New Waters

A view of Burnley from the 'mile long' (well nearly a mile long) embankement that goes through the town centre

Tuesday was really sunny so Jon was inspired to set off sailing again so went went for new territory from Burnley towards Blackburn.

On the Burnley embankment

I had spotted a likely spot in my handy Nicholsons, short of Blackburn and enough in the countryside not to hear the M65 (the M65 follows the canal for a lot of the time around here). It was also lock free but with 4 of the dreaded swing bridges again on the way.

Gannow tunnel

The day went well, we went through Gannow. This is more or less in the centre of Burnley, it is quite short and has a handle on the side for all the kids to hold on to and lean over for a look through (I did this as a kid).

Gannow-short enough to see the end

Mum told me of when she was younger (about 10 or 11) when she and her brother used to earn pennies by leading the canal horses over the tunnel up the aptly called Boathorse Lane. She also once went on the boat with the men and watched them ‘leg it’ through the tunnel. This was a tale I hadn’t heard from mum before and it was lovely to hear of the canal history from someone who experienced it first hand.

Jon managed the swing bridges OK but they were odd in that you needed a lock windlass to open them. We moored near a bridge and a turning hole (but not blocking it) in the small town of Church, and whilst Mum and I rested Jon went to look for a ‘good’ pub as advertised in Nicholsons (good food in a large family pub). He returned later to say it didn’t do food in the evening anymore so we ate up some leftovers and then went for a walk round the town and then for a drink in the said pub.
What followed was a very surreal experience. Jon bought three drinks (a pint and half and a wine). He sat looking puzzled and said that he had given the barmaid £10 and she had given him 50p in change. After thinking about it he realised something was not right. Beer prices up north are notoriously cheap and anyway they were advertising pints for £1.75. He went back to the lady and queried the price. ‘A pint and a half and a wine would be £5.15 right’
Lady- ‘right’
Jon ‘I gave you £10 and you gave me 50p change’
Lady- right
Jon- no surely not.
After repeating the above conversation the lady added, ‘but there were the other drinks’
Jon ‘what other drinks we’ve only had the three.
Lady- ‘ the other drinks, yes. The tall lady with the blonde hair, she had the other drinks’
Since there were only us three and two customers at the bar this was a bit of a shock. ?was she seeing ghosts.
After a lot of argument and some support form the other customers Jon eventually got a bit more change. We carried on supping feeling a bit mystified when suddenly at 10pm the landlady switched the lights off in the room we were in. The bar lights were still OK for the (still only 2) customers at the bar, so we took the hint and went home to the boat. It was a bit of a laugh but we learnt not to trust Nicholsons when it comes to pub recommendations. They unfortunately change too quickly nowadays.
Wewoke up next morning to a howling gale and heavt rain. Jon had come up with a plan for us to pull the boat backwards for about 50 feet, puch out the front and let the wind turn us around in the winding hole (let it live up to it’s name). We tried this and it actually worked great, the wind did it’s job and at the right time I put Tormentil in gear and off we went back home. Since it was so windy and wet I let Jon do the driving but I had forgotten the swing bridges. Luckily I managed them OK but did get fairly wet walking in between them. Poor Jon spent the whole day out the back driving. We had some very good waterproof geat but he still got wet arms (sleeves not tight enough) and feet (shoes not good enough).

Jon looking wet

But we got home OK and a nice warm shower set him fine. It was a shame about the weather since the week so far had been so warm.