Canal Roach: Trapped in a Sisyphean Loop - Pt.17

Back in April I decided to revisit one of my favourite stretches of canal, a place packed with memories and fishy achievements. This was the pound that had produced my personal best roach, a fish so improbably large that I spent longer staring at the scales than I did actually celebrating. It was one of those captures that gets filed away in the memory bank forever, alongside first cars, first pints and the occasional spectacular angling disaster. Naturally I expected to arrive, have a wander, admire the scenery and perhaps daydream about another red-finned monster appearing one day. Instead, I rounded the corner and was greeted by something that looked less like a canal and more like an archaeological excavation.The entire 500-metre stretch between the locks was empty. Not low. Not shallow. Not carrying less water than normal. Empty. Completely and utterly devoid of the very thing canals are generally famous for containing. Water. The scene was surreal. Mud stretched from bank to…