The Mission to the Summit

4 pics today -

1) We dogs chillin' in the sunshine at Stubbing Wharf pub on the way up

2) Yours truly keeping a rather professional lookout for dogs being walked on the towpath, as well as locks and boats coming the other way.

3) My little hidey hole on the un-used bottom bunk, when it all got a bit too much

4) scenic pic down near Luddenham Foot somewhere

The training day over and we have made a little ground that evening, mooring near Mytholmroyd. That give we dogs a chance to explore some playing fields and the River Calder (where it's still small enough to paddle in). In the slanting morning sun Dad wishes he'd taken his camera down to the river when the girls wanted a walk. There are a dozen or so geese grazing on the fields, and when the girls race towards them they all take off up into the sunrise - the mist over the fields and the sun slanting off their glossy grey feathers took our breath away.

Days 2 and 3 we are into some more serious cruising, our intention to reach the summit of the Rochdale canal, up through Hebden Bridge and Todmorden. Dad gets reasonably good at the helm (and is very proud to come through the long, curving Falling Royd tunnel without either stopping, or hitting the sides. Dents in the boat roof attest to not all preceding helmsmen being so careful!) Em and Em-J are getting very good at Locks, and the trip is falling into a gorgeous relaxed routine.

The name of Mum's chosen job "Baby Wrangling" leads on, with ever increasing happy madness, to the word "Wrangling" becoming the word of the holiday, seeding "lock wrangling", "wrangling handle" (= windlass), dog-wrangling and even (from the girls) "we're going blackberry wrangling" (there were blackberries growing prolifically at each lock and mooring point, so the girls got quite good at hunting them and they featured in many desserts along the way

It's all very relaxing. Come to a lock, moor up, let lock-wranglers off and (if we're away from roads) dogs get chucked off too. Lock wranglers let the water out of the lock and open the doors. Dad bimbles gently in. Mrs Silverwood lobs rope up from bow, Dad lobs rope up from stern. Boat gets tied up. Em closes lock gates behind boat and opens upper paddles to fill lock. Boat rises, watched by Dogs who are amused to be at forehead height, then nose, chest, waist, and the "floor" height to Dad. Dogs are then rounded up and brought back on board. Em and Em-J open upper gates and boat sails out, mooring briefly after lock while gates and paddles are closed, and wranglers get back on board.

Dad guns engine and boat resumes 2-3 mph progress (diesel chugs away like quiet tractor at idle) up canal, with all wranglers now relaxing on foredeck (curls of ciggie smoke attest to their presence, out of sight from the aft deck). Dogs chill out in sun on aft deck, watching the world go by, till next lock is sighted and wranglers get into positions. Max progress on any given day, at this rate is only about 6 miles. This is not a fast moving holiday! There are periodic breaks at towns for shopping and at moorings for lunch and the occasional pub. Breakfast is a leisured affair, we get going about 10:00 and we finish by about 6pm.

More tomorrow

Deefer