Pickingupducks

Paneful reflections

There’s a fragile, colourful theme running throughout our lives. It’s a theme that the narrowboat part of our life, just one of the many beautiful homes we’ve lived in, now takes us from one to another discovery of new, exciting, palette reflecting something unique, often in unexpectrd places.

Kawaka New Zealand (public toilet), Coventry (cathedral), Istanbul (mosque) – not all reached by narrowboat!

Those colours are often not as fragile as they appear when encased in lead as stained glass. This week alone we have found them in the soaring space of a cathedral and illuminating a humble parish church.

The latter contained two modern style stained glass windows and got me thinking. These, made and donated in memory of an individual and a family, are really poignant. They contain elements important to those people such as a Mercedes Benz logo and white rose of Yorkshire.

So what I wondered would be in my stained glass window?

What would be in yours?

How and what would we want to be remembered?

Putting down in glass what matters to you requires thought and evaluation. You can’t have everything so it’s a helpful process of reflection. This can happen at any time in our lives and is invaluable – to see what we have achieved or illuminating what we want to achieve.

Constraints require focus – you can’t have everything so what is important, what is essential to you? What ahould be the colours – what the reflection?

Reflection is an essential part of professional development and is as valuable in our personal lives, something we often forget.

Reflection is a process that enables us to take stock, to move forward informed by what has gone before, and in my case, sort out the calm from the noise.

One of my own leaded windows with reflection

A stained glass window struck me as a great tool for reflection (pun fully intended). There is the window itself with its carefully curated contents. Then the reflection it casts is diffused, different and often more thought-provoking.

Some years ago I made a stained glass window for the Skipper when we lived on land. It was a window that was the essence of him (or at least as I see him) focused, clear, unfussy, and fundamentally, of course, for him, reflecting his beloved Yorkshire.

The same white rose of Yorkshire flies on the back of our boat. Its glazed fused replica still sits in the middle of that window, now bound up in storage. Maybe one day it will find a new home. It is just too big for the boat, so it has to wait for now.

So what, I found myself thinking this week, would be in my own stained glass window. Selfishly, even honing things down, I found that too much mattered to me, too much is fundamental to me, now and in the future. So I need two windows. You might find you need one, two or a triptych.

Within mine (portrayed here courtesy of AI) is family, founded in our marriage and our two amazing daughters. Now that has gloriously expanded to include their two great partners and our three gorgeous grandchildren (who definitely don’t look as AI has portrayed them!).

So family remains at the heart of things, whatever I do I do for them. In a way that simplifies things in my life. It always has done. What I do is about making them proud and trying to make them safe and happy. I know I often get things wrong but I keep trying. It’s about trying to set examples showing not perfection but that you make mistakes, can overcome things and achieve something. If the first path you try does not work out, try the second or the third and you will get there – wherever there might be.

My PhD, which I celebrated with them both there as adults at my graduation was in point about recognising some people’s journeys are different to others, and have more diversions. Now I’m seeking a route to be a good granny – my mother never had the chance to be to my girls so I have no direct role model but I also recognise we are two very different people so we would have had very different approaches to being a granny. On reflection each of us should be content to be whatever we feel is right for us as individuals.

A visual representation of wet dog = dog and water combined!

Other strands flowing through my reflections are water, friends, education, nature and of course my dogs, in all their shapes and sizes. These elements have been and continue to be valued in bringing meaning and balance.

I recognise some things need more focus and others less attention. Another realisation is that AI can never replace personal effort and creativity. One day I shall build my own stained glass leaded window – and it won’t look as garish as the AI version.

Remembering less is more is my fundamental reflection. Focus. Simplicity. Essentials.

Beauty comes often in simple reflections and a muted palette!

Shocked into sense this week

Sometimes we all need a stark reminder to stop and take stock. This week has brought us some truly awful reminders.

Routine can act as a blinkers for us, so that we fail to see the big picture, as we become bound up in the minutiae of careers, and daily life.

Small issues can appear to be insurmountable problems, using up inordinate time and effort to resolve. Familiarity can breed contempt in so many ways, and without conscious thought, we let it. Jobs, relationships, life, can all seem irritating, mundane and yet we need to step back occasionally and recognise their immense value to us.

Sometimes familiarity with something means we actually fail to appreciate its value completely. Health is one of those aspects for us. We are healthy. We don’t take any pills or potions, have any ongoing health conditions and this is a massive plus for us and our lives. We don’t have to arrange repeat prescriptions or doctors’/hospital appointments as we travel. Health allows us to battle tough locks, to comfortably walk miles every day. We don’t give a second thought to our health, and perhaps because we don’t have to think about it, we fail to appreciate the value to us of good health. We are aging like every other human being, but we have the immeasurable benefits of aging in health, and aging together. Whatever the water levels, the drought, pressures of work, demands of tenants, or family concerns, we must not forget those fundamentals, and I for one feel guilty of having done that in recent times.

When the boat feels too small, too full of “stuff”, we can just clear up, recycle, and reduce while actually being reminded of the sheer advantage of being able to clear up rapidly!

This may sound like a Pollyanna reset – frustrating to those who dislike the apparently simplistic approach but however irritating it may be, it is both relevant and true. However it also feels bad to be benefiting in any tangential way from the tragedies of others.

