Beale Park to Wallingford Jungle

At last, chance to read Saturdays newspapers in bed with a cuppa, well there was no point in getting up early as we knew it would be raining. Tilly had an damp explore outside but returned after an hour as nobody was out to play in the rain. The morning and the occasional wet boat drifted by.

We had an early lunch and then decided that we should move on, the big sign right outside our bedroom window reminding us that we’d been here for 24 hours. The rain now was drizzle, but I still put my padded waterproof trousers on as it felt so much like autumn.

On our way back to the Kennet and Avon we’ll plan to stop here, there is a church and a National Trust house to visit, hopefully it’ll be drier then. We passed plenty of mooring possibilities where you could nestle into the bank, one was occupied by a boat we knew we’d see sooner or later.

WB Still Rockin, Carol and George’s boat, except they wouldn’t be there as they have done a boat swap with Lisa and David from NB What A Lark for a few weeks. Nobody was obviously on board, so we just waved and continued in the drizzle.

We were hoping for a mooring below Goring Lock but our hearts sank when there was only one space and lady was standing guard waiting for her boat to reverse from the lock landing to take it. Never mind, we’d go up the lock and try a bit further on.

Cleeve Lock came into view and the mooring below was empty, Hooray we could go back into the dry and I could get some work done. This is a mooring you pay for so after tying up Mick walked up to the Lockie (even though the lock said Self Service) to see if we were okay mooring there. Apparently it had been booked by someone, but he’d check if they were still coming. A couple of phone calls were made and the news came back that the mooring was still required, the rain hadn’t put whomever off. The Lockie said there was plenty of mooring all along the field above, it being deeper past the sailing club.

So once he’d emptied out the boats coming down we rose up and started to look for a space. Nobody was moored there. We spotted a couple of possibilities and after the sailing club tried one. I managed to hop off at the bow, gave Mick plenty of slack to be able to pull the stern in. He eventually managed to get off the stern, but as we both pulled our ropes we realised that there was something somewhere stopping both ends from coming in. Neither of us could get back on!

After quite a bit of pulling back and forth, shouting through the rain at each other and not appreciating that neither of us had extendable legs to cross the large gaps we faced, it was decided that Mick should get back on. This worked, then he tried to get the bow back in with help from the engine. Yes, it had come right into the side when I got off, but now there was at least three foot of water. Only thing for it throw the rope back on board and climb on the stern. Done, phew!

We tried a bit further along, still no luck. There was a boat at the end of a suitable stretch, but nowhere near enough room for us as well. On we carried catching up with a French family on a hire boat who were going quite slowly. As we reached Sheridan Marina we had just overtaken them when I spotted a sign Free 24hr mooring, so we carried on a short distance and then winded to return to give it a try, winding again to face upstream.

I hopped off into the undergrowth and Mick then tried to get close enough for him to get off safely. This might have happened but then getting back on board would have been harder, the bow now having disappeared from my view. No we’d carry on!

A long reach of river in the wind and rain with everyone trying to find a mooring. We pootled onwards and onwards no moorings marked on our maps until we reached Wallingford. Here the location for many midsummer Murders the town moorings were full, boats breasted up.

We’d carry on. The French family decided to try pulling into a gap ahead, Mrs not too keen on trying to step off the very front of the bow with the boat at 90 degrees to the bank. A distance on there were numerous boats pulled into the side under trees, Mick spotted a gap possibly big enough for us. We waited for a couple of boats to go by, a chap shouting that there was a mooring a few boats ahead, but we’d try this one first.

Into the side, well almost. I held the bow in and Mick brought the stern in all the time the timer going off in the galley telling me that some Quinoa was just about to burn on the stove. Tilly is useless at galley duties so there was no point hoping she’d turn the gas off, I’d only planned to be outside for a minute!

Pins put in at the stern and we seemed to be staying put ish, so the gas could be turned off. The bow rope got wrapped round a tree and we could settle for the night. Tilly was allowed out into the jungle. The hatch would only partially open due to the amount of undergrowth, not being able to see the hatch from the shore Tilly was uneasy.

I headed up the bank, I checked this way and that. Not enough view from our mooring to know I was safe. This always makes me feel uneasy. Then my feeling was backed up as a woofer appeared from nowhere! Luckily a handy tree came to my aid, the woofer having to jump over the jungle outside to get near. It soon got bored and went. I decided to call it a day and go home for a snooze.

My hope to get some work done today had vanished along with any vacant moorings. Some Houdini emails got some attention, but now it was too late to get stuck into things. The Chinese Water Torture Cabinet will have to wait for tomorrow.

---

2 locks, 9 miles, 1 lock and 6.5 miles further than planned, 1 wet day, 2 teas in bed, 4th mooring lucky, 2 damp boaters, 42″ screen, £200?! 1 jungle mooring, 1 machete required, 6 eggs and perfect.