A Short History of a Long Hole

If you’ve ever boated the Leicester Line and felt your tiller hand tighten as the daylight disappears, you’ve probably met Saddington Tunnel — 808 metres of brick, bats, and mild existential reflection. Built in 1797, it was the canal company’s elegant solution to a simple problem: there was a hill in the way, and going around it would have been far too sensible.

Northwest portal. Image: GrandUnionCanal.co.uk

A Tunnel Built the Traditional Way: With Optimism and Miscalculations

The Leicestershire & Northamptonshire Union Canal was authorised in 1793, surveyed by Christopher Staveley and John Varley, and placed under the watchful eye of the great engineer William Jessop. Jessop was one of the finest engineers of his day, which makes it all the more charming that Saddington Tunnel is… not quite straight.

The official explanation is “construction miscalculations”. The unofficial explanation is “someone dug slightly to the left when they should have dug slightly to the right”. Either way, the tunnel has a gentle kink that keeps boaters alert and gives the whole structure a certain personality. Think of it as the canal equivalent of a charismatic wonky smile.

As for how many navvies died building it — nobody knows. Records weren’t exactly meticulous in the 1790s, and canal companies weren’t in the habit of publishing health and safety reports. Suffice to say, tunnelling through Leicestershire clay with hand tools and candlelight was not a low‑risk occupation.

Anna’s Lair? Image: Geograph

The Tunnel’s Most Famous Resident: Anna, the Headless Ghost

Of all the stories attached to Saddington Tunnel, the most persistent is the tale of Anna, a headless female ghost said to drift along the tunnel’s length. Local lore insists she’s been there for generations, though — in a classic ghost‑story twist — nobody can quite agree on who she was, how she lost her head, or why she chose a damp brick tunnel as her eternal address.

Some say she was the victim of a tragic accident during construction. Others claim she was a local woman who met an unfortunate end near the canal. A few insist she simply enjoys startling boaters who are already concentrating very hard on not scraping their paintwork.

What we can say with confidence is that Anna has never been known to cause harm, interfere with navigation, or request a lift to Foxton. She is, by all accounts, a model supernatural citizen — quiet, unobtrusive, and only mildly alarming if you’re travelling through at dusk.

Whether you believe in her or not, the story adds a certain charm to the tunnel. After all, every good canal deserves at least one ghost, and Saddington has chosen to go with quality over quantity.

Daubenton’s bat. Image: Canal & River Trust

Ghosts, Bats, and Other Tunnel Residents

Anna isn’t the only resident. Saddington Tunnel is also home to a healthy population of bats, who appreciate the stable temperature, the darkness, and the lack of boaters asking whether they’re nearly through yet. Species like Daubenton’s and Natterer’s bats are common in long, unlit tunnels, and Saddington provides prime real estate.

If you hear a faint fluttering overhead, don’t worry — they’re just checking the tenancy agreement.

Saddington Reservoir. Image: Geograph

The Reservoir That Keeps It All Afloat

Just south of the village sits Saddington Reservoir, built in the 1790s and completed in 1802 to keep the canal’s summit pound topped up. It’s fed by Saddington and Laughton Brooks and quietly does the unglamorous but essential job of making sure the locks don’t run dry every time someone decides to “just nip through quickly”.

The reservoir is also a haven for wildlife and a favourite spot for walkers, birdwatchers, and anyone who enjoys looking at water without having to steer a boat through it.

Feeder channel from Reservoir to Canal. Image: Geograph

A Tunnel Worth Knowing

So that’s Saddington Tunnel: slightly crooked, mildly spooky, ecologically important, and historically significant. It’s a reminder that the Grand Union Canal wasn’t just engineered — it was built, by real people with shovels, sweat, and occasionally questionable surveying.

And if you ever find yourself boating through it, spare a thought for the bats, the navvies, and Anna — who, head or no head, has been quietly minding her own business down there for over two centuries. Then enjoy the moment the light reappears at the far end — proof that even the longest, kinkiest tunnels eventually let you out again.