Tuesday 23 May did not start with any sort of reminiscent routine normality.  We had an early night the night before with the intention of an early start in the morning, which only one of us achieved before 08:30. The other one of us languished in bed and, having looked at the outside temperature from the bedroom weather station, snuggled further under the duvet, definitely not in a hurry to get out from her warm bed with a fully charged mobile and walkie talkie to hand.

Captain sLog started the engine, the boat began to come alive and soon enough, as if by magic, mooring ropes were released and we began to travel towards Narrow Boat Heaven with its huge Beer Tent dispensing beverage and entertainment from Friday evening over the whole weekend culminating with a Queen tribute on Sunday evening. As with any festival, we have our festival trolley on board (well, on the cabin top really) to carry everything we need from chairs to wonderful spontaneous unnecessary purchases to sun tan lotion and of course kagools.

Listening to the putt, putt putt throb of the engine, knowing it was heating the water at the same time, it was time for me to have an affair with Molten Brown and a sponge in the power shower. It was so easy to imagine I was on a cruise, the bathroom to myself, able to watch the world go by through a porthole and chuckle at the passing joggers. The engine continued to throb causing a lot of shake, rattle and roll throughout Pegasus. Hence the need on a regular basis to check nothing has vibrated out of where it should be. 

Time for crew to be part of the team and produce crispy bacon sarnies with mayo for the Captain because oh, that’s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh he likes it. I thought I’d add brownie points to the bank of Steve’s patience.

Watford Locks

Thank goodness I was dressed sooner than Steve suggested. We were upon Watford Locks in no time.  Comprising of a set of seven locks on the Leicester Line of theGrand Union Canal, formed of two single locks, a staircase of four and a final single lock, lifting the canal up 54 feet, I was ready – walkie talkie round my neck and windlass in hand. Opened in 1814 the locks are equipped with working side ponds which are used to save water. It’s actually a very pretty setting. Probably the only pretty lock I’ve come across

I met that day’s volunteer lock keepers Brian and Chris and booked Pegasus in for a ride of her life. The locks can only be used successfully with careful marshalling of who goes up or down and when. No buddying up on this one; just wide enough for one. Steve, whilst filling our water tank, seeing the boat waiting in front of us move into the locks, with the gates closing behind it, asked me if we should open the gates for us and enter the system.  No darling, I replied. I’ve already told you we have to wait for Brian to tell us what to do.  His bottom lip quivered just like a school boy deprived of his train set. Five minutes later his face was thinking of repeating the question, but my face had already responded, don’t even think about it.

With a queue behind us, and waiting for instructions from Brian, Steve is always happy to speak to strangers. I hide inside as I choose which strange people to engage with. Suddenly it was our turn, and TeamWilph flew into action like well oiled military action.

There were more boats going up than coming down, Brian and Chris carefully doing what they do – making sure the system worked without fluster clucks. Only a few of us were live-a-boards, everyone else on hire boats enjoying their hollybobs. I wasn’t sure if I was proud of myself or conned, as Brian and Chris seemed to help everyone else with the gates and paddles, leaving me to do all of ours alone, obviously having made too good a job of looking like I knew what I was doing remembering Jeff’s tips and tricks. My glamourous assistant is at the tiller as I refuse to drive her.

Successfully through, we moored at the top for a breather, where the waterways have their services. A hire boat needed to take on water but as we had already taken up the only mooring space, we, of course, suggested they raft to us. For my friend Janet, it means the others tying their boat up to ours, then walking across ours to get to the bank. Being a hire boat they didn’t have the kit then needed to reach the tap, and having Steve on board of course we did and lent them what they needed!

A brief stop for lunch and it was onwards to go through Crick tunnel, a length of almost a mile. Steve told me to wear a jacket to protect myself from drips, forewarned me about bats and a resident shrieking female boggard (evil or mischievous spirit) named Kit Crewbucket. He asked me to keep my eyes peeled and let him know if anything was coming towards us. I sat in the front, protected with a rather long shower proof jacket, hood almost over my eyes, walkie talkie in one hand, binoculars in the other. I got a bit wet, I didn’t see any bats or ghosts and we had the tunnel all to ourselves. The underwhelmed experience was disappointing to say the least as it was totally uneventful apart from Steve keeping Pegasus steady all the way through.

As we exited the tunnel we could see sign posts along the port side of the tow path at regular intervals with posters at the top, each displaying two boat names. Using my binoculars I spotted the one which had Pegasus on it. I used the walkie talkie to let Steve know we’d hit our spot. He was too busy to chatting to another boat and didn’t hear me. I repeated the message. He was still chatting. I resorted to yelling at the top of my voice ‘PULL IN’ and ‘NOW’ which he eventually heard. We chained Pegasus securely to our mooring, looked at each other, each wondering where the nearest pub was. After quite a journey we had arrived. Phew! At last. Time to party.

Doing a speedy recci we entered the marina to watch some of the setting up. The marina has been cleared of its residents and was being filled with all sorts of boats from traditional to brand new, many having been manhandled and transported in. It all looked very exciting.

We had made it as we always do with our ‘can do attitude’. We had overcome every obstacle and the only thing I had lost along the way was not a windlass or a key but my sense of humour. On a regular basis. It was now time to relax, socialise and enjoy Crick, the biggest, most popular inland waterways festival in the UK for over the past two decades which attracts thousands of visitors every year.

Cheers everyone!