barging - Travels with Verne and Roy

Family Matters 1 – Dale and Colin Come to the Marina

We’ve been enjoying what my daughter-in-law Carrie calls a “family top-up”. First, daughter Wendy came to visit us from France (see Sonning Bridge, 15 July); then my sister Dale and her husband Colin popped down (up?) from Kent last week.

Bearing multiple bottles of chilled Pol Roget champagne, they arrived at the Thames & Kennet Marina just as rainy morning was giving way to a warm and balmy afternoon – perfect for a short boat-trip upstream, passing through Caversham Lock and Reading town, then turning neatly before the next lock at Mapledurham to cruise beatifically back.

Down the Thames to Bourne End from Thames & Kennet Marina

After several exploratory trips both upstream and downstream from our long-term berth at Thames & Kennet Marina, it was time to venture a longer voyage: downstream, we decided, heading for Marlow.

Monday morning’s warm and sunny July weather made for an auspicious start, but only after we’d headed up to the top of the marina for our virgin pump-out – i.e., clearing our black-water tanks (see previous blog titled “Pump-out”). Feeling virtuously clean on the inside, too, we finally set off at 10am.

Somehow, I thought we might stop off along the way for elevenses at Sonning, a bit of sight-seeing at Henley-on-Thames, an ice-cream at Hurley or Hambledon, or a spot of shopping at Marlowe. Silly of me, really. Even if mooring had been easy to find on such a popular stretch of the Thames on such a beautiful summer’s day, it’s not in Roy’s nature to stop. He hates to stop for photographs or bursting bladders when he’s driving a car, so why would this boat-driving business be any different?

Some stupendous property lines the river, as you can see:

Or how about something in black and white?

And, for good measure, some classic scenes of Henley-on-Thames:

Post-Henley Regatta tents still to be taken down

What a beautiful, wide stretch of river – perfect for the annual Henley Regatta

Temple Island, just downstream of Henley-on-Thames

Six hours and seven locks later – Sonning, Shiplake, Marsh, Hambledon, Hurley, Temple and Marlowe – it seemed that all available mooring had been taken by earlier birds. With relief, we spotted a gap to port just before Bourne End, between a barge and a cruiser. “I can get in there,” declared the optimistic Roy, and so he did. It helped that both of our putative neighbours kindly rushed out to grab ropes, move their own vessels a bit and help ease us in – their hospitality possibly motivated just a tiny bit by fear of imminent collision.

Neighbours at Bourne End

The new canopy is fairly easy to erect, provides welcome shade on the deck, and, importantly, didn't blow away in the wind — The new canopy is fairly easy to erect, provides welcome shade on the deck, and, importantly, didn’t blow away in the wind

Speaking of hospitable neighbours, Bill, Maria and their wholly lovable golden retriever have been living on their barge for four years. This week, they also had with them two primary school-age grandsons, whose parents would be picking them up on Friday. Were the kids enjoying the trip?, I asked him.

“I think so,” he said uncertainly. “It’s hard to tell. They’re a right couple of little sods at the best of times. I reckon we’ll be swigging gin out of the bottle by Thursday.”

Apart from The Spade Oak pub a few hundred metres up the road, and the long stretch of Thames Path for hikers, runners, dog-walkers and fishermen, our Bourne End mooring had one attraction irresistible not only to Bill’s grandsons but to everyone else, too: a soft-serve ice cream van stationed in one corner from nine to five. You don’t get to bond with all your neighbours at a mooring, but Mr Whippy is something different.

On the hottest day of the year, Mr Whippy is everyone's favourite neighbour — On the hottest day of the year, Mr Whippy is everyone’s favourite neighbour

Thames cruise from Caversham to Goring

Our Dutch barge Karanja‘s second trip, upriver again from Thames & Kennet Marina to Goring, was more eventful than our maiden voyage (see previous post) – but all good practice.

After a bit of traffic, the Karanja came up to Caversham Lock behind a hire boat under the control (understand that I use the term loosely) of two retirement-age couples: this was their first lock, they said. We were to share it with them, along with another two boats that came in behind us. That the wine was flowing freely probably didn’t help, and it was with relief that we passed the revellers before the next lock. So, two new experiences: sharing a lock with other boats, and having to sound our horn to request another boat to move to starboard when it’s about to be passed.

Goring Lock and its adjacent weir

Goring was as lovely as our marina friends had promised. We were lucky to score the last space on the 24-hour free mooring, on the right, just before Goring Lock.

Our mooring at Goring…

… and from the other side

It’s an exquisite old waterside village of flint-and-brick dwellings, complete with desirable facilities for its evidently affluent villagers. We popped into: McColl’s store (for milk); The John Barleycorn Inn (Strongbow on tap, hake goujons and herby olives in a sunny garden); The Goring Grocer (scrumptious fare straight out of their oven, including the best and fattest pork-herb-garlic sausage rolls ever); and The Miller of Mansfield, an 18th-century coach-house with an award-winning restaurant (for dinner).