This week alone we shared grief at a dreadful incident that came out of the blue on a family walk. It has left a wife without a husband, a daughter without a father. Their hopes and dreams are in shreds.

We supported a decades-long friend for whom a sudden diagnosis of heart failure means she won’t work again and needs to rethink how she lives. She has the advantage of getting help in time but it has forced changes and worse for her in some ways, having to accept interventions by others in her life.

I celebrated with another friend for whom major surgery has given her the confidence and hope to plan and enjoy thinking ahead.

And as has been the situation monthly for the past 19 years, the Skipper continues to travel to support his mum, now in her 90s, so she can live independently in her home.

It is fortunate that we have health to help others, and knowing how fragile that health can be makes us grateful for every moment. We have family who love and support us, and fabulous friends. Recognising that we are fortunate stops us building resentment, whether against the drought or the rain, but brings appreciation for each element for what it brings.

We have travelled this week because we can. Because there is water to do so where we are and because we wanted to make sure nothing major stands in our way if and when the closed locks ahead are opened. We have travelled to enjoy travelling, the wildlife, the changing views, the new locations to moor, the feel of wind on our faces combined with either sun or rain, or in some cases – both!

En route we have paused to admire the sunsets, crawled out at some unearthly hour to admire the sunrise (so we could get to volunteering commitments on time), and tried to appreciate what we have rather than aspiring for what we don’t or can’t have.

Are we merely playing Eleanor Porter’s Glad Game? If it makes our lives feel richer and more contented, we shall play on! Maybe if more of us played the Glad Game with the positives we have politicians would not be investing time and public money planning campaigns to make us all feel more upbeat about our lives. Life is too short to worry about things we can’t influence, but we should invest time and effort in those things we can’t influence change or those we enjoy. Time is very precious and we must remember that next time a moan rises to our lips.

Oscar Wilde said, “A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.” This week has brought us up short to recognise the value of the life we are fortunate to live, and the value of being able to live it without feeling ashamed of doing so.

From drought to escaping the flood in one (sl…ow) move

Having waved a fond farewell to wonderful friends from France with whom we’ve had an awesome week, I was just debating what to have for lunch (and as is my wont when I’ve been talking French all the time, debating with myself en français) when the Skipper announced we were on the move – NOW.

Slightly bemused by the urgency, I reached for my windlass and headed for the nearby river lock. It appeared that the forecast was predicting that strange wet stuff would fall from the sky in positive much-needed torrents, so we could do with leaving a river that is renowned for flooding rapidly before we found we couldn’t leave.

Chugging along we realised there was a lock out ahead, but considered it was at the end of another canalised section so if we had to wait, there might not be such a bad place to be. We continued on, lunching on the move, until we arrived at the closed lock and found a cabal of Canal and River Trust staff debating solutions to solve to a non-equalising lock. Locks need to equalise, to balance if you will, for the boat in them to be released and to continue with its journey. A lock that won’t equalise just keeps filling or emptying (depending on the issue) and so it is impossible to open the gates to let the boat out.

Going down by chance and seeing repairs en route

They had already fitted panels of wood across where they considered the leakage was happening without a resolution, and it was taking 5 strong men to open the gates. Emptying the lock entirely to check the cill to see if a major leak was occurring there seemed to be the next step. That is a step that could take some considerable time.

As luck had it, they needed to empty the lock and we wanted to travel down so we arrived at an opportune moment. We were allowed to travel down with the emptying water, and continues on our way with barely a hesitation. All those lovely strong men on the lock meant I could put my feet up too instead of lockwheeling!

Now through where we had expected an obstacle, we kept going…and going…and made it off one river onto the next, and thought, well why stop now? Our evening meal was actually eaten on the canal network with 16 miles and 12 locks behind us.

By the next morning we realised what a good thing it was we had moved as the rain lashed the boat. Thunderstorms with spectacular lightning streaked across the sky the next day with yet more rain, and we were even more grateful to have left a river where a quick look at the Environment Agency data showed rising levels. Normally it will keep rising there for several days after initial downpours too, reinforcing our gratitude at having moved when we did.

It is strange to think that in the time it took us in our narrowboat to negotiate two rivers and get onto a canal, our French family travelled across countries and made it home using a tunnel and high speed trains! C’est la vie!

When a break came with a day dawning bright and clear, we set off once more, aiming to do a short 5 miles, 4 lock hop with the Skipper in the car lockwheeling ahead, with me on the tiller in the excellent company of Boatdog. The rain kindly held off until we completed our next move and moored up.

We navigated what is familiar territory for us on the Trent and Mersey canal, past the Clock Warehouse at Shardlow, up through Shardlow Lock which is definitely looking leaky and unloved these days, moving gently past long strings of moored boats to pass under Hickens Bridge, whoever Hicken was, which carries the noisy, busy A50 on its high speed way from Derby to Stoke.

Under the calmer more sedate and more rural Acrelane bridge, avoiding fishermen out with the early worms hoping to make a catch, and into Aston Lock set now amid huge arable fields that once would have been a patchwork of smaller fields and hedges worked originally by horses and then by tractors a fraction of the size of today’s monsters. Along this stretch it is obvious that the old weeping willows are suffering from the drought. One has split and a huge section is overhanging the water while sawdust and a sizeable stump marks the demise of another that looks like it blocked navigation for a while.

