The further adventures of Sinbad (sorry – I mean – Ian) the Sailor 😃
Escaping the attentions of Gertrude, the 007-licensed Government Attack-Cow, of our previous moorings came at a price. The Adderley Locks, five in a row, followed by some miles of what I have come to term the “DNS Canal”. “DNS” standing for “Do Not Stop”, a sentiment forcefully expressed by everywhere having the most outrageous examples of the “Shropshire Shelf” that I have encountered to date! There just isn’t anywhere to moor up that doesn’t require an onboard crane and some sort of breeches buoy arrangement to get a chap onto the towpath. Tis crazy, tis crazy maximus. My breakfast wore off entirely while I cruised and looked for somewhere to moor.
That somewhere presented in the form of a “Market Drayton”. A “town”.
This town having suddenly introduced itself an angling contest equally suddenly made itself known, all of the towpath and moorings between Bridge 64, Lord’s Bridge, and Bridge 63…
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