Six months into casting off tethered lives… the three of us (2 x 2-legged and 1 x 4-legged) are still afloat and healthy.
This week however – brought a disaster. On Monday I couldn’t trust myself to speak to Steve despite the fact he had managed an awesome 20-mile virtual race the day before. Instead of congratulating him I was intent on not yelling at him.
It was an accident, him hurling my carefully prepared box with personal items out of storage, gifts and items for the roof garden including a tub of new plant food, solar lights and glass watering globes into the local tip. An extreme way of downsizing? It’s expensive to replace those bits we can, and frustrating about the things we can’t but que sera… these things happen.
Six months ago my sister asked if we didn’t find boat living claustrophobic and I somewhat smugly answered: “No, because there’s so much accessible outside space.” This week we found out just how far away from each other you can get even on a 50ft boat when you need space! Adapting to new dimensions has been part of the change to our lives.
Steinbeck was right when he said: “It’s a hard thing to leave any deeply routine life, even if you hate it.” We humans are creatures of habit. It is hard to leave the apparent safety of routine, the daily job, the bricks and mortar house, and the comfortable life resulting from decades of hard work. The big things were hard to make decisions but easier to leave than the small often material things. I think that’s the reason I over-reacted to the accidental hurling of items I associated with past life. Now I realise the things I needed can be replaced, and everything else is retained in my memory – until I forget everything when it won’t matter anyway. So I have calmed down – and more importantly apologised!
Running away?
It’s interesting how people have reacted to our move. Other boat dwellers consider us normal (well, as normal as any of us are). In the past six glorious months we have met many different people living permanently on their boats. From retired to young people living on narrowboats is an affordable way to get a home of their own. We though weren’t in that situation, and those who don’t live ‘on the cut’ full-time have expressed horror, incredulity, considered us brave or foolhardy and there’s also been a response which delighted us just when I thought we were becoming boring old bods, ‘Wow – only Deena and Steve would do that…’
Our youngest gave us pause for thought with her brilliant card – were we actually running away? The answer is yes – not from our children or any problems but from a toxic worklife balance and monotony.
I am personally grateful for the pandemic in that it brought a me up short to question how we were living and how I was working. Reflection and decision was made easier because of a sudden change of routine. I realised it didn’t matter where I was physically – with internet access I had the potential to continue working from wherever I chose.
Steve has run his property business from home for the past 8 years, and in lockdown 1 had to contend with me invading his space but we realised this worked. We both enjoyed being together 24/7… we realised that if we simplified our lives and reduced our outgoings then we could perhaps survive in a different way, keeping the essentials of daily life we were appreciating. Downshifting means we need less money and I have returned to a freer freelance existence.
The best things in life really are free. That’s something else the pandemic has taught me – what matters are moments that take your breath away, that make you smile or laugh out loud. They come from nature, from those you love and sometimes from strangers. It is also handy to have enough money for the occassional g&t! (A gin fairy, birthdays, mothers’ day, Christmas and plentiful sloe foraging has helped gin stocks so far!). Any ideas for recycling gin bottles???
Part of the change involved considering our family home as a resource rather than a tie. We turned it into an asset bringing income to support our different life.
Getting boat ready
So where to live? Three years ago we released an early element of pension and on a whim following a couple of enjoyable family holidays afloat we bought a 50ft narrowboat from Rugby Boats (highly recommend them if you’re looking). We had her base plate totally replated with steel (to avoid a soggy bottom), blacked (protection) and replaced an inadequate propellor. We also had the Morso Squirrel stove made usable and safe which was a significant cost.
The aim was to use her as a family boat for high days and holidays. We began to change the interior for that use, reducing the kitchen area, taking out the full sized grimy cooker and replacing it with a hob; increasing the living area to include a gateleg table and chairs; building in a sofa bed with storage to give space for 6 to sit and eat together (handy really given the rule of 6 which emerged during the year). Then came The Plan – to live on her full time…
The moment Lockdown 1 lifted so we could go to the boat, Steve began frenetic renovations on board helped by a family friend on periodic furlough who sanded and painted rust spots, skirting and shelves whilst I worked out my three months notice from home. Steve dug out the old rusty and rotten waste tank on the boat (a revolting job), installed a new walk in shower, basin, flushing cassette toilet, akitchen sink, and laid a floor. He installed the hob and built the sofa bed.
The eventual move onboard was a mad dash – to avoid being trapped on land by the impending, much heralded Lockdown 2… followed by a dash down the Leicester Line of the Grand Union to avoid being locked down close to our former home! We actually made it as far as the Ashby Canal before Lockdown 2.
Life afloat
Our first night on board as continuous cruisers was 19 September on the River Soar . Early the next morning, in the dark, the dog fell overboard. Disaster was averted thanks to using a towel as a hoist, something we’ve learned to adopt when in need of lifting said spaniel. My dressing gown though never recovered…
Rivers generally make for more excitement than canals, especially when starting to flood. There are multiple questions that keep you on edge:
- how high will the waters rise?
- will we be able to get off the boat?
- will our mooring ropes hold? or in my case – will my often-rubbish knots hold?
- on an almost hourly basis asking what’s the indicator showing? is it red or still on amber?
- if the indicator goes to red and navigation is stopped how long will it be for?
- will we escape a lockdown only to be trapped by a flooddown?
- is it possible to shoot resulting rapids in a 15 ton narrowboat?
