Through Canal-Land in a Canadian Canoe

Excerpt

     [photo by A. S. Walker.

Bearing in mind that variety is the spice of existence, I determined that I would temporarily desert the dear old Thames, with whose waters I had become so familiar, and try fresh fields and pastures new during my approaching holidays.
     Accordingly, I took a friend (who had been my boon companion on many a previous trip by land and water) into my confidence, and after due deliberations, befitting an enterprise likely to be of a novel character, we determined to explore the comparatively un-known canals that commence from the Thames, at Brentford, and thread their way through England from south to north, and end at Kendal in Westmorland.
     One thing that largely influenced us in deciding upon this route was that we had recently become possessed of a light and well-built Canadian canoe that had been sent us by an English resident in France, where he had been using it in exploring the picturesque portions of the Seine.
     We fortunately had a friend connected with the Grand Junction Canal Company, and through his kindly offices were enabled without much difficulty to obtain passes allowing us to journey over the different canals which we had mapped out as the waterway to follow.
     This part of the undertaking having been successfully disposed of, we turned to and overhauled our craft, and saw to the getting of the outfit which we should require in order to make the trip a success.
     By the time that all our arrangements were in a complete state, the day fixed for the start arrived, and it found us brimming over with cheerful anticipation of the good time in store for us during the next three weeks, and in the best of health and spirits.
     We were "up betimes in the morning," as quaint old Samuel Pepys has it, and journeying down to the boat-house at Kew, where we had left our canoe overnight, soon got afloat and on our way, without mishap or delay of any kind.  What a glorious August day it was! The sun shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky overhead, the birds singing blithely in the trees upon the banks, and the water sparkling and lapping beneath our bows; no wonder we took it all as a good omen for the success of our trip.
     Heading up-stream, we soon shot beneath the railway bridge at Kew, and pass through dirty, straggling old Brentford, entered the Brent, where a short paddle brought us to the first lock.  Getting through in our turn, after a short delay caused by a string of canal barges coming through to catch the morning tide, we entered upon the Grand Junction Canal, which extends form here to Braunston, a distance of some hundred and six miles.
     An enjoyable paddle through fairly pretty and diversified scenery brought us to Hanwell, where we had to negotiate a cluster of five or six locks, all grouped together within a short distance, for the purpose of carrying the water over a sharp rise in the ground.  We had a brief chat here with an old bargee, from whom we got some useful advice, not wholly free from chaff, and proceeded upon our way, arriving about midday at West Drayton, where anal frescolunch on the bar was much appreciated.  Resuming our journey after refreshing the inner man, we passed Uxbridge and Harefield, and so out of Middlesex into Hertfordshire....