Pickingupducks

Tough decisions, backtracking and emergencies – one hell of a week

Making tough decisions that result in backtracking on plans, goals and going against peer pressure are always tough, even when the vociferous peers in question are total idiots. That’s what we encountered this week, the oddest week we’ve had in our years afloat to date.

We sat at Tarleton on the Lancashire coast last Saturday nervously watching rising winds and waiting for a decision at 9am on Sunday morning about whether the lock would be unlocked to allow us to make the tidal crossing to the Lancaster Canal. Around us others were gathering, and the 4 boats booked for the crossing were all like us checking and rechecking anchors and lifejackets. Nerves were evident among most, although it was also apparent there were one or two (male) boaters loudly dismissive of others’ fears and concerns.

Sunday morning came after a sleepless night. Lying awake and hearing the winds drop suddenly my stomach lurched – excitement or dread I wasn’t sure, but the howling winds would pick up once more. Dawn brought a clear decision – the winds were too strong to allow narrowboats to cross the Ribble Link.

We accepted the experts’ advice but then had to listen to some of the boaters berating the knowledgeable CRT staff who had taken time to bring the decision to us in person. We gathered that although the next day’s crossing was fully booked, we would be allowed to tag along if conditions allowed. Most if not all should get through, if the tide turned those at the back would have to go to a marina om Preston and wait there.

One vociferous boater maintained he’d crossed the Atlantic in far worse conditions (obviously not in a flat hulled narrowboat a fact he seemed to forget!). It reminded us that in every community, sadly, there will be those aggressively voicing their views, totally ignoring opinions of experts and unpleasantly dismissing the views of others. As their posturing got noisier, we moved away from boats to a bus, to Preston. Our day was well spent watching an otter play in the River Ribble and learning much of this cotton town’s hard history from a fascinating sculpture trail.

This week there were only 3 days when tides allowed outward passage if the weather was right – Sunday (when we were originally booked was cancelled because of high winds) Monday and Tuesday. Then at the end of the month there are a couple of days, again all fully pre-booked.

Sunday night was another anxious one with little sleep, listening to the winds, now hearing the rain thundering on the metal roof above us and regularly checking the forecast on our phones.

By Monday daybreak we’d been up for hours, gloomily squinting through the murk at the geese alongside us who seemed the only ones enjoying the torrential conditions. The winds were still strong, and we made the tough decision that even if the crossing could be made, it wouldn’t be made in those conditions by this crew and our old boat. Safety first, so we could have other years, other times to make this crossing.

When the knock came on the side of the boat the decision was that though winds were strong a crossing was doable. We relayed our decision that we would not be one of the 8 going, and went along in the torrential rain to wish the others well. Some said they respected the courage required to make our decision in the face of vocal opposition, and some (easy to guess who) were openly dismissive of our decision.

We waved them off, returned dripping and turned our boat in the torrential rain, very glad not to be heading out into tidal waters when we could hardly see ahead. We began a subdued trip back down the Rufford Arm, hugely disappointed that the tidal adventure we had planned and prepared for over the past year was at an end… for now.

We felt utterly deflated but knew it was the right decision for us. We are a team. Our boat is both our home and our office, so putting that at risk as well as putting both of us and Boatdog at risk is just not an option. The miserable weather echoed our feelings as we ploughed through winds, reeds, and weeds back the way we had come with such optimism and excitement just days before.

Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same thing, and that was what we felt as we headed back. We knew the high winds would put an unknown added strain on our engine and its quirky cooling system. We genuinely believed they could cope with the crossing in easier conditions. We weren’t prepared to literally throw caution to the winds, but we haven’t dismissed the Lancaster Canal forever – just for this year as crossings close in October and they are fully booked until then.

So as 7 newer boats headed across the Ribble Link we headed south, through rain, sun, and always with the winds buffeting us around. Through 7 quirky and often problematic locks and their time-consuming anti vandal locks we went, turning back finally onto the Leeds and Liverpool Canal feeling exhausted and emotionally drained.

We limped our exhausted way through a swing bridge and sought out a quiet, calm, rural spot away from roads and railways where we could recoup and regroup. As soon as we found one, we moored up, ate our evening meal subdued by disappointment, and took ourselves off for an early night to catch up on much needed sleep.

At 3.15am loud male voices outside accompanied by hugely powerful torches woke us with a start. They were apparently splitting up and going in opposite directions, which they did. Fishermen? Boat thieves? Then they came back, and suddenly they were hammering on the side of our boat. Believe me – that’s heart-stoppingly alarming in the dead of the night. Their explanation was a little more reassuring: “Hello, hello, anyone in there? It’s the Fire Service.” Sure enough, a peek through the curtains showed yellow uniformed firemen bathing the towpath and canal in lights as bright as day.

They’d had a call about someone in the canal – did we know anything? Our somewhat befuddled reply that we’d been asleep was of little use to them, and they carried on searching for another 45 minutes before disappearing as suddenly as they’d arrived. They didn’t appear to find anyone, so was it a terrible timewasting hoax? We will probably never know.

It was difficult to get back to sleep after that, and we were somewhat slow to start the next morning but we did take time to formulate a new plan. We will now tackle the only cross Pennine route we haven’t faced, and currently the only one actually open, the Rochdale Canal. It felt good to have made a decision, and helped dispel both the weirdness of the night and the disappointment of the past days.

So we set off, back through Parbold, calling at Reynolds the Butchers, which was handy because it gave time for another boat, Phoenix, to catch up with us. Travelling together, we made light work of the 15 miles and 8 broad locks back to and through Wigan.

In Wigan someone was having a real crisis and passers by had called the North West Air Ambulance. The pilot landed with extreme skill by the canal’s dry dock lock on what seemed the tiniest patch of grass by the Rose Bruford College at Trencherfield Mill. He then came across to learn from us about lock mechanisms whilst he waited for updates from his paramedics and asked if he could push the gates for us when they were ready. Boaters never turn such an offer down!

Apparently the spare Air Ambulance – no. 1 was having a windscreen replaced

We set off from there slightly stunned – fire and ambulance in one day, please please please, don’t let us need the police!

