Part 3

After this experience we were strangely unanimous as to the desirability of going through in some less risky manner (we accused each other of "funking" afterwards), and accordingly sought the aid of a man, a boy, and a wheelbarrow, and in this unconventional manner conveyed our goods and chattels overland to the other end of the tunnel.

In the course of our journey along the canals we passed through a number of these tunnels, including the one that starts close to Chatterby Station, and goes under Yield and Golden Hills. The passage of barges through some of these tunnels is performed in a very curious manner, as owing to the roofs being too low to admit of tugs passing through, the heavily laden canal barges have to be "footed" along by men and boys lying on their backs and pushing against the roof or walls of the tunnel.

As may be imagined, but slow progress is made in this manner, the passage of some of the tunnels occupying upwards of an hour. In some cases, however, the tunnels are provided with a narrow tow-path running through them, which, of course, greatly facilitates the passage, as when once momentum is obtained, a man and a boy can tow a barge through without much difficulty.

We next reached Harecastle, in Cheshire, where we landed for lunch. Re-starting, after doing justice to a good feed, we soon encountered a cluster of thirty-five locks (think of it) all grouped together within a distance of six miles. Finding the negotiating of two or three a weariness of the flesh, we cast around for help, and fortunately came across a "locked-out" coal-miner, who for two shillings cheerfully trotted on ahead, and opened each of the remaining locks ready for us by the time we arrived, thus giving us a welcome rest after a spell of hard work.

After getting through the locks we had a straight-away paddle of some nine miles, which was a pleasant change after the slow and tedious progress we had lately been making, and passing by Alleyfield and Sandbach Station, brought our day's journey to an end at Middlewich, where we are glad to leave the canoe at the lock-house, and make preparations for passing the night.

Proceeding next morning, with the sun shining and everything looking fresh and lovely after the rain of the previous day, we got into the picturesque, country peculiar to the salt district.

Some distance out of the town we obtained a pleasant tow of a few miles behind a barge going in our direction, and from an old lady in a picturesque sun-bonnet; who came out of the cabin to chat with us, we got the welcome information that we should pass through a wonderful nut-grove on the banks of the canal, where she prophesied that we should have a real royal time. And she was about right!

Such a profusion of filberts I never have seen before. The trees literally were interlaced across the canal, and being in a perfectly out-of-the-way spot, where scarcely anyone but the canal-boat people passed, the branches were simply weighed down with the toothsome nuts.

We were told by our informant that the filberts were anybody's property; so when we came to where the trees were heaviest laden we paddled beneath the bough and soon had picked enough to fill the bows of the canoe. You may be sure we never wanted for filberts upon the rest of the day's journey.

I pictured with what delight the average schoolboy would have hailed that nut-grove, especially as the gathering of the nuts from the bank would have entailed torn clothes, many tumbles, and unlimited scratches.

After passing through lovely country, we arrived at Preston Brook, where we joined the Duke of Bridgewater Canal (now the property of the Manchester Ship Canal Company).

Here we decided to stop for tea, after which we once more proceeded on our way, and after an uneventful paddle, brought our day's journey to a close at Grappenhall, where we obtained comfortable quarters for the night at a cottage on the canal side.

Up at six-thirty next morning, and after cleaning out the canoe and indulging in our morning swim, sat down to a good breakfast, to which we did ample justice.

Once more afloat, we made good progress towards Manchester, but after about an hour's paddle it came on to rain in torrents, and continued so until we reached Cottonopois, which we fetched at about one o'clock. I have always been given to understand that it does little else but rain at Manchester, and certainly on this occasion the much-maligned city did not belie its reputation.

However, we did not trouble ourselves much, about the rain, as we had mackintoshes and sou'-westers on.

Presenting much the appearance of a pair of ancient mariners in our get-up, we entered Hulme dockyard, safely berthed our canoe there, and prepared to spend the next two days with friends in the city.

After passing two very pleasant days, during which we saw all that could be seen during such a brief stay, we said good-bye to our hospitable Manchester friends and pushed on towards our destination and in due time reached Booth Town, close to Barton moss, passing en route Old Trafford Park. Near by here we arrived at the famous swivel bridge by which the Bridgewater Canal is carried over the Manchester Ship Canal.

We happened to get to this point just as the bridge was opened to traffic for the first time, and as we paddled across in state we were hailed and told that ours was the very first canoe to have the distinction of crossing the new waterway.

During the rest of the day's paddle we were in the very heart of the coal-mining district, and our progress caused no little comment and wonder to the crowds of "locked-out" miners and their families. So embarrassing became their attentions at length that we had to abandon our original intention of landing at Wigan, owing to the numerous crowd awaiting our approach at that place.

Twice we essayed to get ashore, but finally, not appreciating the appearance of the motley crowd, we pushed on until we reached Plank Lane, where, the crowd of idlers being a little less dense, we summoned up pluck enough to venture ashore.

Even here we found ourselves the centre of attraction to the people; rough miners crowding around as we lifted our canoe from the water, to stare in amazement at our appearance, some even going so far in their admiration of our little craft as to pass their hands along its polished sides, all the while expressing their opinions in such a broad vernacular as to be almost unintelligible to our Southern ears. They thought it was a joke upon our part when we told them that we had paddled all the way from London in the canoe. The way they nudged each other and winked solemnly was most expressive.

Their attentions at last became so overwhelming that we were compelled to give the craft into the care of the friendly lock-keeper and beat a hasty retreat.

Our host at Leigh very kindly afforded us a much-wished-for opportunity of exploring a coal-mine. Getting up early in the morning, we proceeded to the mouth of the pit, entered the cage, and soon were speeding downward at a most alarming pace, accomplishing the distance of 700 yards in forty-five seconds.

The sensation accompanying this rapid descent into the bowels of the earth was far from pleasant, but we quickly recovered when we reached terra firma, and, when we had become accustomed to the intense darkness, were soon able to follow our guide through the almost deserted workings.

The miners were on strike, and only the engineers and others necessary to attend to the machinery for keeping the shafts and workings ventilated and free from water were on duty, so that the desolate stillness of the place impressed us more profoundly, perhaps, than if we had been surrounded by busy toilers.

After going all over the mine, each with Davy lamp in hand--during which we had several times to chase our head-gear, which was blown off by the strong draught from the ventilating fans--we once more entered the cage and were quickly whirled upwards to the light of day.

Next day we embarked rather later than was our usual custom, and paddled on towards Preston, having to traverse a portion of the river Ribble before we reached this town. Nothing very interesting or exciting occurred upon this day, except for a rather narrow shave we had of getting smashed up by a barge.

It happened that one of us was towing, while the other remained in the canoe to steer. Just as we got to a very narrow strip of the canal near the entrance to a lock, we met some barges coming down in tow of a tug, and, as luck would have it, our tow-line fouled a tree stump just at the moment when the tail barge began to swing ominously over towards our bank.