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Of castles and roses…where simple pleasures endure

Frid 23 When you fall off a horse (or a bike for that matter), the best thing to do is to face your fears and get straight back on.

For us, our canal boat journey in France was fraught with difficulties and rotten weather, so it is with a bit of apprehension combined with excitement that we pack for a weekend on the canal, organised by our good friend, Grant.

We travel by car for over an hour to the Shropshire Union Canal at the Bunbury Lock in Shropshire. It is here that we meet our home-on-water for the weekend – a dark navy, forty-foot long, steel hulk of a narrow boat. Owned by a colleague of Grant’s, we are lucky to be able to rent the boat for the weekend.

A short walk along the towpath and there it sits, waiting for us quietly in anticipation (thankfully facing in the direction we want to go). It has no name so it’s hard to think of it in the feminine, as a she. ‘Simple Pleasures’ come to mind should it ever need a name.

For boating on these canals in these long, extended, caravan-like boats is a simple pleasure… a long, slow pleasure where the rush of life slows down to a swish of water, the put-put of an engine and call of water fowl from the banks. At only 4mph, life couldn’t get much slower or simpler.

Our boat houses two sofas that pull out into double beds – one at each end of the boat, a kitchenette with gas cooktop, a mini bathroom with toilet and shower, and a pot belly stove.

We stow our gear and Grant starts the engine. Soon, we are ambling our way along the canal. The water here isn’t a pretty blue but rather a muddy brown. I am pleased to report that our loo does not flush into the river as it did in France, so we are eco friendly on this trip.

The canal is not overly wide, with just enough room for two boats to pass each other in some areas and in other areas there is space for boats to moor along the banks.

As we come to the Calvery Service Station (for boats), we glide past many moored narrow boats – it's like a solemn guard of honor with great, long, sleeping hulks on either side of our boat.

Curtains pulled, motors silent, no sign of human life and deadly quiet, except for the soft hum of our motor and the intermittent whistling of the swallows as they swoop above our heads and then fly at speed over the water toward us.

Our destination is by the Olde Barbridge Inn, where we will tie up and head to the pub for our evening meal. It takes just an hour to get there.

Living on the narrow boat is an experience; any sudden movement will tip the boat sideways due to its narrow-ness and length.

Our boat is small compared to others we see – some up to 70 feet long. The boats are steered with a tiller from the back of the boat, they take a bit of handling and manoeuvring, but with time and patience, this is soon mastered.

Sat 24 The sun is up and heavy dew covers the ground. The surrounding countryside is fresh and picturesque. I almost expect to see D’Arcy (Pride & Predjudice) striding across the field; his coat tails flapping behind him and his knee-high boots damp and shiny. He doesn’t appear.

Instead, Grant, Max and I follow the towpath to the little stone bridge and head back to the inn to watch the NZ vs France world cup game. The cleaners kindly let us in.

With an All Black win under our hats, we set sail for Hurleston Junction, where we turn right into the Welsh Llangollen Canal. It is here that we face our first set of locks – a staircase of four locks.

It’s both exciting and nerve wracking, so I choose to stay on land and help manhandle the manually operated locks – opening and closing the heavy gates and cranking the water valves open or closed.

The locks are incredibly narrow with just inches to spare on either side of the boat. It takes concentration to get the boat in and stay centred.

With another boat coming down the locks, there are plenty of people to help out. Everyone is friendly and helpful. It’s what we soon come to love about this style of canal cruising – its intimacy, its friendliness and its tradition.

We pass many boats, some moored and others motoring. We see the beautiful, the ugly and the unloved. Some are used for weekend breaks, some for one-off holidays (usually hired) and others are lived in permanently.

Many are decorated with folk art paintings of castles and roses (this is traditional). Most are named – Bumble, Little Glen, Morning Mist, Magpies Nest, Penny Lane and Water Baron are just a few.  

Our destination is the Wrenbury Mill, where we will moor for the night. But it takes nine locks in total and two swing bridges before we reach the mill.

Our first swing bridge is manually operated (needs to be wound up) and Grant takes charge of it while we sail blissfully through.

The Wrenbury Mill is also depot for hire narrow boats and where we find our second swing bridge – this one is automated with a turn of a key and a press of a button.



It’s a busy motor bridge – a gate has to be closed, traffic lights flash, people stand and watch, intrigued, while drivers wait patiently as the big boats amble through.

Grant and Max head off up the canal to find a big space to turn the boat so we are facing the right way to go back again the next day. Max is at the tiller as they do a four-point U-turn in the middle of the canal. Meanwhile, I check out a glass of rosé while waiting for their return.

We take our mooring for the night amongst a colourful line of boats that curves along the bank. Boaties wander up and down the towpath, dogs follow (one exuberant pooch even falls in the water) and wood smoke wafts through the night air as people settle in for the evening.

It’s been an amazing day. Hunger sets in, so we head off on the towpath to find the local pub for our evening meal. Ahhh, this is the life!

