Day 5 – 19 July 2026

Astle’s Bridge to Cattle Bridge

Inspired by how much I’d enjoyed my blue-sky Bumble Hole walk on day four, I decided to forgo the Sunday morning lie-in and take Hamish and myself off to Netherton. The plan was simple: hop back onto the canal at Astle’s Bridge and continue the journey. Simple plans, I am learning, are the ones most likely to laugh in your face.

Here came my first challenge. Sometimes my wobbly MS legs and wonky brain play havoc with my ability to walk down things. The path down to the towpath had wide brick steps and I was wearing sturdy walking boots, so on paper this should have been straightforward. Unfortunately, my legs were not playing ball. As soon as I put my foot on the first step, I froze. Trying very hard not to be launched canal-wards by one very enthusiastic springer spaniel, I clung to the wall until I couldn’t quite cling anymore, then gingerly edged down each step like a nervous crab.

It was horrible. My knees were knocking, my brain was shouting, and the steps themselves looked offensively ordinary. Look at a picture of them and you’d think, “Oh, nice easy steps.” Meanwhile, I was there walking like a crab. Once I reached the solid gravel of the towpath I felt better, but it was a sharp reminder of how multiple sclerosis can turn the simplest-looking task into a proper battle. Stairs: 1. Kate: 0.

I gathered myself, went up and over a small towpath bridge, and carried on past a man fishing, who looked at us with the kind of disdain usually reserved for noisy neighbours and badly poured pints.

On a day that turned out to be very bridge-heavy, the first one we passed under was Saltwells Bridge, where the canal opened out to a row of semi-detached houses, each with a different sort of garden backing onto the water. One man watched us from his rather large and posh shed, and naturally I wanted to know what treasures were inside. Classic cars? Secret workshop? A fridge full of pop and scratchings? I nearly shouted over to ask, but decided that might be a bit impertinent for a Sunday morning.

Two joggers stopped so the lady could stroke Hamish. She cooed over “this lovely puppy” and said, “You’re brave. A springer puppy down the canal with the ducks and the water.”

I then had to break the news that he is actually eight years old. Yes, eight. A grown gentleman. A dog who should know better. Unfortunately, nobody has told Hamish this, especially when ducks are involved.

As the houses dropped into our rear view, the canal became greener and wilder, with lovely lily pads tempting all sorts of wildlife to sit and enjoy the surroundings. To our left we caught occasional glimpses of Netherton Reservoir and could hear the distant chatter and laughter of people enjoying time at Dudley Water Sports Centre. Every time there was a break in the trees and a view of the reservoir, an enthusiastic springer tried to pull me through it. If I’d let him off his lead, he’d have been happily swimming in the middle of The Rezza before I’d had time to say, “Haaaaaamish!”

Soon we reached the first of three wonderful views: a solitary canalside cottage with a lovely garden out front. I mean, that’s the dream, isn’t it? If I can’t live by the sea, then the canal is next best. A little cottage, a bench, a cup of tea, and Hamish permanently on duck watch. Bliss, apart from the barking.

Then, just past this lovely canal cottage, came Highbridge Road Bridge – and what a view. Totally unexpected. It is, very logically, called Highbridge Road Bridge because it carries Highbridge Road over the canal and, I assume, because it is a bloody high bridge.

But it is not only spectacular; thanks to an informative Canal & River Trust sign, I learned that the exposed rock wall at Brewin’s Cutting is a designated Site of Special Scientific Interest. The lower rock is sandstone from the Silurian era, about 418 million years ago. That is old-old.

Another sign mentioned Brewin’s Tunnel, which didn’t mean much to me at the time. More on that later (see ‘Wot we learnt’), because apparently I now collect canal facts the way other people collect normal hobbies.

Under this lovely bridge, the canal view opened up again, with paths disappearing through what looked like woodland to the left and views across the Black Country where the trees parted. As Hamish had a staring contest with a lounging duck – tense, silent, neither side willing to blink – I spotted my third wonderful view. In the distance, not one but two bridges sat side by side, joining and yet not quite joining: one older, one newer. The newer steel bridge had a name plate that read Cattle Bridge, and the older bridge, I now know, sits at Blackbrook Junction. To the left are the remains of the Two Locks Line, which once joined the Dudley No. 2 Canal here and the Dudley No. 1 Canal at Woodside Junction. The Two Locks Line closed in 1894 due to subsidence and was officially closed in 1909.

These two bridges became a very welcome resting place for weary wobbly legs and a panting tongue – Hamish’s tongue, to be clear, not mine. As we rested and rehydrated, we could hear the happy chatter of a Black Country family as they clattered over Cattle Bridge. It was one of those little everyday sounds that makes a place feel properly alive.

I debated, in my mind, whether we could push on to Parkhead Junction, but with the heat rising and Hamish doing his impression of a furry bellows, I decided the sensible option was to turn back.

So back we marched under bridges, past ducks and alongside houses now coming to life with Sunday morning noise. The canal felt different on the return, as it always does: same path, different thoughts.

Then came the steps again. The same steps that had nearly defeated me on the way down. I went back up them like lightning. Well, lightning with walking boots, MS and a spaniel attached, but lightning nonetheless. Take that, demon steps.

Back in the car, we both enjoyed more water while watching a strange scene unfold. A taxi pulled up, a man dashed out towards one of the flats, stopped to pick up a discarded mobile phone from the front garden, glanced at it, then threw it back down into the middle of the lawn before glaring at me and heading inside.

I’m still wondering about that phone. Was it evidence? Was it broken? Was it not his? Was it cursed? The canal walk may have ended, but apparently the suburban detective drama had only just begun.

Walked:

• From Primrose (Astle’s) Bridge to Cattle Bridge
• 3.71km logged on Strava – to follow my progress on Strava, you can find me on there as Katie Ceit (Stourbridge)

Reflections:

• I’ve never been on a narrowboat holiday and would love to go. Maybe we should look at one now, before I get sick of seeing canals. Although, will I ever get sick of being dahn tha cut? Nah, I don’t think so, bab. Ask me again after mile 300 when I’m talking to a lock gate.

Wot we learnt:

• High Bridge was built in 1858 and, at sixty feet high, was the second highest canal bridge in the Midlands. Sadly, because of its height above the canal, it also became the venue for several suicides, particularly during the Depression years. It was often nicknamed “Sounding Bridge” or “Echo Bridge” because of its impressive acoustics.
• The bridge came about after the Dudley No. 2 Canal, which provided a vital transport link to the main Birmingham Canal, was shortened in 1838 to make a loop around Lodge Farm Reservoir, forming a short 75-foot tunnel called Brewin’s Tunnel, named after Thomas Brewin, the superintendent of the canal at the time. When opened, the tunnel had twin towpaths and was lit with gas. There is more information and some brilliant pictures on Captain Ahab’s Watery Tales blog.
• The old brick bridge at Blackbrook Junction had “Wood Oldbury” stamped into the curved brickwork, so of course I had to find out more. This led me down a brick rabbit hole, including this interesting article on the UK Named Bricks blog. Yes, a bricks blog. I am now reading about bricks for pleasure. I also found someone doing a PhD linked to Black Country bricks, which is exactly the sort of education I can get behind. They have a Black Country Bricks Instagram too – joy!

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 small 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: https://www.givewheel.com/fundraising/17386/black-country-canal-challenge