On through the brick arch of Cow Pasture bridge alongside the impressive 4-storey red brick Weston Grange, a home built on the site of an ancient medieval grange that once belonged to Chester Abbey. Two buzzards sit majestically on wooden fence posts at the edge of the garden, taking flight together as we chug past. I love not only the wildlife but the evocative names of the bridges and locks we pass.

Next it’s under the dripping metal railway bridge, splattering the back of my neck, before arriving in front of Weston Lock and the bridge immediately before it. Up again, only 10 feet this time arriving alongside the old lock house now sold off as a private home but once where the lock keeper/lengthsman responsible for a section of the canal would have lived.

On then to Fine George’s Bridge looking a bit less than fine with a metal monstrosity of a bridge dwarfing it built by Balfour Beatty as part of infrastructure for a massive power update. Overhead cables and wooden poles are being removed and cables buried underground.

Fine George’s Bridge dwarfed by its new, meccano-style companion

After this the light and atmosphere changes as we glide into a steep sided wooded section alongside the Ukranian Youth Association summer camp, and then to a section where it warns to keep right because straying over gets you stuck on a shallow shelf. It may be that I keep more firmly right than the Skipper would do, and I watch the overhanging brambles brushing the herbs and flowers that have suddenly cheered up on the roof after the downpours. It is amazing just how resilient they are. They have endured being baked on a metal roof and seared from above simultaneously, and then they get a downpour or two and begin instantly perking up, miraculously flowering just when I thought they were done. I wonder how much rain trees will need to feel the same rejuvenation…

Due to water levels on the canals not being anywhere near where they need to be, mooring restrictions on sections where stays of 14 days are normal, have been lifted and we can stay where we are until the end of September when the situation will be reviewed. For us, aiming as we are to get into a Northamptonshire boatyard by mid October to get the boat out of the water for regular maintenance and a survey, we will move on as we can, as levels allow. It’s about another 40 miles and 14 locks until the next known low water lock stoppage (a lock flight that closed on 28 July), and then 53 miles and 27 locks from there to our destination.

We don’t have to worry about flooding now which might trap us where we don’t want to be. We have 2 months to do our trip, water levels permitting. We shall get as far as we can, but our essential rain dances will be continuing to try and help us on our so slow way!

Le service normal reprendra la semaine prochaine.

Apologies – spending time with old friends from Preaux on Preaux and in the National Forest. Normal service will be resumed next week.

Have a great week in the meantime and thank you for all those rain dances which appear to be taking effect!

Fear, fire and fortune

So many people are feeling vulnerable at the moment, there is a palpable sense of fear.

Near us fields have been set alight alongside the river and although no animals were injured it could have been very different if the alarm hadn’t been raised so rapidly.

Home owners, wondering if their home will be next to be affected by wildfires. People evacuated, boat dwellers who have had to move their boats rapidly to avoid fires, and others who feel trapped because they are unable to move due to a lack of water.

The heat is incessant and it brings alarm, despair and destruction in its wake.

It all seems so different from just a week ago.
Last weekend around 10,000 people descended on a small Leicestershire village for a day of fun and celebration, an amazing village event complete with a Hurricane and Spitfire fly past, free sessions on the river, a huge parade, competitions, foods from across the globe, stalls and a vibrancy which cut through the heat. As volunteers we were on the go all day buoyed by the sheer joy around us (and the odd pint in a pub!).

This weekend looks like being very different. We are all praying the promised cooler temperatures are genuinely arriving. People walking past on the towpath receiving the emergency alert sent across England and Wales, their phones shrill with the alarm and it is causing alarm to some. Fortunately I haven’t seen any of the many paddle boarders fall in, in shock!

I am writing this sitting outside on the bow with a gentle breeze just building, moving the reeds opposite and for the first time in weeks there is the sound of tree leaves rustling. It makes me realise how hot and still and silent it has been without any wind. The level of the river continues to drop, stones on the bank opposite are my guide. There are now three courses of stones above the water. When we moored here last week there was one.

For the first time in days the river around the boat is moving, ripples caused by the breeze, not by the nearby lock being used as it rarely is now, with this section being an effective dead end due to closures ahead of us. Closures which make it look like yet again we will have to retrace our steps and then join a queue, or two.

This natural movement around the boat has the feeling of hope. The oppressive heat of the day is easing, and there is a promise even of rain tonight with a thunderstorm. For once, that would be welcome.

All this makes us count our blessings. That we have water under the boat, that if there was a fire nearby we could move, that we are so close to nature that the slightest change communicates itself to us instantly.

We have had a chance to meet up with friends this week, to share meals and conversations in person which has been a delight. A chance to see the eclipse (not through a colander but fortunately through our younger daughter’s pictures!

Today we have travelled too, not far, just a few miles. It was special. We had more friends with us on the boat, and were joined en route by chance by another boaty friend. Their appreciation of the river, the wildlife and the beauty we have around us every day was yet another reminder of how fortunate we are to have chosen this way of life. We know it is changing, we know we need to adapt as nature does to climatic upheavals, but we will be grateful for what we have while we have it. Our teamwork came into play again with the Skipper reversing and me wielding the fishing net now showing its age after 5 years of rubbish collection but this time, it was to fish out one of our hats we’d lent to a guest and which got knocked into the Soar!

