When Ewn Ha Cul decides to pick something up on her prop she doesn’t do it in halves – no fiddly bits of weed for her it’s got to be on a grand scale. We were giving my cousins Diane and Bob with their grandson Lennon a ride from Hawkesbury Junction to Coventry Basin when the engine stopped suddenly. The last time that happened was in the first lock on the Basingstoke Canal when we picked up a log which bent the prop so badly it was unusable.
Gord went down the weed hatch to take a look. ‘It’s a carpet’, he said. ‘He’s exaggerating’, I thought, but, when he started to pull the offending article out, I realised that he was, if anything, playing it down.
To begin with he thought he may be able to pull it up through the weed hatch….
….but that was definitely a no go. He then got the gaff out and started tugging at it from the outside – and it kept coming.
After he freed it from the prop, with much tugging and hauling it was landed on the deck. We thought of leaving it on the towpath but realised that it would just end up in the cut once more and would bite us, or some other unsuspecting boater, on the way back down.
We ended up carrying it with us into Coventry Basin where Gord cut it into more manageable chunks before trolleying it round to the CRT rubbish point. I reckon it was big enough to carpet a modest sized function room let alone somebody’s lounge.
After saying goodbye to Bob, Diane and a rather sleepy Lennon…
…Gord took a final trip down the weed hatch and assured himself that the prop remained undamaged. I reckon we were lucky that the engine stopped so quickly and didn’t give the carpet time to tangle itself round the prop even more.
*Acknowledgements to Diane Pearce (nb Ferndale) for the blog title. When you groan it’s her fault not mine!