I don’t know where this photograph was taken. I don’t know why it was taken. I’m not even sure who took it, but I’m assuming it was Carol going through an experimental phase. If anybody recognises it and can add any information, then please get in touch with the Owd Lanky Cut Tourist Board.
Whatever the case, it’s a damned sight more attractive than the motorway bridge was, which was where we ended up next.
Yes, I know it’s blurred, but that’s for the best. Every canal has at least one ugly blight somewhere along it. Fortunately th’ Owd Lanky Cut’s is short lived.
Shortly after the concrete intrusion from the real world, the route into Salwick (when you’re heading south, at any rate) becomes a cathedral of trees and cuttings – a complete reversal of landscape from the above-mentioned bridge.
Right in the middle of it (I don’t know what the area’s called – cartographers clearly don’t want to publicise it) you can find the Hand and Dagger, an extremely tempting watering hole.
Unfortunately there’s nowhere to berth. The canal for at least a mile in either direction is less than three inches deep by the towpath, and full of rocks. (I’m not sure what the CRT have spent my annual licence on, but clearly it wasn’t dredging.)
We got stuck several times with a large amount of mud-churning and swearing, before finally giving up and heading on to the much safer reaches of Salwick’s Nuclear Fuel Rod Processing Plant.
There’s a sign at Salwick – a large, ugly, warning sign – that reads: “If you hear the siren close all doors and windows and remain on your boat. Tune into the local radio station and await further instructions.”
If it was being more honest it’d read: “Stick your head between your legs and kiss your arse goodnight.”
We berthed up outside the ‘Works’ and spent the night remembering that good old favourite of ours ‘When the Wind Blows’.