The Wharf, Shardlow to above Derwent Mouth Lock
A damp morning, the precipitation managed to increase just as the Sainsburys van arrived with our shopping, meaning Mick and the driver got slightly soggy along with our shopping. Despite this it was a good place for a delivery as the van could park right alongside us.
Once things had dried up a touch we pushed off and headed to moor above Derwent Mouth Lock to give Tilly some shore leave. I walked and Mick brought Oleanna, there’s not much further for me to walk as we’ll be back on the rivers soon.
Tilly was granted shore leave for the remainder of the day. It’s okay here I suppose!
After lunch I headed out for a walk. A quick check of the river level, under the green marker so we should be okay for a while longer. Then across the top of the lock joining a footpath that follows the bywash then cuts across a field to the banks of the River Derwent.
I seemed to have caused a mass exodus, all the sheep walking in line to the next field. One stopped to look at me, ‘You go on ahead, I’ll follow you’ I said. I waited for them all to pass before cutting across the field.
The flow down the river was pretty good, it should aid us heading down stream tomorrow. Across more fields, flood banks marking the edges. Horses came for a nosy. A glimpse of Shardlow Hall, now an old peoples residence. I made sure I didn’t run anywhere, although there weren’t any cows in the field. Down a snicket back to the main road through Shardlow.
I then chose to walk round the rest of The Wharf, passing some lovely houses, a few conversions and some modern. Shardlow is a very pretty place, one that was once a major trans-shipment river port, with goods moving from river to canal in the 18th Century.
House to the left. House to the right.
We pottered away the rest of the day. Me waiting for an approved props list from John for panto. A few emails were sent regarding boating plans and phone calls were made too.
I then had a hunt for the scans of my Dad’s diary from 1943 to 1946. I wanted to see if he’d ever been posted to King’s Newton. The nearest he’d been was a camp on Bowbridge Road in Newark. I looked to see where he’d been on the 18th September 1945. Sailing through the Bay of Biscay headed for India, it was a very rough journey, his description of the way the ship was rolling in the swell makes me even more wary of lumpy waters. He did however manage to down two servings of afternoon tea, a cuppa and a bun, then his evening meal. He and the other officers were travelling in the first class accommodation and he was enjoying the food, well, when he wasn’t seasick!
Tonight we had salmon crumble, this should have been a fish crumble but Sainsburys didn’t have the fish pie mix so we got salmon steaks instead.
0 locks, 0.6 miles, 3 boxes wine, 2 salmon steaks, 1 squash, 0 new toothbrush! 0 neighbours, 69 brisk minutes, 0 cows, 39 sheep, 0 running, 1 props list at 10pm, 13 years without my Dad.
13 years it’s hard I’m sure, great memories though I’m sure.
Lovely you have his diaries and made them digital.
My dad wrote one everyday until he and mother split many moons ago now. I hope they are still around, I’ll have to ask him.
The trio of VWs there are mighty impressive that’s some money’s worth!
Nice looking walk that by the river. What’s a snicket?
I only have a couple of diaries, he keeps saying how bad he’s been at writing them. There’s a whole stash of letters to go through some day too. One winter I’ll get round to them.
The VWs were for sale, £20,000 for one of them.
A snicket is the northern name for an alleyway, ginnel, passage. In York there is a famous book A Walk around the Snickelways of York, by Mark Jones, listing them all around the city.