The Lapwing must have the most aliases in the bird kingdom. It’s variously known as the Green Plover and Peewit, and here in Lincolnshire it’s the Pyewipe! Peewit and Pyewipe are both interpretations of it’s distinctive call.
Why am I rambling on about Lapwing AKAs? Well, that’s where we’re moored today, outside the Pyewipe Inn. And I‘ve had a pint of Ruddles Best…
Our three days in Saxilby was up today, so us and the Clarences decided to move on. We pushed across to the water point, and while the tank was filling I wandered off to the Elsan disposal, elegantly called the Sluice Room here. It’s on Bridge Street, just past the Sun Inn. It’s difficult being nonchalant as you walk down a fairly busy pavement clutching a tank full of poo…
Yarwood and What a Lark will join us tomorrow when we head in for our pre-booked moorings in Lincoln.
More long straights, that’s the moorings for the Woodcocks on the right.
We didn’t need diesel, having filled at Burton on Trent only a fortnight ago (is that all, it seems ages!) but thought that nearly full tanks rather than half-empty ones would be better as we slopped about on the briney. Burton Waters Marina was the logical stop for this, and a gas bottle.
Turning in to Burton Waters Marina
There was a bit of a queue for the service wharf, so we got tied to the visitor pontoon and had a bite to eat while we waited. We took 60 litres on, much what I expected. We use a little more on rivers than on canals, but only about 5%. A very reasonable 75p base rate, too. The gas was dear, though.
Turning around in the marina. Carefully.
Some very shiny and expensive-looking plastic in here…
As is usual with marinas, the steady supply of food encourages the water fowl.
A mixture of colours amongst the mallard ducklings
Mummy swan and four cygnets, our first this year.
What’s that, you only counted three? Ah, but you didn’t spot the hitch-hiker!
Derek and Sheila caught us up at the marina, filled with fuel themselves then we headed off another mile to moor outside the afore-mentioned Pyewipe Inn.
That’s got to be Lincoln!
The Red Arrows have been out and about again today. They saw us off from Saxilby, and greeted our arrival at The Pyewipe.
Lincoln tomorrow, mob-handed. They’ll wonder what’s hit them.
Locks 0, miles 4½