Seven chakra symbols along the spine

The lock at Hollin Bottom has seven gates stepping down the hill, and I counted them again this morning while the Mary Ann sank under me like a held breath. Dad always said you could read a canal the way you read a spine, one bone stacked on the next, each a little lower than the last. I thought he was being soppy. He wasn't. The paddles at the top of each chamber are painted the same flaking green as the lotus carved on the lock-keeper's cottage door, and every one of them has its own small mark cut into the iron, a circle, a dot, a crescent, a sort of tilted triangle.

Sid, who works the lower locks, says the marks are just foundry numbers, and the flowers are the old canal company's badge. Maybe. But I've started touching each one when we go through, the way Mum used to touch the frame of the wheelhouse door before she went ashore. Seven touches, top to bottom, and the boat settles.

Last Tuesday the water in the third chamber dropped so fast the hull groaned like a cow, and I stood on the beam with the windlass in my hands, thinking of nothing at all except the iron under my palm. It went quiet. The boat sat level. I laughed out loud and frightened a heron off the bank.

Come up at Easter, and bring your good coat. I'll show you the marks before the spring rains get them.

Love, Jo