Five days after having limped into Walsall, we had run out of reasons for staying put; we had replenished our larder, taken care of some banking necessities, and the breeze had eased sufficiently to convince us that we wouldn't be battling crosswinds in the canal. It was time to leave.
It was unfortunate that we had visited during Covid, as Walsall, despite its lack-lustre appearance and approach, has some rather unexpected features. The one that really stunned me was a new art gallery that houses the Garman Ryan Collection, which comprises paintings, sketches, prints, and sculptures by van Gogh, Jacob Epstein, Monet, Camille, Corot, Renoir, Turner, and Constable. I know – who’d have thought.
Interior of the rather flash Walsall Art Gallery
Another rather surprising feature of the town is their link to the leather industry, particularly saddlery, and up until 2014, one company had held a Royal Warrant as a supplier to the Queen. Sadly for them, and probably for HRH also, they have closed down. Sadly for us too, as wild horses – with or without fine saddles – wouldn’t get us back to Walsall to visit the art gallery or the museum. At least not by the canal.
The old buildings are beautiful – this one now accommodates the leather museum
So, we turned in the basin and made our way hesitantly it has to be said, towards the locks that would take us out of Walsall and towards Wolverhampton. A lone fisherman was the sole observer of our departure.
Despite our trepidation, the run up the locks was seamless. They were surprisingly clean and free of rubbish, and although we picked up some bags on the prop, the weed level was much less than we’d experienced to date and certainly much less than anticipated. All of the gate paddles, which were fitted with anti-vandal locks, turned beautifully with the exception of one which some Einstein had filled with pebbles.
The anti-vandal device, which is a lock fitted to gate paddles in city areas, requires unlocking with a special key and technically prevents the paddles being opened by ne’er-do-wells who seem to like to drain the locks and pounds as a Friday night post-pub activity.
Despite the fact that our canal guide lists Wolverhampton as being one of the Black Country towns, the towns where the coal seam came to the surface, traditionalists apparently would strongly disagree. Coal mining was definitely part of their history though, as were the iron and steelworks and brick-making. Evidence of the latter can be seen in some of the early buildings.
St Peter's Collegiate Chuch - not brick obviously but sandstone
St Peter's Close in the heart of the city
Another interesting but tangential fact that bubbled to the surface whilst reading of Wolverhampton concerns the Captain. Apparently, the Captain, who has an ancestral claim to Edinburgh, may also have ties with Wolverhampton, or more precisely Holbeche House near Dudley. Record-digging by a member of the Antipodean Support Crew revealed that one of his forebears was a shady character who was up to his ruff in the Gunpowder Plot. Following their failure to reduce the Houses of Parliament to rubble, a number of plotters fled the scene and took refuge at the aforementioned Holbeche House. It soon became apparent why the plot had failed – they were not the brightest bulbs in the chandelier. That evening, several of the plotters were injured by an accidental explosion that occurred as they endeavoured to dry their gunpowder in front of an open fire. I’ll leave you to join the dots!
It's not clear which one is the Captain's rellie but it's a sure bet that he'll be on the right-hand side!
Our destination on this leg was the Shropshire Union Canal, or the Shroppie as it’s generally known. All that lay between us and it was the Wolverhampton 21 – a run of 21 single locks. At least we’d be going downhill. In the end, it seemed to take us no time at all – perhaps we’re just getting better at it.
We swung under the bridge that marks the start of the Shroppie, went through another lock – the 22nd for the day – and moored up in a quiet, rural spot. The Shropshire was the first canal that we took to six years ago – a relationship that has taken us to where we are now. We were home.
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