Sun 25 It’s an early enough start but we stop further along the canal to eat breakfast (fresh berry fruit and Special K) and enjoy the scenery. If we came up nine locks then we must go down nine locks to get back to our starting point and car.

With Max at the tiller, Grant and I operate the locks. Incredibly, we all get caught in a heavy downpour of rain as the boat lowers down in the lock.

I am grimly reminded of our time in a big French lock where we were caught in a horrendous downpour and thunderstorm. But this time, we are not alone to cope, we have Grant on this journey and that makes it enjoyable and fun.

The sun does come out again and as we cruise along the canal, we meet fishermen out for a Sunday fish – they line the banks, umbrellas up and all the gear you caught possibly want.

One even has a fishing rod that reaches right across the canal to the other side where presumably big, fat fish hide in the vegetation.

After all the locks are completed, we moor outside the Olde Barbridge Inn again to celebrate my birthday with a delicious Sunday roast lunch.

It’s 4pm when we finally reach the Bunbury Locks, stopping on the way to empty our portable toilet and rubbish at a boat station.

We take turns at walking the towpath to walk off our lunch. We can walk just as fast as the boat, if not faster!

We moor the boat, tying up securely, and unpack our gear. This is where this journey began, with great excitement in the air, and this is where this journey finishes, with a great feeling of satisfaction and enjoyment in our hearts and souls.

Simple pleasures endure… thanks Grant, for a great experience… what a great way to spend a birthday!

Part 6: In pursuit of great writers, lochs, whisky, wildcats and love… Scotland/England

The haggis taste test...

CARLISLE Mon 12. After a good night’s sleep and a delicious cooked breakfast,  we try potato scones and Max tries some haggis, we are on our way again.

There are storm warnings out as the tail end of hurricane Katia sweeps across Ireland, west England and Scotland. Our journey is fraught with strong winds and heavy rain giving us limited visibility at times.

Heading to Carlisle means leaving Scotland and we are sad to go – we have loved the people, culture and scenery.

Let's tie the knot...again!

Our very last stop before we leave the country is Gretna Green, just above the Scottish border. We should stop, I say, it’s famous.

Max isn’t convinced as he encounters busloads (at least 10 or more buses) of elderly/older people disembarking at this iconic and highly commercial historic landmark. He’s still in denial. I was never there, he insists.

Gretna Green Village, near the River Esk, is famous for run-away weddings. It all started back in 1753 when an English Marriage Act was passed that didn’t allow weddings between people who were under 21 years old and did not have their parent’s permission to marry. The young hopelessly-in-love fled England and Gretna Green was the first village they encountered over the border.

Whether folklore or not, the village became famous and now hosts over 5000 weddings a year.

We arrive in Carlisle early afternoon. Our hotel is cheap and basic but comfortable and just for one night.

The town is known for its castle and cathedral, neither of which we have time to visit.

We have a pleasant walk in the shopping area and retire back to our hotel, ready for the last part of this journey to take hold.

LIVERPOOL Weds 14.  Our final part to this journey is to return our rental car back to Avis in Liverpool.

After travelling some 1600 km, we are pleased to report, with great relief, that it was not harmed in any way during our journey.

Nor to our knowledge do we have any speeding tickets and, luckily, no traffic misdemeanours (thanks to intense finger-crossing).

We spend some time in Liverpool visiting the Beatles Story shop and the brand new Museum of Liverpool at the docks. It’s a stunning building that houses contemporary exhibits including the history of soccer, music and literary greats.

We catch a bus back to Heswall. Our Scotland adventure has ended – we loved every bit of it (even though I was sick for most of it) and yes, Neil, it did make us homesick, you were right!   

The next two weeks will see us in Heswall before we head off to Sweden on Oct 1 and back home in New Zealand on Oct 12.

We’re looking forward to seeing our boys, family and friends again – what a grand hugging that will be!

Part 5: In pursuit of great writers, lochs, whisky, wildcats and love… Scotland

EDINBURGH Sat 10. Two nights in this noisy Inverness YHA is enough for us! A community toilet is right beside our room and in the early hours, Max works out how to lock the door from the outside and send those middle-of-the-night piddle-bags to another toilet, leaving us in peace!

Today we’re on our way to Edinburgh but we have a very special place to visit on the way – the Highland Wildlife Park.

Here we find the Scottish Wildcat, also known as the Highland Tiger – only 400 true wildcats left.

It was my mission to find this gorgeous tabby cat whilst in Scotland. In real life, even in captivity, it is a stunning cat. Tabby in colour with a ringed, blunt tail, distinctive markings, thick coat and stocky physique, this wild cat is in the red zone on the Critically Endangered list.

Breeding programmes are in place with captured wildcats and extensive studies are also made of cats in their natural habitats. Homeowners in the Highlands are encouraged to have domestic cats neutered so their cats do not breed with these wildcats.



These cats must be saved!

There are two big enclosures with an enclosed overhead walkway connecting the cages. We discover an adult wildcat lounging in one of the walkways and are reminded of the advice given by a park ranger. Don’t stand underneath the walkway, he says, the cats are known to spray on unsuspecting people who stand beneath them.