Rising river levels put paid to my aim of mooring back near our family for Christmas. It proved a good thing because we have had excitement and adventure on the canals too. These include discovering the shower tray angle was sending water into the bathroom and not down the plug hole (messy and resolved by shifting ballast), springing a leak from our water tank (messy, worrying and finally resolved in Lockdown 2), being trapped by a breach in the Ashby Canal (Lockdown 2) and being trapped in a live military firing range… if you missed these – nip back into past blogs!
We’ve invested in new ropes, new batteries and this week the excitement of NEW SOLAR PANELS which Steve fitted while I worked. ( I thought it would be appreciated if I stayed out the way so he could crack on in peace but all I could hear was people stopping and talking to him. People are sociable on towpaths – walkers and boaters alike. He also had to rescue another boater who’s diy project went overboard!).
We’ve encountered iced ropes and iced canals, snow, sunshine, winds, rain and mud – lots and lots of mud. We’ve been touched by the constant caring admonitions to stay warm – usually these arrive as we’re down to tee shirts because our stove works so well!
We’ve moored in rural isolation, on the edge of towns, on busy towpaths, and in a marina. We’ve used mooring chains, nappy pins, pegs and rings.
We’ve enjoyed meeting coal boats and coffee boats, a floating eco shop, a talented spinner and wood crafter, an ice cream boat and dozens of sociable dog walkers.
The highs of living afloat
HIGHS:
- a different, somewhat Circadian pace of life
- sleeping for more hours a night than I have ever managed before
- enjoyment of moving slowly (outside lockdown) and gently (unless I steer)
- constantly changing sight and scenes
- meeting new people with the realisation that if you like your neighbours you can stay a while or travel on together (lockdowns permitting) but equally if you don’t like them then you can just untie your ropes and move on
- time to delight in small pleasures like the patterns sunshine on the water make on the boat’s polished wood ceiling and watching dancing flames in the fire
- closeness to nature and the elements – I’m more aware of the daily changes wrought by the seasons than ever before
- daily anticipation, adventure and discoveries
- being thinned, healthier and as a friend described us “sickeningly de-stressed”
Lows of living afloat
LOWS:
- not being able to see or have family and friends on board
- not being able to move thanks to lockdown
- springing a leak (but a high because we fixed it!)
- the tiny old fridge with its freezer shelf which doesn’t work well means buying fresh good more often which is proving costly – it’s on the saving up for list.
- still not having mastered a solution to clothes washing. Hand washing and reliance on family cannot go on for much longer. It’s our next project – to devise a sustainable solution.
Lessons learned from living this way
Steve – learned more about the boat. He had time to explore it in ways that he probably wouldn’t have done so quickly otherwise. Has had time to see how it was originally built and how it’s been adapted, changed and altered over the years.
Me – whenever something’s going to go wrong, it will be in front of the maximum audience (even on the Suez Canal it appears!). If it’s going to go right there’s never a soul to see. It is good to be reminded of how adaptable and resourceful we can be and enjoy being so. Feeling calm, relaxed, energised and making every day count.
What would we change?
Ben Lount from @HolmOakTrading said to us last week when we were buying out eco refills from their boat: “You have to be a doer to live on the water”, and it’s so true. We are doers and enjoing doing things so we wouldn’t change the emptying of bins, the emptying of the loo, the washing up or the carrying shopping to wherever we are moored.
There are things that we find slightly odd – having a stove in the middle of the boat would help heat both ends more quickly, and the side hatch opening onto the bathroom is a little tricky at times when you want the hatch open and privacy too but they are a small price to pay for the life we have.
I would love to change the mud but before next winter I am planning an outside bootscraper with brushes and better dirt trapper mats inside! We are preparing to live differently on the boat as summer comes. We decided spring equinox was the official time to remove the Perspex secondary double glazing. It means we can see out clearly now, or will do when I have finished cleaning windows!
Statistics to date – even with two lockdowns when we haven’t moved
- Travelled a total of 193 miles, 1.75 furlongs [132 miles 6.5 furlongs on narrow canals, 46 miles 6.5 furlongs of broad canals and 13 miles 4.5 furlongs of river]
- Navigated 95 locks [47 narrow and 48 broad] this included the staircases at Foxton and Watford
- Moved 6 bridges (the moveable ones fortunately)
- 41 aqueducts or underbridges
- Cruised 3 miles 2.5 furlongs underground through 5 tunnels – Saddington (880 yards), Husbands Bosworth (1166 yards), Crick (1582 yards), Braunston (2042 yards), Newbold (250 yards)
- Journeyed on 7 canals – Grand Union, Oxford, Coventry, Ashby, Birmingham & Fazeley, Coventry detached portion (I kid you not), Trent & Mersey
- Cruised on one river – the Soar navigation – and one Line – the Leicester Line
- Took in two Arms – Market Harborough and Welford
We are steadily confirming our new life…we registered not only with the CRT as continuous cruisers but now posterity will see us living on nb Preaux as recorded in the 2021 census…thanks to volunteers bringing a code to access the form.
It’s been a surprisingly eventful and enjoyable six months – what will the next six have in store? We aim for Lancashire, Yorkshire, back to the Soar for August’s Mountsorrel Revival and then into London for October! Will we make it? Stay with us to find out and feel free to share with others who might like to join the journey.
Next week: Keeping afloat financially – a look at some of the many ways people are earning a living on the water.
Pickingupducks 