Horton to Devizes & Caen Locks
I have wanted to see Caen Locks ever since I have lived in this part of the world. They did not disappoint.
First though, from the Bridge Inn at Horton where I left off last time, the usual narrow towpath and more picturesque bridges, this being Laywood Bridge.
Then Devizes Marina Village (nice place to live) and the Marina itself which offers boats for sale and moorings.
After Brickham Bridge, Coate Road Bridge, added almost a century after Laywood Bridge:
The towpath is now much wider and tarmacked, which I confess was quite a relief. I was charmed by the ingenious and attractive ways in which the canal bank was used by residents.
The canal then takes a surprising hard ninety degree turn:
This is London Road Bridge, the first (if travelling westwards) to be built of Cotswold stone.
Park Road Bridge:
I am not sure what this tower is. It looks rather like the one at Crofton so is perhaps part of an old pumping station.
Cemetery Road Bridge:
And then the locks begin. There are 29 altogether.
Devizes Town Bridge has a subway for which I was grateful. The steps would have been impossible with the bike.
Clearly there is going to be something momentous over the brow of the hill. And it’s a truly remarkable series of sixteen consecutive locks. They have large ponds to the side of each.
One of them was adorned with beautiful water lilies.
There’s another subway at the bottom running under Upper Foxhangers Bridge, from where I was able to take a photograph of the entire chain.
It is an incredible engineering achievement but I couldn’t help thinking that there’s something a bit bonkers about it. The total rise is 237 feet over two and a half miles and the locks were the last part of the canal to be completed, in 1810. As backup a pumping system was installed in 1995 which can move 300,000 gallons of water an hour from the bottom to the top.
One of the locks has a sign: “Moonrake Lock. To record the many hours given by volunteers to the restoration of the Kennet and Avon Canal.” This made me think of a pub called Moonrakers in Pewsey. When I used to commute daily from London I would, more than a few times, fall asleep on the train and miss my stop. I once tried having a folding pocket alarm clock hanging out of my jacket pocket but when I did wake up that time, someone had stolen it. When I came to in Pewsey once I had an hour or more to wait for the next returning train, so I went to Moonrakers and found it very strange, done out like a 70s nightclub with plenty of neon, and I don’t think I am imagining it, poles as in for pole dancing. All very strange but also strangely charming. I don’t know if it is still like that. But this is wonderful, from the pub’s website:
Why is it called The Moonrakers? There are a number of places in the UK that claim to be Moonraker country, but generally speaking it is a term attributed to Wiltshire folk, and in particular those from Devizes – a lovely market town about 13 miles west of Pewsey at the western end of the Pewsey Vale.
As the story goes, during the 17th or 18th century, Wiltshire was a thoroughfare for smugglers coming up from the Dorset coast on their way to the more affluent Midlands. One moonlit night, some smugglers saw an approaching Exciseman and so quickly dumped the contraband into a nearby pond (thought to be The Crammer in Devizes). Once the Exciseman had gone, they started to try and get the barrels out of the pond using hay rakes. The Exciseman however suspected something and came back and asked them what they were doing. The smugglers said they were raking out the cheese they could see in the water – the reflection of the moon. The Exciseman laughed at them for being so stupid and continued on his way…
This seemed the appropriate place to begin the return journey (it was just over five miles each way). I increased the bike’s battery settings a notch and breezed back up the hill. It must be pretty annoying for proper cyclists. I always give way to them and to pedestrians of course, on the ‘big boats give way to little boats’ principle. Whatever a lot of motorists may say about cyclists, we are, I have found, extremely courteous to one another.
There were two more treats in store, a group of Mallard ducklings with their proud-looking mother, who suddenly put on an impressive turn of speed for no apparent reason, and a pair of Mute Swans with their cygnets.
There were nine cygnets which is unusual (they usually lay between three and eight eggs). The Merlin app meanwhile picked up Goldcrest and Nuthatch amongst the usual suspects.
I visited the Canal Trust Museum but it was closed – it is run by volunteers and is only open on certain days. I will try again another time. I stopped for a superb coffee and chocolate brownie at the Black Dog Coffee Co. I told them that it was the best coffee artwork I had ever seen.
Back in the car I stopped at Bishops Cannings for a quick look round the church. I am an agnostic at best but it seems terribly sad that churches have had to have CCTV installed because of theft and vandalism. St Mary the Virgin is cruciform and classic early English Gothic dating from the twelfth or thirteenth century with various later add-ons, including the fifteenth-century spire. The octagonal font is fifteenth-century too. I especially admired the ceiling and the way in which the war memorial is so perfectly aligned.
There’s a list of all the vicars, going back to 1290.
I fancied a return to Avebury, the world’s largest stone circle. I got caught up in a group of American tourists who were I am afraid completely oblivious to anyone around them, having to be told by their guide not to block entrances and paths. I remembered going for a mountain walk with a friend in New York state with his adult dog. Absolutely everyone we met immediately went into baby talk: “Oh, look a puppy dog.” No, just a dog. That happened at Avebury and the reactions to the sheep were really bizarre. “Oh my God, look at that!” Phones out and clicking away of course.
I like the Henge Shop at Avebury, although some of the prices are rather eye-watering. Much as I might like to believe in the healing powers of crystals I am a firm cynic but this piece of rainbow kyanite caught my eye and was irresistible. I was amused to see a sign stating that no actual medicinal value should be assumed for any of the crystals, any recommendations were the personal opinions of staff. But I assumed the kyanite was natural and liked the leaf shape (I was not interested in its potential as a spiritual guide). I was very wrong. It’s formed from subjecting black kyanite to extreme temperatures and an infusion of vapourised metals, titanium and platinum apparently. Which all seems rather unnecessary. It is very pretty though.
A black fedora and a small, tinkly, “musically tuned” set of wind chimes (you either love or hate them) completed my retail therapy.
A final pit-stop at Silbury Hill, c. 2300 BC.
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