In Search of Oakdale
On a quest for an iconic image of the Sankey, in 2015 Jonathan Mosse decided to track down one of two remaining Mersey flats. After a long trawl, he was surprised by what he found…
Originally an entirely boater-centric publication, the series of Nicholson Guides has, over the years, broadened its scope to embrace all waterway users – especially walkers and cyclists. So now, if it’s possible to navigate from end to end by boot, bike or, indeed, boat, then a navigation is ripe for inclusion. On that basis one could hardly ignore the Sankey Canal or (St Helens) Canal when it came to compiling the new edition of Nicholsons Waterways Guide 5 – North West & the Pennines, published in March 2015. Consequently, I walked its entire 15½-mile length, talked with its many protagonists and baulked when faced with the additional commission of finding the subject for its ‘signature image’.
A Sankey symbol
You see, every waterway in the series is heralded by an iconic image – set atop the introductory page – one that is widely agreed as being exclusively representative of that navigation.
When tasked upon the matter the Sankey Canal Restoration Society (SCARS), without a moment’s hesitation, declared that the Mersey flat should be that chosen image – and, indeed, it appears on much of the literature and signage relating to the canal. Throughout the 19th and the first half of the 20th century, this coasting vessel was the workhorse of the waterways of the North-West – the motor lorry of its day. Literally thousands were built, plying the waters between Anglesey in the south and the Solway Firth in the north, where the ubiquitous puffer would have taken up the baton.
With a length of between 62ft and 70ft, and a beam of around 15ft to 17ft, these barges could carry up to 80-tons. They often had a single mast with a fore-and-aft rig, with some having an additional mizzen mast. Most were converted to dumb barges by the end of the 19th century, to be towed by horses or steam tugs.
Consequently, there are just two examples of this waterway workhorse left. One, Mossdale, at the Ellesmere Port Boat Museum in 2015, having secured a grant for complete restoration. As to the other, well that was to become my quest, with only a somewhat vague Google entry to set me on my way.
That entry was from the National Historic Ships UK register and purported to have been updated on 5th October 2012. Only 20 months down the line, I reckoned I was on to a winner. Just how wrong can one be, as I discovered when I bowled up in Millom on the Cumbria coast, listed on the register as Oakdale’s location.
One in a Millom
I drove out from the town, towards the miles of shimmering sand and disparate trickles of water that make up this vast estuary at low tide (immediately west of Barrow-in-Furness), to be greeted by nothing as much as a beached rowing boat. I engaged dog-walkers in conversation, both here and in neighbouring communities up and down the shoreline. I visited numerous pubs, where I attempted to extract some modicum of sense from the regular afternoon clientele. Librarians were interrogated, as were members of the local constabulary, boat clubs and marinas. All to no avail.
Returning to the vast expanse of sand dunes at Millom, I had one final conversation with a dog-walker and struck gold. While he personally couldn’t help, Michael in the big house just up the road – who owned the ramshackle quay that we were standing on – was bound to know, so he would take me up there, here and now, and make the introductions.
Luckily, we were just in time to apprehend Michael’s Audi as he set out for a family jaunt and, yes, he knew all about Oakdale which had moved across the estuary to Askam-in-Furness some nine years ago. Well, ‘across the estuary’ was maybe a mile and a half by sea but it was a good 8 miles by those tortuous roads, the sun was setting, and I needed pictures.
Finding Oakdale
To cut a long story short, I made it with enough light to spare, breathing a huge sigh of relief as I located the vessel, beached on grassy dunes. After happily snapping away, I was invited on board by the owner of the vessel himself, Dave Keenan.
For sheer character alone, Oakdale stands head and shoulders above the remainder of the motley collection of craft beached on the sand beside what was once an iron ore terminal. Dave tells me how he first found her in 1976, sunk in the mud at Burscough on the Leeds & Liverpool Canal. He painstakingly dug her out of her intended grave to find the 72ft 6in by 15ft 9in hull to be in remarkably good condition.
He went on to explain that she is constructed from massive oak planking, on steel frames, to a design dating from the 1850s – the last example of a composite flat in the world. Since exhuming the vessel almost 40 years ago, Dave has lavished an immense amount of time, money and attention on her.
He is also passionate about her history, and showed me a vast collection of records and photographs, dating all the way back to the laying of her keelson in 1951. This includes an excellent article by Roger Murray which appeared in the January 2005 issue of Waterways World. The piece documents Oakdale’s move from Liverpool’s Albert Dock to Lytham St Anne’s, where she encountered a storm during her passage to Barrow-in-Furness. On a subsequent voyage, bound for the sanctuary of the Scottish Maritime Museum at Irvine, storms again curtailed the trip, forcing her to seek refuge at Millom.
It’s hard to tear yourself away from such a knowledgeable person as Dave, but darkness now clothed the idyllic landscape that has become his home and, with a high tide threatening, his focus was now turning to starting his boat’s diesel pumps. On a spring tide, the seawater floats Oakdale, relentlessly seeking out what has become a myriad of small leak s in the caulking between her oak planking.
Herein lies the serious side to this story: Oakdale’s future lies in the hands of a 63-year old man (yes, he was born in the same year his boat was built in Richard Abel’s Runcorn yard) with only a state pension to look forward to. Dave’s enthusiasm and unstinting dedication to his vessel knows no bounds, but his somewhat sorrowful parting words – “it’s beginning to get away from me” – left me seriously concerned for the future of this unique craft.
This article was originally published in Waterways World January 2015
The archive of Waterways World magazine articles is fully searchable. Search WW magazine archive.
Further reading
For a detailed insight into these important vessels and the men that worked them, there is no better publication than Michael Stammers’ Mersey Flats and Flatmen, published in 1993 by Terence Dalton Ltd and National Museums & Galleries on Merseyside, available from IWA The jacket bears a picture of Oakdale in happier times.