Just as we left the final lock of the day, Poolstock bottom Lock our engine cut out, and we lost steering. We alarmed the multiple geese by drifting to the side of the canal alongside Scotsmans’ Flash, and headed down the weed hatch to see what had fouled the prop.

Steve was aghast to see a huge black mass jamming the propeller. His first horrified thought was “Oh Lord – have we picked up a body and carried it for miles to here?” Fortunately, more investiagion revealed not a coat with someone inside, but a tarpaulin which he easily removed, and we transported it off to the next bin to prevent it causing someone else issues.

As we moored up we made a donation to the North West Air Ambulance – the least we could do on such an odd day as a thanks for the help we’d been given, and the fact we’re still OK.

Now we’re heading for the Rochdale Canal – all 91 broad locks of it spanning 32 miles into and through the Pennines. Boasters who have completed the Rochdale recently have given us a Marmite impression of it.

“It almost broke us. Lack of water and general maintenance. We’ve never struggled so much.”

“Absolutely loved the Rochdale.”

To get there though we have to make it through Manchester. The issue with canals, as other communities, and as we found with the tidal crossing is that so many boaters have opinions to voice about every route, and all are often conflicting. Listening to the chatter, much on social media can give you pause for thought. In terms of the journey through Manchester, many of whose locks are underground, in the past 24 hours I’ve seen these comments:

“Underground was amazing and the locks were somewhat different but worked well.”

“Dirty, poorly maintained, strewn with needles and capsules, urine infested and down right dangerous. Homeless vagrants in sleeping bags and a young man who jumped on our boat and threatened us.”

“It’s never been an easy passage, in common with many urban canals it can be challenging.”

What I wonder will we find? Hopefully another boat to share the locks and journey with but either way, another experience, another adventure.

One thing we’ve already experienced is the need to be ready for delays – and it could be a while before we can even get onto the Rochdale now.

Maybe Monday will bring news – can we? If not where should we go because we only have a licence to be here on the privately owned Bridgewater Canal for 7 day? Who knows where we may end up!

Naked men, amazing women, safety precautions and searching

Some weeks are just packed with “things” that bear no relation to each other but create a very satisfying sum of their independent parts. This week proved to be one of those weeks.

We crossed into Lancashire – stalwartly flying our Yorkshire Rose flag… and I am no longer complaining about the heat. Now I am wondering if I am about to get rust whilst being grateful I don’t have to water the roof garden.

Parbold in Lancashire was a real delight as other boaters had promised – excellent coffee shop, good and plentiful pubs, amazing butcher (Reynolds) and a pet shop which thrilled the boatdog. The walks were varied and at last involved HILLS!

We moored by what was once the village windmill, milling the imported American grain transported from Liverpool on the canal barges that then took the finished flour to multiple destinations.

Such was the success of the business a steam powered corn milling factory was also built –opposite the windmill. Ironically the steam-powered version ultimately put the windmill out of business but it has now disappeared under housing whilst the five-storey windmill with its castellated top remains and is now an art gallery. The village also boasts a railway station which allowed Steve to escape the boat last weekend!

From Parbold the canal wends its way to Burscough. A fascinating little town, and one which offers much to the boater. For us there were the delights of services (water, waste etc) plus many pubs, The Wool Boat (more about this anon), new walks to explore and access to yet more trains.

We took advantage of proximity to the seaside and spent a day at the beach this week – a long time since we walked on the sands, and for the Boatdog a joyful opportunity to run, and run and run.

We went to Crosby where she was somewhat confused by Anthony Gormley’s wonderfully weathered statues – 100 lifesized naked men spread across the beach. She didn’t bother about them being naked but couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t stroke her when she nudged their hands! Apparently the internet is awash with pictures of dogs dropping balls at their feet and waiting patiently for the statues to throw them!

The statues, all made of cast-iron stretch three kilometres along the beach and almost a kilometer out to sea. They are identical, modelled on casts of the artist’s own middle-aged body (I have to say he was pretty slender at the time. I wouldn’t dare take a cast of my naked body – which will be a huge relief to the world!). All 100 face out to sea, affected by the tides and I have yet to discover why they are entitled “Another Place” unless they are looking towards another place, or imagining another place or creating another place of the place they are in, by being. Answers please!

From Crosby we returned via Southport and its eccentricity of the British Lawnmower Museum (I kid you not), before finding our way back to Burscough and a fascinating lesson from The Wharf. Local blue plaques accompanied by information are invaluable in providing insights into the people who shaped the places we travel through. In this instance two caught my eye – plaques about two women, each remarkable in her own way.

Harriet Emma Mahood and Emma Vickers. Hattie Mahood was a suffragette, a strong supporter of the Temperance Movement and the first female deacon of the Baptist Church.

Emma Vickers was born to a family of canal workers, and famed for her commitment to maintain local dialect, dances and songs – many related to the history of the canals. Recordings of her appear in numerous places including the British Library, and she was an accomplished musician as well as a prodigious fundraiser. Many people outside of Lancashire will not have heard of her, but her impact was significant on our knowledge of her home county, and of the culture of the waterways.

Burscough is also home to the famous Martin Mere Wetland Centre – one we’re saving for another day as we got sidetracked by other delights on this visit.

Firstly we found The Wool Boat, its knit and natter in the pub afternoon (which resulted in me knitting and nattering and then having to unpick everything I’d messed up in a most enjoyable fashion!). Our cushion covers are again all stuffed as a result of me smuggling yet more wool on board for projects.

And then we were diverted by an evening supporting the local community. A lady came by the boat to say her dog was missing. It had escaped from her house whilst she wasn’t looking, and so we set off for hours of walking the towpaths and local lanes in search of Timmy. Her family, neighbours, cyclists and other boaters also volunteered in the hunt for this diminutive Yorkshire terrier who was finally tracked down to – Southport! He had been picked up on a road by a lady and when she couldn’t get a reply from any of the cottages near where she found him, she took him home. He was finally reunited with his family at 7.30 the next morning. Immense relief all round.

We then felt we could set off to tackle the Rufford Arm (which demands a future blog to itself believe me) heading for the Ribble Link, the River Douglas and our tidal crossing to the Lancaster Canal. We are booked for Sunday morning, but whether we will be able to go is another matter – winds and waves may dictate otherwise.

