Living afloat has its challenges – I shall be getting my steps in along the towpath trying to find a decent signal to post this blog for example – but they are without doubt outweighed by the positives.
Lockdowns made life hard but also strangely easier. There were fewer choices to make, fewer decisions to ponder. We could go for a walk, or a jog or a run, a cycle or a stroll but we didn’t have to find excuses for parties we really didn’t want to go to, or suffer endless work meetings in person.
Two years living and working afloat was what we originally mooted when we had the spontaneous decision to up sticks and downshift to a 50ft narrowboat.
Two years has flown by and there is no decision to be made – we cannot currently imagine leaving this life right now. There are new waterways still to explore, old favourites to revisit and much more relaxed living to do.
We’ve found ourselves a tourist attraction in various places – Stratford-upon-Avon being one. We have photobombed selfies by strangers on our boat (and apologised in true English fashion!). We have had numerous small children peering in at us, as we eat, work or just relax. I particularly loved one small curly headed young soul who pressed sticky fingers to the sitting room window from his viewpoint on the towpath and declared in piercing tones “There’s someone in here- and she’s alive!” (Always good to know!)
We have discovered a community which is generous, collegiate and creative. We have had neighbours who have taught us new skills; shared knowledge (boating, artistic, musical and intellectual); shared wine, cake and beer with us and generally been real highlights in life. That’s not to say everyone on the waterways is a delight and we have had the occassional neighbour we’ve encountered when we’ve loosened our mooring ropes and moved away to moor in more convivial surroundings.
We’ve had weeks with no neighbours, just nature for company and enjoyed the solitude too. It seems impossible in some parts of the UK to get such peace as we are gifted, but on the waterways it seems in generous supply.
Every day, even if we’re moored in the same place, bring something new – new wildlife (many of whom ignore us as we sit on the boat so it becomes like a huge hide), new views brought by the weather or the light, new neighbours, and if we’re cruising daily then it’s almost a sensory overload of new sights and sounds.
There’s food and fuel to forage, a simpler more sustainable life to lead and it’s one we are finding filled with unexpected riches.
Each season brings its own highlights. Winter is perhaps my favourite – the stove is burning 24/7 and the boat is a cosy haven as we come back in from the cold. A stewpot simmers gently in the day and baked potatoes cook in the embers in the evening. The waterways are quieter, fewer boats and the weather brings us spectacular sights.
Autumn is misty, moody and atmospheric, bringing hedgerow fruits like apples, blackberries and sloes full of summer sun (or sundried perhaps this year!). In fact this year the blackberries have been so early we’ve been picking them since July. Apples are now ripening just days before September.
The elders have been fantastic- laden with starry white frothy flowers in early summer which gave us delicious Elderflower cordial for summer drinks, and now heavy with deep red berries. Spiced elderberry gin is steeping ready for Christmas as we speak.
This awareness and engagement with nature’s larder is just one of the unexpected benefits of living so close to nature. We are outside as much as we are inside, even on days we are working and that wasn’t always if ever the case in bricks and mortar living.
I write this listening to a tawny owl in the oak tree above us having a chat with another across the opposite field in the gathering dusk. During the day we watch the cycle of life from our swan hatch, now aware of morning duck pilates routines (left leg stretch, right leg stretch, left wing extension then right, neck rotation and full body shake – a totally unselfconscious routine which is a lesson for us all!).
My biggest fear was losing touch with friends and family, of family particularly feeling we had selfishly abandoned them. We’ve seen more people since lockdown lifted and shared more meaningful relaxing times together than we ever did before. Our home and lifestyle is a gift we have the good fortune to be able to share with others. We make an effort to see family and they to see us, and all have been incredibly supportive – perhaps also relieved as we sail off into the sunset after our regular catch ups!
The question people often ask – apart from do you live there in the winter? Yes, all year or is it cold in winter? (no not with the stove lit) and is it claustrophobic? no because you can always hop off and walk along the towpath – we’re not in the ocean – is what we miss?
We now have a fridge and a washing machine on board, coalboats deliver alongside, floating traders offer all manner of essentials and treats, we can can get supermarket deliveries to the boat, Amazon delivers to shops or lockers on our route and honestly we haven’t found anything to miss yet, so we obviously need to stay afloat until we do discover that we’re missing something!
Two years have flown by – we’re healthy, happy, financially still afloat and feel so fortunate. We know this life isn’t for every. We have no choice but to keep moving on, doing what we’re doing, as it works so well for us!
Pickingupducks 