Dear Motley Crew,
I’m certain that it is apparent to all crew members by now, that much of this adventure has seemed to involve waiting …. waiting for lockdown I, II, & III to end; waiting for locks and bridges to be repaired; waiting for vaccinations; and now, waiting for floodwaters to subside.
Finally, the wait for the latter was over. The River Soar was no longer in flood, and we were all set to begin exploring its length. We had our anchor – with 90 feet of rope affixed – attached to the front T-bar of the boat and stored in readiness in the well-deck. We were trusting that we wouldn’t find ourselves in any situation that might necessitate its deployment, but it was comforting to know that should one eventuate, we were ready. We had pored over the river guide and taken note of the advised mooring spots; we had heeded the advice on navigating past weirs, and we’d read all there was to read about mooring up in Leicester.
The forecast for the next fortnight was for fine weather, and so we were relatively confident that we would make it to the river’s terminus before summer rains brought about another halt to passage. The Soar is known for its unpredictability – we had been told that a bucket of water is all it takes to make it flood – and so we reasoned, we should dally no longer.
King’s Lock marks the transition from canal to river
This was the first of many warning signs that we would encounter along the river – some advising boaters to heed the flood markers, some advising the route past the weir, and some advising against travelling if the warning lights were set to red. This one advised checking the marker on the lock wall at the bottom gates. I duly did so.
This is what I had to check – not the pigeons, the other thing
As can be seen, it doesn’t take too much to move you out of the green zone and into the “perhaps-you-should-re-think-your-decision” zone. Today, it seemed, was a good day to travel.
Most of our cruising to date, has been along canals, where the presence of villages and towns on the margins are a constant reminder that the canals were purpose-built; designed and constructed specifically as a means of moving raw materials or finished goods in a more expedient manner. Rivers, however, are different creatures. Their margins tend to be less populated, more rural, and less industrialised, and so we found it to be with the Soar.
Seen on days such as these, it is difficult to envisage the volume of water that must course along this river during a flood. The regular appearance of over-sized weirs, however, – unnervingly located next to the locks where it is necessary to moor up – leave you in no doubt as to the capricious nature of rivers. It is not helped by signs and sights such as this -
The sign here helpfully advises all craft to proceed straight ahead rather than taking the more adventurous route over the weir.
Gradually the rural aspect gave way to graffiti, a sure sign that we were approaching a more urban environment
Abandoned spinning-thread mills were the first reminders of Leicester’s association with textile production
“Don’t pull up in the centre of Leicester”, we were warned, “unless you can get a spot at the secure moorings.”
“Avoid the weekends” others advised, “or else the boat is likely to be the target of bottle attacks.”
“Hold on to your shoulder bag or backpack when you’re in the mall”, opined a third.
Well, we were about to chance it all.
The run into Leicester is by way of the Leicester Mile – a stunning straight, much-loved by rowers. It’s wide, deep and a thrilling way to approach the city.
We tied up at Friar’s Mill and headed off to explore one of England's oldest cities
The first evidence of this history was right beside us.
Friar’s Mill moorings where we had tied up, have been built alongside one of the earliest industrial sites in the city. The mill itself was built on the site of a Dominican Priory that had stood there from the 13th to 16th century.
With the canal now at our backs, we rounded a corner and came face to face with this battle-ready soldier. Could it be?
Of course - a friary, a hasty burial and a car park in Leicester. Who else could it be
It was indeed King Richard III, who we had met previously in Market Bosworth, and who had come to a sticky end at said battle. As we now know, he had not, as legend would have it, been cast into the River Soar for his sins, but had, in fact, been buried in a friary in Leicester. After the discovery of his remains in 2013, they were exhumed and re-interred, with much pomp and ceremony, near the high altar in the Leicester Cathedral.
Off to our right, the laneway leading us into the city’s centre, ran alongside the Jewry Wall, all that remains of a Roman exercise hall and public bathhouse built around 160 AD.
The medieval period saw the gradual demolition of the baths, with various bits and pieces being removed and recycled into other structures. This section managed to avoid a similar fate because grafted onto it is the rear wall of St Nicholas’ Church.
The church itself dates from the 11th century, and the oldest section incorporated much of the masonry from the nearby, crumbling bathhouse.
High on an interior wall of the church, sits one of these purloined bricks that famously and delightfully, bears the paw print of a Roman pooch.
We found the centre of this vibrant city to have a stunning array of historic buildings -
The Leicester Assembly Rooms, still used as such;
the Corn Exchange;
and the Guildhall which was constructed in1390. It is reputedly the most haunted building in the city which seems to suggest that it is but one of many
In homage to the principally female workforce who laboured in the hosiery factories in Leicester, the "Leicester Seamstress" is still hard at work
The city centre also supports these well-patronised, daily, fresh-food markets and we took the opportunity to re-stock our larder.
In the end, we had moored in the centre of Leicester for two nights and had come away both unscathed and still in possession of our backpacks. We were delighted that we hadn’t listened to the harbingers.
As we left the city in our wake, our eye was involuntarily drawn to the modern outline of the National Space Centre – such a contrast to the historic buildings of the city.
Rising up out of the vegetation, its semi-transparent tower was built to accommodate upright rockets, however, the Centre’s pièce de résistance is a Soyuz spacecraft, one of only three in the West.
Not far from the space centre, we caught a fleeting glimpse of a small landing tucked into a quiet stretch of water. What had taken our attention was a secluded site used principally by Hindus for the authorised scattering of ashes.
With Leicester now well behind us, we pressed on, for we were on a mission.
We rolled past more derelict factories;
more weirs,
and more cautions.
These riverside “fences” had us wondering until we realised that they are in fact emergency flood moorings, to prevent your boat from floating out of the river during a flood and ending up high and dry on the bank when the water recedes.
Not a position you'd want to find yourself in!
Ah, here it was – the sign that we’d been watching out for.
It’s a simple system really. The ferryman in the little shed calls out “Do you want to come across?” You answer in the affirmative and he brings the ferry across the river to collect you and transports you to the other side.
The looming towers of Ratcliffe power station were now announcing that our journey was nearing its end and the junction of the River Soar with the River Trent was not too far ahead.
More instructions, and more decisions to be made.
We counted the exits carefully to ensure that we didn’t take the scary red one, for there be dragons.
Out we swung onto the widest and deepest stretch of water that we had yet encountered and turned our bow towards the Trent and Mersey canal. Absolute exhilaration. I can only imagine what a narrowboat trip along the tidal Thames and under the Tower Bridge must be like.
For the moment, this Harbour Bridge lookalike would have to suffice.
The Captain, The Commodore and The Cat.
Leicester Assembly Rooms
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