Victor—the Huddersfield

Not for the feint-hearted

NOT for the feint-hearted, I reckon, about sums up the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, a feeling derived after a five day stint on the waterway from Portland Basin to Huddersfield.

For starters, except for the brand new bits in Stalybridge, Slaithwaite and Huddersfield, there are no moorings whatsoever, and in fact no lock moorings anywhere!

It's shallow, very shallow, with being grounded definitely the order of the day, especially in the short pounds.

And some of the paddles not only need a long throw windlass but two—yes, two—people to get them to shift.

To make matters that little bit more difficult, all the paddles are locked up—and not just one set, but all of the blasted things.

So off we go passing Portland Basin and under the Asda Tunnel to the first lock, which must surely have many turning straight back! It's a peculiar thing indeed, for you need a windlass not only for the gate paddles but for the gates too—all of course fitted with anti-vandal systems.

There is this great box with a shaft sticking out for the windless. It was my turn to do the lock, so off I went. And I huffed and I puffed, and very, very slowly the gate opened, and in came the boat.

Hard work at the first lock—a new form of torture?

Then a great deal more huffing and puffing and slowly the gates closed. It was then I realised there was another shaft sticking out of the rear of the box—it was a two man job!

A fiddle with the paddle locking device to get it undone, then more hard work lifting the paddle.

"Let's do the Cheshire Ring instead," I yelled at SHE, but to no avail. Mind you, she had the pleasure of doing the next lock, of the same pedigree, and was strangely quiet.

Before long it was into civilisation at Stalybridge with a brand new canal and moorings by the dozen, and even moorings kindly provided in the middle of Tesco's car park, so a big shop was the order of the day.

Then into the wilds, climbing the Pennines, with the locks being of the more recognisable variety, but where's the lock moorings? We pulled into the side and immediately became grounded. But no matter, things will get better.

How silly of me, of course they didn't get better. There just aren't any lock moorings. So we very soon realised that an entirely different system would be needed to negotiate these locks—stick the nose of the boat into the lock entrance, leap off the bow and clamber up the bank, and if you slip back into the drink, then tough, there's no other way.

Before very long we realised that our essential supply of duck bread was still intact—there were no ducks and no swans. No anglers either. Then came the realisation in the form of a couple of mink, those vicious creatures that devour every living thing on sight—ducklings, signets and fish.

A mink ignores our passing boat

Blithely we soldiered on until it came to mooring for the night. The only way was on the bottom. But before very long we realised that we were tipping over—the pound was getting lower! So off we went to the next pound, with me with the pole on the towpath measuring the depth of water , well, lack of it! Another try and we were still stuck on the bottom, so off we went again, this time with SHE with the pole.

And would you believe we had five attempts before we found enough depth to moor, just below a pub, and even then part of the boat was on the bottom.

A bright new early morning and off we go, with more of the same, until eventually, exhausted, we reach the bottom of Diggle Flight, to settle down with three other boats and await British Waterways staff to accompany us up the flight to the tunnel entrance. Settle down did I say? Oh, no! SHE decided she wanted to see the tunnel straight away, so I was dragged the 1½ miles there and the 1½ miles back for my pains.

Appreciated help up the Diggle Flight

Come the morning, and the British Waterways men appear, bright and breezy, with much appreciated helpful assistance up the flight. Appreciated, for this flight has its own brand of devilishly difficult paddle gear. Methinks this canal was the proving ground for paddle gear, most of which was then scrapped.

SHE is getting all excited now as the boat is covered in rubber with boards to protect the stern rails, and the four boats secured together.

Then off we go, pulled by the electric tug at a nice steady pace of just over one mile per hour. Well it must be for it took three hours to do the 3¼ miles tunnel.

All wrapped up for the tunnel—kinky!

An interesting experience, this tunnel, with a guide telling the tale, with an ever changing formation of rock, brick, stone and rock covering. Having just a few passengers it was easy to join the driver in the front to get a good view all the way through.

Out at the other end but then brought to a sudden halt at the top of Marsden Flight, which was well and truly padlocked.

Just before the top lock is a lovely row of bollards, which we all though was just the job. But alas, not so, dear friends, for the water was only a foot deep, and where it was deeper there were cut-off wooden piles a few inches below the surface.

One boat managed to moor with its bow in the top of the lock, which by necessity, is common practice, with another boat nearby. The other two, us included, were way back—on the bottom, of course.

Lovely moorings at Marsden but no depth

It was the following morning when we realised why we were not allowed to make our own merry way down the locks—water, or lack of it. The pounds were so short that the two men accompanying us made sure the lock below was empty and the top paddles open before releasing the water from the lock above, otherwise it would just run over the bywash and be wasted.

At the end of the flight we were cheerily waved on our way by the British Waterways men, and very soon caught up with the boat in front that was well and truly stuck and needed a pull off the bottom, but alas we couldn't get anywhere near—there was no water!. Oh such merry times we are having!

He had called out the men in blue, who were running around like demented souls finding water to flush us through.

Then onto another new part of the canal at Slaithwaite, but don't mention this to the locals—it's 'Slowit', don't you know!

A murderously hard guillotine lock, that needs winding, but luckily for me it was SHE's turn. I did offer to help, but I must admit not too sincerely, let her get on with it I say.

Slaithwaite's hard to operate guillotine gate

Just through Slaithwaite, lovely real live moorings, oh such bliss, so of course it was a stop for the night. And built-up area or not, not a bandit in sight.

The next day was a Sunday, we had sorely miscalculated, for here we were going down through bandit country into Huddersfield on a Sunday. The only answer, dragging ourselves out of the sack by six in the morning, and getting a move on.

Oh no, we don't! For on this particular stretch there are locks never seen anywhere else on the whole canal system. Locks that, is the official term 'do not equalize'.

What this means, quite bluntly is that the water in the lock, when filled does not level out with the water in the canal above. And you've guessed—the gates cannot be opened! You can push, SHE can help to push, a passing dog walker can also help to push, but the gate remains well and truly closed.

"Oh, hell, now what?" But then two angels in blue, our two British Waterways men who had helped us up the Diggle Flight, suddenly appeared. Now complain as you will about British Waterways, but these two had actually been looking for us, knowing full well that we would be stumped.

Needless to say, they had the answer: Fasten a rope to the lock gate and to the boat, slam it in reverse and pull the gate open! The joys of the Huddersfield Narrow.

Thank you lads, and thank you the powers that be, who had the sense to realise that help would be needed.

Then it was down, down, lock after lock into Huddersfield, completely bandit free.

It was by then pump-out time, and the friendly fella at Aspley Marina opened up to sell us a card for the automated pump-out. Now it's time for a big shop again, and here we have lovely moorings right by the side of Sainsbury's, which very handily opens at seven in the morning.

Good moorings outside Sainsbury's

Quite pleasant in Huddersfield, but alas, the only town we have even been in without either a single duck or swan, but again, right opposite the university building, we spotted another dreaded mink.

Well, the verdict? It was great! What a change from the sanitized canals of the midlands, were everything works as it should, mooring at every lock and virtually everywhere else, were you never get grounded and facilities by the score.

The Huddersfield Narrow is a challenge, yes, but it is exciting, British Waterways should leave it as it is, as a stimulating experience.