65 kmh gusts would put paid to our crossing…

We are readying our anchor and getting prepared but wait and see whether we will get to cross or not… Reading the safety briefing is already proving alarming 😱

Hot stuff

If we had £1 for every time someone says “Is it cold on there? Or “ don’t live on your boat in winter do you?” – we’d be rich!

No one ever seems to ask “Is it boiling in there at this time of the year ?” though and the answer is a resounding YES! Our home and office is effectively a metal box…getting more insulated by the year as we retro-fit to help develop temperature stability, but it is still a steel box. Steel is a conductor of heat – not the best perhaps but it gets VERY hot. At times over the past weeks it’s been almost impossible to hold the handrail whilst walking on the gunwhales at the height of the day.

The windows on our boat are a bit of a problem for us – the bulk of each window is static glass with a tiny section at the top, which tilts inwards (a hopper). Theoretically, these hoppers should be removable, but in our boat, only the tiny one in the bathroom will lift out.

Heat has a stultifying effect on the brain and the body. Researchers like Chloe Brimicombe specialise in studying its impact and are succinct about its dangers: “Being too hot makes you unwell and can even kill you.” The Conversation, July 8, 2022.

lnterestingly the HSE (Health and Safety Executive) says “There is no maximum temperature for workplaces. However, all workers are entitled to an environment where risks to their health and safety are properly controlled. Heat is classed as a hazard and comes with legal obligations like any other hazard.” Not for nothing do we talk of being “hot tempered”. Continuous heat (to which we aren’t accustomed) has a debilitating impact on us and our work.

When working outside as we have to when moving the boat, being too hot can lead to stupid mistakes, careless moments that can also cause injury, or worse, when managing locks and swing bridges particularly. Mind you being on the tiller down in dark dank locks brings welcome respite at this time of year even if you are standing over the engine!

Last year, and this as we sweltered and sweated, we thought about ways we could improve living conditions in the heat – and came up with a variety of options.

Continuing to add insulation – we’ve been doing this steadily.

Improving the flow of air in the boat. This is more complicated than it sounds and we’ve now used up all the less expensive options like using fans either usb driven or 12volt socket type (thanks Jonny – we particularly like the instructions!)

Additionally opening doors that will open (front, back and one side hatch; and keeping the blackout curtains drawn on the sunny side. We open the side hatch (on the one side we have one) and open the cratch cover too as well as the stable door at the front of the boat.

A sure fire cheap way to cool the boat down is to keep moving which effectively forces air through the boat and cruising on a sunny day is a delight. But there are days as we’ve had in past weeks and obviously at night when we’ve had to be static.

Big plus – washing dries in the blink of an eye!

Keeping the boat as cool as possible – mooring in the shade although as the sun moves round it rarely works 24/7 and it is sadly frowned upon as well as unwise to moor in cool damp tunnels As I write this we have found the last mooring spot in a village in Lancashire and sure enough – it’s the one in full sunlight!

Keeping ourselves cooler. Wearing cool clothes. Drinking lots of water and cool drinks from the fridge – bliss. Encouraging use of the dog’s cool mat – no room for us all though! Wearing damp clothing…Boatdog modelled a particularly fetching damp teatowel look most of the daytime which she carried off with indomitable style!

Seeking shade off the boat. The last few weeks were extreme as thunderstorms moved round and around us, only arriving on Tuesday evening to break the interminable heat for a short while so we took refuge away from our metal box.

The major issue for Steve this month has been horrendous pollen counts rendering him almost insensible at times. I’ve never known his hayfever to be this bad in our 30+ years together, but apparently the pollen counts haven’t been this bad since 2018 in places either.

Night time is hard. We leave whatever we can open and reduce covers to a minimum.
Boatdog is choosing where she sleeps and she generally moves about a bit, selecting the coolest places she can find as the night wears stiflingly on. Now we have a fridge with a freezerbox we could chill our socks (it’s a thing believe me)…if we had space in there for them! Frozen peas (in the bag) bring blissful relief when placed on the back of the neck.

In the days when we are working manually out in the sun, operating locks, it feels authentic to be dripping in the heat, sweat stinging our eyes and clothes plastered to us, returning to the boat and feeling the pressure of the suffocating heat the moment we step back on board. It seems worse when we are working in a cerebral way on the boat at the computer and still wiping our brows and necks. Every moment, even every thought takes time, effort and is exhausting. To all the friends and family I said I’d contact this past week and haven’t- apologies. Just making it through what has to be done has been a struggle in the heat. Normal life will be resumed when things cool down!

Decided to forgo a pie in a barmcake but pie alone was tasty

We managed to explore Wigan this week and whilst there was much to see in terms of culinary delights (Uncle Joes Mint Balls and Galloways Pies for starters), cultural highlights (Wigan Pier; Andy Hazell’s three heads automata on Trencherfield Mill – Carton Head (top), Jar Head and Tin Head (bottom) spun and lifted in their day; and the newly unveiled Wigan Flight plaque), the clear winner for us in terms of changing our floating life and emptying our bank balance was a visit to Caldwells Windows!

We marvelled at the demonstration of boat windows you can open, tilt and completely lift out to maximise ventilation. Windows with aluminium frames that don’t need painting, windows with thermal break double glazing that will keep us warm in winter reducing heating costs and cool in summer reducing the need to run fans and stick our socks in the freezer.

All we need to do now is save lots of pennies to buy them and install them before too many more summers melt us or drive us from the boat back to a static tethered life in bricks and mortar. Without opening windows, it will be hot summers and not cold winters that drive us out of our floating home. We met up with someone who had all their windows replaced a few years ago, and they were waxing lyrical with enthusiasm about the difference it had made to living in pleasant conditions aboard, the increased ventilation and double glazed units leading to not only more pleasant temperatures all year round but reduced condensation too.

So for now I’m trying an economical new way to keep cool – visualisation of opening windows and looking back at the winter … I’ll let you know how it goes if I don’t melt in the meantime!

What it takes to be a real life SUPERWOMAN 💪

Inspiration comes in many forms as we discover in our lives, and what chimes with or inspires each of us at different times in our lives varies as much as we do ourselves as individuals. For me this week, this hot week has brought starkly the awareness of how much we are inspired by one individual, an individual who isn’t famous, who hasn’t graced an Honours list but one who inspires by her life, her actions and often what she doesn’t say more than what she does.

