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August 09, 2007
When Things Go Wrong
Today we woke at a decent hour and began climbing the "ladder" of 13 locks just north of the small town in which we had moored for the night. The "ladder" is nothing more than a series of locks in close succession, such that one reaches the top of one lock only to drive directly into the next. Here is the best picture I could get of the ladder. Had I a helicopter, I could probably get a more satisfying picture of the multitude of the locks.
The distance between locks was so small that it was sometimes easier to pull the boat than to turn on our engine. This job fell to me, so I executed it with enthusiasm and in the long tradition of the pack mules that used to perform the important duty.
We made it through the series of 13 locks in not too much time, but just after reaching the top, broke down. Roji indicated that the engine had been losing power over the past few locks, and suddenly the engine all but stopped. Some kindly Brits at the end of a long queue of boats heading in the opposite direction helped pull us to the bank.
This man and his dog, ventured an opinion on our troubles, something along the lines of, "Your engine's shot, and further, you've probably stripped it by gunning the motor for the past few moments of flailing desperation."
His voice was clipped and severe, and there was an implied, "Stupid Yankees" to his manner. Of course, I am usually game to back such a sentiment, being an avid Red Sox fan, but given the present context, was less disposed to feel cheerful.
We thanked him heartily and went about the business of attending to our troubles. Using Maiko's rented phone, we called for help. Roji, Tracy, Seiko, and Mimi headed for the Market Drayton, some 4-5 miles up the canal, Robbi and I took a nap, and Maiko, Daryl, and Bob waited for the help to come. An hour and a half to two hours later, two guys showed up with a few tools and a bucket of oil. One watched while the other (who sported a stylish mohawk) spent five minutes tinkering with the engine.
Apparently, we had an oil leak. It was easily fixed, and we were on our way. Five locks and four miles or so later, we pulled into Market Drayton, where we reconnected with the others. Robbi, Maiko, Daryl, and I walked into town to buy milk and other groceries. As Daryl and I waited in line at the Netto supermarket,
Robbi and Maiko proceded to the "chemist" to get some cough drops. As Daryl and I left the store, a "police accident" occurred.
Apparently, a woman hit a parked car, which caused pedestrians to worry "I hope I don't blow up."
The road back from the chemist blocked by police tape and men in yellow helmets, Robbi and Maiko managed to find another route back to the main road. Reunited, the four of us headed back to the boat.
We drove through some lush wooded areas today where the shade was thick and the foliage hung close to the boat. One area was said to be haunted by "shrieking specters," which we were not lucky enough to encounter.
Looking up, there was still no shrieking.
Another was graced with two spectacular high bridges that seemed ancient and mysterious.
First Roji and I felt compelled to act like obnoxious American tourists.
But then were struck dumb with wonder in the presence of such ancient mystery.
The country refuses to free me from its bewitching spell. It is possible that I will not return.
Posted by bogenamp at August 9, 2007 04:58 AM