Not the best attitude when we’re talking boats but in this case more of a catchy title than a statement of fact.
Hobo’s long overdue bottom blacking date has finally come around and, as I write, that’s where she is – in dry dock. Sadly, Foxy and I can’t live on board so have had to make alternative arrangements. I have, as predicted, morphed seamlessly from river gypsy to trailer trash and moved into my brother’s garden, well the static he has moored there, which is fondly known as “the Chateau”.
And a very fine and cosy place it is…
I am occasionally allowed into the main house for coffee or a meal by the way…
Although it is nice to have one’s own space. I haven’t been totally segregated from civilisation, even if my brother and sister-in-law secretly harbour these thoughts.
Unfortunately, it’s not available to Foxy, so I’ve reluctantly had to send him to jail…
Jail being a Norfolk cattery which, on prior inspection, seemed to be very good. My priority is to keep him safe and I hope he will forgive me and not sulk for too long…
The journey began by backing Hobo out of my little backwater home – very smoothly done by the John I have to say. With engine on tickover, and any unwanted bow swinging corrected by a pole, it worked well and definitly the method to employ in the future.
We spent that evening (illegally) on the lock landing…
So as to be ready for the off early the next morning…
The Lark is a long straight river without many exciting attractions, but simply being on the move again…
Was good enough for me.
At the end we hang a left onto the Great Ouse, where there is a little more action and sights to see. A cosy mooring…
Mad rowing people…
The magnificent Ely cathedral from afar…
And closer in…
We – surprisingly on a bank holiday – found a spot for the night on the riverside at Ely.
Where Foxy reluctantly came out for a look…
In truth, John chucked him up on the roof and Foxy jumped down and back to safety inside Hobo seconds later. He initially took to cruising and rapidly became a proper boat cat, but years of being static have made him forget. The moral here being Do More Cruising!
We were joined in the morning by John’s no.1 son TJ, who helped with the moving of my car, leaving it at our destination – Stretham – and also helping at the helm.
We’d previously decided that, at the risk of compromising our schedule, we’d take a detour along one of the lodes. Taking a left at Pope’s Corner, up the Cam to the ‘Five Miles from Anywwhere’ pub, then left onto Burwell lode and a right onto Reach lode….
Absolutely stunning, albeit narrow and shallow. We did manage to pass another narrowboat that came towards us but I still don’t know how.
Waterlillies everywhere…
And here’s a short video of my side view from the bow to set the scene a little…
So glad we made the detour. It was lovely.
At the end of Reach lode, funnily enough, is the village of Reach, a pub and a superb Sunday lunch.
Then the slow chug back along the lode, in fact backtracking all the way to Ely, where TJ had left his car…perhaps not the best plan.
A morning thrash to Stretham, a ticking off for being late from Ken, frantic packing up of cat and possessions resulted in an ever so slightly stressed boatbird.
But the promise of a few days away somewhere new and with good company soon had me smiling again.
That was Sunday and Monday. It’s now Friday and this afternoon we will reverse the process, picking up Foxy and Hobo on the way. I’m hoping like hell that both cat and boat are well and pleased to see us…
Watch this space to find out…
Boatbird
Boatbird 