The cat we encounter seems pleased to see us and when I talk to it, telling it I’ve come all the way from New Zealand to see it, it talks back to me just like a domestic cat. Another cat we meet is not as placid – it paces the walkway into the cage and back again showing us it is truly a wild animal and not to be underestimated.

We also visit another wildcat – the Pallas cat, described to me as looking like an ultra-fluffy Persian (similar size) but we think they look more like a miniature ‘Big Foot’ with a cute cat face. The Pallas cat comes from the mountains of Central Asia, and like the Scottish Wildcat, is in decline.

There are some young Pallas cats in the enclosure and we are lucky to get good views of these beautiful felines as they playfully prey on an older cat.

We are also treated with sightings of wild red squirrels, who live in the forests in the park – obviously quite well fed.

We travel on through the Cairn Gorms to Edinburgh and are unfortunate to have an encounter with a native of a different kind – a big burly Scottish highway policeman.

Luck is on our side and after a backseat talking to, Max is let off with a warning. Thankfully, I uncross my fingers and forget about the big fine I was expecting. We drive on very carefully to Edinburgh.

We love Edinburgh. Hell, we love Scotland!

We love our hotel – a bit of luxury after our YHA nights; we love the food; we love the tartan fabric on the bus; and we love the old city, its castle, its art gallery, and ancient streets and stunning architecture.

We spend a day in the old city, visiting the Edinburgh Castle, walking the Royal Mile all the way to the Queen’s official residence, the Holyrood Palace.

We enjoy the shops, looking at all things Scottish.

And some unusual sights along the way, such as this lady with her face covered with piercings.

And to add to our experience, we hear bagpipes playing in the background.



Edinburgh is stunning with beautiful
tall buildings in the 'old city'



We also walk in the footsteps of another famous writer and enjoy a coffee in the very same café, the Elephant House, where she wrote her first stories.

J K Rowling sat and looked out the café window overlooking the castle and from there took inspiration for her famous Harry Potter novels. 

Elephant House Cafe made famous by
J K Rowling

It’s a busy café and as I wait in a front window seat, I watch as people peer in through the window, then stand under words that refer to Harry Potter on the outside of the café and have their photo taken – it’s quite bizarre but such is fame.

We also wait (nearly an hour) for a special procession up the Royal Mile, where 250 horses and their riders come past.

We then head to the National Gallery of Scotland for the last half hour of opening, before heading back to our hotel on the tartan seated bus.

A swim at the pool before we head for our evening meal completes the day!

Stunning views across the city. We definitely want to come back!

A tartan elephant, Max and the Queen...
what a threesome!

To find out the Scottish Wildcat and how you could help save from extinction, visit: www.highlandtiger.com

Part 4: In pursuit of great writers, lochs, whisky, wildcats and love… Scotland

INVERNESS Thurs 8.  We are on our way to Inverness, travelling through the Highlands towards Loch Ness.

We stop for lunch in the middle of the hills and mountains of Glenmoriston and get our first close glimpse of a Highland Coo (cow).

Unfortunately, the little herd is not interested in being photographed so I only get a pic of one curious little fellow.

We tell the café owners that these ‘coos’ are almost as scarce as hens teeth – we haven’t seen many at all!

Our travels take us around and along the shores of Loch Ness. Nessy is nowhere to be seen – apparently she was getting her hair done!

We do, however, find Urquhart Castle along the way and stop to have a look. It’s an impressive site and was once one of Scotland’s largest castles. It’s had a bloody past with battles over its ownership and hosted noble families – the Durwards, MacDonalds and the Grants.

We walk up its remaining intact tower and enjoy views of the loch. When we return to the info centre, we watch a short movie about the history of the castle and are impressed by the curtain opening and showing an impressive view of the castle – we realise we should have done this before we walked the site.

Just a small sample of the miles of trenches
that make up Fort George

On to Inverness and the YHA. Our room is on the corner of the building and we are within walking distance to the town centre.

The next day, we take a drive out to Fort George, but the cold day and my under-the-weather health and bitter cold wind sees us just visiting the info centre.

Inverness, known as the Capital of the Highlands, is home to 65,000 people.

In the afternoon, we take in the city, visiting the Victorian Market and the infamous Leakey’s Bookshop.

The bookshop is stacked with second hand books - from floor to second floor ceiling. I love books but I'm not fond of the smell of old books...

The Inverness Castle is impressive and watches over the city and River Ness.

We visit the museum and learn about the history of the area as well as seeing 'stuffed' wild animals which include a red fox, some badgers and a sea eagle.

Whenever we read about the history of Scotland, we are amazed by the blood thirsty-ness of its past – its battles and wars over land. The local people we meet, however, are kind and friendly – thank goodness!

We discover some of Inverness' beautiful historic buildings
such as H. Dunbar's Hospital, built originally in 1668 for the poor,
and later as a Grammar School until 1792.