Day 4 – 18 July 2026

Windmill End to Astle’s Bridge

It was back to Bumble Hole for the next leg of our epic challenge. Hamish and I were feeling brave, but not Netherton Tunnel in the dark and damp without a responsible adult brave, so we made the entirely sensible decision to turn left instead and head towards Netherton to see how far we could get in the direction of the Delph.

I do love a bit of Bumble Hole. It’s arguably one of the most picturesque, quintessentially Black Country scenes you’ll find, with elegant bridges, peaceful water and the unmistakable outline of Cobb’s Engine House watching over everything like a proud old relative making sure you dow do anything saft.

Reluctantly leaving this postcard-perfect spot behind, we set our sights on Parkhead Junction where Dudley No 1 and Dudley No 2 canals meet, about two and a half miles away. In my head this sounded like a gentle stroll. My legs, who had not been consulted, remained suspicious.

The resident geese watched us with only mild curiosity as we wandered past St Peter’s Church and under Fox & Goose Bridge, where the occasional car reminded us that civilisation hadn’t disappeared entirely and that we were not, despite the reeds and my dramatic inner monologue, starring in a BBC nature documentary.

Opposite a line of semi-detached houses and the boats moored at Fox & Goose Moorings sat what looked to be a scrapyard or car repairer, silent on this Saturday morning. The towpath was equally quiet and the still water reflected boats, trees and buildings with such perfection it looked as though someone had turned the canal upside down and forgotten to tell the ducks.

Griffin Bridge came next, and here the canal widened out. Industry, geese, narrowboats and shimmering reflections all seemed to compete for the title of “Best View”.

Then came a Black Country holiday destination: Withymoor Island, run by Withymoor Island Trust. The island used to be a railway shipment yard but is now a wharf for private moorings and boater services.

Well, Hamish and I have decided we’re booking a stay there. A solitary plastic chair was already waiting for me on the bank: clearly my Black Country throne had been reserved in advance. All it needed was a cup of tea, a packet of scratchings and someone to fan me with a canal map.

At this time of the morning it was wonderfully peaceful, disturbed only by the occasional dog walker or jogger exchanging a cheerful “Morning!” in that very British way that means, “I acknowledge your existence, but let us not get carried away.”

Soon we reached Bishton’s Bridge, named after William Bishton Jr., who ran a boat service from the canal wharf behind the Crown Inn in the mid-19th century. I love stumbling across names like this. One minute you’re walking the dog; the next you’re thinking about a Victorian Black Country boatman.

Beyond the bridge the atmosphere changed completely. The sounds of nearby roads faded as the canal curved away, and for a while it genuinely felt as though we’d wandered deep into the countryside. Reeds towered above the water, ducks drifted lazily along and birds provided the soundtrack.

Just as I started convincing myself we’d accidentally crossed into rural Shropshire, reality intervened. A housing estate appeared. Then one of Luke Perry’s information boards reminded us of N. Hingley & Sons – famous for making the anchor for the Titanic, although they probably deserve even greater recognition for producing around 90% of the world’s anchors at one point.

Still, nature quickly reclaimed centre stage. Reeds, lilies, wildflowers and birds won the battle for our attention. Under a perfect blue sky the canal barely rippled, except when Hamish decided a passing duck clearly needed its peaceful morning interrupting. Hamish sees himself as a public servant. The ducks, in fairness, have not endorsed this role.

This really is one of those stretches where you can lose yourself. It’s hard to believe you’re still in the middle of Netherton.

Oh… there’s a metal fence.

A car.

A garage.

Some steps back down to civilisation.

Never mind.

Eventually we reached Astle’s Bridge, officially known as Primrose Bridge. Around here you’ll often spot the graffiti declaring “Astle is King” or “King Astle”, celebrating West Bromwich Albion legend Jeff Astle, whose winning goal secured the 1968 FA Cup Final. The long-running saga of the graffiti painters versus the council means the bridge is affectionately known as Astle’s Bridge. I respect this level of commitment to both football and paint.

Sadly, today I was not destined to become Queen Astle, although I did stand there for a moment wondering whether the plastic chair back at Withymoor could be pressed into ceremonial use.

Here, where the canal opens out again near the site of the former Lloyd’s Proving House – where anchors made by Hingley’s were tested before being sent around the world – we decided it was time to turn back to our trusty wagon and give our legs a well-earned rest.

Buoyed by how well we’d done, we practically marched back. Hamish remained determined to annoy a few more ducks; I remained equally determined to prevent him. It was a battle of wills: woman with MS-wobbly legs versus spaniel with a duck-based life mission.

The canal somehow seemed even calmer than before. Reflections of narrowboats, corrugated iron buildings and colourful graffiti lay on the water like oil paintings.

As we approached Bumble Hole once more, we had to dodge increasing numbers of dog walkers, cyclists, joggers and groups of friends, all enjoying the sunshine. We stopped for a couple more postcard-worthy photos before Hamish attempted to pull me into the canal after spotting a particularly moody goose eyeing him suspiciously. I’m not saying the goose started it, but it had the energy of someone who would.

By now the Visitor Centre had sprung into life and Bumble Hole was buzzing. Families, cyclists, walkers and runners filled the paths while ducks floated purposefully past Hamish wearing what I can only describe as deeply aggressive expressions.

I’m fairly sure they were giving him the duck equivalent of the middle finger.

With that, we rehydrated ourselves, gave the filthy car windscreen a much-needed wash, and headed home with the quiet satisfaction of another 4 kilometres ticked off our little map. By “quiet satisfaction”, I mean I was internally doing a full parade with bunting, brass band and possibly a ceremonial duck.

Only a few more miles of canal to go… said no sane person casually. But here we are, one stretch at a time, one wobble at a time, one baffled duck at a time.

Walked:

• From Windmill End junction, Bumble Hole to Primrose (Astle’s) Bridge
• 4.02km logged on Strava — to follow my progress on Strava, you can find me on there as Katie Ceit (Stourbridge)

Reflections:

• Make sure I wear my walking boots. My walking boots had fallen down the cellar stairs and, being lazy, I thought I’d walk without them. My Dr Martens sandals are comfy and pink, which is very important, but they are not, it turns out, professional canal-challenge equipment. Betrayal, but make it fashionable.
• When I was driving home I reflected a lot on how well I’d done to walk 4k and still have some in the tank to continue. This may not seem a lot to some people, but there was a time I would struggle to walk up the street and after a bad ankle break my partner would wheel me about in an office chair – pink, of course. It will be really interesting to see how my stamina, speed and overall fitness improves over the course of this challenge. If nothing else, the office chair years have given me excellent cornering experience.

Wot we learnt:

• The Cooper was a man who made casks, which helped to transport products all over the world. I’d never heard of a Cooper, but thanks to one of Luke Perry’s informative signs I now do. Every day’s a school day, especially if the school is outdoors and occasionally smells of canal.
• Hingley’s anchor for the Titanic was – and for some time after – the world’s largest anchor forged by hand.

If you can, please sponsor me and Hamish as we take on this fundraising walk. We promise to keep going, share lots of photos and uncover more random facts about our bostin Black Country. Think of it as donating to charity with added ducks, bricks, light confusion and one dog who believes every bird is a personal challenge.

We’re raising money for three fantastic charities supporting people with multiple sclerosis and dementia, as well as mental health, learning disabilities and autism. Your donation really would help keep us walking, wobbling, wondering and occasionally shouting “duck off!” at the scenery.

Fundraising link: www.givewheel.com/fundraising/17386/black-country-canal-challenge.