Through Canal-Land in a Canadian Canoe | Page 5

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