There are many remarkable women in my life, of many ages, including my two daughters, myriad friends, and magnificent colleagues, but this one is a true matriarch, an exemplar for us all.

As the years go by, she acquires new identities, from Mary to Mum, Granny, and Great-Granny. This week we’ve had the good fortune to be able to spend time with her sharing our world afloat, seeing its wonder through her eyes, and looking afresh, thanks to her, at things we have perhaps begun to take for granted.

My mother-in-law is quite simply a REMARKABLE woman. She underestimates herself hugely and probably always has and always will.

She is strong – astonishingly so – and has had to be throughout her adult life. She is now 92 – doesn’t look it and certainly doesn’t act like many 92 year olds.

Thanks to my sister-in-law for the photo

Things haven’t always been easy for her, but she doesn’t complain. She just gets on with what needs to be done. She retrained for a new career when polio took her young husband, leaving her a pregnant widow with two boys aged two and four to bring up. Six weeks after his death, she gave birth to their daughter. They all remember a happy childhood, and that is a tribute to her determination. She remarried, her children all married, two divorced, grandchildren, and great grandchildren arrived, and eventually, she was widowed for a second time. She soldiered on once more, drawing on her inner strength and faith.

The most remarkable things about her are things we can all learn from.

1. She only ever gives advice if it is asked for. Not for her barbed casual asides or comments about spouses, jobs, colleagues children. The comments she does make are positive. No matter how opinionated the individuals involved, she remains positive or tightlipped. If only we could all adopt this approach, wouldn’t life be better in our families and workplaces?

2. She is fiercely independent. She rails against the fact that her mind is clearly as active as it ever was but her body is not, but continues to do whatever she can for herself before asking grudgingly for help.

3. Nothing stops her having a go in whatever way she can manage if she wants to do something. She longs for new legs particularly but that doesn’t stop her pushing her limits, and that’s a maxim we can all adopt whatever age, whatever our circumstances. This week one of her new experiences was coffee in a takeaway cup! [See first picture!]

I’m pretty sure she thought we are totally bonkers moving to live and work on a narrowboat, but now we’ve been able to share time cruising with her, she is appreciative of the calm, quiet and beauty we are fortunate to experience every day. Our first trip together was at the top of the Wigan Flight in May 2021.

This week, we cruised part of the Leigh Branch together aboard nb Preaux. She generously sat inside at the start, leaving the bow seating for her daughter and son-in-law over from New Zealand, saying she’d been out in the cratch on a previous visit, and they should enjoy it as she had, but once one of them moved to the tiller, she was out there, seated in the sunshine. Ducks, ducklings, geese and goslings, two lone cygnets, hundreds of dragonflies and banded demoiselles – vivid turquoise flashes above the water, all entertained us. Like us, she was horrified by the amount of litter floating around, and I began the slow task of netting rubbish whilst she was with us and will continue that again this week.

She stayed in the bow as we made our way up 2 locks to the Wigan Junction before turning and coming back down these big heavy locks. I’ve never sat in the bow through a lock being either on the paddles and gates or the tiller, but I imagine it’s a daunting place to be, right at the front of the boat as you descend into the dank depths with water cascading in front of you or rise from them. She continued to smile as I peered nervously over at her to see that she was OK.

She recognises her limits – she doesn’t like having limits – but she recognises them and in that there is wisdom. She doesn’t cook from scratch any more but still extends hospitality and still pushes her own trolley round the supermarkets buying in provisions for “feeding the five thousand” when we descend on her as we also did this week following her visit to us.

She quietly supports – our fledgling floating craft business is just getting underway, and she generously insisted on seeing our stock and buying items I really don’t imagine she needs or wants. Her generosity and encouragement are, as always, hugely appreciated. We can all reflect on when we last extended unequivocal, generous encouragement to others.

She also saves our marriage – is that uncommon for a mother-in-law? Steve visits her regularly to work through “the list” giving him time away from me 24/7, and me time alone (now with a Boatdog again). It is an absence from each other which is invaluable!

Steve has been lucky to know her all of his life since she gave birth to him (and he wasn’t a tiny little baby). Those who call her Granny and Great-Granny have also known her all their lives.

At the centre of Christmas family festivities

I have only known her for 35 years but that’s enabled me to learn a lot from her. She made it to France when both my daughters were born to be there and support me. She was quietly supportive – no drama, no saga, no objection to having to cope with innumerable animals inside the house and out when I know she really isn’t an animal person. She didn’t make a fuss, just got on with it, and the animals treated her with the respect she commanded.

Who is the quiet inspiration for you and your life? Are you fortunate to be someone else’s quiet inspiration? (Ah, if only I was – but quiet is something I have yet to master!)

Enjoying china and a saucer at Bents Garden Emporium

I know she prefers cups and saucers – and I know enough to know she is going to be somewhat annoyed with me for this blog post! (Yes, bless her, shes a subscriber too!)

I only hope her hugely generous offer of a long soak in a bath this week isn’t going to be withdrawn as a result – as many boaters with just showers aboard know, that really would be a tragedy!

Wonder is wonderfully inspiring

Sometimes I wonder how I manage to get up in the mornings, and other times I marvel we manage to get anything done at all, such are the myriad distractions on offer but to be able to wonder, to marvel at something created by man or nature can be truly breath-taking and inspirational.

We’ve encountered two manmade wonders in this past week alone – and another that combines the wonder of nature with the ingenuity and skill of man.

Over 50 years ago, the Seven Wonders of the Waterways were compiled. Robert Aickman, supernatural fiction author and active conservationist, was responsible for the original list. Together with LTC Rolt, he co-founded the Inland Waterways Association, and his list was one way of encouraging people to explore the waterways to keep them alive.

This week along we’ve travelled two of them – the remarkable Anderton Boat Lift and the Barton Swing Aqueduct.

The Anderton Boat Lift is something we’ve visited in the past but never been able to travel on until now. It towers on huge metal legs astride the edge of the River Weaver. In huge watertight tanks, each moved by a massive single piston, it transports boats vertically up and down the 50-foot drop between the Trent and Mersey Canal and the River Weaver.

