That’s the sound we had to put up with last night. Every couple of minutes it happened. Mags and I awake in anticipation of the next one… Meg, on the other hand, was dead to the world!
We called them whale farts, in fact it was air, carried along in the churned-up water, collecting under the base-plate then emerging in a stream of bubbles.
Rather than have another disturbed night I moved the boat up to above the lock, where it’s a little windier but considerably quieter!
Here’s a fact for you. A blue whale’s fart bubble is big enough to hold a horse!
Locks 1, miles, just a little bit…