May 2nd was our 21st and final night aboard Salten-Fjord. I confess to some sadness in the parting, having fulfilled a 45 year ambition.

We left the vessel “clean and tidy” as required by our charter contract, took time for a final picture, and then were greeted by Andy of AK Private Hire who transported us and our luggage 30 miles to our accommodations in the City of Chester. This will be our home for the next 3 days.

We have always preferred the non-typical in our choice of travel lodging, and the selection of 3-Kings Studios is no exception. This converted 500 year old home was once the Tithehouse of the Earl of Shrewsbury. Persons were required to stop and pay a toll here to enter the city. It is no accident that we are located next to one of the city’s fortification gates. Our rooms are accessed by climbing 34 steep and narrow stairs, no elevators here. The floors, walls, and ceilings are uneven, but the effect is marvelous!

Chester is littered with old buildings.

No other city in the entire United Kingdom has as many listed historical structures. Next door to us is the iconic Bear and Billet, a pub that dates to the 1500’s.

Chester was established in the First Century AD, when it was founded as a Roman garrison at the farthest western extent of the Roman Empire. The region was valued by Rome for salt production. The garrison town quickly expanded into a center of commerce that provided all the comforts of Rome.

A 7,000 seat amphitheater was built…

Baths were constructed in the classic fashion with centrally heated Caldarium, Tepidarium, and Frigidariums. (Hot, Medium, and Cold rooms)

The town’s ancient Roman history was largely lost by the Middle Ages, but 20th Century urban improvements uncovered a trove of artifacts and the foundations of many ancient structures.

The Roman theme has inspired adults and children alike. One can not go far here without encountering a “Centurian” and his cohort of “little Legionnaires” enjoying a school outing as they learn the finer points of shield defense and sword play.

The end of a hard day drilling the troops may even bring the fatigued Centurion into a neighborhood pub for a pint or two.

Chester is a town still surrounded by it’s fortress walls. Over two miles around, one can still walk atop these fortifications that envelop the old city.

The wall was built upon the earlier Roman fortifications. In the 1600’s this was the site of some of the most intense fighting in England’s Civil War. A monument to the dead is maintained as the location of a major breech in the wall and a clever display allows one to “see” the carnage unfold.

King Charles Tower, located on the wall, is the place where on September 24, 1646, King Charles I saw his troops defeated at the Battle of Rowton Moor.

Within the fortress confines are two remarkable churches. St. John’s was built by the armies of William the Conqueror shortly after his successful invasion in 1066.

Chester Cathedral, also 1,000 years old, was built on the site of an ancient Roman temple. More than just a church, it has beautiful gardens, presents daily demonstrations of falconry, and is a venue for art… including a very unusual display of classic Triumph automobiles next to the worship space.

We enjoyed Evensong sung by the Cathedral’s exceptional youth choir. I look forward to returning for some reflective time to satisfy the yearning pilgrim within me.

Peace Everyone. Pete

Our Canal Companion Guides have been invaluable. Each page dissects a 4-5 mile (about 2 hours travel by narrowboat) section of the canal offering a detailed map and an informative narrative. One such section on today’s travel upon the 200 year old Trent & Mersey Canal enticed us into pausing for two very rewarding hikes.

Yesterday’s post provided photographs of the enchanting Longacre Wood that is cared for by the Woodland Trust. If you have not yet seen those pictures they are worth the “visit” to that post and give some insight into the beauty that surrounds us on these ancient canals.

The second hike mentioned in the Guide is to the Dutton Locks on the Weaver River Navigation. Less than half a mile walk down a public right-of-way that travels along farm fields we intersected this inland waterway.

Into the late 20th Century one could see large coastal vessels navigating these waters. From the Trent & Mersey Canal the upper decks of large ships would seem to magically appear and ghost across the land and woods in the distance, the Weaver waterway being hidden from the eye. Sadly, the perfectly good Weaver has been abandoned by commercial trade and is slowly falling into disrepair for want of the funding required to maintain it. The sunken hotel boat Chica may well be a predictive metaphor for the future of the waterway and locks.

It is almost comical to see the two huge Dutton Locks (one of which has been out of service for 30 years) serving small pleasure craft. The lock-keeper told us that upstream is a narrowboat club and on holidays the club will send as many as 60 vessels into the lock where they assemble in an orderly fashion and pack together like so many LEGO blocks for a single downriver discharge. At the end of the day, presumably after a few pints, the boats return and present an impossible confusion of narrowboats colliding into one another in slow motion. For some reason their skippers are unable to replicate the morning’s feats of seamanship.

The locks were first opened in 1874, technological wonders of the 19th Century. 14 water turbines powered the valves and gates, controlled by large iron levers and windlass handles. Today the task is powered by electric motors and is controlled by the lock-keeper at a switch laden panel. He candidly states his preference for the reliability of the old system.

Another nod to the remarkable ingenuity of the 19th Century looms in the distance. In 1837 Joseph Locke designed and built the imposing Dutton Rail Viaduct. Composed of 22 sandstone arches, it has carried rail traffic across the the river valley for 180 years, from steam railroading’s infancy to the bullet-trains of today. It remains one of Englands busiest rail corridors bearing up to the scores of trains that cross is every day.

In contrast to the bustle of the distant viaduct was a peaceful green and well placed bench that provided us with the perfect opportunity for a self-timer group photo.

