We’re moored right beside the village of Blisworth and start our day by wandering in to find a newspaper. Unfortunately the only shop has none - “sorry no call for the Guardian round here” the boy tells me! We wander through the village and down to the tow-path right by the tunnel mouth we’ll be entering shortly, then wander back to our boat and prep for departure.
The Blisworth Tunnel is long - almost 3km - but hey I’m an expert on day three so we just get on with it. Soon discover that being shirtless in a tunnel is not good as the water mostly drips randomly and occasionally torrents from above! The only light is the one we have up front, it’s otherwise pitch black, cool and damp and just a little bit creepy. Imagine the olden days when the poor legger would have “legged” the boat through the tunnel on his back on a hard plank - no thanks!
Emerging the other side we’re just a mile from our endpoint - at Stoke Bruerne we’re going to commence our return. First we moor up and take a leisurely wander through the village past the array of seven locks we are happy not to need to navigate. We love the swans with their clutches - one lot has three signets and another has nine.
It’s a cute little place built around the locks with a few pubs and a museum to canals which we might have enjoyed were it open, but we feel it’s time to head back. Now, turning a fifty foot canal boat is not trivial. Obvs one cant just do it anywhere, indeed there are the occasional “turning points” we’ve travelled past, but not one here of course. Instead I head into the wider area around the top lock, drive (slowly) to the bank, when Husband, now able seaman, jumps off with the bow rope and keeps us steady whilst I apply hard rudder and a gentle thrust, the effect is like a giant windscreen wiper and five minutes later we’re pointing the way we want and able to head back to the tunnel.
Retracing our tunnel experience is equally creepy but this time we are seasoned tunnellers! After emerging into the sunshine we have an hour for the galley slave to prepare lunch whilst I find a suitable place to moor. The sun is hot and the livin’ is easy so we settle down at the bow to enjoy a relaxing hour with feta salad and I even get to do some photos as the 4G is working well.
Our afternoon is spent travelling the eight or so miles to our planned evening spot at Weedon Bec and we arrive in time to take a walking tour of the small town, which is quite pleasant but nothing special, beyond the peculiar juxtaposition of the elevated canal and equally elevated railway line (the London to Sheffield) which are omnipresent. Indeed said railway is a constant factor for most of our middle three days and we hear the trains thunder by regularly.
After showering and dressing for dinner it’s time for aperitif and canapés before preparing baked cod on spinach with asparagus and hollandaise.
The galley slave prepares asparagus
Baked cod on spinach with asparagus and hollandaise
Lovely evening with my beloved
Just as it’s time to g9 in a squadron of geese land by us and we feel obliged to throw our some crusts.
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