We had steered our narrowboat into the lock at Swineford on the navigable section of the Bristol Avon before 8 a.m., heading upstream, back towards Bath. Two and a half hours later, we were still there. We were stuck.
Having worked the lock’s paddles, our boat had climbed the requisite 10 feet to be level with the stretch of river ahead. We were poised to open the lock gate and press on towards the Kennet and Avon canal. This, however, meant having to push against the swirling waters of a tidal river. There were only two of us, one still recovering from hip surgery, and pushing the gates of this particular lock open was a job that would need a strong team of helpers. A pack of rugby forwards would be ideal, a recently hospitalised wife less so.
But never mind a rugby team, we hadn’t seen a single other person all morning.
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