Peace Everyone. Pete

PS. I am typing this post in the very early morning hours of May 2nd. This is our last travel day on Great Britain’s canals as we will be returning to our Middlewich port this afternoon. Salten-Fjord has been our home and our transportation for 3 weeks. The inevitable question presents itself, will we do this again. I have to reserve judgment but promise more on that another time. We still have 3 weeks left ahead to us to this journey.

11 pence UK is roughly 14 cents US. I am 67 years old and in my experience it has been 60 years since 11 pence could purchase anything meaningful. As a child of 5 it bought a candy bar or a small bottle of Coke… a cup of coffee for an adult, even an order of french fries (called “chips” here in the UK) at a McDonalds. It has been decades since the equivalent of 11 pence was usable pocket tender… Now it doesn’t buy a stick of gum or even 15 minutes of time on a parking meter. Today it was the price of a priceless experience. Please read on.

On January 1, 1894 Queen Victoria dedicated and officially opened the Manchester Ship Canal. At 36 miles long it is a major commercial shipping artery that connects Manchester to the Irish Sea. It can accommodate vessels that are up to 65 feet wide and 600 feet long. Then the largest ship canal in the world, it remains the world’s eighth longest, slightly shorter than the Panama Canal.

Today our narrowboat plied the the tiny Bridgewater Canal and took us to within a short hike of The Manchester.

We moored near the town of Thelwall, an attractive village that traces its origin to the year 923 when “Edward the Elder Founded a Cyty Here and Called it Thelwall.”

From Thelwall we walked to the set of the major shipping locks on The Manchester, strolled along the edge of the chamber’s open chasm, and then across the actual lock gates. A pleasant stroll marked for the public, this is something that would NEVER be permitted in the States.

We continued back along the north shore of The Manchester to a point across from Thelwall. Hundreds of yards of water stood to thwart our return. But read on…

Before the founding of Thelwall, perhaps reaching into the recesses of pre-history, there was a footpath at the place where we stood. Under English Common Law that footpath had become a public right-of-way. When plans were laid to dig the massive ship canal that small footpath could not be ignored. An accommodation was reached whereby the canal company would establish and maintain a ferry crossing for pedestrians. We stood on one side of the canal and hailed across to the other. In response, a lean man who appeared to be tending a small green on the opposite bank picked up a very long oar and boarded a small aluminum boat. He “sculled” the boat across the channel to us much as a Venice gondola-man might have.

This was Kevin. A very pleasant man who for 17 years has been providing this one man ferry service as an employee of the canal company. He lives nearby and except on Sundays and bank holidays he rows folks back and forth between the two established wharves that he maintains.

Kevin spoke of his early years at the tiller. The waters were oil polluted and immune to freezing. Clean water legislation thankfully changed all that, but when the unusually cold winter of 2010 struck the canal froze. It was no impediment to shipping which just punched through the 3 inch thick sheet of ice, but it stopped Kevin for a time. Little else does.

He pauses his service during ship passings and for the occasional vacation (another local takes on Kevin’s duties to allow him to take his holiday). Understandably, the passage is not free. Since 1982 price increase the established fare, including tax, is precisely 11 pence UK, or about 14 cents US. Although it does not appear upon the sign, experiencing the short crossing with Kevin at the helm is priceless.

Peace Everyone. Pete

Christine became a fan of Strongbow Hard Cider during one of our prior travels to the UK. This post is not about that beverage.

In case you missed my last post, we awoke at 2 a.m. this morning to the raucous laughter of some young drunks. They pounded against our hull with their fists and thus called the four of us from sound sleep. I peered out the window to discover that they had untied us from our moorings and set us adrift. We restored order soon enough, but the adrenaline charge assured that there was to be no more sound sleep at that docking.

We slept-in this morning to stave off sleep deprivation. By the time we had dressed and taken a bite of breakfast the predicted storm “Hannah” was hard upon us. Concern even motivated our Welsh friends, Huw and Nina Thomas, to give us a ring. The rain sodden zephyr had crossed their location to the south and was of sufficient intensity to even threaten long established trees. The weather reports were properly pessimistic as I watched the barometer dip into some serious storm territory. Nevertheless, we proceeded down the canal with intentions of a 4 hour cruise to the Anderton Lift, one of the “Seven Wonders of the British Canals”. There will be more on that destination when we make it… a hint that we did not make it today.

We pressed on against the force of the storm for over two hours. Driving rain and brutal headwinds slowed our progress to the point that full throttle threatened to become insufficient in some stretches. On a “normal day” we should have seen dozens of fellow narrowboaters plying the waters. We saw only one while underway. Prudence dictated that I find a secure mooring, and when good fortune presented an opportunity I seized upon it.

We are tied to concrete embedded mooring rings in an isolated picnic grove that is only accessible by boat. There should be no miscreants tonight unless they drop in by parachute. The weather should clear by morning as this “StrongBlow” plows through. In the meantime we are four souls stuck by circumstances in a submarine-like interior space that is barely 6 feet wide and 50 feet long. We half expect a cigarette smoking Rod Serling, wearing a pencil-thin tie, to suddenly appear on shore speaking to an invisible audience… “Given for your consideration, 4 friends set out for a pleasant narrowboat holiday only to find that their destination has become… The Twilight Zone.

Peace Everyone. Pete

PS. This evening, in spite of the cramped quarters, Christine and Tom prepared a marvelous onboard dinner for the four of us. Nanci and I handled the KP (clean-up) duties afterward. The sharing that we celebrated became the highpoint of the day… thus we have now found ourselves in The “Highlight Zone”!