After what seemed to be weeks of wild weather through a wet, windy and unpleasant January, February started with a bright spell. The forecast was promising, and on the day a cold, clear blue sky promised my favourite sort of winter day. I had plans to make a longer trip in my outlander, and so was soon on the road over the Pennines to Buxworth Basin, where one arm of the Peak Forest canal starts.
This is an interesting place, once one of the largest ports on the canal network, an interchange between a tramway from quarries at Dove Holes and barges that would carry limestone and lime to the industrial centres of the North-West. It has been extensively renovated, and the remains of the tramway, wharfs and lime kilns can be explored on foot and on the water.
I put in to the canal basin by mid-morning, the sheltered waters still iced over after a sub-zero night. A group of school children were making slow progress in rafted canoes, enjoying breaking the ice with their paddles. This made life easier for me, but once into the cut, I had to force my own passage. A narrow boat coming the other way was having trouble steering against the press of the ice, so I was able to help it make the corner by breaking up the ice, allowing its long hull to turn.
The passage of the barge made things easier for me, though in places the ice had blown together again across the cut, and in more sheltered places had refrozen. The water was open in more exposed areas, where a brisk wind stirred small waves running along the canal.
My dog, who often accompanies me on days on the water, was having his first trip in this boat, and was getting used to its livelier ride. He enjoyed standing on the bow barking at the many mallards and Canada geese along the way. This kept my hands full keeping the boat steady, but did also give me the chance to try some shots of birds in flight from the canoe – not altogether successful with him jumping round in the boat, but good fun none the less!
The winter sun was bright, and tried hard to warm things up, but the shadows stayed cold and isolated ice floes still floated in places. I enjoyed the sunlit curve of the towpath passing under the arch of a bridge, so paused briefly to make an image before continuing towards Marple.
I made reasonable progress despite the ice, propelled by the wind that was mostly behind me, until I reached the wind tunnel formed by the canalside buildings of a sweets factory at New Mills. It doesn’t matter which way the wind blows, or which direction you come from on this stretch – you always find yourself fighting against blasts of saccharine-smelling air which push you into the side of the cut. Fortunately it is a short struggle, and things ease after a couple of hundred yards. A narrow boat sat submerged to its gunnels here, a sad sight as it looked to be a recent event.
Clear of New Mills, the canal runs high on the side of the Goyt valley, and from the towpath there are open views back towards the Peak District moors. Down in the cut, the views are more limited, but in places a spire or a chimney pokes over the horizon to speak of nearby but otherwise unseen habitation. Coming round a gentle bend on one such stretch, I enjoyed the lines of winter trees reaching over the cut, with a distant chimney hinting at the area’s industrial past. The deep blue winter sky reflected in the sheltered water, giving a visual reminder of the cold air.
Along this stretch of canal, there are a number of low bridges, which either swing or lift clear of the canal to allow boats to pass. Fortunately for the paddler, there is enough room to duck under them in a game of canoe limbo, which saves a lot of effort and time.
Before long, I reached my turning point at bridge 22. Not as far as I had hoped to get, but still a good outing on a bright, cold winter’s day. A narrow boat came under the lift bridge as I turned to go, but before long I had overtaken it, and made a steady return to Buxworth Basin, finishing as the sun dipped to the horizon.
Another group of school children were out breaking the ice ahead of me as I came into the basin. I was tempted to explore for a while, but after a ten mile trip, much of the last half against a fresh easterly breeze, I was ready for a cup of tea and a rest.
A short carry across the towpath put the boat on the car, and then I sat in the last of the sun for a few minutes before heading back over the watershed to home.
Leave a Reply