Day 7 – 26 July 2026

Blowers Green Pumphouse to The Waterfront

After yesterday’s Pumphouse Uber of shame, I decided to return to Blowers Green and do the next stretch properly. The plan was simple: park near Park Head Junction, walk towards The Waterfront, avoid falling in, and try not to make a spectacle of myself. So, naturally, I immediately made a spectacle of myself.

Having seen a fisherman park by the Pumphouse the day before, I convinced myself there’d be loads of room. “It’s Sunday,” I thought. “They’ll all be having a lie-in.” Reader, they were not. The Black Country and his wife were up by the locks, looking down at me from their lofty canal kingdom as I rolled up in my old car like a yampy wench arriving late to bingo and battered chips night down the local club.

Just as I began summoning my inner strong independent woman who parks where she maybe should not, a canal boat appeared, complete with more fine Black Country folk silently observing my life choices. That was enough. I fled. They were actually on a canal trip organised by The Dudley Canal Trust, which is great, so do check them out!

Unfortunately, fleeing required a three-to-eight-point turn beside the water, watched by people, boats and one amused mon eating a crusty cob. There were little posts to stop you driving into the canal, but they looked about as useful as a chocolate teapot. Reversing it was. Only three bushes were affected. Excellent driving, I think.

After ditching the car somewhere more appropriate, I made it back in time to watch the boat glide off beautifully. I resisted the urge to wave.

Then came the exciting bit: Park Head Junction, the high bridge (actually a railway viaduct), Canal Park and the Dudley Tunnel entrance, which is only passable by boat. I was excited. Briefly.

But this was where my excitement waned, and I was in two minds about whether to write about it. As I walked past the remaining canal volunteer, who was no doubt soon disappearing off for a cup of tea, a man approached. He was ambling along the towpath, smoking, and as our paths crossed he seemed to hesitate by the lock and said, “Hello.” “Hi,” I replied, then carried on with my journey.

The man on the towpath unsettled me, and I feel awful about thinking that. He may well have been doing nothing more than having a Sunday amble, but when you’re a woman walking somewhere quiet, your brain starts running its own gloomy true-crime documentary. I pressed on, then noticed he had turned around and was now behind me, matching my very slow pace. My gut said, “Go back, bab.” My brain said, “Stop being dramatic.” For once, both were unhelpfully loud. Going back meant meeting him under a bridge; going forward meant… well, I wasn’t sure. I pressed on, because Canal Park sounded more friendly. It wasn’t.

Canal Park felt eerie rather than exciting: too quiet, too open, too much overgrown edge. Another dog walker eventually appeared, the tension broke, and the first man headed off towards the houses, although he walked alongside me for a while, not speaking. Maybe he was lonely and wanted a chat. I’m sure he was harmless, and I feel bad writing about it, but that uneasy feeling is real. It was the first time on this challenge I’d felt like this, and it made me sad. Because I feel bad about feeling bad about someone.

Still, there were interesting oddities: a covered-up access point, bits of canal that seemed to disappear off who knows where, a bridge that seemed to vanish into the trees, and the Dudley Tunnel entrance itself. There were also lots of geese for Hamish to get annoyed at. When I looked up this interesting and eerie junction later, it turned out to be genuinely fascinating. See below for a long list of “Wot we learnt”.

I had a look, decided my big-girl pants had done enough for one morning, and headed back towards people, noise and the comforting possibility of witnesses.

Back by the Pumphouse, more people appeared, including a couple eating their lunch, and my courage returned. Off we went under Dudley & Lye Waste Bridge and onto the Dudley Canal No. 1 towpath.

With the traffic of Peartree Lane humming behind us, we stopped under the first graffiti-covered bridge for water. Hamish, naturally, wanted to swim. I, naturally, wanted not to be dragged into the cut.

The next stretch brought flashes of industry through the trees. A runner, a cyclist and a fisher passed by, all doing ordinary purposeful things, and the whole place felt different: sunnier, busier, less eerie. Funny how activity makes a place feel safer.

Near Peartree Lane Bridge, the canal opened into a desolate patch of empty car parks and signs pointing nowhere useful. Well, not on a Sunday. It had strong Black Country zombie-film energy: one foaming-mouthed fisherman and a warehouse mon away from disaster. Nothing happened, obviously. The undead must have been on annual leave.

We pressed on past a strategic board meeting of geese gathered on a random triangle of towpath. Was it for people? Geese? Zombies? Hamish assessed the situation and, for once, decided diplomacy was best.

At the next bridge we paused, refreshed and read the graffiti. “No Love” keeps appearing around Dudley. Who is writing it? Do they need a hug? A sandwich?

Beyond Woodside Bridge, the canal grew quieter again: steady towpath, greenery, glimpses of industry, and the skeleton of a new building peering through the trees like it knew something I didn’t. Then came Tata Steel Round Oak Rail, huge and blue-grey, bearing down over the canal like the mothership had landed in Brierley Hill.

And then: horror. The towpath stopped. A barrier blocked the way, and a helpful “Pedestrians” sign pointed us right – onto the water. Yes, onto the actual bloody water. In front of us was a floating pontoon of wobbly tiles. I’m a woman with MS who can fall over on solid concrete, so this felt like a personal attack.

