R and R, workin' 9 to 5

A day for being spoiled, and allowed to rest and recouperate from my op. Thanks to my "assistant" for giving me the day off. I have not yet started licking my scar or my stitches, so I have been able to put off the day when I have to wear the lamp shade.

Everyone is making a fuss of me and sympathising. Mum is concerned at leaving me behind, so she takes me into the office, where I am greeted by all the colleagues. A small bed is made up for me and a water bowl, and I am attached to the furniture by my lead. I am very quiet and completely charming (natch), and no bother to anyone.

I receive a get-well card from my real Mum (Mollie), Dad (Hector) and bro' Archie. I am told that the longest they managed to make real-Mum keep her lampshade on was about 10 seconds. First-Mum also phones to check on my progress, and everyone at Dad's work is asking. Didn't know I was so famous.

Lastly, sis' Ellie is passing, all glamm'd up for her walk with her red diamond coller - real diamonds! :-)) (she's always all glamm'd up!) as we return, so she comes in to say hello, but no-one's allowed to race me around and play. Anyway, Ellie is definitely feeling like she's on OUR TURF, and rolls on her back while we all sniff her. I get a bit concerned at so much activity near my sore underside, and have a bit of a grouch at her. Sorry, Ellie. We'll make it up to you when we next see you. I'm not myself at the moment.

Back on the road to recovery

Deefer

Quick update - Deefer's Op

(Deefer's assistant writes) : "Deefer would like it known by all her readers that she is successfully through her spay operation and is back home and recovering on the spare bed. She is too woozy to write tonight as she is still heavy with anaesthetic and pain killers. She has managed a small amount of supper and has wagged her tail rather pathetically a few times. She has been issued with her very own lamp shade, although she has not tried it on yet. Her scar is two inches long and she has 6 neat little stitches, which come out Saturday week. She has a very pink, shaved belly. She asks that her readers bear with her through this incapacity, and she hopes to return to the keyboard tomorrow"

Back to reality

Ah well, holiday over and holiday write-up also over. In reality, of course, we have been back 10 days and are now well back into the routine of home and walks, Mum and Dad working etc. Tonight we meet up with (through the garden gate) our 2 mates, liver coloured pointers just up this road, and we're sympathising that one of them is wearing one of those plastic lamp shades. Not anything we've so far had to endure, but read on.

Apparently he is not bothered at all by it, but has no conception of the width of it or of the damage hard plastic can do to house paint when propelled by several stone of bouncing pointer. Their Dad says he has no paint or wall paper left at between 2 and 3 foot high, which equates to pointer neck and head height. The dog had had some "lumps removed" and needs the lampshade to prevent him nibbling the stitches.

I am off to the vets tomorrow myself, to get "done". Not sure what this means but the worst aspect of it seems to be that I've had my supper tonight after our walk but that's now it till I've been sorted - total "fast" - not even a sweetie, and not even any water after 11pm. This seems very drastic, but I gather it's for my own good. Dad's explained all this of course, but I'm a dog, so I have to pretend it's all Greek to me......

Deefer

Foulridge Tunnel and the descent to Burnley

On across the summit today and the rain is coming more convincingly. Dad is often in his poncho up on the back deck while we dogs, who do not need to be out there, are quite often at the bottom of the stairs from the rear hatch, on the double bed, looking up at him from the warm and dry, supervising baby R. There are, though, breaks in the rain where we can get off the boat, and Dad is even sent off on a hike to Barnoldswick at one stage to buy essentials, in which he does not get rained on.

The summit pound is 6 miles long here and brings us past a shopping stop in Salterforth to the famous Foulridge Tunnel. Foulridge is 1640 yards long and takes a good 20 minutes to chug through, so it's controlled by traffic lights. You can start to "go" westward for 10 minutes on the hour, and Eastward for 10 mins on the half hour. We just miss the slot, so we stop for lunch at Foulridge wharf (those beef rolls).

Our chug through is uneventful, but the roof is very drippy, so you are advised to keep rain-gear on - and at the three vertical vent-shafts, it's more like driving under a waterfall. Meg and Haggis retreat into the boat, but I stay out on the aft deck to help Mum and Dad. The photo's give you some idea, but really, that tiny speck of light from the far end, almost a mile away is quite a dramatic clue to how long the thing is.

A boat full of "tarts" (says Dad) ask us nervously if they might follow us through, and then proceed to make hollering, whooping, echo-ey noises all the way through, which is mildly annoying.. Once through the tunnel, we must begin the descent to Burnley, down the Barrowford flight of (7) locks and here, unfotrtunately, the "tarts" decide to share our water.

You can't really say "no" - etiquette and water-conservation demand that you share locks, but by the time we've been cut up, shoved and delayed for the umpteenth time, Dad is saying more colourful words than "tart" beneath his breath and muttering stuff about "you'd think that after a week of hire they'd be able to steer the thing, and might even have learned some boating- manners". No wonder private owners have such a low opinion of holiday hire crews. Sigh.

Now we're coming to the end of our mission and, sadly, we finish off in the good city of Burnley. Burnley is probably a perfectly nice place to live, but seen only from the canal it is a city of derilect warehouses, gutted factories, graffiti'd underpasses and bridge stanchions, and a rubbish-filled canal. We have to stop several times to un-wedge big pieces opf timber from the bow, we pass pallets and floating 8' x 4' warehouse insulation panels (6 inches of expanded polystyrene with a sheet of tin either side) and a rake of other debris. The poor ol' prop bangs against so many bits of rubbish, Dad worries for it getting fouled and or damaged.

All this is rather depressing and has us worried about what you'd think of canal boating if the Burnley start was your first ever introduction to the activity.

There's one more tunnel (Gannow) before we reach the safety of another locked British Waterways compound, in the sweetly named "Rose Grove Wharf". Here we moor up for the final night, and Mrs Silverwood treats us all to a lovely supper of Chinese and fish'n'chips, which the humans wash down with the fizz Dad bought in Barnoldswick. That's it for another year. Tomorrow we must tidy out the boat and give it back, then meet the taxi-minibus for our run back to be re-united with the cars in Sowerby Bridge (a week by boat - only 45 minutes by taxi!). There we must bid farewell to the Silverwoods and the showery weather of Yorkshire, and head home to a tinder-dry Kent, where it's not rained all week.

It's been a blast. Now we just have to persuade Mum that it doesn't always rain, and we can maybe do it next year. I've seen her plotting routes and checking out Ashton, Manchester and Littleborough in the canal guides, so we might be on for a winner.

Deefer

Gargrave and East Marton

We have promised ourselves a much less rushed day today, and so it goes, with the ladies getting their chance to wander round Gargrave, shopping, while the boys stay with the boat to keep an eye on we dogs, plus the 3 year old (M) and the baby (R). The ladies return in due course loaded down with goodies including the biggest lump of silverside beef you ever saw in your life

http://www.threedales.co.uk/where-buy.php

Thank you Mr Ellison - it saw all the crew (including some scraps for white furry crew) through a roast beef dinner, some lovely cold beef bread rolls the next day, and we still had a chunk to bring back at the end of the holiday.

They girls also found a superb old fashioned sweetie shop, with an impressive window display where, presumably sandwiched between 2 sheets of glass, a design including the word "sweets" was made out of all the colours of sweets you could imagine. The word "sweets" in white was done in mint imperials, for example, surrounded by swirls and geometric shapes in reds, yellows, oranges and purples.

They brought home many types which the humans found nostalgic - cola cubes, pineapple chunks, aniseed balls, sherbert dips etc. The girls also found a shop in which to buy childrens' card games (snap and matching (farmyard) pairs which they could just about teach the 3 year old). Plus, of course one of those bright, plastic windmill things you get at the seaside, which spent some time in the bow of the "ship".

Gargrave is the end of the 17 mile 345-foot-contour pound and sees you now climbing towards the summit, climbing another 12 locks to get up there. Here we were lucky again, to team up with another nice boat (part) owner couple called Dennis and Jill (in "Verity"). As we climb the locks together the boys are trading cans of John Smiths, and the ladies are passing glasses of red wine between each other.

We are actually having to re-set each lock as we arrive, because we are being preceded up by partner Rod from the Bingley 5-rise, in "Enigma". This is just one of those things. In an ideal world as you bimble up to an "up" lock, you meet someone coming down. They empty the lock to come down, and sail out of the bottom gates, leaving them open for you, waiting in the pound below, to enter. This saves water and effort. Unfortunately, if you are, instead, following someone up a flight, every lock you come to is full and closed, recently vacated by the previous climber.

Our mooring tonight is just below the double arched bridge of East Marton, which carries the A59 (Skipton to Gisburn). It's double arched as in one on top of the other (see pic) - the new line for the road was higher up the valley than the old, so they constructed a new arch on top of the old, dressed in stone (possibly made of stone?) in keeping with the old. Very bizarre.

Yesterday we were keeping an eye on the darkening clouds - today we are starting to dodge rain showers. Dad has a succession of layers depending on the intensity - waxed cotton sleeveless jacket, same plus waxed cotton hat, and (possibly the least sartorial option) waterproof poncho from camping shop. Poncho has been on a few times today.

Nearly there now. Last full day of boating "tomorrow" (as we write) - through the huge Foulridge Tunnel and down into Burnley

Deefski

Bingley 5-Rise

Today an amazing experience - ascending Bingley's 3-rise and then 5-rise staircase locks. We pair up with a new chum Rod, in his narrow boat "Enigma" for this. The locks in these things are the width of 2 narrow boats, so if you're on your own and the water starts to boil in on "rapid-fill", through the sluices and paddles, the boat can get a bit thumped about, even if it is tied up. Far smoother to wedge yourself in next to another 56 footer so that there's no banging about.

The lock system itself, I can do no better than to quote verbatim from the excellent canal guide "Canal Companion; Pennine Waters" by JM Pearson and Son Ltd (ISBN 0 9545383 4 X, if you've a mind, or sales@centralwaterways.co.uk ). He covers the 5-rise thus....


"the 5 rise changes the level of the canal by some sixty vertiginous feet, a thrombotic experience which the canal takes more or less in its stride, even if it leaves most canal users reeling. The staircase has stood its ground since 1774 and must be credited to John Longbotham, the L&L's chief engineer. Two centuries later it's the pride and joy of its resident lock-keeper, Barry Whitelock, an appropriately surnamed man who reminds you forcibly of Brian Clough in his pomp at Derby County, and who has a way of treating boat crews and onlookers (of which there are often hundreds at a time) as if they were taking part in one of Cloughie's training sessions all those years ago.

Most of the time Barry will supervise passage through the 5 Rise, working most of the complex paddle gear himself whilst keeping a paternal eye on proceedings etc etc".

We can vouch for all that - we were shepherded through like very minor violin players in the orchestral movement he was conducting, and we were all on our best behaviour.

A-top the Bingley rise, we spend the rest of the day cruising the 17 mile long, lockless pound following the 345 foot contour up the valley (Airedale). No locks maybe, but 19 (count them) swing bridges to negotiate. Remember yesterday, and the Dorset crew's pride in their "we stopped 2 cars and a van". Pah! We spit on your "2 cars and a van". Mum managed at one bridge at about 5 o'clock, 29 cars one way and 11 cars and 2 vans the other!!!!!!

We stay with Enigma for part of this run - it's easier if boats alternate the work - effectively stopping to open the bridge for both boats, allowing the other boat to shoot through unimpeded and head on the the next bridge, where they will return the favour for you. Therefore, by leap-frogging each other along the pound, we only actually had to manhandle half the bridges. They were fun - some fully mechanised, had Mr Silverwood and Mum starting the flashing "level crossing" lights and bells, and dropping barriers across the road.

It's a tired crew who finally moor up near a place called Thorlby to await the morning and (finally) the shopping opportunity of Gargrave.

Deefski

Sister ship

He

(Back on Narrow Boat adventures again - keep up!). We survive our night in the Office Lock fortress, protected by our razor wire, and set out early morning through Western Leeds, encountering, on our way, our first "2-rise" staircase flight of locks. Beginners stuff compared to what was to come soon, but novel and exciting none the less.

It's here we meet our sister-ship Dorset. I've said that our holiday was a one-way mission, and is alternated with another group travelling in the reverse direction. We meet at this lock, and wait for them to come down, taking the chance to chat and compare notes on what to expect. They have several children but no dogs. We remember (and the significance of this will come soon) that they are amused by their children's enjoyment of how many cars you can hold up when you have to close one of the many swing bridges en route. They tell us that one of the kids came back all proud to gave "got" 2 cars and a van.

It's another long old day, and we chug on till 8pm, passing westward through Kirkstall, Rodley, Apperley Bridge, Shipley and Saltaire, mooring up eventually just before the Dowley gap 2-rise. It's now that Mum starts to feel she's blasting through many small towns, and potential shopping stops, charging on and on... but more of this later.

We are briefly unsettled by a couple of local herberts who are, apparently, a couple of burgers short of a barbeque and once they start chatting to them, we can't get rid of them. They make a big fuss of me, but then think it's funny to start barking at Haggis and I, which is unsettling, to say the least. Not wishing to be rude, we cope as they cycle along the towpath "helping" us with a couple of locks. The narrow boat will only do 6 mph or so, so 2 guys on bikes are always going to keep up. It is a trying time, and we are all relieved when they eventually turn back and cycle home to their Mums and their teas.

Deefski