2.8.2022
The Port Of Berkhamsted
Although it’s only three miles the uphill gradient increases and so, between Apsley and Berkhamsted, there are fourteen locks. It was a beautiful day so I left early and took my time – feeling confident that I’d make Berko, as the locals call it, well in time for an early evening pint of Tring in The Rising Sun. The sun shone, the damselflies danced their way alongside me and I got to navigate one of my favourite features on the obstacle course that is The Grand Union Canal: Winkwell Swing Bridge.
This is a small, single lane bridge that crosses the canal but is too low for any boat to go under. Therefore boaters moor just before and, with the aid of a Canal And River Trust key (or, if like me you procured one before the takeover, a British Waterways key) control it much like a railway’s level crossing. The traffic lights turn red, the barriers come down as a bell goes ding-ding-ding while irate drivers (usually, strangely enough, in Range Rovers) shake their fists as the bridge glides open. The boater then moves through, ties up on the other side and closes the bridge. The entire process takes about fifteen minutes – a pleasant interlude or a painstakingly slow delay depending on if ye be pilot or driver.
It was about two locks after Winkwell that I encountered another boat coming the way who informed me that the Canal And River Trust were chaining up one of the locks approaching Berkhamsted between the hours of four o’clock every afternoon and eight o’clock every evening. I found this a little hard to believe as this is now late July. The height of the cruising season when the days are still long and many boaters won’t even set out until mid to late afternoon.
No, he assured me, the have to. They don’t want to, but they have to. …Vandals.
I carried on, slightly picking up the pace in case he was right and, sure enough, when I reached Bottom Side Lock, one of the last two before betting into Berkhamsted proper, I noticed there were locks and chains ready to be utilised. It was four o’clock on the dot, so I counted myself lucky that they must have been running late as I entered and started to fill the lock.
Then, just as the lock began to look full, a strange thing happened. The water began to lower again. Not just in the lock, but in the pound I was fixing to move into. It was at this point the Canal And River Trust employee appeared – rattling his keys and looking mighty surprise to see me. A thoroughly decent chap, he helped me through the lock and, while doing so, I asked him what was going on and why he was locking the gates.
Oh, vandals, he explained. We don’t want to do it, but we have to. Someone keeps opening the paddles at night and draining the locks.
Yes, I asked, but why has the water started to drain now? It started about five minutes ago, I helpfully added, and it’s already gone down by about a foot.
He shrugged rather sheepishly and then got on his walkie-talkie, telling the person at the next lock that there was one more boat coming through.
You mean you’re chaining up two locks?
Yes, he said. And I’d better get going. The water’s really going down and I’m about to get grounded. The pound’ll be empty soon.
Indeed it will, I agreed. Yet all the lock gates are closed, the paddles are down and there isn’t a vandal in sight. Care to theorise with me?
He didn’t.
…Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown!
Nevertheless, I made it into Berko, secured an ace mooring and beetled down to my favourite lock-side pub on the canal, The Rising Sun. …Where they no longer serve Tring. This was a minor disappointment as they stocked many other fine varieties of ale, and the place has certainly not lost it’s character. A couple of evenings after I arrived I wandered down there again and, as these photographs will attest, enjoyed a very pleasant evening of folk music and Morris dancers. The highlight of the music, for me, was their strangely brilliant cover of Meat Loaf’s Bat Out Of Hell.
Music On The Lock
And as for the Morris dancers. Well, to paraphrase Voltaire, “the mad will always be mad, but the maddest of all are Morris dancers”.
I must confess, I did make a quiet exit just before the ‘participation dance’, about which far too many people, for my liking, were excited.
There are two other canal side pubs along this stretch: The Boat and The Crystal Palace. The Boat has always been a well respected establishment. More of a restaurant than a pub and very well spoken of, although I haven’t eaten there myself
I did visit The Crystal Palace, as my mooring was a mere thirty-one paces away, and it was fantastic to see the place so much improved since my only other visit – which I swore would be my last. Back then it didn’t enjoy the best of reputations, with either boaters or locals, but has recently been taken over. The new owners appear to have invested heavily both in the structure and the staff. The most notable change is that they have removed a large section of the wall and replaced it with a large, floor to ceiling window, so that the two tables nearest the bar now have a fine view of the canal. The bar itself is extremely well stocked – they do have Tring, at least two types, along with several other ales and beers from near and afar. Most importantly, the new staff are all charmingly friendly. The only criticism I would have is that the kitchen seems chaotic, with food slow to arrive and not of the best quality, but I suspect that these are teething problems which will soon be resolved.
Aside from the canal side hostelries there is much to offer in Berkhamsted. On Wednesday and Saturday mornings they have a wonderful street market, with stalls selling fresh fruit, flowers, artisan breads, local meats, records, prescription eye-ware, partridges and pear trees (seasonal) and sweet pastries. From the last of that list I procured a Portuguese custard pastry that would rival those even of the renowned Portuguese coffee shop on Golborne Road in Notting Hill.
Along that stretch of high street there’s The Crown – a superb Wetherspoons. I’m sure a few of you will think I put that in as a joke, but there’s a lot of ‘Spoons bashing these days which, personally, I think is a bit unfair. The pubs are clean, usually in period buildings, filled with character, and nobody can deny the value. The Crown certainly has all of these, and if ever there were times when we call appreciate being able to sit down for a passable burger and chips accompanied by a superbly kept pint for seven pounds and change, these surely must be them.
You’ll pay a bit more for a pint across the road in The Mad Squirrel, a micro-brewery run tap and bottle shop. They specialise in their own brews on draft but also stock a wide selection of other strange and unusual elixirs. One of their selling points, for me, is that instead of serving pints or half pints, their measures are pints, two thirds of a pint or one third of a pint. The beverage in the photograph is two thirds of a pint of Sumo, their own superb American Pale Ale.
Sumo And The Rex
The programme in the same photograph is for the real highlight of Berkhamsted: The Rex Cinema, which first opened in 1938 and stayed the course until 1988. Years later it was bought, restored to its prime, and finally reopened in 2004. It’s a sumptuous place to see a film. High ceilings with smooth, deco lines, ornate fixtures and deep, red velvet seats. There are tables to dine while you enjoy the film, a bar at the back that stays open throughout the show and, when I last visited (which, sadly, was not on this visit) the film was introduced with great humour and joy by the current owner – who’s love of both the art deco picture house and the art of cinema shone through.
The Port Of Berkhamsted, as it also seems to be known, steeped with history. Berkhamsted Castle dates back to 1066 and was once, I have it on good authority, home to Richard III’s mother. In more modern times it was a centre for the building of canal barges. Berko’s pride in its canal history can be seen in the way the locals so lovingly look after the ornate signage (pictured) which adorn all the main bridges in town.
My favourite relic from from the past, however, is a bit more recent: The Berkhamsted Totem pole. In the early 1900s the boatyard was sold to the Alsford family and became a timber mill. In the 1960s Roger Alsford, the grandson of the timber mill’s founder, fell on hard times while working in Canada and was saved by the Kwakiutl, a First Nation tribe. Roger’s brother, James, went to Canada to retrieve his sibling from his saviours and when he met the tribe he was quite taken with them. So, by way of gratitude, he commissioned the totem pole, brought it back and placed it in their yard, alongside the canal.
The Berkmamsted Totem Pole
What was the boatyard and then the timber mill is now a housing development. But the totem pole still stands, so I gave it a smile and a salute as I cruised past on my way out of Berko and towards The Marsworth Flight…