I gripped the rail, planted one terrified foot forward, and imagined the Express & Star headline: “Black Country wench wedged in cut after pontoon incident.” Then a lovely woman jogged up behind me. She slowed, clocked the clenched teeth and death grip, and simply said she’d wait to make sure I got off safely. No fuss, no mollycoddling, just quiet kindness. My hero in Lycra.

Once back on solid ground, I felt like I’d crossed the Sahara, swum the Channel and climbed Snowdon, all while attached to a spaniel. The pigeon applause under the next giant metal bridge was, frankly, deserved.

By now the heat was rising and I was flagging, but then I spotted the familiar corporate brick of The Waterfront. Never has an office block looked so much like an oasis. We passed boats, ducks, bored-looking people and the back of some food tents, which briefly gave Hamish hope before he remembered life is mostly disappointment and pigeons.

In the spirit of doing this challenge properly, we walked the extra bit of towpath to give ourselves a clear finish point. We are nothing if not conscientious. Slightly ridiculous, yes, but conscientious.

Then we rang Dad taxi, who was absolutely delighted to collect us after a morning of football and driving. By “delighted”, I mean he came anyway, which is love in its most practical Black Country form. Another good chunk of map 39 in the Pearson canal guide: done. Only The Waterfront to Delph Locks left for this bit.

There is, however, one snag: part of the towpath is shut between Greens Bridge and Daniels Land Bailey Bridge because of the Wednesbury to Brierley Hill Metro works, so I’ll have to do that section a different way, maybe by road. I’m logging all the bits I can’t walk – like tunnels and closures – on my very serious spreadsheet. Because I am conscientious, bab. Conscientious with a spreadsheet.

So, with that in mind, please sponsor us: conscientious Kate and the yampy wammel, walking, wobbling and occasionally being rescued by women in Lycra. Go on, bab. You know you want to.

Walked:

• From Blowers Green Pumphouse and Park Head Junction to The Waterfront
• 4.50km logged on Strava – to follow my progress on Strava, you can find me on there as Katie Ceit (Stourbridge)

Reflections:

• Some days the hardest bit of walking is not the distance, it’s the confidence. Today reminded me that feeling uneasy does not make me dramatic, it makes me human. If my gut says, “Head back towards people, bab,” then that is what we do. The canal challenge is important, but so is not starring in my own low-budget true-crime special.
• Accessibility is a funny old thing. A towpath can look perfectly fine until someone points you onto a floating pontoon, at which point it becomes an assault course designed by someone who has never met a wobbly woman with MS and a spaniel. Still, I got across it.
• Kindness matters. The woman who waited behind me on the pontoon probably thought she was doing something small, but it meant a lot. No fuss, no fanfare, just a quiet “I’ve got you” moment. Proper bostin. Also, note to self: Dad Taxi remains one of the finest transport networks in the Black Country.

Wot we learnt:

• The high bridge I saw at Park Head Junction is actually Parkhead Viaduct. The structure was originally wooden and it’s believed to still be inside the brick! The viaduct will be part of the Wednesbury to Brierley Hill Metro extension
• At Park Head Junction, the three Park Head Locks climb to the southern portal of Dudley Tunnel. The stubs of the unnavigable Pensnett Canal and Grazebrook Arm are at the top of Park Head Locks.
• Then I went down a rabbit hole about the Pensnett Canal, which is really unusual because it was privately owned. It isn’t very long, is unnavigable and is partly buried under factories and car parks, as this interesting blog post describes.
• The Grazebrook Arm was named after M & W Grazebrook Ltd, a major 19th- and 20th-century iron and engineering company based in Netherton. Captain Ahab’s Watery Tales blog gives a bit more information about the Grazebrook Arm. The short branch of waterway was used to haul raw materials like coal and limestone and to ship iron goods.
• The Grazebrook Beam Engine is a famous 1817 Boulton & Watt-style beam blowing engine used at the Grazebrook ironworks to power blast furnaces. It is now a monument in Birmingham.
• Dudley Tunnel, at 3,154 yards long, is the second longest canal tunnel in the UK, with an additional system of underground waterways running into basins and natural caverns in the limestone. The Dudley Canal Trust manages trips through the tunnel. No engines are permitted.
• The thing I described earlier on as a covered-up access point is actually a historic circular overflow weir (or by-weir) with a protective iron safety cage, commonly found alongside 18th-century English canals. It acts as a safety overflow or bypass to regulate water levels and prevent canal flooding when lock gates are closed or water volume surges.
• Round Oak Steelworks once stood where The Waterfront and Merry Hill Shopping Centre now are, opening in the 1850s and becoming one of the area’s great industrial beasts. At its peak, thousands worked there, and the canal and railways helped keep the whole thing moving. Now there are offices, restaurants and people eating street food where heavy industry once thundered away.
• The Waterfront was completed in the 1990s as part of the transformation of the old Round Oak site into a business and leisure area centred on the canal. I arrived sweaty, wobbly and overjoyed to see corporate brick, which is perhaps not the marketing slogan they were hoping for, but there we are.
• The Waterfront shipwreck is a submerged boat, still there

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