Knowing that we only had 10 possible hours of daylight for an estimated 9 hour trip, Dave Davies promptly arrived in his VW microbus at 6.30am to pick me up. Although it was a bright and frosty start to the day, bad weather was threatened for later so we wanted to be well underway before it swept across us. By 7.30 am, Nuneaton's stove was smoking and crackling under a brimming saucepan while Dave checked the levels on oil and coolant before starting the engine.
Immediately it became clear that no water was issuing from the engine's water cooling system, Dave put it into gear forward and reverse but still no luck and so the engine was switch off while we investigated the cause. The seacocks were turned off and on and the spaghetti pipe work followed around beneath the engine. This revealed the cabin bilge gate valve which was turned on to fill the stern with water to act as ballast. A couple of calls to more knowledgeable members - John Fevyer and Keith Norfolk, gave us a number of options to try and get the water flowing through the thing. First we tried the gearbox heat exchanger where we struck gold in the form of a blockage of sludge, "There we go", I said, screwing it back tight. But on starting the engine again there was no flow or joy so more investigative fiddling ensued by checking the mud box, pump and other components. Because I had accidentally broken Dave's flask of black caffeine on arrival, we retired to the warmth of the cabin for a brew and some hard cogitation on the matter. I then remembered that water pumps only pump water and not air and realised that the system must have drained out while in dry dock so it needed priming with water. A joint above the pump was unscrewed and pulled apart to allow a funnel to be inserted loosely and dipper after dipper of the icy clear canal water poured in it. After re-assembly Dave tried the engine again and there was a hopeful dribble that scornfully stopped, so it was back to the spanners again. We were both reaching the last hope stage and mentally building acceptance that we were going nowhere today but home.
I bandaged the nozzle of the funnel so it fitted snugly in the aperture and started pouring the freezing water in gently until the level stopped falling. The joint was quickly tightened and Dave turned the key and as the engine caught, he leant out to see water sporadically spurting from the outlet so a full twist to the throttle increased the spluttering until there was a vomiting of black gunk and rusty water that shot out, followed by a steady stream of clear liquid. We gave a ragged cheer, shook hands and set to refilling the engine hole with all it's paraphernalia that had been strewn along the bank. The idea to prime the pump seemed to have produced the result but possibly more experienced members could have sorted it in minutes with far less hassle.
Casting off, we discussed our options now that it had taken us over four hours to sort it and it meant arriving at Stockton in the dark as it was now midday and the storm clouds were threatening.
Dave steered the motor down the short crowded arm from Stretton Wharf towards the junction with the Oxford Canal on tick over. On lining up the fore-end on the approaching bridge hole, a new leisure boat suddenly appeared making for a mooring by the towpath on our starboard. Dave went into reverse while I made my way to the bows to be handy if needed - mindful that an inspection had revealed no shafts or boat hooks on board. At a snail's pace, we passed in the narrow channel, just grazing his newly grey primed cabin. Clearing this boat we then passed through the bridge hole to be confronted by a very tight turn caused by ranks of breasted-up leisure boats belonging to Rose Hire Boats. A woman on the counter of the adjacent 'Charnelle' watched as we came on towards her. I squatted on the fore-deck watching the space between bows and the cabin grow smaller. I indicated to Dave to ease up a bit but on we went, in slow-motion, Dave spinning the controls to halt Nuneaton's progress to no great effect, so I leant forward, braced myself and reached out for the cabin as the bows closed in. My act did mitigate the impact slightly but I watched in horror as the flimsy cruiser's cabin and window bowed in, absorbing the momentum of Nuneaton, then unbelievably sprung back pushing our boat away, leaving a small black mark on the aluminium window frame. Momentarily stunned I struggled to get the words out to apologised to the women and asked her what did she wish to do about the minor damage in terms of insurance as she just smiled and said there was no harm done and just walked away. Dave shouted to me that he didn't have reverse as I pushed the two boats apart and sideways so the bows turned towards the direction we wished to travel. Dave explained the problem to the women as she walked passed and he got a similar response to myself.
Dave went into forward gear, straightened the boat and immediately ran aground. This was actually fortunate as it gave us the chance to investigate the problem while stationary and it didn't take long to see what the problem was on entering the engine hole. Earlier, while lifting the deck plates and boards in this very confined space, the lightweight plastic outlet hose to the bilge pump had been pushed out of the way, and it had ended up behind the gear linkage and was now stopping the linking arm traversing fully into reverse gear. Because the worn and thus loose nature of the gear linkage this insubstantial piece of plastic managed to absorb the action of the gear wheel above. I whipped it out and set about pushing the boat off the mud by standing on the bank and pushing. Within seconds we were free and after a quick test of the forward and reverse, off we went at last.
The bad weather caught us a few miles down towards Rugby, it was already very cold in the bitter wind but when the sleet hit us then we both knew we in for a very uncomfortable time. The incidents earlier made us very cautious now so took it steadily and in three hours made the three pairs of locks at Hillmorton and had some welcome exercise.