We’ve never seen it so busy…

If this is what it’s like on here in April and May, I’d hate to be heading up to Llangollen in the summer!

It’s been about a week again since I last posted. To be frank there’s nothing much to say, the number of times we’ve come this way I’ve pretty well said it all!

We headed to Ellesmere last Wednesday, passing the base of the Lyneal Trust where the charity’s boats are based.

Huddled together to keep warm…


After a few miles of beautiful open countryside, the canal now enters the wooded area surrounding The Meres, like the Mosses further downstream an ancient landscape dating back to the last Ice Age.

As the ice melted it left a network of shallow lakes or meres filled by meltwater. Some of the smaller ones filled with vegetation over time, which decayed and formed peat in the mosses around Whixall. But these have remained open, the largest, Ellesmere, sitting to the west of the town of the same name.

The wooded section ends at the ridge that is pierced by 87 yard Ellesmere Tunnel, then there’s about ¾ of a mile to the junction with the short Ellesmere Arm.



We pulled into the arm to moor for a couple of days.

So on Saturday we were on the move again, pausing to fill the water tank and dispose of rubbish and recycling at the old wharf.

Ellesmere Wharf was the canal company’s main maintenance depot, with workshops to cater for the needs of the boats. Alongside is Beech House, once the company offices and residence of Thomas Telford, now apartments.

The lambs are getting fat now…


Beautiful countryside.
It was bright and sunny but that wind from the northeast kept the temperature down to around 10°.

We found a pleasant spot to moor past Coachman’s Bridge, open to the sun but sheltered by a hedge to windward. A field of rape wafted it’s perfume across to us.

Come Monday we were on the way again, joining the procession of boats heading west. Ahead of us the canal twists through a series of bends and blind bridges as it winds around Val Hill, not a place to meet oncoming boats.


Of course it was inevitable that we would…
But only the one, luckily.

The last time we came this way this field was full of sheep - eating turnips, or should that be sheep, eating turnips?


Clear…


…and clear again!

Looking west across Shropshire to the hills on the Welsh Border beyond Oswestry.

Frankton Junction was a little frantic as we came past, with one boat winding and another trying to turn in towards the locks.

Both trying to avoid a couple of grumpy anglers.



The bridges from here to Llangollen are now numbered starting from one again, with a suffix”W” to avoid confusion. This is because the original line should have followed what we now call the Montgomery Canal.






The awkward Maestermyn Bridge, with The Narrowboat Inn just beyond.

The fine curved brickwork of Bridge 6W carries the towpath over to the left side.

We pulled in yesterday lunchtime below New Marton Locks, and spent the afternoon watching boat after boat passing in both directions.

The early rush of a half-dozen boats passed us this morning before we were ready to move on. We just hit it right, one boat was just going up New Marton Bottom Lock as we arrived.

It’s only 5 minutes between the two locks, and we caught up again at the top lock. There was a hirer waiting to come down, and judging by the lady steerer’s stress levels she’s not going to forget this holiday in a hurry! I gave them a run-down on locking principals and practice and helped them down. I hope they managed ok on the next one…

Mags finally coming up New Marton Top Lock

We topped up the water tank above the lock then toddled on, across St. Martin’s Moor. The open flat land to the southwest can make it challenging on a windy day, but today the wind was light.


An hour’s gentle cruising and we arrived at our destination, the moorings near the Poacher’s Pocket.
 
We arrived at the right time, there were a couple of spaces to choose from, but now it’s full.

We’ll be here for a day or two now.

Locks 2, miles 14 (since last post)