, I am heading into Watford. This will be a substantial moment as I pass back under the M25, re-entering Greater London. Before this, I have two locks to do. Despite the lack of depth perception caused by my current visual impairment, I am still able to enter the locks through just the one gate. This is a real time saver. However, on lock one, I am displeased that the lower gate on the towpath side is somewhat jammed and I will need to open both gates to make it out. This results in precious minutes of my life being wasted. Later on, as I am entering the second lock, the second gate swings open with the current caused by Poohsticks, so I still need to do the awkward lock loop around and gate crossing to deal with it. Deeply disappointing.

It is then under the M25. With no boats moored in this section (it is not difficult to understand why), I am able to whizz along at the 4mph speed limit. It still takes some time to pass under the eight lanes of highway standing above me. Then, just like that, I am a Londoner again. I arrive at the Grand Union’s first London lock, which is surprisingly pretty, despite  its location. It stands in an open spot, with the Autumnal sun shining down. The lock keeper’s cottage stands as a relic over the towpath, which is painted red by the fallen leaves of a Guelder Rose. On this occasion, the second phantom lock gate opens by itself before I pass through. This is frustrating, but at least it means I can worry less about my aim. This is useful with a weir located right by the lock landing, dragging me to the side.

With half the journey done in just under an hour and a half, I am making good progress. I then arrive at the fourth lock – quite a deep one. Before I start filling her up, I check to see if other boats are on their way on the pound below, as they would have right of way. I see no boats, but I notice that this short pound has drained nearly empty. We have experienced heavy winds over the weekend and so nearly all boats have stayed put. It is quite likely that these locks have not been used since Friday. That is more than enough time for a leaky pound to run dry. I am hopeful that the huge volume of water released as I go down in the lock will be sufficiently plentiful to raise the level high eniugh to pass through. I am quite mistaken. Quite quickly, I find myself beached. I am able to hop off at the back of the boat and refill the lock from the pound above. Luckily, this pound is connected to the river and thus has an effectively infinite supply of water. I then flush the lock again hoping to see the water levels rise more substantially. Poohsticks does drift along, but not before getting caught in the intense rapids and wedged between the towpath and the off-side lock landing. I stand at the stern, bracing myself to go down with my ship and trying not to think too hard about the chaos likely unfolding inside.

Eventually, the currents ease and I am able to break free, chugging along very slowly, before coming to a gentle halt again, as my propeller starts kicking up silt and the bow drifts over to the shallow edge. A group of three elderly(-ish) women are standing near the front of the boat having a good stare in through my window. They then approach me. I suspect that they will be making a comment about the unfortunate situation I find myself in. I am surprised that they are in fact here to compliment my most recent painting, still drying on my easel. They are very impressed and ask if it is me in the picture. I gingerly reply, “yes”. This is uncomfortable because I have been experimenting with different subjects of late and my most recent painting is a nude.

I explain my situation to the women and they take pity on me. They then kindly take the centre line as I throw it to them and provide moral support as I take an almighty leap from the roof, clearing the space between the boat and the towpath. I have met many a person to have been in this situation who have simply had to wait for another boat to come along in order to be rescued. Luckily, I have always been good at the long jump.

I head back to the lock and release more water. This time, Poohsticks is luckily well clear of the rapids. As water is flooding the pound slowly, I head back to her and take another leap of faith back on board. The gap is only about one meter, but with my lack of depth perception now, this is exactly the kind of task I fear greatly. If I miss, I will either land in the canal, or hit my feet against the steel and then fall in the canal. My prospects aren’t great. Nevertheless, I just make it and head on inside to assess the damage. Nothing is broken, but a lot of things have fallen over and a few draws have slid open.

I give Poohsticks a bit of a reset and then continue on my way, very cautiously. As I am tiptoeing along, a Canal and River Trust worker arrives, strolling along the towpath with a windlass in hand. He is here to sort the water levels. Luckily, I have done half the job for him. I make it into the next lock and find myself grateful to be entering a longer pound again.

I am on the final stretch of the day. This section is particularly pretty, with trees lining the canal and the sun now right overhead. The Autumn colours are truly glowing and I find myself jealous of the residents whose houses look over the water here, even though I will also be living here for now and will most likely be bored of it in a week and a half. I moor up in a sunny spot and finally treat myself to some lunch. It is now only 15 locks back into London. With the day still young and the sun shining, I decide to go on a cycle ride along the towpath ahead. It is fair to say that it is quickly getting more and more difficult to find a mooring…