Many of us start a new year with a reflective look back at the old, but for us circumstances have resulted in a rather further look back than usual.
With a new grandchild very imminent we are back in the area where we started our narrowboat living journey over 5 years ago, and that has meant a chance to catch up with many acquaintances who we haven’t seen in person for that time. Volunteering on New Year’s Day back at the parkrun we were fortunate to help get underway (Dishley Loughborough if you need a D!), proved an unexpected spur for reflection.
Many people seemed astonished we were now on our 6th year living afloat. Some (not following our progress online) could not believe we had made it through even our first winter afloat and totally failed to be convinced when I explained how warm it is on board (we only have to heat the equivalent of a large room after all). Others said it seemed only a couple a years since we cast off. Lots wanted to know where we had been and what we had seen (north to Gargrave and Selby, east to London and Lincoln, west to Llangollen and Bath and we’ve seen far too much to fit in one conversation!).
Some were happy they had maintained the status quo of the homes and jobs that they had when we set off. Some were astonished that we continue to live our boatlife, a life we set off onfilled with trepidation. Others, who have visited us afloat or vicariously voyaged with us via our blogs and social media updates, have an understanding of the pull, the joy and the unexpected delights of this life. There are also, and always, in any of these conversations those who say they wish they could do what we are doing but feel powerless to make the move.
This week the floods abated and we managed a move to exactly where we wanted to be for the arrival of grandchild no. 2. A friend who has been to the boat but never when moving, joined us for a cruise to where we wanted to be, a chance to view the village where she too used to live from a very different perspective, and a chance to take the tiller. Anyone who has done this with us talks about what a different view they have of the world around them as they move so slowly onwards, of the delight of floating on water watching calming reflections and ripples.
A narrowboat is a mode of travel that unfolds new vistas as well as giving time for fuller appreciation of what is around – in our case the pure snowy white of a little egret set against the dark green of the invasive pennywort; the sudden flash of turquoise and russet as a kingfisher hurtles from branch to branch alongside; the sombre stare and stance of a statuesque grey heron frozen in silent expectation of catching an unsuspecting snack.
These are tiny, often fleeting, moments, glimpses of the world around us that are so important and so gloriously common for us living as we do. It is moments like this that make me, for one, wonder if I could return to living in bricks and mortar again, without the constant, almost continuous, nature boosts we are delivered. It isn’t just birdlife but animals too – shy shadowy forms of deer edging cautiously to the water for a drink, occasional playful otters, swimming squirrels, and unexpected encounters with badgers and stoats. It is nature in the round – sunsets, sunrises, weather of all types, of which we feel an immediate part, living like this. Bricks and mortar are by their very nature static, and being able to move from place to place amid nature, to be bathed by it and feel a part of it, is a remarkable privilege.
Yes, there are downsides to this life. Mud that seems never-ending in winter, a constant grumble on our boat about hot water (lack of is getting resolved…), the carrying of heavy winter fuel, the excesses which affect how we move and live from droughts to floods, the occasional moments of getting stuck somewhere you don’t want to be, today it’s frozen ropes, iced hatches and slippery towpaths…
Sometimes we wistfully dream of country cottages with flourishing gardens, with flushing loos that don’t have to be emptied, and yet the balance always seems to come down firmly in favour of living afloat.
We don’t have a bath on board, but that makes going somewhere that does a massive treat. We don’t have unlimited space but that means we will be offering our soon-to-be-multiple grandchildren very individual attention (one staying at a time!). We don’t have a garden where I can grow whatever I like (but I can grow many things, I don’t get affected by slugs and am already planning a different fruit and flower combo for this summer’s roof garden).
What we do have are unlimited boosts to the spirit, multiple times a day. Changing places and people, new experiences and new delights on a regular basis. A community which is built on shared experiences and values. Priceless – and all wrapped up in an offgrid lifestyle that means we travel as lightly through the environment as we can, actively and positively trying to live thoughtfully in the world, doing our bit to leave it better for our grandchildren.
What we have on a daily basis is more than dreams. What we do in daily life is more than just imagining. How we actually live now is more than fantasy. There are compromises, but a lot fewer than people imagine.
We know from experience that it is better to LIVE your dream, than dream your life away. In 2026 we can hope that many more people are able, like us, to live their dreams and make them work.
Pickingupducks 