Stay safe, keep cool and give yourself the green light to enjoy the little things in life.

Water way to go…

We have made it onto the rivers and water is again moving below our hull. To be honest, it couldn’t have been shallower where we had been moored after lock and water control issues left boats and businesses high and dry.

Look hard in the top left picture for a tiny rescued moorchick

It isn’t just about the statistics of distances and locks but the richness of the journey to get us to deeper water this British Shallow Time, so let’s get the numbers out of the way. Six days, 128 miles and 78 locks taking us from Cheshire, to Shropshire, the West Midlands, Staffordshire, Derbyshire and Leicestershire.

It has been a journey of long days packed with things to see and do apart from just steering a boat and working locks. In the last few days alone we encountered a wasps nest under the metal plate of a lock which led to me disappearing in a buzzing mass as the boat I helped up through the lock before we could come down tapped the top gates upsetting the tiny residents. I tackled it very tentatively when we came down…

From wasps we manoeuvred round a fallen willow tree just making it through, and further on came to the remnants of a beech tree that fell onto a boat some weeks ago causing major damage. We met leaking locks (too many to mention), and dropping water levels helped identify shopping trollies no longer completely sunk – we can avoid them easily now.

In Staffordshire we encountered a pedalo powered by Will Coster. He and his two dogs (not small ones either) are making a mammoth effort to pedal from York to London raising funds for Dogs Trust on the waterways.

We then helped a working boat stuck on silt in shallow canal waters. These traditional boats are deeper drafted than us so sometimes we can help by disrupting the silt, other times we can tow or even push. Helping them and another elderly boater led to another injury for me – this time a painful beak bite on the bum from a stroppy cob swan!

Stress levels at this point were escalating every time a notification came through from Canal and River Trust.

In Derbyshire we rescued a distressed moorhen chick from Weston Lock, transferring it to safety (grandson’s fishing net back in play again!), and avoided a woman in the cut. She jumped in to save her cat which fell off a boat. Cat swam out but its owner was left floundering and minus a mobile phone. She was yanked out by her unimpressed partner just as we were gearing to help with a ladder loan.

We paired up with Unicorn skippered by artist Richard Bostock for all the final locks to the Trent. He and his sons were excellent company and we had the great fortune of good friends of ours coming out on their cruiser to join us and work locks for us so the final stages were so much easier for us thanks to everyone’s efforts.

Once on the river we towed Unicorn a short distance before waving farewell to them after Sawley Lock as they headed to explore Nottingham and we veered off to the River Soar.

Another handy boat pairing came our way as we nearer Ratcliffe Lock – an immense relief as these wide locks seem to have gained weight and awkwardness over time! We travelled together to Zouch.

Carrying on alone we encountered thick acrid smoke and fire debris wafting across the river from a tinder-dry maize field burning on the outskirts of Loughborough. My videos made the local news, but we were glad to pass safely.

Once in Loughborough life slowed right down, even for a narrowboat. Islands of invasive pennywort created dense mats to be avoided at all costs – they can bring a boat to a rapid halt when they tangle round the propellor – and 70 fishermen in a competition. Navigating 1.5 miles in Loughborough took over an hour! Gave time for some cheery conversations with competitors though, including with those eager to play chicken with massive rods across the canal, only lifting them at the very last second for the boat to pass.

For now we are almost where we hoped to be, and Canal and River Trust are trying to reduce boat movements through the locks that remain open to conserve water. As a result those of us on 14 day moorings have been told we can stay put until the end of August when the situation will be reviewed. We have we discovered that a lock further down is going out for work in early September so we need to travel through it before then and find somewhere to wait and hope for water, either from reservoirs or the sky, to help us on our way to our booking to be taken out of the water for necessary work in October.

This weekend we will be volunteers again for the unmissable Mountsorrel Revival.

Next week is forecast to be very hot again, so we are grateful to be moored in shade. We continue planning our great escape from next year’s BST (British Shallow Time), researching the many options for 3 months living off the boat for July, August and September. We aim to rest and get on with essentials like boat painting, and spending precious time with friends and family.

Planning to manage BST – British Shallow Time

So two weeks ago, we left you at a point where we had a broken boat and immense frustration at the state of the canals. A family holiday with the invaluable perspective of an eight year-old has helped immensely, as have beautiful Welsh beaches, seaside pubs and glorious countryside.

Tackling everything in turn, the broken Boat has been fixed thanks to Middlewich Wharf. It turned out that we weren’t the only ones exhausted. Preaux now has a new exhaust and it didn’t come in at B.O.A.T. (bring out another thousand) – quite. It appears that the black smoke and propulsion issue was caused by a hole in the exhaust which in turn had clogged the air filter, which meant everything was choked up. She’s running miles better now, the only thing that we now have is a strange rattle, but that could well be one of the many paint or other cans that are down in the engine bay and need sorting.

We talked a lot on holiday about options of what we should do and realised that the main issue for us was suddenly we had a lack of choice and freedom. Our boat home has always meant choice. The ability to move when we wanted to. To go in directions familiar or unfamiliar as we choose.

