Tunnels

All three tunnels of our trip were today and of course I interrupted our class on the commonest vowel-sound in English so the students could see the stalactites, sing to the echoes, peer up the circular light holes, look for bats and gaze at the slowly growing light at the end.

Tunnel two was narrow so we waited until the set time that boats going in our direction were allowed through. Then, two-thirds in, we met a boat whose crew didn't know they shouldn't be there, tried to pass and nearly wedged them and us against the walls. But John's authority extends well beyond our boat and within two minutes he had them reversing out.

At the Anderton boat lift we watched other boats on the slow trip up and down. It was built because although locks would be quicker, they'd use too much water. The original construction feels like a phenomenal amount of engineering for what turned out to be not many years of use and the refurbishment seems like an awful lot more effort for the current leisure use of the lift. But after the cable-snap drama of the last time I was here, it was reassuring to have a calm journey down, a nice little pootle past dragon-boat racers on the River Weaver then an uneventful lift back up.

Our irrepressibly enthusiastic nine-year-old was over the moon to be designated driver for our night journey under the moon, so while he stood on a stool by the tiller and grinned, the rest of us watched the orange sky get darker and darker behind a power station and countless pylons.

I spent the day and evening missing my own camera as the little compact I've borrowed made stupid decision after stupid and infuriating decision about focus and exposure.