Well, one thing that I still haven't learned is that when things look easy, they usually turn pear-shape. And they truly went pear-shaped on Friday 8th May.
We admired the cutting that led us to Tryley locks. This cutting was dug by the navvies using only pick axes shovels and wheelbarrows. Truly awesome.
The tool marks can clearly been seen on the rock face.
Then it was at lock 4 that we ran into trouble. The by-wash was particularly fierce and as I carefully lined up to go into the lock, the flow from the by-wash turned the bow aside. The forward momentum of the heavy boat carried me on but I was unable to counter the flow and enter the lock. In the blink of an eye, the flow had pinned me to the bank side of the cutting and no amount of engine revvs was going to release me. I should have remembered the warning of an old boater months before who had told us to open the top paddles a little and this flow would counter the by-wash flow, but that was furthest from my mind.
Ian then scrambled down the bank and hooked the bow line, hoping to haul the bow free of the lock wall. As he hauled on the bow line, I was trying to leaver the stern around while all the time running the engine at full throttle. All to no avail. A passing dog-walker offered his help and even with two men hauling on the bow line, the 18tons of boat still wouldn't budge. I threw the centre line across the canal for Ian to pick up and we tried again. The passer-by hauling on the bow line, Ian on the centre line and me on the stern with the aid of the full throttle engine. Slowly, inch by inch, we all made headway against the strong flow of water and Winedown nudged her way into the lock. My heart was pounding with adrenalin as the lock gates slammed shut behind me and the lock began to fill. I can only imagine how a single-hand boater would have felt in a similar situation - and there are many on the canal system.
Tranquillity was restored as Winedown rose higher in the lock, masking the dangers that lurk around corners. Looking back it appeared quite innocent!
While the daffodil heads start to droop, signalling their exhaustion at the end of their flowering time, the bluebells are putting an appearance and some of the woods that fringe the canal are carpeted with purple. its a beautiful sight 
Ferns unfold as they cling tenaciously to the bank side.
The Anchor Inn at Old Lee Wharf is a pub that is stuck somewhere in the 1940's with its rustic bench seats and open fireplaces. The friendly landlady will serve a selection of wine, draught beers (served from a jug brought up from the cellar) and spirits but the only food is a selection of sandwiches served on quaint mismatched plates. On the day of our visit we had a choice of sandwiches - cheese & pickle, cheese & tomato, cheese & onion or plain cheese.
But the company was good.
We met Mal, a fender maker who has been plying his trade on the canals for many years before he retired. He still makes fenders but only just enough to keep him in beer money he said. We lingered over our lunchtime sustenance as we listened to his stories of days gone by.
The Shroppie is known for its unusual features but there can't be much to beat this high bridge with a telegraph pole built into its arch...
Birdlife on the canal is abundant and Brewood is notorious for its kingfishers, although they are almost impossible to photograph while on the move. I had to be content with the heron. This fella is obvious used to boats passing its fishing area as it simple walked along the bank while glaring at us. By the time we had passed the heron obviously thought that since we had disturbed the water, he would look for a new spot to wait for the fish. 
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