Gongoozlers Rest

Wow, another scorcher today.

Started the day off well with egg and bacon on toast, coffee and tea. After washing up and checking the oil in the gearbox we set off through the top lock.

Here we are approaching Norton Junction. Turn right for Leicester or left for all other routes. We turned left. 

We had a leisurely poodle along through Braunston tunnel and made record time through the locks, even though we were on our own. There were plenty of boats coming the other way to help us through. We think we had a fast transit because we didn't have to wait for a second boat to come into the lock beside us. We just went in, closed the gates and carried on.

And here we are looking back at the bottom lock. Braunston is a typical old canal centre. There are chandlers, welders, boat builders, boat hirers, marinas, pubs, toilet facilities - you name it and Braunston's got it.

Here’s Braunston Marina and, just outside on the towpath... 

Gongoozlers Rest, a widebeam café with seats just by the towpath. 

We only stopped to empty the loo but this meant going past our turn and then having to reverse back the way we came.

That's where we want to go.

And here's me trying to get us there. It didn't help that another boat was doing the same thing but going the opposite way. We waved to each other, as one does, and backed off even faster to see who would make the turn first. Sorry, that was a bit of poetic licence on my part. When you're going backwards on a narrowboat there is only one speed (slow) and you can't steer anyway. What happens is that you go backwards as far as you can with the boat drifting to one side or the other. Then, just before you hit something, another boat or the bank, you go into forwards with the tiller hard over so as to push the back of the boat away from danger and then start going backwards again. You sort of zigzag back along the canal until it is clear for you to make the turn and continue the journey.

After a while it almost becomes second nature and if you do hit something you just call out: "contact sport" and watch for the sickly grin to appear as they call to mind Timothy West and Prunella Scales bouncing their way around the canal network.

The sun was getting hotter so we moored up at about 5 o'clock near Flecknoe where we found a welcoming bit of shade.