Beal Lock to West Haddlesey Flood Lock, Selby Canal

I woke to a different noise this morning. I’m used to Mick’s snoring so today this was something different. The high pitched call of a Kingfisher as it did it’s morning turn around the lock island, I only saw it zoom past once and far too quick for me to get the camera out. What a lovely mooring I thought.

Outside the water had become covered in a layer of whiteness. We’ve noticed this here before, but where could it come from? Is it from the Himalayan Balsam that surrounds the lock cut? Or some fall out from the surrounding Power Stations? We doubt the latter as only one of them is still in use.

As we had breakfast there was a sudden downpour. It looked like someone had superimposed the rain on top of a layer of marble as it landed on the white water.

Being by a handy water point on the pontoon, Mick had set a load of washing going and went out to fill the tank. The rain and the white in the air had mixed together and created a dribbley effect down Oleanna’s cabin sides. So much for giving her a wash down!

Once the water tank was full again Mick put together the expanding hose with spray gun to give the roof and starboard cabin side a rinse down. I followed with a cloth giving it a good rub, another rinse and then a wipe down. Sadly I think I’d have been better off starting from scratch with a proper wash down of the cabin side as there was a lingering stubborn streakyness. At least it didn’t look like someone had tipped diluted white paint over us.

Before more of the white stuff could fall we were ready to push off. A couple of boats had come past us yesterday afternoon heading towards Selby, so Beal Lock needed filling. As I waited for the chamber to fill the noisy Kingfisher did a circuit and landed on the weir boom post, a good vantage point. This was at quite a distance, must work out why my camera doesn’t zoom quite as much as it used to.

Down the lock, the gates heavy, but manageable, we started on the big twisty turns heading down stream. Great views of Eggborough as we steered round the 180 degree bends. Some sheep had come down to the waters edge for a drink, one seemed to be stuck shouting into a hole in the bank.

We pondered on the lack of rubbish again, the tide line from flooding. Maybe it was all still there and the trees and friendly cover being so lush and green right now are just masking it.

Every five minutes I was requested to check the temperature gauge. 80 or there abouts, just where it should be.

West Haddlesey flood lock came into view, with the levels low we didn’t even bother pulling in to drop me off. Mick swung Oleanna round and sure enough the flood lock was open at both ends. The 48 hr mooring here was empty so we decided to call it a day. The other moorings along the canal were likely to all be in full sunlight, so at least here we knew we’d be able to let Tilly out.

The grassy outside was just teaming with friends. All I had to do was select one. Which I did quite quickly. With only a landing next to the boat I didn’t find it suitable to dine on, only one thing for it the bedroom floor. She didn’t seem too please with me, but stood by as I finished every morsal, reciting the rules.

‘NO friends home dead….’

A little rest was required to help digestion, it was hot this outside, being a long cat for five minutes was needed. Then back out to see who else I could find. There was this jolly chap who I decided to bring home to play.

‘….Or alive…..’

But he dashed into the newspapers and Tom’s shoes. I tried to find him, but he was being elusive. She came to help, everything being shaken out before being put on the bed. There he was, just a touch too plump to fit under the washing machine! She was even less pleased, but my intended game ended up getting everyone involved.

Tom put a big box blocking off the route into the rest of the boat, my friend now having made a dash for the bathroom. Tom then came in through the front door, pokers and shovels to assist. I did my best to keep the focus away from the toilet and hunted at the other end of the bedroom, hoping this would keep the game going on for longer.

The box She had was too big, another receptical was needed, narrow enough to go down the side of the toilet. One was found and emptied. Then a two pronged attempt, Tom with poker at one side of the toilet and She with container in hand which just handily dropped over my friend. Game over. I’d hope it would last longer. It nearly did!

She managed to get the shovel under the container, then it and my friend were carried out the front doors. I followed to watch. My friend could smell the fresh muggy air so stuck it’s nose out through a hole in the side of the container, managing to squeeze through it, just like I do with the bathroom door.This is where She gave up, and just let it run away into the friendly cover. I was then picked up and returned inside to make sure Tom was clearing up properly. I don’t know why but my friend had left lots of little poohs everywhere!

‘….or on the roof for later!’

We haven’t checked up there yet!

After all the excitement a big shiny widebeam arrived taking its time to come through Tankards Bridge, all bow thrusters constantly being used. They pulled up behind us. Earwigging when we could. It seems that the Collingwood boat may have been on brokerage in Selby and just sold. It was being taken to Goole. Phone calls were numerous. They had no VHF radio but would need one, where would they be able to moor up, arrival of the low loader and crane, permission from the harbour master at Goole. All exciting stuff. I wonder where the boat will be taken to?

They moved off, a small Sea Otter pulling in and mid afternoon another narrowboat pulled in filling the gap. Here on board with his owners was Sid. He’s used to elderly cats, a nineteen year old in fact who was busy checking the insides of her eye lids. Tilly on the other hand kept a close eye on Sid from the safety of the cat walk.

We sat for a while with bow and stern doors closed, only the side hatch and galley windows giving us any form of air in the boat. In the end we decided that we’d rather Tilly brought more friends in than expire with the heat.

Time to replace the zip on my bum bag. Hand sewing would have to do. I took note of how the old one had been sewn in before unpicking it. The only problem I would have was what to do with the ends of the new zip, where they should poke into the bag had big rivets holding the strap on.

Pinned, then tacked into position, the zip worked. I then did my best to poke the ends in as far as they would go before slowly back stitching the zip in. Not the prettiest of sewing, but hopefully it will hold out for a while longer. At least my phone and camera will be safely zipped up when crossing lock gates again.

1 lock, 1 flood lock, 3.75 miles, 1 left, 1 streaky boat, 2 rinses, 1 circling Kingfisher, 80, 1 quiet hot mooring, 1 widebeam, 0 radio, 2 friends at least, 1 eaten, 1 murder scene cleaned up, 1 tuperware too big, 1 small pot with escape hatch, 1 poker, 1 shovel, 2 boaters kept busy, 1 cat reminded of the rules!!!