Gargrave (all over the place)

One of the reasons we’ve been off the air – a trip to Edinburgh for Jo’s graduation

WEDNESDAY

On Wednesday morning I took Buddy for a walk back up the Bank Newton locks to see if there were any lockies there who could tell me whether they thought the opening hour restrictions were having a positive impact on the water levels.  Either I was too early or the lockies were on duty elsewhere but there were none around, so I couldn’t get an answer.

The lock gates leak badly on this flight, but this lock is leaking through the side walls too

We had noticed that the water level in the pound we were moored in was fluctuating a lot during the day and we kept listing.  As we were going away for a couple of days we loosened our lines to avoid any problems whilst we were away.

When I was on my investigative walk, Karen had gone for a run in the opposite direction and had bumped into Chris & Aileen and Mel & Andy who were now moored in the middle of Gargrave.  They invited us down for a barbeque later in the evening, but we declined as Sophie and Yanos were coming up for a sleepover – they were coming up to Edinburgh with us on Thursday.

Sophie (my eldest daughter) and her surprised looking (new) husband, Yanos

When Sophie & Yanos arrived, we sat outside and watched the haymaking going on in the field next to us.  The field belongs to Lena and her husband John and I mention this because I know Lena from many years ago.  When my dad was evacuated to Gargrave in the war he often worked and stayed at Priestholme farm (the local lock is named Priestholme lock) which was run by a Robert Taylforth.  Dad, to his parents’ chagrin, enjoyed his evacuee life so much that he made Gargrave his home rather than Brighton – it is also the reason for my given middle name of Taylforth 😊

Lena and Elizabeth were Robert & Lucy’s daughters and, being a similar age to me, I became acquainted with them when my parents brought us kids up here for family holidays.  Lena married John, who was a farm hand, and they both have continued farming at Priestholme.  Their son is now taking over the day to day running.

Talking with one of the current farmhands

Buddy watching John get out of his tractor to move some bales, so he could reverse

I did have a quick chat with John, but I was very much aware (unlike my dad would have been) that he was very busy and would rather be baling than chatting to some strange boater who he would struggle to remember.  It was good to see old fashioned baling rather than today’s round bales of hay or haylage.

John (who is in his 70s) on top of the trailer

 After they finished work, late in the evening, several lapwings appeared and paddled in the pond.

THURSDAY

The four of us were up early on Thursday for a road trip to Edinburgh; Jo, Karen’s youngest, was graduating later in the day.  Cat also joined us up there and Jo had managed to get tickets for all us to watch the ceremony in the impressive McEwan hall.

On the way up, we followed a farmer with his sheep dog for a while – I thought dogs have to be restrained these days 😉

  

This was the sixth graduation ceremony for our children and there are still more to go!  Cat finishes her masters course soon and Sophie and Yanos both complete their PhDs this year.

Proud mum 😊

In the evening we went to Dishoom, a chain of Indian restaurants with a British Raj feel.  The food and the service were excellent, but it wasn’t an Indian in the sense we have grown up with; it was all delicate flavours and nothing particularly spicy but well worth a visit.

FRIDAY

It was only a flying visit to Scotland and the four of us drove home in the morning.  We had a good run back to Gargrave but poor old Sophie & Yanos had a nine-hour drive onwards to Reading, rather than the usual four or so hours.

The fields had been cleared of the hay bales and cows were now grazing in the field.  The mallard and her seven youngsters were still surviving intact in the pond.  John, the farmer, is convinced the pond had formed through leakage from the canal rather than my theory of successive recent wet years.

   

Later in the afternoon Karen, Buddy and I went camping at our favourite spot at Gordale Scar just outside Malham.  I said the other day that Malcolm, the farmer there, had told me that is was the driest he had seen it for 25 years so we weren’t surprised to see the dry beck beds.  There was still the odd spring giving water, but none ran for long before disappearing into the limestone again.

Gordale Scar – normally a torrent of water and a cacophony of sound but now bone dry and eerily silent

Unlike recent weeks it got quite chilly in the evening; it’s always colder in this part of the Dales and Karen resorted to wearing jeans when we went to visit the spot where we scattered Diesel’s ashes at the top of Janet’s Foss waterfall.

A trickle of water coming down Janet’s Foss

This is what it normally looks like and our children often swam in the cool water

SATURDAY

One of the joys of camping at Gordale Scar is that there is no phone signal so people have to make their own entertainment.

Saturday morning knitting before breakfast

The beck in front of Karen is normally full and it was really strange sleeping in deathly silence rather than listening to the happy sound of babbling water.

A drawback of having no phone signal is that we weren’t around when my mum had yet another fall and was taken into hospital again.  My sister got hold of Malcolm on his land line and he came to find us.  We drove straight down to Airedale hospital to find that Mum’s sodium levels were too low, and she was consequently confused.  She had badly bruised her ribs when she fell so was finding breathing painful and on top of that her heartbeat was irregular, so they were keeping her in until she recovers.

We were in the hospital with her whilst the English World Cup football game was on.  The roads had been quiet driving in and there was just one family in the waiting area in A&E!  It was quite the opposite when we went back on Sunday of course.

SUNDAY

We packed up camp on Sunday morning and came home to the boat so we could be somewhere where there was mobile phone reception.  It wasn’t quite the birthday weekend we had planned for Karen but at least my mum is in safe hands.

It’s only three weeks before we have our annual family camping trip to Gordale Scar, so we will soon be back.  This year we expect to be about 17 people strong, so it should be good fun, assuming Malcolm still has water (which comes from the fells and is consequently always an odd brown colour).

I said the other day how eccentric he is and how he likes to hoard things.  Over recent years he has had to start hoarding in the washing up area and it has built up so much that there is only one sink available now.

  

The first stranded boats have started leaving Liverpool docks and going down the Mersey and Manchester Ship canal to Chester. Two convoys have been escorted so far so nine boats have now left, well 10, if we count Chris & Aileen who were craned out a week ago or so.  Thanks to Karen’s cousin Dave Heatley, and his wife Barbara, for keeping us updated.  They are staying there as long as possible and going out in the last batch of boats.

The first boats getting ready to be escorted from the docks

Obviously, we’re not sure what this week will bring.  We had planned on cruising on to Skipton for a few days but will now stay put until we are clear on what is happening with Mum. 

Monday morning sunrise from our bedroom