As climate change is impacting the Canal network and water shortage is biting each summer now it means that our choice or options have been reduced, so it’s not our choice where we cruise, instead we can only go where there is water to do so. Staying put can mean getting stuck, because of closed locks or stranded on silt as levels fall, leading to living life at very uncomfortable angles.

Once back we decided to head over to support and volunteer at a village event in Leicestershire where we used to live. Getting there should have been straightforward given that it’s on the inland waterways network, but the operative word is should… because of a lack of water.

There is a significant debate amongst boaters as to whether this lack of water is not just climate change but exacerbated by poor management by Canal & River Trust. CRT is a charity and the body to whom we boaters pay our licence fee. We are well aware that their grant from the government has been cut, but basic maintenance of locks and other mechanisms like sluices across the network are an issue. Day after day we hear from people who are saying we’re sitting by a leaking lock or a sluice and we have done the same thing. We’ve reported it numerous times. Nothing has happened. It is frustrating as a boater to be in that situation, trying to support the network. CRT issued a statement yesterday evening saying: “We have activated our highest level of operational response and are redirecting as much resources as possible towards projects that help conserve water and keep boats moving. This is our top priority.”

They have also confirmed 45 closures of navigation at the moment (more than I saw on today’s map!) and admitted that the drought has been more sudden and had a more dramatic impact than they expected. As a result last year we had two weeks notice that there was going to be a lock closure because of a lack of water. That gave us time to do a ridiculous dash from the Kennet and Avon back into the Midlands area where we wanted to be. This year stocks in reservoirs that support the canals appear to be higher according to CRT’s own figures but suddenly flights of locks or entire canals have been closed with either no notice or only a matter of days warning, which is hugely problematic for people.

So, looking back a week, we returned from holiday to the mended boat, picked her up at Middlewich in Cheshire and determined we needed to leave rapidly if we were to get up the Trent and Mersey via what is known as Heartbreak Hill or the Cheshire flight which would take us to Staffordshire. Just as we were about to leave we were advised not to try that route but to take a detour going back the way we had come, heading along the Middlewich branch then down the Shropshire Union, turning near Wolverhampton onto the Staffordshire and Worcester, and then back up to meet the Trent and Mersey at Great Haywood. It was a jolly good thing we took that advice. Within hours of us setting off Heartbreak Hill was closed, and now as we move towards rejoining the Trent and Mersey via a long detour, we hear that the Middlewich branch (the route we had to use to get onto the Shropshire Union) is also closed.

Having fortunately found an alternative route, it isn’t all plain sailing. There are few routes that are open completely because of low water and other issues associated with drought such as falling trees which are causing major problems.

Teetering trees coming down would close this canal

There are other issues too – so far in 1 day alone we have reported a fallen tree, a wasp nest under a lock beam and a faulty lock to CRT.

We are on a significant detour because of the water situation and we accept that, and the cost it brings in time and fuel. We also accept some people say we should not be moving because in doing so and using locks we are making the situation worse. We know once we get to where we want to be we can stop for a time, volunteer for CRT to help their maintenance budget, and support family which is paramount. We are not the only ones moving by any means. It has been good to see so many holiday boaters out and about, as they bring essential income to canal-based businesses and CRT to maintain our network.

On our holiday we didn’t leave the canals behind mentally but anxiously watched CRT emails to understand where issues were arising (another boater described scanning CRT emails every few hours like watching for lottery news but less exciting) but now we are travelling these notifications are unbelievably stressful. Every time a CRT email pings onto my phone or watch my heart rate seems to escalate dramatically and we anxiously look to see what’s closed, whether it’s ahead of us and what it means for us now. We have chosen to cruise very long days, mainly because we are very anxious we may not get to our destination. Somehow it seems better to just get there rather than enjoy a prolonged stressful journey.

At the time of writing in 4 long days we have travelled 59 miles, worked 42 narrow locks, and still have another 55 miles and 32 locks (some narrow, some wide) to go. In this instance the journey is about getting to a destination. Canals have closed behind us, and while we are sorry for everyone trapped, we selfishly hope any future closures remain behind and not ahead of us. The low water situation is not making us nicer people!

Every day on this journey is tense, wondering what lies ahead. There are though daily highs when we get to the end of many miles and many locks and see how much nearer we are to our chosen destination.

This journey should lead us to be on a river where we hope there will be decent levels of water although we do know that further down the Leicester Line where we are headed, navigation is closed because of a lack of water. Hopefully there will be enough for us to stay afloat without being at a horrible angle or stuck on the bottom until water levels further down recover and we are able to move to Northamptonshire where we are due to come out of the water for regular maintenance work to the hull in October. The balance will be getting off the river before – wait for it – a flood, yes a flood- traps us there!

While we were away we took the opportunity to make some major decisions about how we intend to live in the future. Autumn, winter and spring are lovely seasons for cruising and really special times to be living on our boat. Winter can bring ice although it hasn’t for us for the last couple of years but being frozen in is not a major issue and we do enjoy wintertime in our floating home. In some areas there can be flooding and there are invariably muddy towpaths but we have boots.

It is possible to work round the annual winter maintenance closures of routes because they are published in advance and by understanding where they are, moving in early autumn to where we think we can keep going and then move through the winter when mooring restrictions change to give nearly everywhere 14 days stops should work.