Now transporting leisure boats and a trip boat for the delight of those without a boat of their own, the massive Meccano-like structure was built in 1875 to lift cargo boats carrying salt, pottery and coal to the international port of Liverpool and returning laden with foreign goods.

It is surprisingly slow – and at the moment of departure, it is currently quite jerky when it starts. This is apparently due to the tightness of the seals that were replaced last year.

Two narrowboats can be transported a time. One at a time they move into the entrance to the available entry tank when a guillotine gate is opened to let them through. Once both are in and positioned side by side, the gate is closed behind them, and the next water tight gate pulled up to enable them both to move through together at a signal from the operator. This positions both boats in the moveable caisson, they tie to the side, switch off engines and begin their journey. We turned from the Trent and Mersey into the entrance of the lift at 10.18am and at 10.49 we restarted our engine, cast off the rope and headed out onto the River Weaver. It is a remarkable feat of engineering, and certainly wonderous, not least to be still operating today.

We just voyaged to Northwich along the river to buy milk and supplies before heading back the same day, another lift journey up above the Weaver. The journey back was infinitely noisier than the descent courtesy of the boatowner who came up alongside us and insisted on playing his music at volume the entire time. Being British we said not a word – but he couldn’t have heard if we’d tried! Thankfully, we had experienced how remarkably silent the mechanism is on the descent in the company of a delightful couple from South Africa enjoying the waterways.

From our return we had just 6 miles 5¼ furlongs remaining on the Trent and Mersey before joining the waters of the Bridgewater Canal, a 39-mile private waterway operated not by Canal and River Trust nor the Environment Agency, but by The Bridgewater Canal Company, an arm of The Peel Group. It stretches from Runcorn to Leigh in Greater Manchester, and features one of the Seven Wonders of the Waterways, the Barton Swing Aqueduct.

This swinging aqueduct enables the canal to cross the Manchester Ship Canal which carries large commercial vessels. It opens to allow these big boats through, and is the first and only swing aqueduct in the world, and still operating today. It was originally opened in 1894 and was designed by Edward Leader Williams, the same engineer responsible for the Anderton Boat Lift.

We have on our travels to date been remarkably fortunate to have experienced and marvelled at four of the other original Seven Wonders of the Waterways –

The Pontcysyllte Aqueduct over the River Dee on the Llangollen Canal

Standedge Tunnel – the deepest, longest at nearly 3.5miles, and highest canal tunnel in the country burrowing under the Pennines

Bingley Five-Rise Locks – a staircase flight of 5 locks completed in 1774 since when they have continued transporting boats 60ft to and from the Yorkshire Dales.

Burnley Embankment – a mile-long embankment through the heart of the Lancashire industrial town carrying boats above the rooftops of terraced houses some 60ft below.

So the one original wonder that we’re keeping as a treat for the future is the Caen Hill Flight of 16 locks which rises across the Wiltshire countryside near Devizes.

Over the years people have added other wonders they’ve found, and we can add many, but on this trip we also discovered the delights and wonders of RHS Bridgewater, a manmade wonder of nature. When we’ve passed before it was a building site and now it is a developing, glorious riot of colour and form, shape and a seemingly effortless blend of formal and informal spaces. Definitely wonderful!

In other news we’re on tenterhooks, trying our first bit of trading this weekend having finally sorted the insurance. GULP! More wonder – will we sell anything????

Managing the stresses and strains of travelling

Managing stress applies as much to the seemingly laidback life on a boat as it does to bricks and mortar, 9-5 working, or travelling across the country in other ways.

This week has seen us travel from Barlaston to Anderton, a voyage of 34 miles and 41 locks through the heart of the Potteries, underground via the Harecastle Tunnel, down the locks of the Cheshire Flight aka Heartbreak Hill, into and through the town of Middlewich and on towards Preston Brook, the end point of the Trent and Mersey Canal.

In the past two weeks we’ve travelled a total of 113 miles and worked 65 locks. At a maximum of 4mph we’re doing well. Drivers stationary on the M6 when we passed underneath them were shouting out that they’d swap with us – needless to say – we didn’t take up the offers!

The weather has been with us too, but this week has been far from plain sailing. For many boats doing this route alongside us, it has been a hugely stressful week, and it could have been the same for us, without our automatically employed anti-stress strategies.

Prevention rather than cure is one key stress management tool. Approaching the Harecastle Tunnel we took the chance to delve into the weedhatch to pull off anything clogging our prop, and managed to get some muck off which would have made steering more difficult. But then, as we headed towards the 2.6 kilometre-long tunnel, we developed a horrible rattling and clunking. We pulled in and tried to resolve the issue – taking off the weedhatch and reattaching it, resiting the paint tins stored around it, and phew – noise resolved before we were ushered into the tunnel and the doors clanged shut behind us.

The issue of this week really was, once again, the ageing infrastructure of the waterways network. All was going well until we left Lock 67, Crows Nest Lock, the first of the three locks on the Booth Lane Flight in Cheshire. A man walking a black Labrador called across to us that further ahead, a pound (the stretch between locks) had no water in it at all. As I left the lock, it became apparent that the pound I was entering was low and getting lower. Mud banks had formed at the sides, and I needed to stay firmly in the central remaining channel to avoid getting stuck. Rounding a bend to the next lock, I could see three boats already moored in a queue in front of the lock, clearly aground from the odd angles of their tunnel bands.

I came as near as I dared, managed to moor up, and we set off to explore taking the dog for an unexpected additional and appreciated walk. Sure enough, Canal and River Trust (CRT) staff were already in attendance, and Lock 69 was clearly out of action.

A ground paddle had given way, but by the time we walked down, repairs were almost complete. The issue then was refloating the pounds, both the one between 68 and 69, but also the one above 68 where we were waiting. Below lock 69 another 4 boats were queued, and by the time the dog and I returned to rejoin our now stuck-in-the-mud home, another two boats had appeared behind us.

