To Peterborough

I leave March quite early in the morning.  The forecast is for a hot and humid day and it is already warm and clammy.

Fight my way through the overhanging willow trees and then out of March and passed The Middle Level Commissioners offices where three weed-cutters wait for me to pass and then turn and follow.  Looking behind me all I can see are their metal jaws, no sight of drivers or propulsion just three sets of jaws following me upriver.  They look threatening, I wonder if they heard I nearly squashed one of their tribe a few weeks ago and they are out to get me.  I wonder if they are following me onto an isolated stretch of river where they will attack me, metal jaws chomping through the steel of Rea. I round a bend check to see if they have gained any ground and find they have disappeared.

Progress is good the weed cutters must already have been this way.  The water is clear, weed and reeds and fishes are clearly visible. Chunks of blanket weed float passed, green topped with algae their skirts billowing gracefully beneath the water.  They look like large, benign jelly fish as they pass the stern.

Stop at Whittlesey lock and remove blanket weed from prop.  The lock has been left set against me (the downstream paddles should be left open) and not only that the paddles (or penstocks as The Middle Levels call them) are also open.  It takes a long tiring wind to close both  upstream paddles (or penstocks) and open the bottom ones, put the boat in, close the gates start all over again then moor up and come back and re-set the lock. I started to count how many tough turns it takes to open each penstock, I got to thirty three turns lost the will to live and stopped counting.  Two fat women lean on the fence and solemnly watch my every move.  I’m beginning to feel the effects of heat exhaustion but it’s only another couple of hours to Peterborough.

Manage Briggate Bend with a full audience, a lot of revs but without hitting anything. The wind gets up and I lose my hat. Meet the first boat under the only bridge on the system which has tight turn and we narrowly avoid collision. Into Peterborough and discover that when I dashed down for water in Whittlesey I had left the tap running so the water tank is empty.  Fill with water: shop: meet up with friend at the café at The Key Theatre. Look round Peterborough, actually just look for a pub in Peterborough.  We sit outside a bar in a quiet Cathedral Square drinking chill lager watching the fading sun glow on the mellow stone of the Cathedral Gate and the old Guildhall. 

I love balmy summer evenings.