Worcester & Birmingham Canal - Day 2 - 14 February 2024 (Happy Valentine's Day!)
Day Two - Hopwood to Wychbold
After a very fine night's sleep, we awoke to a somewhat aromatic, some would say musty, smelling room! But who cares? Our boots, coats, walking socks and wet trousers were all dry. And that was all that mattered. Outside it looked damp, but not raining. No point hanging around having breakfast, let's get moving before it rains!
By the time we'd washed, dressed and done our make up etc we emerged from "Crossroads" into a light drizzle. Oh well, yesterday's "light drizzle didn't soak us, did it?!
Fifteen minutes later, next to the Hopwood pub, looking very inviting even at 8.50a.m., we descended onto the towpath to continue our journey towards Worcester. We could hear the purr of traffic on the M42 ahead of us, but it took half an hour before we went underneath its non-descript bridge. Now we were truly away from Birmingham.
Ten minutes on, as we neared the edge of Alvechurch, the drizzle turned to stair rods, eclipsing anything we'd encountered yesterday. We huddled, bent over, under a very low bridge. "Give it 10 to 15 minutes and see how it pans out. But if it doesn't improve, that could be us done". It was a mile to Alvechurch station, so we had an easy escape route. After 10 minutes it improved only very slightly, and we decided to push on. The station was right next to the canal, so we had to go that way in any case. A few minutes on it began to ease, but remained as drizzle.
Nearing a bridge Cate muttered something about a camera, then on the bridge in front a woman pops up holding a big TV camera on her shoulder. Despite the miserable weather she chirpily explains that she is filming for Countryfile and "would we mind being filmed walking along the canal?". Given that neither of us were skiving off work, or having an illicit affair in the Worcestershire rain, we agreed! We walked on under the bridge towards Alvechurch Marina, whilst the friendly young woman filmed us walking away. Hopefully she caught my best side, the back; and the stunning sartorial elegance of a bright tango-like orange poncho, and mud splattered wet trousers. The programme should be aired on March 3rd, so assuming we make the final cut, I'm making plans for a deluge of fan mail. Over to our right in marina, another camera person scuttled quickly along and out onto a narrowboat to film us side on. Should be classic stuff if he caught my lithe flat stomach profile and double chins. Oooh, such excitement completely took our minds off the continuing rain.
After all that racy stuff, the rain continued to ease slowly, and within 20 minutes stopped completely. With no diversion to Alvechurch station required, our minds turned to the next significant part of the walk - the Tardebigge flight of locks. Just before Shortwood tunnel, in the middle of nowhere, we came upon a small A4 Canals & Rivers Trust sign taped to a fence at the side of the towpath saying simply "Stop. Towpath Closed". Nothing more, and nothing less. No reason, no indication of how long it was closed for, and nothing as sensible as a map showing a diversion. The path looked clear ahead, we could see the entrance to the 500 metre long tunnel. Stuff it, we'll ignore the sign. Revolution! At the tunnel entrance we just followed the planned route up on to the hill under which it passed. Finally we went back down to the canal. The entrance to the towpath was fenced off with absolutely no signage or indication where we should walk. The OS App was of little help as there were no public footpaths nearby. Climbing through a barbed wire fence, we had no alternative but to trespass through fields as close to the canal as possible until we reached the next bridge. Luckily, there we were able to re-join the canal. Not the Canals & Rivers trust's finest moment!
Shortwood Tunnel - complete with open path!
Up and over another tunnel, we emerged back down to the canal at Tardebigge, with its marina; and lock number 58 indicating the start of Europe's biggest flight of locks. The Tardebigge flight was completed in 1815, and comprises 30 locks over a distance of 2.25 miles. From Tardebigge it drops 220 feet to Stoke Prior. Near the top, it has its own reservoir and pumping station in order to maintain a supply of water. Although it is an immense feat of engineering, it is not as visually spectacular as you might expect, due to the fact that the canal does not run in a straight line, therefore no view looking back up to a long line of locks. Sadly, nothing to compare with the Caen Hill Locks on the Avon & Kennet canal.
Now with dry weather, regular locks to look at, and going down hill it's a breeze down to the edge of Stoke Prior. After 8.5 miles of walking and no breakfast or coffees The Queen's Head pub is like an oasis beckoning us to indulge. We can't resist; going wild over cups of tea and baguettes - all pretty rock'n'roll. Lovely pub, with lovely friendly staff; I recommend it highly. More importantly, a very badly needed rest stop as both of us were beginning to ache.
The clouds were gathering, so we pushed on, massively buoyed and re-energised by the welcome respite at the Queen's Head. Three miles on, we're done with the canal for the day. We turn west up a lane heading for Wychbold and our luxury accommodation at the Crown Inn. After a while we turn onto a footpath through a farmyard which is akin to a bog with added cow shit. Beyond the fence at the edge of the yard it's difficult to make out where the path goes. There's no obvious stile or gate, and the field beyond is teetering on the verge of being flooded. Back we turn through the stinking bog of the farmyard and back to the road. It's not a huge diversion along the road, but after nearly 12 miles it is not welcome. We stoically plod up to the edge of Wychbold and onto the Crown, where we receive a very warm welcome* despite looking very dirty and dishevelled.
With only a relatively small amount of boots and clothes drying required, Valentines Night (yes I know we're too old, and long in the tooth for all that malarky!) was spent having a couple of pints and some good old pub tucker before crashing out at about 9.30. Sadly, no wild night of partying in the nearby metropolis of Droitwich Spa. A place which is perfectly suited to the local Brummie sounding accent."Allroight 'artlay 'are, moy name's pig" etc.
The BBC weather forecast had greatly improved for the morning, but was still showing a massive downpour sweeping over Worcestershire at about 1.30pm, so we decided invoke the old Camino method of an unpleasantly early start to help us get finished before the deluge arrived. Additionally we booked a taxi to run us back to the canal, which saved us half an hour of walking. Perhaps, after all we will make it to Worcester, and the River Severn?
*I must mention that, aside from the grumpy taxi driver at Moor Street, all the people we encountered in Hotels, Cafes, Pubs along the way were exceptionally friendly and helpful. The accent may grate a little, but the attitudes and service were excellent.
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