Spring is equally a beautiful time to be living afloat, the problem now comes in summer. Summer for boating issues appears to be the season from mid June to mid September.

In the boating summer the boat can get very uncomfortably hot.

Low water levels can mean we end up stuck on a mooring at horrid angles with all the drawers open continuously and unable to move the boat until water levels improve.

Locks can be closed with little or no notice.

Trees weakened by drought fall potentially damaging boats but certainly stopping navigation.

Climate experts say this weather pattern is here to stay. It is not something that is going to stop but could exacerbate.

We are fortunate – we do have choices we can make. We have engineered work that means we can enjoy a travelling flexible lifestyle and we have our boat which we have invested in over the past 8 years.

There are two overarching options – we could leave the boat – or we could stay on the boat.

GO

If we leave – we need somewhere to go. This is after all our home and our office.
Moving to bricks and mortar means finding money ££££ and finding somewhere without flood risks, wildfire risks, and with nice neighbours.
We could look at buying ££££ the unicorn if we could find it- land with a mooring but that could result in a permanent low water mooring in summer, meaning we’re more often moored at horrible angles unable to move. Canals that are OK this year may not be next year and vice versa, so where to choose?
We could take ourselves to a Marina £££, which would mean no horrible water level issues if we’re on a Marina where they manage their levels. that would increase our costs. It would mean we would lose our freedom to move, and we would have to adjust to marina life which we have struggled to do for a week or two in the past when it was necessary.
We could buy ££££ a campervan and exchange a larger metal box which can’t go far, for a smaller metal box which can… but we honestly don’t think we could survive together for 3 months in a campervan and the same goes for a caravan and a tent ££ (even if that’s not metal).
We could take on a 3 month private or CRT mooring somewhere for the summer ££££. No guarantee on water levels and still hot, and potentially at risk from trees or if not then without shade.
We could leave the boat in the summer, pay for it to be kept safe in a marina ££££, and go somewhere else – house sit (we come with excellent references), hire a place ££££ for the summer or hire a boat ££££ somewhere with water like Scotland or Ireland, or maybe spend 3 months doing a series of different things and having different adventures, one of them being finding a house near the sea for a month for the family to visit when they can. Might work better with family commitments.
- STAY
We could just stay as we are and accept that in the summer we will get stuck and we shouldn’t go away or plan to be anywhere as we will need to be around to adjust our ropes to keep our home safe. We also have to accept that what we find may not work out. We know of many people who have had to leave their permanent moorings this year because of low water levels.
Given the risks from falling trees to stay safe, we will need to find moorings away from trees, and so unshaded, accepting that we will get HOT – VERY HOT.
We could just move onto a river every summer – most would increase our costs by demanding an Environment Agency licence, or private river company licence in addition to our CRT one. Rivers aren’t foolproof solutions. The issue this year in heading onto rivers in early summer was locks failing on rivers – we encountered two of these this year resulting in us having to change plans. River levels also drop and getting onto banks can be a challenge then, plus moorings aren’t as easy.
We could go to Scotland – get the boat craned out of the water and taken north by lorry ( ££££) as water levels appear OK north of the border. But will they remain that way and there are only around 135 connected navigable miles to travel for 3 whole months. And then we have to pay to return. Plus we would need a Scottish waterways licence ££££. Also this wouldn’t really work with family commitments.

Which one should we take?

Answers in the comments please!

We intend to cruise gently in England this winter after the hull is blacked and our Boat Safety Scheme certificate is completed. We may have to get stuck with stoppages but we want to be around the Midlands until March 2027 so that will give us plenty of time to think, and plan a BST (British Shallow Time) solution.

It is exciting and we are very fortunate to be able to explore new opportunities, new experiences, new places and maybe 3 months near a beach…somewhere.

Life-changing decisions.

What a week.

Broken boat. Clouds of black smoke. Repairs underway. Canals are being closed around us and a feeling of despair settling around.

Canal and River Trust say reservoir levels are higher than when they closed routes last year with two weeks’ warning, but this year locks have shut around us with no warning.

Are we being forced out of our floating lifestyle?

What should we do?

Can we expect to only move in the winter when we will be limited by annual winter closures?

If summers are getting hotter are we mad to stay in them in a metal box?

If we are unable to move in summer because of closures and winter because of repairs is moving spring and autumn enough for us to be happy staying on the boat?

If so what should we do in summer and winter?

No wonder we have needed to escape and reflect.

What should we do? What can we do? What would you do?

We are off the canal netwotk to let the desperate frustration subside and enjoy time with family. See you in two weeks – hopefully with some answers!

White gold

I am born in water. I live in water and I die when water touches me. What am I?

The answer to this old riddle has been adding flavour to our days and dishes, fascinating, exfoliating and also relaxing us these past weeks. It is the mineral once known as white gold and in Cheshire since Roman times, it has been vital in providing employment and incomes, which it still does today.

I’m talking of salt. Any town in Cheshire that was a salt producer is easily identified by the suffix -wich. We have found ourselves over the past weeks in Nantwich, Middlewich and Northwich. The salty brine was pumped by nodding donkeys from deep underground and dried in huge pans. These massive pans date back to the days of the Norse invaders who landed on the coast and dried sea brine in huge pans called wicks or wichs.

