Put To Bed

It was time to put Folly Bridge to bed. River conditions maybe as calm as they get, but no way was that bridge biting us twice, so we walked a loop – passing the site of our worst ever boat bash – ending up with one last walk through the city before untying and entering Isis lock.

The deeper water always makes the boat move well and we were soon into Osney lock, taping licences in the windows. We noticed so much more compared to last time round when we were catapulted downstream under the force of red board water; there are marinas, ornate road bridges and even a few locks that we had blanked out in our traumatised states. Separated in two parts by an island,  it’s okay to travel on either side but not knowing that bit of information last time round is why our paintwork is still visible on the stone arch today. Steeped in history, bursting with riverside life and Salters Steamers churning their way through the water makes for an idyllic view, yet what’s gone before is enough to keep a chill in the air.

Watching Oxford fade away the water opened up and trees stretched high, still bizarre to be the only boat around for miles on such a well-known river.

In need of water we motored along as the sun began to set, arriving at Abingdon there was wait for the water point, one handy thing about narrowboat travel is that dinner can be multitasked with water filling, lock waiting, lock dropping, moving along and mooring – which meant by the time we’d settled for night on Abingdon Meadow there was just enough time for drinks before food. Abingdon is twinkling outside, Nick figures it’s a good place to blow our whole seven days of Thames licence – a definite improvement from wanting to live at Star City.

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