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Showing posts with label narrow boats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label narrow boats. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 03, 2014

High Summer on Crack Hill

"Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you." ~Carl Sandburg

  We were cruising on new water for me. Les has been up the Leicester Arm twice but this was my first time. Rural in nature with some spectacular views between Crick and Yelvertoft, it is an extremely busy section of the cut, with a lot of hire boats on the move as well as a few share boats and private shiny boats--all racing by without slowing down. What is it with folks these days? The Canal Boat Club hire boats even have a sticker below the ignition requesting drivers slow right down when approaching and passing moored boats. Some days it is madness--the total antithesis of being on a cut. Go figure!! 
   It was a year ago on August 17th we received Les' cancer diagnosis, so we celebrated Les' return to good health quietly with a walk up Crack Hill overlooking the village of Crick to South and Yelvertoft to the West, reveling in the view far above the fray. We indulged in my Best Beloved's favorite summer past time: picking blackberries! 
   The hedgerows are loaded with an abundance of ripe fruit so come along with me--the best is yet to be! Walk with us to the top of Crack Hill and back home again...and glory in the great green and golden tapestry that is high summer in England...
NB Valerie is all buttoned up as we walk away up the towpath.
This is the entrance to Yelvertoft Marina--newly built in 2010 with 150 berths, offering 23.25 miles of lock free canal to toddle along. Originally part of Flint Hill Farm, we were told by locals that the farmer is the owner of this marina. 
We've crossed the canal at bridge 17. Farmland and low, rolling hills lay just beyond the low hedgerow of Fireweed and dried flowers on one side...
while the other side of the path wears a tall green fringe laden with late summer fruits and berries! Hawthorn (good for the heart muscle), and Sloes--aka Blackthorn.
 You are probably familiar with Sloes as an ingredient of the drink Sloe Gin Fizz. Sloe Gin is made from soaking the fruit in gin or vodka with sugar added and allowing it to mature. 
   I am familiar with Spinus Prunosa as a medicinal plant and it has been used extensively for many thousands of years. You may remember the discovery of an ancient body frozen in the Italian Alps in 1991. Otzi as he was named, dated from Neanderthal times (3350-3300 BCE). Amongst his precious few belongings were found some dried sloes--medicine for his journey.
  A tea from the flowers is a harmless and reliable purgative and has beneficial effects on the stomach and stimulates appetite. Recommended for mild bladder problems, skin problems, catarrh, stomach cramps, dropsy (edema), and stone formation. Juice of the berries used for inflammations in the mouth and throat. A jam made of the fruit is a palatable laxative safe especially for children. A decoction of the root bark reduces fever.

Blackberries reaching for the sun! They too are medicinal. A tea of the dried leaves alleviates diarrhea. Blackberries and Raspberries contain Ellagic acid--a potent cancer preventative.
“Ellagic acid prevents the binding of carcinogens to DNA and strengthens connective tissue, which may keep cancer cells from spreading.” Ellagic Acid has the ability to inhibit mutations within a cell’s DNA. Furthermore, it is considered to be a cancer inhibitor which has the ability to cause apoptosis or normal cell death in cancer cells." (Webster Kehr, Independent Cancer Research Foundation, Inc. | Last updated on March 14, 2013)
It is amazing to me how abundantly blessed the hedgerows are in this country. Ma Nature is generous in Her fecundity.
A break in the hedge allows us a view of Crack Hill surrounded by golden wheat.
The gate up ahead marks the farmer's land and this Bridle Path and footpath are a public right of way. 
 The air is warm and honeyed with the slightly floral scent of ripening berries and an undertone of licorice from drifts of Sweet Cicely growing nearby. Bees buzz, birds sing, the wind kisses our cheek, and the clouds change shape and color as we watch.
   Beyond the gate, a short walk across a small grassy field bounded on three sides by Blackberry brambles and littered with Sheep scat, and we climb quickly to the rounded summit of Crack Hill.
A lovely spot for a sunny picnic!
  Reaching the top we spy a Jubilee Beacon, a picnic table, and a plaque which explains that this is a glacial outcrop on the edge of the Northamptonshire heights from which the town of Crick takes its name (from the Celtic word cruc meaning hill). Worked flint has been found there indicating pre-historic activity. There is also evidence of a Roman Station and of open field ridge & furrow farming predating the Enclosure Act of 1778. Human activity has marked this hill for thousands of years.
Strong man holds up the Jubilee beacon! Les looking and feeling fit and healthy.
The top of Crack Hill is circled by giant oaks...
...giving it the feel of a pagan chapel. As a witch I would love to return to Crack Hill on the high holy days of Winter solstice, Spring Equinox, May Eve, Summer Solstice, Fall equinox, and close my year at Samhain (Oct. 31st) standing in the twilight on the summit with the wind blowing around me. For me Crack Hill is a sacred place. I can easily believe that while Christians worshiped in the Crick village church, witches met on Crack Hill to turn the wheel of the year and give thanks to the Goddess and the Green Man.
Looking outward to the fields beyond and moving in a circle around to the right. I loved the way the lone far tree in the hedgerow was framed by the break in the trees on the Hill.
A close up from the hilltop, of the canal below, which curls around three sides of the hill. Beyond is a green checkerboard of fields and hedgerows that seem to roll on forever. 
One after another, narrow boats cruise in meandering curves following the canal as it curves around the foot of the hill.
A narrow boat below cruises slowly toward the village of Crick in the distance.
A close up of the path from Crick village to Crack Hill and three walkers surrounded by verdant green pasture. The village church tower stands tall and proud, marking the spot where Christians have worshiped since the beginning of the Norman conquest. Off to the far right on the village pitch...
...a football game is in progress.
Between Crack Hill and the public footpath across the green pasture, another narrow boat glides slowly into view!
Boaters are making the most of the sunshine as another one slips by with wind Gennie's in the background.
Looking down on the wheat farm at the foot of the hill, it is time to start back.
The path down leads between two large oaks, moving through the farmer's gate. The pasture below is ringed on all sides...
...with blackberries! We stop and fill two containers to overflowing. It is not for nothing that one of Les' nicknames is Blackberry Biggs!
Off the hill, blackberries picked, we cross a low field and make for the gate...
beyond which is a field of sweet corn (the word corn is a generic term used by Brits for any field grain), and the path back home to NB Valerie.
 Even though this isn't a typical kissing gate, Dear Sir is waiting to kiss me through...
On our way back to the cut we pass the wheat farm we saw from the hill top.
Yelvertoft Marina from canal bridge 17.
Across the bridge, down the stairs...