The salt industry continues to be a major industry in Britain today, and the salt deposits in Cheshire remain rich but for the first time in history, we could be about to import salt to our shores. INEOS Inovyn,which produces around 50% of our salt from their works in Cheshire say the government’s net zero policies could push them out of business. They have an extensive business using rock salt from a mine near Winsford and brine.

Approach Middlewich from the south along the Trent and Mersey Canal and you cruise alongside massive white mounds of salt at the British Salt site. It uses the Warmingham Brinefields and produces salt for cooking (Saxa), baking, and pharmaceuticals. British Salt is now part of the giant Tata Chemicals corporation.

Salt is used in so much more than food, but in chemicals, pharmaceuticals, dyeing and cleaning products.

A gentle canal cruise taking in part of the Shropshire Union Canal, the Middlewich Branch and part of the Trent and Mersey brings salt to life – not just its current production, but it’s fascinating history too. Salt was fundamental to the canals and the canals were fundamental to salt, as the means to transport it for this area to the sea port of Liverpool and inland ports of Manchester and Birmingham.

Canals are still essential, whatever their length

Today turning left after passing the British Salt mountains, takes you through the shortest canal on the network, the Wardle Canal. At just 154ft long and boasting a single lock, it was built in 1829 so the owners of the Trent and Mersey Canal could have control over the traffic using the junction with the Middlewich Branch of the Shropshire Union, and secure their toll monies.

After Wardle Lock boats have just 13 miles and 4 locks to take them to Nantwich Aqueduct, a short walk from one of the country’s few outdoor inland brine swimming pools. The Nantwich Brine Pool is one of the most famous in the country and it is glorious. Heated to 22 degrees (as a minimum) the pure saline water has no added chemicals and the 30 metre pool has been open to the public for 91 years!

Bathing or swimming in brine has been recognised for centuries as having therapeutic effects on the muscles, skin and joints. Brine is more buoyant than regular seawater because it is denser, and so a body swimming in brine is supported far more than one swimming in the sea. It is also an excellent exfoliant and for some reason my hair too felt much softer after swimming in the brine pool. It is a delightful experience, and one for which it is well worth making a trip to Nantwich.

Turning a boat there and heading back to Middlewich it is another short journey of just 8 miles and 4 locks to drop down the Trent and Mersey, passing past Crofton Flash (like so many flashes in the area created by brine extraction and subsequent subsidence), and eventually through the huge Tata Chemical Works straddling the canal at Lostock Graham near Northwich.

Seven pipe bridges and a footbridge cross the canal above the boats, before arriving at the Lion Salt Works alongside Marston Bridge. The canal was built in the 1760s to carry pottery from Stoke on Trent to Liverpool and to return carrying Cornish china clay brought to the North West on seagoing ships.

Salt became an additional cargo for the barges. As its name suggests, the Lion Salt Works produced salt from brine from 1894 when it opened until 1986. Now it’s buildings and machinery have been preserved as a museum for us all to learn about how salt was produced here.

Salt not only influenced the commercial viability of the waterways here, it literally shaped the industries, architecture and structures around. Pumping brine from underground springs, and mining rock salt from underground led to severe subsidence in many places. At one point in 1907 the Marston Hall mine collapsed and part of the Trent and Mersey canal breached as a result. Boats and barges were submerged by the collapsing banks. Repairing the damage and reopening the canal to navigation took – wait for it – TWO WEEKS.

In those days, labour was cheap, health and safety restrictions were non-existent, and the necessity to keep the waterway open was paramount. In contrast the breach on the privately Peel Group owned Bridgewater Canal which happened in January 2025 remains closed with an expected reopening at the end of this year. The Llangollen Canal managed by Canal and River Trust had a significant breach last December and work is ongoing there to reopen it but without a date for completion.

Salt subsidence shaped the buildings of Cheshire too. Many were built with timber frames by ingenious Victorians and many can still be seen around much of Cheshire. If subsidence was an issue wooden chocks could be added and the buildings shored up to remain usable, or they could even be moved easily to new, more stable locations.

Industries like dyeing, cleaning, and food preservation were using salt in huge quantities and so the huge salt beds formed around 250 million years ago in the Triassic Period directly resulted enhanced the prosperity of the area. Producers were creating different grades of salt to meet different needs, and this continues to this day in the area.

Maybe Cheshire and its people are “the salt of the earth.” The quotation from the Bible, Mathew 5:14 says “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?” Here it means a thoroughly good honest person,

Salt has become embedded in all our lives. We talk of it in our conversations , “Take it with a pinch of salt” (don’t believe it all), or a reminder of how painful the work in a salt mine or salt works could be “rub salt in the wound” (making things even worse). And we talk of saving as “salting something away” indicating how precious salt was seen to be, indeed Roman soldiers were often paid in salt becausae it was such a valuable commodity.

Clockwise:Pharmaceutical salt, table salt, preserving salt

So when you next sprinkle it on your food, think of Cheshire, better still, get on the canals and explore for yourself the salt routes barges would have taken, and when you can, treat yourself to a trip to the outdoor brine pool open through the summer until September at Nantwich Leisure Centre.

