By D.T.Baker

Back in 1979 I bought an old canvas two-seater canoe from a friend of my mother’s. It had a wooden frame and needed a lot of work to make it watertight.

So in the summer of 79 I spent a fair amount of time in my parent’s garden fixing up and painting my canoe. At last it was finished, now painted a deep green colour,

With the wooden panels vanished to perfection. Now all that was needed was a name so I decided to call her “THE NESSIE” after my wife Vanessa.

My first adventure came about a week later. I decided to take a trip up the canal, starting at the top of five locks on the canal just above the Cross Keys Pub.

I planned to paddle my canoe up as far as the basin at Pontypool then back again a distance of around seven miles. So with the help of my dear wife Vanessa we carried the canoe up from my parent’s house and set it down in the water.

Climbing aboard I gave my wife a wave and set out on my “epic” voyage.

The canal up as far as the long tunnel was quite clear of weed and the water was quite deep. But going through the tunnel some 260 feet in length was one thing I had dreaded. It seemed a very dark, and cold place to be venturing into.

And being all alone made it feel all that more spooky.

Yet in I had to go. So it was head down and paddled like mad. In no time at all I was on the other side and out in the warm sunshine. Taking a deep breath I paddled on up the canal. The water on the other side of the five locks tunnel was quite clear, but a lot of canal weed had built up and I found it quite hard going.

I tried my best to paddle through it but as I reached Sebastopol things got worse.

The water had become shallow and I had to avoid quite a bit of rubbish such as: old bedsprings mattresses, tin cans and an assortment of other bits. This more or less carried on until I reached the Crown Bridge at Sebastopol. I was sure I would have to take the canoe out of the water. As I was forcing the canoe through the mud with my paddle. Crown Bridge was not really a proper bridge at that time but just two large steel pipes, going under the road. With luck! I hoped to get my canoe through one of them. Using all the strength in my arms I headed for the pipes. By this time quite a few people had gathered perhaps to wonder at this nut in the canoe that was paddling in mostly mud. I did feel embarrassed at the time, but I felt a lot better when they gave me a cheer as I got through the pipe and out the other side.

The water was a lot deeper and clear of weed now, so I paddled on until I reached the “Open Hearth” Pub on the side of the canal. I was very tempted to call in for a few pints, but after coming more than half way and with my goal almost in sight I gave a sigh and paddled onward. The condition of the water was not bad at all until I reached the over powering pillars of the railway bridge at Griffith town. The canal before me and after this point was covered in thick green duckweed. With the towering bridge and the tree covering it looked and felt a very dark and foreboding place. It gave me the creeps. It was just like paddling over a dark green lawn, and at any time something could jump up out of the duckweed and grab my canoe and me and pull us under.

Boy was I glad to get from that place and out into the sunshine. At last my goal was in sight – the Basin at Pontypool. Another few minuets of paddling and at last I had reached my goal. Paddling over to the grass back I used my paddle to pull my canoe to the side. I got out and stretched my legs. I felt quite chuffed that I had reached my goal, but became apprehensive with the thoughts that I had to do it all again to get back home. After a rest of about twenty minutes I set off once more. This time I had the thought in the back of my mind that I would have a few pints in the Open Hearth on the way back. Off I set back through the spooky duckweed until I reached the pub.

I pulled into the side and tied up Nessie and set about having a few pints of cold beer sitting by the side of the canal, and feeling quite merry managed to get back into my canoe and paddled onward at a more leisurely pace.

I certainly didn’t feel in the mood to paddle through all that mud, so I decided to take the canoe out of the water at Sebastopol and carry it over the bridge.

Getting Nessie out of the water was the easy part, but trying to carry a two-seater wood and canvas canoe on your own was another matter. As luck would have it help was at hand. A kind gentleman seeing me struggle offered his help and in no time at all we was over the bridge and past the worst of the mud. I thanked the gentleman and put my canoe back in the water. About this time I started to feel the worse for all that beer I had drank, and keeping the canoe in a straight line was getting harder and harder, but worse was to come. As I reached the long tunnel. The thought of going through it when sober was frightening, but now going through was just a piece of cake. In I went; boy did I sober up fast. The light shining in from the far end of the tunnel reflected on the water, giving it the effect of me in my canoe paddling down the middle of a very large tube. It was all I could do to keep myself upright. 260 feet of tunnel seemed like a lifetime. I paddled as fast as I could at last I was out and in no time at all back at five locks on the canal above the Cross Keys Pub. Vanessa mum and dad where waiting for me. I had telephoned ness from the pub.

My little adventure over. Nessie had completed her maiden voyage. I had achieved my goal. Nessie was put to rest at the bottom of mum and dads garden waiting for me to take her on more adventures. …..The end