"The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy!" ~ Robert Burns, To a Mouse, 1785
We left Battle Bridge Basin in London the next morning at 7:15 am, slipping away from our breasted up mooring behind the London Canal Museum, excited to be on new waters for us both, faces shining in the sun as we cruised.
I was so excited to see the Lee and Stort as I had mapped all the canals in the UK on Google Earth before Les and I ever met and it was the final one on which I worked. I wanted to see Waltham Abbey and the castle in Hertfordshire. I wanted a taste of rural Southeastern England.
Finally after a frustrating morning dealing with East London local boaters whose maneuvers seemed designed to keep us from ever reaching Limehouse, we came out of the final lock and into Limehouse Basin, slowly turning right. After reviewing the mooring situation we decided to carry on to the Lee and Stort where we would find a lovely quiet bit of shuttered mooring on which to stay the night.
As we passed under the next bridge the London Marathon was winding up and the final runners were passing overhead.
I realized how hungry we were, having cruised steadily from 7:15 a.m. until 12:30 p.m about the time I discovered we had no more bread! "Not a problem!" said Dear Sir and he pulled NB Valerie over to the nearest railings, tied us up, stepped off and said, "I'll be right back" as he blew me a kiss. Up the stairs to the street, across the bridge--and he disappeared from site only to reappear five minutes later with bread in hand!
I made lunch as Les got us underway again and we sat on the stern in the lovely warm sun eating Tapp sandwiches and drinking freshly made American Lemonade.
Refreshed by lunch Les and I were really pleased to be on this journey at last. We had planned all winter for this and we were finally on the Lee and Stort!
We left the towered businesses of central London behind us as a gentle wind urged us along. It didn't take long to reach the bow locks. The Bow backs as they are called, are currently closed to cruising for some construction changes I believe. They are scheduled to open to boaters in 2014. We left behind large blocks of canal side businesses and apartments and soon enough we reached our first set of locks.
The left side lock was electric and the right side lock was manual. I stayed with the boat while Les went up with my keys to read the directions on the automatic lock. We knew we were close to the Olympic stadium and we were curious about what awaited us as we rose up in the lock. Looking back we said a proper goodbye to London. Ahead--still more industry!
One of the Olympic Waterbus sites, smack in the middle of a dubious looking construction area. I am surprised those boats would load up with tourists in an area that is so obviously industrialized.
Cruising onward we passed old mills, former industrial inlets, and the back of the Olympic stadium which popped in and out of view as we twisted and turned., along with the Orbit--a strange red eyesore if ever I've seen one, peeking through a jungle of construction sites with mountainous piles of rubble.
These folks live in units with strange decks that point out across the canal towards the back side of the Olympic stadium. I wonder what their view was like during games?
Eventually we moved right by the stadium's upward reaching arch supports, past cranes in open industrial sites and continued on under low bridges into what at first peek might have been some open country--but no, it was a prelude to more industry.
We passed on through the edge of Hoxton and Tottenham, notorious for crime and crowding, with the apartments growing smaller and more cramped, the towers taller.
Children play in concrete courtyards as the afternoon sun heats things up.
If you buy it you could be home by now. Perhaps a circular viewpoint says 'home?' Especially with the metal tree sculpture blooming perennially in place of real, live trees. Nope I think not! We keep cruising onward hoping for a quiet bit of countryside...
...past more apartment
blocks--this time with bars on the windows and doors; even the top most
floors had security grills on their porches. Graffiti covered the walls
and every nook and cranny of outdoor space was filled with people
enjoying the warm spring sun. Green spaces were rammed and pub yards
overflowed with humanity. 
Wicked sharp metal fencing fans out, strung with barbed wire to keep criminals outside...
The Anchor and Hope pub--shoebox sized and old fashioned, it is dwarfed by centuries of new buildings. The pub's web page suggests, "Our wonderful pub garden enjoys stunning views of the River Lea; a
perfect spot in summer, and our roaring log fire also makes our pub a
cosy winter retreat, too." Personally, after having seen the view on the Lea, I would sit inside for a pint.
Onward we cruised as the afternoon began to wear thin. We passed yet more industry, to arrive at a place where the industrial and the artistic met and created a wonderful moment to watch live art in the making!
These people...
...are watching these people create public art, painting over gang signs and obscenities. 
Birds on a wire and a moment of pure joy in the afternoon sun. My favorite public art piece is the fish sisters as I named them. We had no idea this would be the only bit of real joy along our journey...
At last the countryside appears and the vista opens up! This is a section of the lower Lea Valley Regional Park which we thought would provide us with the mooring place we sought. Unfortunately it was marred for the remainder of our day's cruise by the electricity pylons following alongside and a waste incinerator labeled an "EcoPark!" Really? REALLY????
We have a saying in the States: tie a ribbon on a pig--it's still a pig. I held my nose at the acrid smell of incinerated chemicals hanging in the air as we hurried on by.
Now we began to encounter rafts of local boaters sometimes tied three abreast, floating islands, surrounded by their own garbage which filled the water and floated everywhere. Miles and miles of the wide Lee navigation went on like this and our spirits began to droop. Why were there so many boaters rammed into a relatively small section of the Lee in an area not known for safety?
Now we began to encounter rafts of local boaters sometimes tied three abreast, floating islands, surrounded by their own garbage which filled the water and floated everywhere. Miles and miles of the wide Lee navigation went on like this and our spirits began to droop. Why were there so many boaters rammed into a relatively small section of the Lee in an area not known for safety?
Always keep your trolley nearby and in plain site!
What's 66,000 volts of electricity amongst a group of continuous moorers?
Mats of garbage floated everywhere amongst the breasted up boaters; it clung to canal side shrubs, and waited in locks to wrap itself around the rudder and prop.
Don't you just covet these adorable countryside permanent mooring spots guaranteed to lift the hairs on the back of your neck?
By now it was three o'clock in the afternoon. We were hungry and tired. Surely we will find a safe, sweet spot to moor soon?
What's that old saw about fools and angels? Fools rush in where angels fear to tread....despite trying several times the banks were too shallow and there was no place for us to get in and moor, so we kept going, and going, and going.
Every lock we approached was against us and for some damn reason the top gates were always left open with at least one paddle up. It seemed to take forever to get through the locks now.
Some were all electric, some had electric gates only but manual winding of the paddles and some were all manual--one never knew on approach what to expect. Every lock offered thin hope of a possible mooring at the top, and failed us miserably upon
Some were all electric, some had electric gates only but manual winding of the paddles and some were all manual--one never knew on approach what to expect. Every lock offered thin hope of a possible mooring at the top, and failed us miserably upon
exiting. Either we could not get into the very shallow bank lined with floating flotsam and jetsam, or there were boats already moored up in the only place one could get into.
Finally, twelve hours and fifteen locks later, we came up below Waltham Abbey lock, threw up our hands and gave up. We moored for the night in between a string of boats next to a side street where large lorries were pulled in overnight and we called it quits.
Not an auspicious beginning to our new waters-southern cruising plans. Perhaps some hot food and a restful night's sleep would change things? I've included all these pictures Ad Nauseum because I want to be sure folks who read the posts about this waterway understand I am not exaggerating our experiences.