...and onto the towpath where I spotted this fuzzy caterpillar making its way toward the canal. I wonder what kind of butterfly it will become?
Further on past the marina this bridge bears the marks of the horse's tether in its brick facing, from the days of horse drawn boats.
In the galley we weigh our plump, purple booty. Five pounds!! I can see into the future and I spy Blackberry and Apple pie, Blackberry cobbler, and Blackberry and Apple Crumble.
A blackberry sunset bids us goodnight.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

A Visit From Nev!

"A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet.” ~ Will Rogers 

 

   I hadn't met Nev Wells in person; we grew to know one another through our blogs. Nev and his wife Rachel own NB Waterlilly.

   I found his blog as I searched the 'Net for single handed boaters back in late 2009. I was immediately captivated by his profile picture: Fradley Junction at sunset. It is beautiful and emotionally evocative--the kind of picture every good photographer wishes to take. As I read Nev's posts I was touched by his honesty and gentleness. I enjoyed his observations on life in general and people in particular. Every now and then I left comments to let Nev know his writing reached out and touched me all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.

   Nev knew Les in passing and followed his boat blog. When Les and I fell in love I wrote a blog about our story So this is Love. Nev began following, commenting as he read and our online friendship grew. 

Nev and Les in front of NB Valerie

   We missed meeting up as Les and I cruised North last March, so Dear Sir and I were thrilled to connect with Nev at last, inviting him and Rachel aboard NB Valerie. Nev came for coffee and carrot cake today and we had a great visit.

   We've both been employed in academia and have an understanding of university campus life; his wife is working on a Masters degree in Nursing--a difficult and sometimes grueling undertaking not for the faint of heart. She loves interacting with people and she's very good at what she does which is saving lives and helping people heal. I've several friends and acquaintances in the States who are also nurses and who teach for nursing programs. Nev and Rachel have traveled to the States so we share common ground there as well. 

   We had a lovely chinwag about living aboard and Les and I shared some anecdotes regarding our cultural differences.

   Nev in person is just as he is on his blog--honest, gentle, smart, funny, introspective. And I love his hair cut; I had one like it not too many years ago!

   Rachel couldn't come as she had exams for which to study but we sent Nev home with extra carrot cake to fuel her studying and we look forward to seeing them both some time in the future.

   To quote another boating friend named Mo, "Aren't boaters lovely?" Yes, yes they are; I am thankful for the welcome and acceptance I've received in this floating community along cut.

   It is a unique fellowship with folks across a wide spectrum of employment, personal experience, lifestyles and cultures who all enjoy life with a narrow boat in it somewhere.

