1996 Reunion Dig

Macclesfield/Caldon Canal: 2nd/3rd November 1996

There were only two problems: finding the site and finding the accommodation. The first problem taxed MKP and Co. for some months as they scoured the country looking for suitable places for 150-odd people (some of them very odd people) to do a weekend's useful work on canal restoration, and eventually came up with a blocked-up section of the Caldon Canal's River Dane to Rudyard Lake feeder. The second problem troubled the 150-odd people for some hours as they arrived from all parts of the country in search of the Rudyard Lake Sailing Club, which somebody had rather inconveniently taken away and hidden at the end of a very long and very rough dirt-road, the wrong side of Rudyard Reservoir.

A few words of explanation are necessary here on the subject of 'reservoirs' and 'sailing'. The use of these terms should not be taken to imply that any there is any actual water in the immediate vicinity. RLSC is situated by a large mud-flat that is rumoured to have once been covered in water, in the olden days before the feeder silted up. Several sepia prints in the clubhouse give credence to this story, as does the presence outside of a large number of boats, most of which appear to have since been fitted with wheels for use on the mud-flat (or perhaps they're trailers for towing them away to somewhere with some water).

The small advance party arrived on Thursday (apart from several parts of my car, which fell off at various points on the way down the lane) and first on the agenda was one of the most important jobs of the whole weekend. Once this had been carded out successfully (The mild was OK, the bitter was fine and the Bishop's Finger would be settled by Friday night) we could start to sort out some of the minor things like food and plant hire.

Friday began with a site visit, just to convince anyone who didn’t believe MKP's description in the joining instructions (‘it is going to be very messy and probably very cold ... ). A strange thing we noticed, apart from the fact that the lane is even more bumpy when experienced from the back of Jonathan's Land Rover (I'd never realised my car had a suspension system before) was that several miles after leaving the accommodation, one passed very close to a similar-looking building clearly visible a couple of hundred yards away, the other side of a large mud-flat.

The simple explanation was that we had to drive all the way round the lake to avoid the property of one land-owner who was churlish enough to take exception of us driving Transits across his lawn all weekend.

Meanwhile the catering team ('Neil and Jude's Nosebag') were laying in supplies. Part of the Saturday night entertainment was to be a hogroast, and as the vegetarian member of the team, Jude was the obvious choice for this job...

'What sort of hog shall I get?'
'Get a three-foot hog.’
'Don't they usually have four feet?'

There was also a large stack of 'Youngman Boards' (those funny ladder/plank things you use for barrow runs) to be collected from the hire company. They had clearly been ordered by somebody who either (a) hadn't seen the size of the trailer or (b) got their feet and metres confused. A veil will be drawn over this episode; suffice it to say that it requires a combination of local knowledge and a good OS map to find a route back that AJ can manage which doesn't also risk (a) grounding or (b) the attention of the local 'plod'.

Back at base, I found myself a nice technical job smashing up pallets for the bonfire. A marquee had been ordered and erected, to the accompaniment of the usual jokes about the 'Marquis de Sade', the volunteers had started to arrive and the bar was declared 'open'.

Time for an apology: I'm sorry about the beer. For some reason MKP thought that London WRG might know something about real ale, and asked me what quantities to lay in.

'Easy', I thought. We got through one barrel at last years KESCRG party, so multiply that by three to allow for three times as many people, add another because some of us will be there in time for a swift one on Friday night, add another for good luck and we should be OK for the whole weekend.

Actually we were OK for the whole of Friday night. I put it down to everyone needing a stiff drink after the trauma of trying to find the accommodation. ('Be gentle with me, I've been driving ADX.")

Eventually everyone did find it, but there were some interesting journeys by all accounts. ('You'll never guess what happened - we went the wrong way round the lake and ended up having to do a three-point turn on somebody's front lawn... Oh and then we got stuck and had to push it out again...')

Closing time approached and there was no sign of the rest of London WRG. Suddenly there we heard faintly on the wind a distinctive sound, rather like a diesel engine that’s been on forty woodbine a day for the last twenty years, and moments late as NUH screeched to a halt, the London contingent leapt out of the side door, hit the ground running and didn't stop until they hit the bar.

And so, finally, Saturday dawned and we set to work

MKP's notes say 'The work is relatively simple'. We did our best to prove otherwise by finding as many different and complex arrangements of the Youngman Boards as we could. One team seemed to be modelling theirs on the Escher drawing of the staircase.

'Can we have some Oldman Boards for Essex WRG please?'

The mass of mud, weed and roots removed from the feeder was either tipped on the banks or barrowed away into dumpers and a pickup truck which took them away to a mystery destination. Rumours that it was being used to fill in an old canal feeder nearby were strenuously denied.

Some parts of the feeder were almost dry; others were deeper than we expected:
"Hey, I thought you said this was welly-depth."
"No, you misheard me, I said it was willy-depth"

However, by the end of the afternoon considerable lengths of the feeder were starting to look like a feeder again, and we thought we could detect a slight current. Last job of the day was to drag all the Youngman Boards out onto the bank: 'Mike, what shall we do with these boards overnight., "Oh, chuck them all in the feeder."

Saturday night’s meal was a delicious chilli con carne, available without 'chilli' for the non-chilli eaters, without' carne' for the veggies, and without 'chilli' or 'carne’ for the vegetarian non-chilli eaters. The washing-up team were asked to be sparing with the water, as the dwindling-water supplies were described as 'very low’. Was this anything to do with the reservoir level?

The main part of the Saturday night entertainment was called 'watching Chris and Ralph trying to light a bonfire'. A viewing platform along the front of the accommodation was provided for the many spectators for this popular event, including a number of members of the Sailing Club who had made the journey specially.

At length the fire was sufficiently alight for the fireworks team to be able to read the instructions by the light of the flames, so the pyrotechnic display began. We were most impressed with the rocket that chased Ralph across the mud flats, emitting loud screeching noises (the firework made some interesting noises too).

Meanwhile indoors, emergency supplies had been acquired in the form of several barrels of 'Bear Town Bitter'. Somebody was overheard explaining that 'Bear Town' is a nickname for Congleton, which once sold it's Town Bible to raise money to buy a bear. This demonstrates either (a) good local knowledge or (b) the strength of the beer.

For some reason, around the time the beer finally ran out I was ordered by the chairman to make a speech. I hope I wasn't coherent enough to upset anyone too much.

Sunday started early. It usually does. However, there wasn't much sign of life from the volunteers until some time later, when we eventually emerged, ate a hearty breakfast and returned to site for more fun with barrows, kebs, rakes and Youngman boards.

By early afternoon, not only was the entire length of feeder clear and the water definitely flowing, but a team had completed the reinstatement of the missing towpath at the far end of the site. Incidentally, does anybody know why a feeder needs a towpath?

Back at the accommodation, as we packed up, some of us even thought we could see a slight increase in the reservoir level, or was that just wishful thinking?

So thanks to RLSC for being so accommodating with the accommodation, thanks to Mike for finding us a feeder to weed, thanks to all you feederweeders for turning up and weeding the feeder and thanks to Neil and Jude and their team of feeder-weeder-feeders for feeding the feederweeders. Is that clear? Well, never mind, the feeder is, thanks to us, anyway.