Day One – The Northampton Boat Club to Gayton Junction

The plan for the first day was to get the Northampton Flight out of the way then stop for a shower, cold drinks (for it was promising to be a hot day) and a meal at Bugbrooke to celebrate the start of the trip.  When we stopped to shop at Northampton Quay and five boats passed us heading towards the Arm we suspected it might be take more than the anticipated four hours get to the top. When we were in a queue of three at the first lock and we found out that ahead of us were two single-handed boaters and two men new to boating four hours was looking impossibly optimistic. It was slow on the first four locks to the flight and another boat caught up with us. Bob was already getting fed-up, said ‘If I were a bishop I’d kick in the stained-glass windows’. At the first lock on the flight we came to a standstill. Bob told me not to go ahead to help because I wouldn’t get any thanks for it. I went ahead to help.

        The elderly single-handed boater was glad to see me. He was trying to work out how to get his boat in the lock when there was nowhere to tie it up. ‘You look like a good anchor,’ he said, ‘hold, my boat while I open the lock.’ A good anchor? I obviously need to lose more weight!
Two more hours, two more locks. Then we ran out of water. Bob went ahead to try and offer helpful advice and try and get more water down the system. By the time he came back he was in full Victor Meldrew mood. I took the boat into a very shallow pound, grounded and was resolutely thumped by a boat coming the other way. More waiting. Bob lay down for a kip. Crawled through another three locks. More waiting. Another empty pound. I went to the top lock to let more water down. I was so effective in letting the water down that a family out walking harangued me for flooding the towpath. While I was at the top I opened the gate to let the last single-handed boater through and when I went to close the gate it jammed open. He had told me that he’d just dropped his windlass into the canal so it was probably this that was obstructing the gate; his final flourish towards impeding our progress.
        With a lot of muscle from the crew (the male crew, this wasn’t women’s work) of the last three boats the gate was opened and closed. By then, with the end finally in sight, the moods of us tail-enders had lightened and there was a lot of banter. We made sure that all three boats got through the obstructed gate.
        It had only taken us nine hours to do the four-hour journey. We didn’t bother going out for a meal that night.