   We also share a deep appreciation for British canal engineering and the beauty, thrill, and privilege of traveling this country seeing the best of it in a manner that provides real opportunity to really take it all in and relish the moments, people, and places we experience; to breathe it in and make it a part of who we are--not just a person or place to be collected, categorized, photographed and forgotten in the pursuit of the next event.

   A lifetime of surviving out there in that other world left me stressed and clenched--body and soul--always waiting for the next crisis to strike. A year in England, married to Les and living aboard our boat has unclenched my fists and my spirit.

   I know happiness now in a way I've never experienced it previously. No longer a brief emotional state brought about by external happenstance, true happiness shines inside me like a light. It is the reflection of how I live my life each day, having found the place I belong at last, feeling extremely fortunate to share it with my very best friend. 

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Looking back: A Pictorial visit to Brewood Part I

t   We visited Brewood in mid February. I am looking back and attempting to catch up so our blog is more timely. It is hard to find time between traveling to new places so frequently, working online instructing my courses, and the activities of daily living such as cooking, cleaning, and laundry. My days are not dull and I find myself surprised by how quickly each one fills up.
   Here then is a two part pictorial journey to and through Brewood. I designed these posts mainly for Americans who have never been on a narrow boat or traveled along a canal, and for those folks who have never lived aboard or continuously cruised.

Extracts from A Corner of Old England James Penderel Brodhurst,

                                     May 12th 1883. (www.brewoodvillage.org.uk)

old picture   “Within 130 miles of London there surely cannot be another spot where the England of the day before yesterday can be studied so perfectly. Brewood consist of half a dozen streets and a market place. Every street contains something interesting to the rambler in this forgotten town.
   It enjoys the title of town by reason of the market which was granted to its men by Henry II six hundred and sixty two years ago. The market has disappeared this hundred years, but the lazy, dreamy life of the old place goes on as always.
   The annual wake is the one excitement of the year, and then there is the brave gathering of the clans from the country round and from over the little river Penk, which is the natural boundary between Stafford and Salop.”
   The Famous Brewood Wake, which was held in Medieval times to commemorate St. Mary’s birthday on the Sunday nearest September 8th, is still held, albeit every four years.
Market Square    Although the population has expanded, Brewood retains its original character and has been designed a conservation area. There is an abundance of listed buildings: half-timbered old houses and cottages in the traditional black and white style, alongside dignified houses of the Georgian and Queen Anne period. It is difficult to isolate any for special mention, but Dean Street is particularly appealing, providing a very attractive setting for the Parish church of Saint Mary the Virgin, and Saint Chad." (Accessed online 04/12/12).
   The Norman Domesday Book documented the village as 'Breude'. The name is probably a compound made up of a Celtic, Brythonic word with an Anglo Saxon, Old English word.[1] The first element is the British word 'briga', which appears in modern Welsh as 'bre'. This is the most common of a number of Celtic place-name elements signifying a hill.[2] It appears in various combinations, but sometimes on its own, as in Bray. Margaret Gelling, a specialist in West Midland toponyms, suggested that it was often misunderstood by the Anglo-Saxons as a name rather than as a common noun. So they thought they had come upon a place called by the natives Brig or Bre, rather than simply a hill. This is why the word is often combined tautologically, as in Breedon on the Hill, where all three elements have the same meaning.
The second element is probably obvious: the Anglo-Saxon 'wudu', signifying a wood. Hence the name Brewood means either "Wood on or by a hill" or "Wood near a place called Bre". (Wikipedia, accessed 04/12/12).
   The old Roman road, Watling Street, (now the A5 trunk road) runs one mile to the north of the village. There were small Roman stations along this route... however...the history of Brewood really begins with the Anglo-Saxon settlement, when it emerged as a village within Mercia.
   The place name suggests that it came into existence during the earlier part of the Anglo-Saxon period, when there were still people in the area of Celtic language and culture. However, the first real documentation comes after the Norman conquest of England.
   At the Domesday survey, in 1086, Brewood fell within the Cuttlestone Hundred of Staffordshire. The survey records that it was held by the Bishop of Chester and that it had been a church property before 1066. However, the landholder of the manor of Brewood in the Middle Ages is generally stated to be the Diocese of Lichfield. This is not a contradiction, but reflects the shifts in the seat of the diocese.
   In 1075, Peter, bishop of Lichfield, had transferred his see to Chester, and there it remained until 1102, when it moved to Coventry. From 1228, the official title was the Diocese of Coventry and Lichfield.
   Brewood was assessed for tax purposes as 5 hides, the hide being notionally an area of 120 acres, although at this time it had become simply a unit of tax liability, irrespective of actual area. Domesday also records Brewood as consisting of enough land for 20 ploughs.
   The bishop had twenty slaves cultivating his land in the village. The rest of the population consisted of 24 villagers, 18 smallholders and a priest. There were two mills, presumably on the River Penk. There was also a substantial area of woodland, tending to confirm the accepted etymology. However Domesday records that the value of the village was £10 in 1066, and had halved in the twenty years since. Hence we can be sure that it had prospered in the late Anglo-Saxon period but had suffered a check to its growth during, and perhaps because of, Norman rule.
   Norman rule brought Forest Law to the area, and it was not until 1204, in the reign of King John, that Brewood Forest was abolished. It should be noted that a forest was a royal hunting reserve, not necessarily wooded. The area of the parish to the east of the Penk was not part of Brewood Forest, but belonged to the Forest of Cank or Cannock Chase. It was not deforested until about a century later.[4]
Shortly after deforestation, in 1221, a charter for a Friday market at Brewood was granted to the Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield suggesting considerable growth and increased prosperity since the Domesday survey.
   From the mid-12th century, two religious communities of women developed in the Brewood area. The priory of St Mary, Brewood, generally known as Blackladies, was a Benedictine house, to the west of the village. It owned land and property around Brewood, and elsewhere in Staffordshire and Shropshire. 
   There is much ancient history in and around this village worth looking into if you are a history buff.
   In 2012 Brewood is a village in revival due to the automobile which allows folks to reside in Brewood and commute to work.