Around us some boaters were getting stressed by the delay – holiday makers worried about getting back to their home bases on time, boaters out of their marinas for a few weeks with bookings to keep further on, and some people who just hate it when things don’t go according to their plans. The delay was put to productive use for us – time for a cuppa, with biscuit treats (thanks Mum), and an opportunity to make an appointment for a haircut in Middlewich (for the next day so we didn’t have to worry about the length of delay). I also managed to make the dog an appointment in Greater Manchester for her booster in a few weeks time, and Steve had another long conversation with insurers. We are trying to set up a floating trading business and it’s proving a nightmare to get the required public liability insurance so we can get a CRT trading licence. Stock is building up on the boat, making space tight, and we need to sell stuff, but we can’t! Frustrating, but we take a deep breath, recognise it might take time, and keep trying.

We took our coffee onto the towpath for a chat with those around, discovering more interesting people, meeting a delightful travelling cat, and some very friendly dogs as well as their owners. It gave me a chance to really look at some beautiful marsh orchids, growing alongside the towpath on the canalside, orchids I might have missed if I’d been “dashing” from lock to lock. Stress buster no. 2 – look and find the positives in a situation.

Once the water came we refloated almost happily – in reversing to get us off the mudbank, I managed to get hit by a gust of wind and got very close to managing a Suez moment! That felt a bit stressful but with the help of Steve on the bank and a centreline hurled to him we were sorted. The boat ahead of us wasn’t so lucky. The lock was open ready for them, but they were unable to get to it. So wedged on a ridge of mud eas the boat that it took 6 people to get them shoved off and underway once more. Those of us behind edged tentatively past the spot where they’d had issues, trying to stay as near to the middle of the canal as possible.

Boats coming up faced issues too – the Canal and River Trust workboat was wedged in the mud well and truly as we headed down and away. According to a volunteer we met when leaving Middlewich, it took some considerable time to free it.

The solution for us in avoiding stress is to factor in potential delays. We had appointments to keep in Middlewich but we’d allowed ourselves an extra 24 hours of travelling time just in case of delays. If we arrive somewhere early, we have extra exploration or chill time. It’s a bonus – not a stress. We spent a happy 48 hours getting some work done on the boat at Middlewich Wharf, getting my haircut and socialising with friends before we headed off once more.

This weekend, finally, after years of trying, we are going to experience The Cathedral of the Canals, the Anderton Boat Lift. We have booked our slot, and we ready in place half a day early. The 25-metre-tall lift – England’s only working boat lift – will take us the 15 metres down from the Trent and Mersey to the River Weaver below, and we’ll return the same way later in the day. Fingers crossed there are no breakdowns, delays or dramas with this trip – not sure I’d like to be stuck part way up or down – but if we are, I guess I could use the time well to begin knitting a jumper I’ve been asked to make! Find out next week what happens!

The week that was was – high speed, highly positive and unexpected

If we had any doubts about why we live afloat this week has surely banished them.

We started our week in Braunston, the Northamptonshire junction which has been a focus of the waterways for writers, artists and photographers for generations. It used to be buzzing with working boats, but now houses a flourishing marina, the invaluable Tradline rope and fenders, a chandlery, art business and for those drawn these days by good cakes and breakfasts – the floating attraction of Gongoozlers Café.

An added attraction there was a grass snake swimming across the canal – everyone thought it was a stick at first, and I failed to get pictures although they aren’t uncommon swimmers at this time of year.

Braunston was where we picked up our 5-year-old lock labourer and apprentice skipper. With him aboard, we moved on, through the triangular junction with twin Horseley Iron Works towpath bridges that forms the meeting point of the Oxford and Grand Union Canals.

Through 10 miles we chugged on in the sunshine, passing squawking moorhens chiding their bobbing black pompom chicks, swans calmly marshaling new cygnets and avidly counted ducklings trailing their mallard mums trying to see who had the largest family to cope with – 12 being the record.

After the three double locks at Hillmorton, the crew required a well-earned ice-cream halt even with the help of volunteer lockies. Double locks were introduced to canals to cut down delays and enable faster cargo carrying.

At Hillmorton we fished out plastics with our nets as we headed down the locks, so that meant a trip to the waste bins before we moved on to Newbold and a mooring before the tunnel near a pub that promised a playground. It didn’t look brilliant but entertained happily for several hours.

Sunny Sunday took us through the little Newbold tunnel, and on for another 12 miles until we passed through the smallest lock our young labourer has ever moved and with the help of a volunteer too – the stop lock at Hawkesbury Junction. Stop locks are a matter of a few inches only – they were originally used as a way of water companies controlling use of their waters – in this instance marking the move from the North Oxford onto the Coventry Canal.

We tied up on the Engine House moorings and had just settled for a meal when we met new boaters on their first week out in their new boat – they hit us which is always a good way to make sure you get attention! We were glad to help them sort out mooring for the water and provide a water connector – someone did that for us when we mislaid ours, so we are always glad to pay a favour forward.

After a quick trip to the fudge boat, it was time for our crew to reduce in numbers and for us to dispose of the car to enable us to travel more rapidly. When leapfrogging a car, we have a choice. One of us can move the boat and the other the car, or we can both move the boat and then one of us or both of us walk or cycle back to get the car. It slows us down and interrupts the flow of cruising.

For our new furry crew member this was obviously another series of new experiences, making it back to the boat from leaving the car by bus, two trains and a taxi. She managed it all and jumped back on board with alacrity when we finally made it home.

Monday took us from Hawkesbury to Polesworth, moving on in more sunshine through 16 miles and 11 locks. These locks came in a single block or flight at Atherstone. Before we tackled them, we took the chance to nip into Atherstone for some shopping to refill the fresh food stocks although we are self-sufficient at the moment with lettuce, spinach and radishes growing well on the roof. With the help of voluntary lock keepers, boaters taking show boats up to Crick for the Bank Holiday weekend boat show and with holiday boaters as well as some kind walkers eager to help with closing gates, we made it down the entire flight in 2 hours 3 minutes.

Polesworth is a Warwickshire village that once provided coal and clay, and food for thought via the Polesworth Circle which attracted literary greats like Ben Jonson, John Donne and others. Its art remains thought-provoking.

Support systems art/words under M42 – pit props, wives and mothers, roots

We headed through Tamworth to Fazeley Junction, dropping down the two locks at Glascote, and moving onto the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal. Such is the nature of the floating community that we waved in passing to boaters we haven’t seen for years, enjoying a shouted catch up as we moved north and they south. Good to see them, and see them looking well.

