Day 9 – Cromwell Lock – West Stockwith Lock

It’s an early start and the morning is bright with a light wind. Bob contrives to be the last of the four boats travelling, he’s apprehensive about this stage of the journey. I’m not, I have full confidence in his boating abilities. Anyway it’s his boat, he’s in charge, I’m only here to do as I’m told. The convoy is let out onto the wide river at high tide, with strict instructions not to try to cut the corners at bends. The chart shows a red line for the route to be taken and the chart is worth every penny of that ten pounds. The boat in front runs aground on a sandbank but after a lot of huffing and puffing manages to get clear. Otherwise our little convoy is fine.

We had booked in with the lock-keepers at Torksey and after two and a half hours we reached there but we were enjoying ourselves too much to stop. The day was warm and sunny, the river was wide, isolated from people and habitation and the boat was moving well.  I rung the lock-keeper and he gave us permission to carry on, advising us to stop at Gainsborough for a couple of hours because the lock at West Stockwith wouldn’t be open until after 4pm when the tide turned. I took my turn at steering, when I was in danger of running over a herd of cows standing in the water to drink I realised I was getting too close to a sandbank.

We moored up at Gainsborough just after 1pm. I was feeling lethargic but Bob went to look around the town and declared it a pleasant place. He went to town again and came back with a bar stool to sit on when he is steering. I wonder how long it will be before it gets in the way once too often and he jettisons it. At 4pm I called the lock-keeper at West Stockwith and was informed that two narrowboats were heading towards the lock and should we tag along behind them as they passed. At 4.30pm nb Natterjack sped past. By the time we’d undone ropes and set off he’d disappeared into the distance. We sped off after him, making speedy progress on the outgoing tide. Then the tide turned and we ground to a halt. The last mile was painfully slow, battling against the water, the engine roaring. When we reached the lock it was a difficult turn against the strong flow of the current.

At this point Bob asks that I mention he handled the turn with skill and dexterity and we arrived in the lock without hitting the lock walls or the narrowboat that was already in there waiting for us.

The added bonus for Bob was that the price of a round of drinks was £3.90, in comparison to our local where it would cost £5.60 and London where it costs £7.50. He likes it here.