We’re in Braunston, and met up with Ann and Mick again. They’re facing east, we’re facing west. Then there is a change of plans. Why not cruise together for a fortnight and explore part of the Grand Union? Yes, why not?
Well, we’re facing the wrong way, so I have to turn around. Jokingly I say: “I’ll show off, and do a three-point turn.”
Should not have mentioned that. The night before we leave I wake up every hour and go through the three-point turn in my mind. And do the two-way Braunston Tunnel.
The next morning I assess the situation for the turning. This is what I plan to do. Just turn at the junction.
Unfortunately there is not enough room to do this. A moored boat, a tree trunk. So I end up showing off.
And of course it’s bloody windy.
But I do fine. I just touch a hire boat, and leave them staring at the whole procedure, mouths wide open…
So off we are, unto the unknown. The weather doesn’t look too promising, and yes, while waiting for lock 4 the heavens open. Ann and Lawrance (the lockies) run and hide under the nearest tree. Mick, in front of me, ties up on the lock landing and hides under a tree as well.
And me? I’ve got nothing to tie up to, so I keep hold of WRT and get absolutely soaked. Yes, I’m wearing my waterproofs. But this is like someone empties a swimming pool onto me.
The same happens again at lock 6. With only one difference: there are no trees for the others to hide under. So we’re all soaked. After that we get wet in Braunston Tunnel (not that it matters) while outside the tunnel there are (no doubt) clear blue skies.
Out of the tunnel it’s drizzly rain. I’m soaked to the bone, cold to the bone, so we decide to moor up just after Welton Wharf. Needless to say that it buckets down while mooring up as well.
Oh, the joys of boating…