   Here we  go then, part I of a pictorial journey in and around Brewood...

NB Valerie heading under Avenue Bridge 10 on the Shroppie. Look at the beautiful balustrades used on the bridge top, and stairs on the right leading up from the canal.  
Through the bridge... 
 
...and out the other side; looking back through at Chillington bridge 9 in the distance.
My first view of the village of Brewood from the canal. The church spire is a constant, seen from every place in the village. The canal sits atop an embankment offering splendid views across the fields of Brewood. See the kissing gate on the lower right which opens to a public footpath into the village?
The boat ahead of us is exiting Deans Hall bridge 12...
..through which we entered. After School bridge 13 the canal drops from an embankment overlooking Brewood into a cutting with quite steep sides. The village is up at the top. NB Valerie is moored to the right, with Brewood bridge 14 ahead.
Walking from the boat, we come back down the towpath toward School Bridge...
...and out the other side. The towpath leads on to a public footpath up the embankment. Brewood school is up on the right.
At the top of the path to the gate. The bridge is on the left, and the school is there on the right. We will turn right, walk past the school...
...and follow the small dirt lane around into the village, keeping an eye on the church spire in the distance.
Large privet hedges enclose the road, leading us onward... 
"Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction.."
...to a sign which says "public footpath", and points toward a long, narrow walkway between a building and a tall hedge.
A sharp left off the dirt lane and the 21st century falls away..
...as we follow a well worn path trodden by countless feet over many, many centuries; looking back the way we came...
...and facing forward the way we are going, into an ancient, narrow warren of brick walls. The church spire directs us of toward the heart of the village.
What appears to be a proverbial brick wall to nowhere...
...actually leads on to the right and a sharp left.
And here we are! A doorway onto the sidewalks of Brewood, with the church yard adjacent. I literally felt as though I had traveled centuries back through time, as well as a mile from the canal and the comforts of our floating home.

Crossing the street from the magical doorway in time and walking up the pavement (sidewalk) brought us to this tiny police station. The church is out of sight just to the right. You can see the corner of the churchyard wall there...
...and looking back the way we've come. The main or high street of Brewood is lined with interesting little shops.
My favorite boater taking a break on our way to the Cooperative store for a few groceries.
This is the water trough and village water pump which appears in the 1800's black and white picture near the top of this post. The Cooperative food store is across the street.
on our way back now, Les leads the way..
..."this is a public footpath and it is an offense to ride motor cycles and horses beyond this point..."
Back down the long, narrow pathway...
where Dear Sir waits for me to catch up.
Les with one of our many reusable grocery bags in hand. He is standing in front of a very old hedge which blocks the view across the fields to the canal. 
Back down the lane, past the school to the bridge and back into the 21st century.
 Les walks down the public footpath...
 which connects at the bottom with the towpath on the Shroppie.

 Back under School bridge we walk..
 getting a horse's eye view of the rubbing strake which caught the friction of the rope leading the horses which used to pull the canal boats before the age of the engine. 
 Here is a close up of the gouges in the metal from the ropes!  
Home again, home again to NB Valerie.
Now my American family and friends have an idea of life on the cut. Everything we have on board must be located, procured, and carried back on foot!


NB Valerie & Steam Train by Les Biggs

NB Valerie & Steam Train by Les Biggs