Limehouse at last

Onwards to Limehouse.  I’d chickened out about going along the tideway with friends but I still thought I’d like to get there to wave them off. Circumstances and late visitor arrivals meant I only got there to wave from a distance and watch them bobbing along The Thames like a pair of match sticks on a large ruffled pond.

I saw the next batch out of the lock, three narrowboats all Rea look-a-likes from Braunston.  In centre of the boat sandwich is one manned by a single lady of mature years with only a dog for crew.  She puts me to shame, I’m being wimpy about doing the trip with a boat load of people and she’s setting sail alone.  Good on you lady on nb Charlotte you are my new role model.

When everybody has left we have a choice of mooring spaces. We tie up the boat and then leave for a walk along the fascinating back streets of the docklands area, where old converted warehouses loom overhead and new smart and expensive flats and historic pubs mingle amongst them. At St Katherine Docks the tourists and the locals are out in force and we sit amongst them on the dockside sipping cocktails and feeling in holiday mode.

Walking back in evening sunshine the white outline of a large ship looms close to the shore blocking the view through the alleyways.  It is The Silver Cloud a cruise ship heading for a berth above Tower Bridge.  If monsters like that are travelling on the river I don’t want to be out there at the same time.

 

The next morning the intention is to set off early and progress through Central London but first I need a pump-out and so I have to wait for the Marina office to open to buy a card.  Card bought, engine started a narrowboat chugs around from the marina and heads towards the pump out station.  He takes an age getting into position, revving forwards and backwards and not making any progress, clipping a moored boat, almost getting there then drifting out again.  There’s two other boats moored next to me, us seasoned boaters stand and laugh and criticise and wonder why he is making such a meal of mooring on a small landing between two boats, after all it’s not that difficult. We, of course, have never had to learn, have never made mistakes, have never being made to look a fool by the wind. I make rude comments about his lack of ability conveniently forgetting that only two days ago I completely blocked the Lee Navigation and nearly demolished a bar.  While I’m leaning on the boat laughing at his difficulties another narrowboat comes round the corner to take my place in the queue at the pump-out.  Serves me right.

At last we leave through the first lock a man in a narrowboat coming down says he’s pleased to see two women on board, gives Jessica’s arm an affectionate squeeze then leaves her to get on with opening the stiff lock gates by herself.

We had the intention of going until we found somewhere to stop.  We found a space just after The Islington Tunnel so we stopped.  Yesterday morning a young man asked if I was staying for a few days and if so could I water his plants. After telling him I was leaving I then thought I could stay here for a few days so I am and I don’t feel guilty about declining to water his plants because overnight the rain has been very heavy and the herbs on my roof are having to learn to swim.