Pickingupducks

Are you well balanced? We’re not…yet!

It’s only too late to get back on an even keel when you’ve capsized… a thought for us all and particularly those of us who live on boats where prevention is definitely better than cure.

So this week has been about rebalancing our lives…and our home. It’s so easy when you have a 50 x 6ft home to just add and amend what’s on board without really thinking about where we’re putting things, and that is crucial. The layout of our boat means we have a passageway down one side of the boat so all the heavy stuff tends to congregate on the other side – including us! You see the problem – most of the weight is on the side opposite the passageway, creating a list to (in our case) the port side.

The only sizeable weight on the starboard side, and it is sizeable, is the multifuel stove. After that there are a two book shelves and some shelf steps under the side hatch.

We need to redistribute weight more equally, to recalibrate our home, and so our lives. We are aware that this year we will be bringing on new batteries (into portside fixings). Whilst the coal on the roof is steadily reducing and will continue doing that, it will ultimately be replaced by the veg garden so the weight on top is not really diminishing. We keep that weight evenly distributed but it tends to be central to the boat. The water tank with its 500litres is also central, but at the bow (front). Too much weight on one side and too high up (like on the roof) can make the boat more susceptible to sudden movements, to winds and waves… and that’s a clue to one reason as to why we are doing this now.

Once we have headed south for welding work to be completed we shall be heading off on a new adventure – one that takes us across tidal waters. No – not to France or Ireland, but to Lancashire (and with a Yorkshireman as skipper that is seen as very foreign territory, believe me!).

That will take us across the first new canal for 97 years – the Millennium Ribble Link. It connects the 41 navigable (and lockless) miles of the Lancaster Canal to the national network via the River Ribble, the River Douglas and the Rufford Branch of the Leeds and Liverpool Canal. The Ribble Link consists of the River Ribble and River Douglas – all tidal, fuelled by the waters of Morecambe Bay.

In tidal waters it’s more important than ever to keep an even keel…particularly on a narrowboat which doesn’t even have a keel but has a flat bottom so is susceptible to rolling when walloped by waves.

Safety equipment for coastal waters differs from the inland waterways – and it’s going to weigh! Looking down the list for this trip we seem to be pretty well equipped so this weight is already on board, we just need to make sure distribution is even.

Life jackets – got
Accessible, ready anchor on chain to stop the boat in case of engine failure – got
Charged mobile phone or VHF radio – got the former
Marine Distress Flares – still to get those.

Undertaking anything out of the ordinary it is always worth putting in the preparation – researching (in our case reading guidance documentation provided and looking at how others have fared via the many boaters vlogs available – some make alarming viewing, others are more calmly reassuring!

We need to book because of tide times and we aim to be in a convoy of several boats for safety. But we can’t go yet as we have things to do before then. Our engine is going to need to work harder for longer than it has for years so we will be completely replacing what we think is its current weak point – the cooling system.

We are also actively starting to get our lives in balance. That means working out weight distribution across the boat. We do have ballast in the hull of the boat and that is fixed (in our case it’s kerb stones – we know as Steve has managed to get a few out for rebalancing when we brought the washing machine on board. So it’s the easily moveable elements that we are concentrating on.

We are using pallets to build shelving along the length of the starboard side to enable lots of items to make the move from the galley (kitchen) cupboards on the port side. Just emptying a few and putting them onto the scales resulted in the discovery that that should redistribute over 40 kgs.

Making changes to the shower cubicle replacing the giant ceramic shower tray which over time we realise we only use a fraction of, keeping storage there when not in use as a shower. We have actually shelved over part of it. That change should remove about 30 kgs from that side of the boat.

Little by little then, we are recalibrating our lives afloat, and our home. Nothing too quickly, but steadily we are reviewing, reconsidering and rebalancing. Not a bad thing fornus all to do regularly with our lives really, however or wherever we live and work.

Removing the unnecessary, reorganising priorities and reviewing how we live – not a bad mantra for everyone. Seems a wise move to deal with the things throwing you off balance before they do serious harm. May mean all our physical and metaphorical distress flares remain unused.

Restorative practices

Travelling the waterways living and working in our 21st century ways links us to the past.

We use routes designed by famous engineers like Brindley and Telford whose waterfilled channels and tunnels for commercial haulage were created by armies of labourers.

In some places like the Ashby where we are now, we are not only remembering and celebrating the people of the past, but also very much acknowledging present day work.

Volunteers, communities, councils, organisations are working together, enabling waterways to stay alive and viable. United, they are working hard to restore waterways for boaters, walkers, fishermen (and women), canoeists, paddleboarders, runners, and crucially for wildlife.

Some waterways have been hidden from view for years, others remain unused but evident. Currently 97 restoration projects are underway across the UK.

We’ve been fortunate to cruise the Monty (Montgomery), currently under restoration, and are heading this year up the Lancaster where they are aiming to extend the navigation ultimately to Kendal.

See if there’s a restoration project near you

https://canalrivertrust.maps.arcgis.com/apps/MapTour/index.html?appid=13ccb97bc18846c997c23884142ada64&webmap=1a375d67642e48d8ae3b516d202bcbe8#

All offer numerous opportunities to get involved and fascinating insights into the construction process. The aim for some is to be restored for navigation. Others like Charnwood Forest Canal are hoping to preserve the former route for amenity use.