The Miller at Goring

Roy in the beer garden at John Barleycorn, Goring

Our marina friends also highly recommend Italian restaurant Rossini’s, and neighbouring Moulsford’s Beetle and Wedge Boathouse, doubly immortalised in Kenneth Graham’s The Wind in the Willows and Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat. We’ll have to do that next time.

And I made a new friend on the towpath – a South African called Michelle, who told me how to deal with cattle that might block your way. (There literally was a bull at a gate.) “Make yourself as big as you can,” she advised. “Hold your arms wide, move them back and forth, and go ‘Wo, wo!’ as you march forward, to show them who’s boss.” Well, I’ll know for next time. Thanks, Michelle!

Above: Charming sign in Goring’s village green; Below: Goring lockhouse

Homeward bound

Though we’d sworn to be fair-weather sailors, and it was raining quite steadily, after two nights in peaceful Goring it was time to head home to our berth at Thames & Kennet Marina.

Three hours of cruising downriver through the rain brought a few new firsts:

* Turning into the downstream current from our berth

* A brief encounter with the lock wall at Whitchurch, where we lost about six inches of paint from the “rubbing straight” – that’s what it’s for, isn’t it?

* Practising an emergency stop

* Coming up to canoeists spread across the river right where we needed to turn across the river to enter the marina

* Berthing in the marina in the face of a strong wind – not easy!

The more we cruise, the more we learn about handling a barge in various conditions. Our next trip will be downstream to Sonning, which involves negotiating the reputedly tricky Sonning Bridge.

Maiden voyage to Pangbourne

Log: 21 June

Left Thames & Kennet Marina at 10.30am on a partly sunny morning, headed upstream for Caversham Lock – Karanja’s maiden lock, with a weir to starboard. Mapledurham Lock similarly weir to starboard. Both locks manned. Moored overnight on port bank just before Whitchurch Toll Bridge, alongside Pangbourne Meadow. Steaming time 2.75 hrs.

Happily uneventful, our maiden voyage was. After a week in the marina, we’d initially settled on Monday, 20 June as the big day – when any Sunday trippers would have departed. But it promised to pour with rain, so we postponed till Tuesday. Good move, that, as it gave me a chance to practise a bit with those dreaded ropes.

Unlike the locks on the canals we’ve visited, ones on the Thames River are manned, and very friendly and helpful the guys are, too. One at Caversham kindly pretended not to notice that I’d embarrassingly flung my entire line ashore when we came alongside at the lock approach. The second and final lock of the day, Mapledurham, has a daunting approach featuring a wide and churning weir to the right; the lock itself is classified as a deep one (with a drop of 6 feet, 9 inches), so you don’t want to be stopped too far forward in the lock chamber when the white water starts gushing in.

Our mooring at Pangbourne Meadows was beautiful, just before the graceful curve of Whitchurch Toll Bridge – which bridge (pictured below) is said to have been described as ugly by the 19th-century narrator in Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat – not to mention the dog. (Hilarious stuff that I’ve just started reading).

Jogging recce

Before we set off from T&K Marina on our maiden voyage, I’d already explored the first leg of the journey by jogging along the towpath a few miles past Caversham Bridge and back again; very like the way a dog taken for a walk and let off its leash will run backwards and forwards.

A busy old day on the Thames tow path, near Caversham Bridge.

What is this peculiar bird? (Note to self: buy a book on waterfowls.)

Graceful Whitford Toll Bridge is still privately owned – motorists pay 40p to cross, but it’s free for pedestrians.

Moored at pleasant Pangbourne Meadows, within walking distance of The Swan.

It was the same story after we’d tied up at Pangbourne Meadows. Leaving Roy to boaty pursuits, I did a recce to find The Swan, Pangbourne’s 1642 waterside pub where we planned to do drinks and dinner later. (Good thing, too, as it was only on the way back that I found the best route, guaranteed to keep him in a good mood.)

Log: 22 June

As yesterday, but in reverse. Cast off at 10.30am in drizzle, two hrs downstream back to T&K Marina. Total engine hours 5.6.

It wasn’t supposed to rain the next morning, according to the forecast. But this is England, as people keep reminding me, so we set off in drizzle, me gamely facing the elements in a violently pink waterproof garment bought ages ago in Takashimaya’ sports department for this very day. (I’ve worked out the difference between winter and summer in England, by the way – in summer, you’re expected to wear colours.)

Downstream, this time, ourselves a bit more relaxed than yesterday and our speed a bit quicker with the force of the river at our stern. Safely back at D Pontoon no. 32, it was time for lunch and a celebratory glass of wine. Here’s to us!