It’s a glorious time to travel the canals – the hedgerows look as if they’ve been iced – thickly laden with white may blossom. The air is thick with scents, from may and from rapeseed growing in vivid yellow swathes across the countryside. Alongside the water nature is putting out the flags for us, bright splashes of colour amid vibrant and varied greens of reeds, the frothing white of cow parsley and swaying curtains of willow.

On New Year’s Eve as 2023 began we were moored before the small swing bridge in Staffordshire at Fradley Junction, handy for celebrating in The Mucky Duck aka The Swan. We moored up there once more, walked through the growing and popular nature reserve surrounding Fradley Pool; checked the pub hadn’t changed in the intervening months; enjoyed limitless hot water showers at the services (our equivalent of a spa); and watched the bats feeding overhead in the early dusk.

Early the next morning we turned onto the Trent and Mersey Canal, seeing yet again the changes HS2 is bringing to the area. Metal barriers have sprouted where once there were trees.

Moorings have gone, cottages are empty. Significant towpath work is underway too, perhaps linked to HS2, and its good to see that workboats are being used to transport ballast and planted coir rolls which create bank protection. As always – we met two of them on a blind bridge!

Twelve miles and 4 locks on Wednesday took us to Great Haywood, a favourite spot of ours with glorious walks around the grounds of Shugborough Hall, and a chance for furry crew to swim (nope, madam preferred to paddle) in the River Trent.

We managed to moor next to another friend and found an onboard garden to swoon over.

Thursday then was our final long day of travelling, and it turned out longer and contained more surprises than we expected. We aimed on 13 miles and 13 locks to get us to the Staffordshire village of Barlaston midway between the “canal town” of Stone and the heart of the Potteries, Stoke-on-Trent.

We were doing so well. Manoeuvring round boats searching for their spaces to set up the Bank Holiday Weekend floating market and up through the four deep, cool and dripping locks at Stone.

All was going so well, and we moved on then to the days final 4 locks at Meaford (pron Mefford). Through the first lock and it looked like someone was coming down the second lock, giving us a helping hand through – but that’s when we realised the man opening the paddles of the lock to let the water flow out didn’t have a boat. He turned out to be a Canal and River Trust employee emptying the pound (the section between locks) and lock 33 ahead of us.

The issue was with the cill of Lock 33. The cill is a large, raised ledge against which the top gates of a lock close, containing the water. The issue in this case was that something had come loose and when the gates shut, and water levels were lowered water from the pound above was about to escape through a narrow gap into the lock. Pushing water at force through a small space resulted in a powerful jet of water being directed at the back of the boats going down – dangerous for the person on the back at the tiller, and potentially sinking boats as the water could get straight into the back of the boat. Boats going up the lock could face flooding at their bows. So repair work was essential.

Three staff from CRT emptied the lock. We moored up after the first lock and stayed put until allowed to move. It was about a four-hour delay in the end, but we were able to support the work by letting other boaters behind us know so they didn’t try to get through the first lock. I got some crafting done, had a chance to talk to local people and other boaters, and Steve along with other boaters helped CRT at the site of the lock at issue. Rapid evaluation once the water level dropped combined with repairs involving quick setting cement followed by clay and the lock was ready to work again. Working coalboat Hassall was the first to be let through to try the lock, and once they were safely through then the rest of us queuing could head through in turn.

That brought us to Barlaston later than we had expected, as dusk was falling, but we are here, where we wanted and aimed to be. It has been a wonderful, invigorating and uplifting 6 days of travel. We have felt bathed in nature, and sunshine. We are an incredible 79 miles and 24 locks nearer to our next destination and the chance we really hope, to experience yet another of the Seven Wonders of the Waterways.

Time for a change

At last we’re off – heading to new waterways, new horizons and new adventures.

It seems like we’ve been treading water for the past few months, waiting for the London Marathon to come and go, waiting for the date for our welding work to be done – which has been literally lifechanging. We’ve been so lucky to use that time to catch up with floating and static friends, to work hard too, and now we are setting off travelling once more, and it feels exhilarating.

Spending hours each day moving gently through new scenes, new views, villages and towns; waking to new places with great regularity after months of staying put, sometimes for 14 days at a time, is uplifting. It feels like we are taking huge gulps of energising fresh air after months of static or shallow breathing.

Always on the look out to spot new things!

Last night we were moored in a wooded cutting, quiet and peaceful; other nights last week we encountered nights of traffic noise from the nearby A5, from distant trains and who knows where we will choose to moor tonight…

We are headed to the Lancaster Canal – going tidal and trying en route to sort out our final requirement for our crossing – some marine distress flares which seem a tougher requirement than we first thought. Yes, like virtually everything, they are available on the internet, but containing explosives they have to be transported by approved couriers so two £15 flares demand £70 of transportation! I think we’ll wait until we get near the coast and try again.

Tides demand bookings for tidal crossings, so we have a booking for crossing the River Douglas and River Ribble of 2 July. Before then we have a long-awaited family engagement in the area of Pennington Flash in the Greater Manchester area.

Getting there in a car would take about 2 hours and 20 minutes from where we now are if you used the M6 toll, or about 3 hours on the M1 and M6. Going our route is going to take us between 2 weeks and 4 weeks which is much more civilised, and gets us there in good time. The pleasure of having family on board to share, even if only for a few hours, the delights of the waterways we are blessed to enjoy 24/7 is just wonderful.

From where we had our welding done in Northamptonshire, we calculated (with the help of canalplan and canal guides) 172 miles and 89 locks to the family meeting point. That takes in 122 miles of narrow canals with 76 narrow locks, the remainder being broad locks and miles on broad canals. We travel 4 miles underground, through 6 tunnels – Braunston, Newbold, Harecastle, Barnton, Saltersford and Preston Brook. Our journey takes in seven canals – the Grand Union, the Oxford, Coventry, Birmingham and Fazeley, Trent and Mersey, onto the private Bridgewater Canal, and finally the Leeds and Liverpool. All of this is familiar territory, areas travelling before over the years, but it’s always changing by season and weather, new views, wildlife and people to see.

