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