An hour later Graham calls to say he is at Barnwell bridge and believes he can get under it, did we want to move?
'Too bloody right' we says..
Like a rat up a drainpipe we sprang into action, Joe prepping Yarwood and me prepping the lock. By half two we were on our way.
Joining MR in the Lilford Lock
We were aiming to get to the moorings at Fotheringhay, below the castle mound if possible. This was a journey of about nine miles and six locks. I travelled on the front deck which allowed me ease of access whatever side the lock landings were, Jill took their car and went on ahead to set whatever locks she could get to readiness for our arrival. We arrived at Fotheringhay at about six o'clock, got through the bridge without mishap and on to our moorings of choice. We had just finished securing the boats when the farmer arrived with his infamous Tate and Lyle syrup can to collect his mooring fees.
Yarwood and MR securely moored for the next four nights at Fotheringhay
The consensus was that a pint was needed after our dash down the river so we grabbed the dogs and headed of to join Jill at The Falcon.
The magnificent church at Fotheringhay.
Following two thirsty men and two hungry dogs to..