Advice for those who dread locks
A few points to consider when passing through the remarkable Crinan Canal, Ôa hell of a thingÕ
The Crinan Canal connects Loch Fyne with the Sound of Jura. It was dug in the 19th century to spare mariners the unpleasantnesses attendant on rounding the Mull of Kintyre, and is by general agreement a hell of a thing, capable of accommodating boats a trifle over 80ft long and 20ft wide with an air draught of 95ft. In theory, a boat can pass through its 15 locks in an easy day. There are however a few things it is useful to take into consideration. 1. Abject terror will be your companion, particularly in the Ardrishaig sea lock at the Loch Fyne end. Here the singlehanded yachtsman enters the gloomy portal and passes a long bow line and stern line to a woman high above, using a boathook. The gates close. The woman goes and fiddles with a console. A torrent of yellowish-white water thunders out of the uphill gate, smashing the bow of the boat into the middle of the lock while the yachtsman hangs frantically on to the lines, which are now bar-taut and emitting a hum like the G-string of a fiddle.
Eventually the flow moderates and you rise into the new world, to be greeted by the lock lady, who tells you that because the downhill lock gates are a bit leaky they have to let the water in with a bang, particularly when, as now, it is low tide, and hopes you did not mind. Not at all, not at all, says the shuddering mariner, eyes drawn irresistibly to the welcoming lights of a nearby public house. 2. You are supposed to be able to get through in six hours. This may be true if you have a large crew of highly-trained Olympic athletes, but is less so if you are a single human being relying on the kindness of strangers. In extreme cases it is possible to enlist the services of a pilot like Hugh Kirk, a charming man who has been helping boats through the canal for many years. He is 79, a lifelong teetotaller who plans to try alcohol for the first time on his 80th birthday. Pilots’ fees are very moderate, but their fund of knowledge is priceless. 3. There are many excellent things about the canal. The most excellent, apart from the astonishing industrial archaeology of the thing, are its staff, who are kind, helpful beyond the call of duty and extremely handsome. Several of them are lads and lasses employed for the summer. A charming blonde girl told me about the training she had received as attendant on this vast and watery beast. There was one day on the working of the locks, one day on health and safety, and three days on the operation of the lawnmower. The canal is very safe and very tidy.
The other splendid thing about the canal is the language barrier. During a recent transit I shared locks with several Czechs and a boatload of elderly Germans. None of the above spoke much English. When they were confronted by an elderly lock-keeper who asked them tae wheech us yon line, jummy, gwan, see us it, only the international language of desperation averted shipwreck. 4. There are two bad things about the canal. One, unavoidable, is midges. The other is the behaviour of jerks. One bunch from the south of England were making much ignorant noise, blocking the fairway with unoccupied boats, and being rude to the canal staff. Remonstrances from their fellow transiters elicited the news that they were halfway through a circumnavigation of the British Isles, and as long-distance sailors were owed much deference. ‘Impressive trip,’ said the person who had invited me on board his boat for tea and cake, and had come from New Zealand. 5. When you have done 14 locks and you are in the basin at Crinan waiting for the final sea lock that will release you from the flat green fresh water into the salt, it is easy to reflect on Dr Johnson’s remark that the finest thing a Scotsman can see is the high road leading back to England. He was dead wrong. The finest thing anyone can see is the Crinan sea lock opening, and the green and purple mountains of Jura and attendant bays and kyles waiting for you across a sea the colour of a baby’s eyes, bounding with porpoises and roofed with sea eagles. Though of course there is a chance that it will be raining.