To the rescue…death averted

Sometimes one’s closest neighbours, even if you don’t know them personally, are in need of your help. Unexpected moments of crisis, or encounters when a helping hand is what is needed, provide a challenge for all of us – will we step up? Or do we consider ourselves too busy, too inexperienced, too anything that will mean we aren’t rushing to the rescue.

We have had two incidents this past few weeks. The first involved us literally… picking up ducks.

Mama duck had produced what looked like her second hatch of the breeding season. That raises questions as to what happened to the first offspring, but she came hustling up as we moored up beside the towpath, keen to show off her brood of seven, and probably more likely, to see what food we had on board.

The seven ducklings were tiny, very new, and little more than bundles of fluff being blown about on the canal. Their peeping cries as they hustled in her wake were piercing but she seemed to be marshalling them well. We handed out duck food and once she had eaten, she hurried her offspring over to the far side of the canal which was overgrown with brambles and nettles at the edge of an unmanaged patch of woodland. Shade and insects were both evidently appreciated by them all.

Some hours later in the early evening as temperatures dropped, we emerged from the boat, and set off to walk to a cool pub. Within a few steps all we could hear was the strident calling of the mother duck and faint answering peeps. She was in the water but with only 4 ducklings. She was swimming up and down alongside a concrete overflow weir, now empty from the level of the water, but somehow it seemed 3 of her youngsters were trapped inside. The duck was frantic, the ducklings too, but although they had somehow got in, it appeared getting out was a different matter.

Pub abandoned, or at least put on hold, we grabbed our older grandson’s one red and now faded pink seaside fishing net, and set off to the nearest bridge to see if we could rescue the missing youngsters. We slithered down the bank to the overgrown section but it soon became clear that the dog was a hindrance and we didn’t all need to be stung and scratched.

The Skipper and Boatdog made their way back to the far side to act as guides, indicating the mother duck’s location. Using the handle of the net to beat down the nettles and move brambles out of the way wherever possible, I regretted not changing out of shorts but made slow progress to the weir.

As I reached the nearest section I saw I the concrete sloping channel finished in a chute that led water underground down the steep bank to a stream at the bottom. From the noise it was apparent at least one duckling was somewhere down this chute. Looking among the matted weeds in the channel, I spotted and heard two tiny little brown and yellow balls. One was heading back up the channel, but before I could do anything with the net the second one fell into the mouth of the chute and vanished into the darkness.

Concentrating on the little one still heading up the channel, dodging round weeds, I managed to balance on concrete edge, following it as the Skipper marked the duck’s progress. It became apparent that a small gap at the end had been the entry point for the youngsters. I’d been wondering how they had got in, and now it was the exit for this little one to plop back into the canal and be reunited with a very vocal mum.

Hoping no others would head in, I set off to try and find the remaining two who had disappeared completely from sight, but whose anxious peeps were still in earshot if somewhat fainter. I could not see them down the foul smelling chute, but I could see it’s sheer edges which indicated they could well have tumbled all the way down to the stream and woodland some 15-20 feet below.

Going straight down beside the chute didn’t work – I sank into brambles up to me thighs. Scrambling out I moved, still clutching the net, back the way I had come in and then tried moving down through the woodland. Once down at the level of the chute exit I needed to beat a path to the small stream indicating where the ducklings might be.

As I approached treading very carefully in case a duckling was ambling about, brown and yellow being a perfect camouflage for dappled woodland full of detritus. Suddenly I saw a duckling scrambling up the bank alongside the chute exit and rapidly scooped it into the net. I then stood stock still trying to spot the second one. It seemed ages before I spotted it on the far side of the chute. It took a couple of tries before it joined its sibling in the bottom of the net and I turned to try and make my way back up to the canal.

Unfortunately one hand holding a net and a second hand having to ensure the ducklings didn’t jump out of the fairly shallow net meant I ended up shuffling up the bank backwards! Finally just as mother duck seemed to be losing interest in waiting for her ducklings, the net was in the water so they could swim out and rejoin the waiting family.

Rescue complete. The relief was immense, and the very delayed trip to the pub was even more welcome. And I took no photos of the drama at all!

Within a few days, the eagle-eyed Skipper spotted a hoglet (young hedgehog) on the edge of the towpath in an area where lots of dogs are walked, many off the lead. Not only were dogs an issue, if the youngster made it the short distance to the canal it would fall in and drown. So we collected gloves, followed the RSPCA guidance, and moved it to safety leaving mashed dog food and water in containers for it.

We then monitored it for some hours but it remained alone, no family appearing, it seemed to become weaker. Looking at it closely it was also suffering from two blood sucking ticks. A call to the RSPCA, preparation of a rescue container (cardboard box with holes punched in it and an old towel at the bottom) and hoglet was en route to a wildlife unit. It’s a good thing we have the car with us this week.

RSPCA staff stepped in the second we arrived and whisked the hoglet away to remove ticks, and give it vital liquids. They then gave us a replacement box, because they thought it possible there would be other hoglets needing rescuing. We in turn gave the charity a donation for its essential work.

We didn’t find any more hoglets before we moved on, but the rescue kit remains at the ready with gloves, towel, box and low containers for water and food, and the child’s fishing net is back on the roof.

On reflection there have been all sorts of other things that have happened in past days, but these are the ones that stayed in our minds. They were stressful, uplifting and hugely rewarding. Positive actions have power to overwhelm everything else.

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