Our newest crew member has taken to this life with aplomb. She tried sitting on the hatch at roof level but the convex slope to our mega hatch combined with the breeze in her face wasn’t to her liking.

Instead, she has found her own favourite spot – just where Cola our old boat dog used to sit. She sits looking out of her porthole at the feet of whoever is on the tiller, and watches the world go by. Locks, tunnels, boats alongside, ducks, swans, everything interests her but nothing seems to alarm her. She is in short, a delightful companion afloat. This weekend we have another crewmate on board, so she like us, will enjoy the invigorating company of a 5-year-old too.

After our family meet up we will head off onto waterways new to us, but until then, there’s time to enjoy just travelling again, getting into the daily routine of travelling, mooring, walking in new places, discovering new sights and stories in the places where we pause, and deciding whether they demand a little more of our time, or whether we should move on. What we will find en route is just one of the many little excitements of slow motion travel, the unexpected is always waiting for us somewhere ahead. This week it was the ingenuity of pool players who live on small boats!

As the old proverb says A day of travelling will bring a basketful of learning, about the world around us and ourselves. Baskets at the ready then!

Heavy metal changes our lives

What a week that was – a week that’s wrought a change we’ve dreamed of ever since we bought our boat in 2018.

For years now we’ve battled daily with the heavy main stern hatch, which extends the full width of the boat. We open it in the mornings to head out into each day. We close it at night to cocoon ourselves away, and every time in between, when we leave the boat or the rain starts or stops, we open and close it.

It is incredibly useful to have such a large hatch – made getting a full-sized washing machine on board as well as making it easier for us and visitors to get on and off than a standard half width hatch.

However, for every plus there’s usually a compromise and for us it was the sheer weight of the hatch. It is 80-90 kgs worth of solid metal which has to be opened from underneath so yanked with arms upstretched – a good work out but utterly exhausting.

We’ve talked to various boat builders, boaters and friends to see what they suggest and everyone comes up with cutting it off and fitting it with rollers.

We spotted that marine welder and fabricator Kev Kyte had done something similar for another boater, so we turned to him last year. The earliest he could do anything for us as we also needed the front bulkhead plated too (in its current state, it compromises the structure of the entire boat) was May this year. That gave us some saving-the-pennies-time, and then this week – it happened!

During my 26.2mile Virtual London Marathon, I was eyeing up good spots to get the welding work done. This week, we positioned the boat on a towpath mooring I’d identified with easy access to a car park for them to get their gear to us, and they were with us before 8.30am.

As I write this blog there are angle grinders and welders going at opposite ends of the boat. Kev’s dealing with the hatch at the stern whilst Ben does a sterling job sorting the bulkhead at the bow.

To give them access we (with the invaluable help of Wobbly Boater Al) had to remove doors, wood panelling, insulation and everything combustible near the work sites, and clear everything out of the cratch so the whole boat is crammed!

Kev discovered he needed to cut part of the handrails off to get access to cut off the hatch cover.

Once both sides were cut, it took two strong men to lift off the hatch

Once removed, it became apparent it had at one time had rollers. They look pretty small and gungy next to their stainless steel replacements and had long since stopped working.

New rollers alongside an utterly revolting useless old one

It’s only been a week since we were joined by our new crewmate, and she’s been absolutely amazing during all this noisy upheaval. After welcoming everyone, she stood overseeing the works for a bit from her vantage point on a wall before heading inside for a snooze despite the din! Her first selected nap spot was in the shower – in a bucket full of things we’d moved out of the way!

By 1pm all was done – the bulkhead is going to last for another 30+ years and Steve can demonstrate that this massive hatch can now be opened literally with a finger.

This is going to change how we feel and live aboard without a doubt. It also means unsuspecting visitors looking for an east handhold to get on and off the boat won’t get covered in oil from the hatch runners.

As for me – I just can’t stop opening and closing the hatch – wonder how long the novelty will last?!

Probation – for us and a new crewmate

It’s 5 months since our gorgeous cocker spaniel Cola left us, and they have been long, often lonely months without him, for me at least. We had 15 years together, and he was a brilliant family dog.

Non dog lovers may struggle to understand so I shall try and spell out how it has felt. Walks have felt pointless, the sofa feels empty and huge, the lack of moments to indulge in calmly stroking a dog have led to sometimes unbearable tension, and not having someone to care for has made life itself and our boat feel bereft, not as much like a home.

Heaven for some – being surrounded by dogs ❤️

Dogs for so many of us are an essential of life. Companions who give us so much in terms of friendship, loyalty, affection and encourage us to get out in the fresh air whatever the weather. They also depend on us in a way adult humans rarely do.

We decided we wanted to give a home to a dog that needed one. Despite the assurance of rescue charities within reasonable distance to say they would sometimes consider boaters, the only suggestions was singular and for a dog that had struggled to be rehomed.

All has changed this week. Thanks to a former colleague we came across a breeder looking to rehome a breeding bitch so we are and the boat are now on probation. Meet our new crewmate/workmate.

Probation is a testing time for everyone. In any probation situation everyone is on test – and at the end a decision needs to be made. Most of us really want it to work out, and in this situation I most certainly do, so much so I’m scared of wanting it too much.

Luckily for her, she is very different to Cola even if she likes the same sofa spot, so comparisons really can’t be made easily. She’s already caught us out being so much smaller, more agile and more portable than her predecessor – she managed to jump up onto the work surface from the sofa taking out a hanging mug in the process – startling herself and us at the same time. Having learned her lesson though, she’s not repeated that again.

She’s highly affectionate, and very accommodating of people and dogs of all sizes passing by, but unsure of ducks and swans. She also doesn’t appear very fond of water in any form – this morning’s walk involved many towpath puddle detours!

Will she settle on the boat? Boats are not for everyone after all.

We haven’t moved with her onboard yet as we need to travel slowly to the place we are due to get some welding done. If we arrive too early we could have to leave because of mooring restrictions before we need to be there for the work!

Will she like living with us? That’s not for everyone either – ask our daughters!

Will we like living with her – and that has to mean both of us – well, I’m a pushover…

So the million dollar question – will she stay or will she go? Watch. This. Space. I have everything crossed, and believe me it’s an uncomfortable situation to be in for long!

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: