Hancock and Lane

Our beautiful narrowboat, 'Dove of Belgrade' was made 1976 by Hancock and Lane in Daventry, Northamptonshire. Leigh has been reading up on a very good Canal World forum about the history of H&L and discovered that our style of narrowboat with a high canoe-like bow is a model known as 'Norseman'.

In addition, a member on the forum presented a fine piece of history on H&L and here it is, the last advert for the boat builders from Narrowboat Magazine 1984...

What is all the noise about?

Something called Rammel Club...

War of the Coots

In the shimmering sunlight the waterfoul have been scooting up and down the canal, dashing in and out of the hedgerows and generally getting frisky for spring. I witnessed my first War of the Coots yesterday and was taken aback by what I saw. As two charcoal-black Coots spread their rear feathers like Peacocks they circled and charged each other. Head to head, they both rose from the water, resting on their rear plumes and whacked at their opponents chest with their large, feathered feet, causing a great splash. In a few flurried seconds it appeared to be over until another Coot in the area ended up somehow involved and took a dive for it's life to the reedbed, off away from the violence.

It is fascinating to see the aggression in these animals. And when it comes to mating, goodness me, it is possible to witness the killing of their fellow kind. This happened last year when there was an abundance of splashing and banging around on the canal and I saw a Mallard purposefully drown a female. She was bobbing upside down along the Coventry canal the next few days.

Thus, things are not all sweetness and roses in the world of waterfoul. This doesn't distract from the joy's that can be had watching the nature of these creatures, run, fly and swim.

Strange things in the night

During the night onboard, I often hear all sorts of unusual sounds. Talking to another boater we agreed that this just seems to be the way things are living on a boat. Last week I rose from a deep sleep to the rasping and vibrating of what sounded like an aeroplane overhead, but it couldn't have been. The unnerving noise continued for a good 10minutes as I lay with one ear pricked. Usually when a plane passes over you hear it's movement across the sky into a fade out. This couldn't have been a plane, what else it might have been however, I do not know.

Last night I woke to a raging man yelling out and lay awake listening to a repetitive bashing against a metal railing. This can be typical of a weekend night in a town and not such a great way to be woken.

Sometimes there will be a boat (or even a convoy) who are participating in night-time cruising. This can be at anytime of the night. You can hear their approach and sometimes see their headlight illuminating the whole canal. With time I have developed a skill of sensing an oncoming boat as our boat gently pulls towards them with the force of the water dispersing, the ropes groaning and pulling taught. Depending on the engine, whether it is an outboard and how well the insulation is, affects the level of sound. Some modern engines purr. Our Lister chudders and vibrates throughout. I have woken to the 'pop' 'pop' of old Gardener engines passing us by and at other times outboard cruisers revving and speeding past.

On Thursday night last week, after work, I said to Leigh that I'd like to move. I had had enough of the electricity pylons overshadowing us in Beeston and wanted to get a fresh perspective from the windows. We started up the engine, set the headlight and opened all the curtains to illuminate the canal as we cruised. It was very dark with the occasional floodlight from nearby football grounds shining at us. Leigh took her all the way into the thick of Nottingham with his expertise. As we passed moored boats, the owners would peer from the window; wondering who is passing at night, checking that they are going nice and slow and are not going to bash against them.

The mysterious nature of night-time is enchanting. Living partly outdoors, the earthy magic of moonlight, thin air and stillness flows within you and I find that my mood, thoughts and feelings are affected by this inert nature. I can't often stay awake very late and these day's as I sleep I hear the tinkering of beautiful and alluring music being forged and gilded by one half of "Bamboo Stilts".

I am spoilt by hearing the first makings of this exquisite music and eagerly await Leigh Flotel and Tui Orla Wren resolving their workings and delivering their first mutual release as "Bamboo Stilts".

Walking in Beeston

Today I decided to take a walk. There is an easy 2 mile route circling the canal and river section in Beeston, just opposite our mooring. I decided to get some fresh air and take the camera along.

I crossed the Turnover Bridge...

And took note of the old post where the ropes from the horses pulling boats have worn stripes around it.

I strolled along towards the lock and turned right behind the lock keepers's house, to the weir. There was a strong breeze throwing spray at me and it was beginning to rain.

The river looked fierce with it's flowing currents.

Further round the path the river appeared calmer, almost serene.

I passed an old tree...

and a tree-swing.

I reached a junction in the path and took the shorter route back towards the canal.

The other route follows the river towards West Bridgeford. It was a long, straight stretch back to the canal.

Another left turn and I ended up back at the Turnover Bridge.

A bit of glorious sun

Yesterday the skies cleared, the sun was out and so were we! We needed to fill up with water and with it being such fine weather Leigh suggested we go for a jolly.

The sun was gloriously hot on our backs and it felt so good to be moving.

We took the canal towards Nottingham and at the enormous winding point near to the rubbish tip off Nottingham's ringroad, I did a full 360degrees as a beautiful three point turn! The wind picked up on the return journey and we had to give her a bit more throttle.

Leigh took over at Beeston Lock to wind the boat in a very tight area and we stopped at the facilities for water. Somehow, we have lost the adaptor to the water pipe and a fellow boater lent us his connector. With a full tank of water we moved on to the mooring point for the night.