Kidlington to Aynho

A spare day so we decided to edge the boat a little further along the canal towards Rugby Boats, our destination. At this rate it would take us months to get there! We parked the car at Thrupp and then cycled back down the canal to Kidlington where we collected the boat, slung the bikes on the roof and then headed back up the canal the way we had come.

The sharp bend at Thrupp took us by surprise and I completely cocked it up and had to execute an embarassing ten-point turn before the boat was pointing in the right direction. The Oxford does provide some wonderful opportunities for practising one's steering!

Mick took over the tiller. A few minutes later a boat came down the channel in the opposite direction. We moved far too far to the right, grounded on the bank and tipped alarmingly to the left. The plates on the draining board slid onto the floor and a very loud smashing noise emanated from the galley (it's a reverse layout!).

Mick swore loudly. I gave an apologetic smile to the chap on the other boat who was looking at us quizzically. "We're used to the Thames," I said, omitting to mention we had run aground there as well.

I explained to Mick that the trick is to steer right at the nose of the other boat until the last minute and then swing right. From then on we viewed passing boats as a game of "chicken", heading right for them, then veering aside and passing them with a couple of inches to spare. It worked!

At Upper Heyford we stopped and had a walk into the village in the folorn hope that the Barley Mow would be open. It wasn't. Beyond the village was the now disused Upper Heyford Airfield which has recently got planning approval for a thousand new houses to be built on the site. The last time I was here the US were leasing the site and the local pub had a plaque on the wall stating that CND members were not welcome!

Somerton Deep Lock was pretty deep. It was also pretty narrow. Mick was up on the lock and as I passed under the bridge and entered the lock I got wedged against the wall. I had negelcted to take up the fenders and despite the fact that they were only narrow ones, the extra width was enough to jam us tight. After a lot of cursing and revving I managed to reverse back and took up the fenders before trying again. Once in the lock Mick opened the top paddles and the boat immediately surged forwards and backwards, with me revving hard to stop the boat smashing into the gate. More cursing and revving. We were making a hell of a din.

"I hate this fucking lock" I yelled out to Mick over the revving of the engine. I was then was slightly embarassed to notice that there was a chap lying on the grass in the garden of the adjacent cottage, once the lock keepers cottage, trying to have a nap in the afternoon sunshine.

We crept quietly out of the top gates and chugged round the corner. This was a nice mooring spot, and we decided that we had had enough excitement for one day. We tied up John Damsell and cycled back to Thrupp where we couldn't resist a swift pint in the Boat Inn to calm our jagged nerves.