Saturday 18th Nov 2006
The weather forecast had not been good, but what do they know? We got up fairly late to find clear skies and brilliant sunshine.
Jen cooked a fabulous breakfast, including the meat-free option for Jeannine, although I am always surprised that the smell of sizzling bacon doesn't convert all vegetarians into full blown carnivores.
We travelled down past Chirk Bank and St Martin's Moor with an ever increasing westerly wind. By the time we reached the locks at New Marton, the wind speed was about 25mph across the canal and we were travelling at a very drunken angle to compensate. Fortunately, there were few other boats on the move.
At New Marton Locks, it is open countryside and fully exposed to the wind. Leaving the bottom lock, there were fishermen by the lock moorings and I made the mistake of trying to pass them slowly. Normally, the fierce by-wash would have pushed the boat towards the lock moorings, and I assumed that this might counteract the effect of the wind. How naive can you get? The combined force of the by-wash and Tony with the boat-pole at the bows made no headway against the wind. In the end, Jen and I pushed from the bank and Tony held it with the pole while we ran back to the stern. I think the fishermen thought we were hopeless first-timers, but they would not appreciate the effect of a strong cross-wind on a 70ft boat.
At Frankton Junction, I winded the boat in record time with the wind doing exactly what it was supposed to, then we set off back the way we had just come and moored almost immediately for lunch.
After a short walk, we headed back to Hindford where we had booked at the restaurant of the Jack Mytton Inn. This has always been described as having an eccentric jovial landlord and we were not disappointed by him or by the excellent food. It was only on a later visit that we found out that he and his wife had only acquired the pub ten months earlier, so what we had read about the landlord must have applied to the previous owner. Perhaps there is a restrictive covenant attached to the deeds, specifying that the owner must as mad as the original Jack Mytton.