Through Canal-Land in a Canadian Canoe | Page 4

took advantage of the
good-nature of the bargees and their wives, and obtained a tow behind
their barges when we wanted a rest. On the whole, we found them a
most interesting and sociable lot of people, and on more than one
occasion we were invited on board, as honoured guests, to partake of
tea with the skipper and his family.
Life on board one of these slow-moving canal barges appeared to me to
possess many charms. The barge people seem to pass a sort of
amphibious existence, belonging neither to the land nor to the water,

but having a human interest in each. The women and children almost
wholly live aboard their floating homes, often never stepping ashore
from one day to the other and going about their domestic duties, as well
as those connected with their calling, with all the precision and
cheerfulness in the world, as if there were nothing strange or
out-of-the-way in their surroundings.
Then the scenery through which they pass. To anyone who is capable
of appreciating the beauties of Nature in the slightest degree, there must
be something soothing and elevating in constantly being brought face
to face with Nature in all her varying charms. Now gliding calmly past
a water-side village, with the children running out to give you a
greeting; then through a waving, poppy-starred cornfield, or past
low-lying meadows, with the meditative cattle standing knee-deep in
the sweet pasturage, and anon a bend in the canal carries you past
wood-lands where the trees meet overhead and form a cool canopy
through which the rays of the sun can only penetrate here and there in
slanting beams.
When my thoughts wander in this groove, I often marvel at people
electing to live in stuffy, smoky towns, when the charms of the country
are at their bidding.
Proceeding on our journey after tea, we eventually arrived at
Stoke-on-Trent, and went ashore to seek shelter for the night at a
wayside cottage.
We got afloat in the morning after our swim and a hearty breakfast, and
proceeded past the outskirts of the town, which we were not sorry to
leave behind.
It came on to rain soon after we left Stoke-on-Treat; but as we were
well prepared with macintoshes to face the elements, we proceeded
cheerily on our way.
After paddling for about four miles we came to the entrance of another
long tunnel, which we entered, after taking the precaution to provide
ourselves with candles. We had a nasty experience in navigating

through this tunnel, which I should not much care to encounter again.
After proceeding cautiously for some distance, during which we had to
avoid a ducking, and possibly a swamping, from the numerous
"weep-holes" that let showers of land water descend from the roof, our
candle suddenly went out and left us in total darkness. To make matters
worse, a lot of land-water was coming through the tunnel, which,
together with the backwash of a tug some little way ahead of us, tried
us considerably, and finally wedged our canoe between the two walls
of the tunnel.
We did not relish the situation at all, I can assure you, especially as we
could not take stock of our whereabouts; but after a deal of rocking and
shoving (during which we had a narrow escape from capsizing), we
managed to get the canoe clear of the walls, and worked our way
backwards, hand-over-hand, to the mouth of the tunnel.
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,