The Ashby Canal is a great example of a canal brought back to life by the dedication of individuals acting as catalysts, labourers and bringing together organisations to work together to restore a truly beautiful route. Built originally to serve the coalfields that abounded near Moira and Measham, it opened in 1804. Those coalfields directly resulted in the Ashby’s demise as a working canal – mining subsidence closed sections north of Snarestone in the 1940s.

The section from Moira to Donisthorpe was abandoned in the early 1940s and another 5 miles closed in 1957 with the Measham to Snarestone section closing in 1966.

That final closure led to the formation of the Ashby Canal Association, a group determined to ensure no more lengths were closed. Leicestershire County Council were behind the restoration and the Ashby Canal Trust was formed as a limited company in 2000 with directors representing the Ashby Canal Association, the County Council, local relevant councils, Canal and River Trust and the Inland Waterways Association (IWA).

Thanks to all the efforts of committed individuals involved, we know about the canal’s history and are able to cruise the Ashby’s from its junction with the Coventry Canal. This year we have a further few hundred new yards to travel to a winding point taking us 22 lock-free beautiful miles.

This year too there is a new canal walk which goes from Snarestone to Measham, one we’d recommend to any boaters, walkers, or trail runners.

The large village of Measham also gave its name to a rustic brown lead-glazed style of decorative china known as Measham ware or Barge ware. The famed teapots particularly were given as gifts, often as prized wedding presents. Bargees would place their orders as they passed through Measham and collect the item on their next trip. Ironically, most Measham ware was actually produced 5 miles away in Church Gresley in Derbyshire. When I finally find one at a price I can afford, I’ll show you what they look like!

The Ashby Canal Path is a fascinating insight into where future generations may cruise…. Wonder how much further we will be able to get in our cruising lifetimes?

We’re aiming to get involved in restoration projects as we cruise through the IWA. The Association offers the opportunity with holiday, weekend and family camps. It will be not only a chance to contribute to the amazing network which gives us such joy daily but also an opportunity to learn new skills, meet new people, discover new horizons and get involved in protecting the waterways for generations to enjoy.

Betrayal, abandonment and death

We’ve been living in the shadow of a seismic royal upheaval for the past few weeks. We tread the same paths and see the same fields that two kings saw, one of whom would never see anything other than these views ever again, over 500 years ago

This area of the country is where the fortunes and throne of England changed forever. Just a stone’s throw from the Ashby Canal (our current home) lies the site where historians claim the Battle of Bosworth Field took place.

In this place, Richard III camped the night before his encounter with the man who had returned from exile in Brittany and was marching up Watling Street heading for London. In the heat of battle the king was said to have drunk from this well we see today.

Richard III and the man who would become his successor (as Henry VII) rode across the very rolling green fields that surround us. For one of those men, this was his site of success and succession; for the other, a scene of betrayal and death.

The Battle of Bosworth Field brought an end to the Plantagenet kings, with the death of 32-year-old Richard. Two of those who had sworn allegiance to him and brought troops to support him brought about his end. One changed sides in the heat of battle, the other remained immobile, failing to act on Richard’s behalf.

Richard’s lifeless body was found without his helmet and with a fatal head wound. His body was thought to have been thrown into the River Soar, another navigable waterway we regularly cruise, but as we now know it was actually transferred to the site of the former Grey Friars Priory in Leicester.

In 2015, his skeleton was found, identified using radio carbon dating, mitochondrial DNA and comparison with contemporary appearance information. His remains were reburied at Leicester Cathedral, a short walk from yet more familiar, navigable moorings in the heart of the city.

The death of Richard on these Leicestershire fields marked not just the end of the Plantagenet kings but the beginning of the Tudor dynasty. This descendent line can be drawn from Henry VI to our current Charles III. That beginning happened just near our recent moorings at Stoke Golding.

This is an area where history envelops us, lessons await us at every turn and all just steps away from the canal, our home.

Left out in the cold

We have first-hand evidence that the UK Government is discriminating, prevaricating, and putting out untruthful disinformation.

With a huge fanfare back in May 2022 the then Chancellor, one Rishi Sunak you may remember, announced a non means tested, £400 discount for every household to help with energy bills. The EBSS – Energy Bills Support Scheme – allegedly began rolling out in October. Sunak declared to Parliament on 26 May last year: “…we have decided that the £200 of support for household energy bills will be doubled to £400 for everyone. We are on the side of hard-working families with £6billion of financial support.”

He continued: “…we are raising emergency funds to help millions of the most vulnerable families who are struggling right now, and all households will benefit from £400 of universal support for energy bills, with nor a penny to repay.”

Since then, I am sure some people have seen some of that money. It is utterly galling to hear second home owners have possibly all been seen payments for each of their addresses, while we know some of the poorest in society, who don’t have a fixed address have seen nothing. These are, in some cases, people who are borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, who are choosing warmth over food and are starving adults in their household to feed their children. Their homes are mobile but their only homes, and yet they cannot claim the payment because the government excludes any household without a permanent address.

Living an itinerant lifestyle is not always an idyllic lifestyle choice

These are people living an off-grid often itinerant lifestyle. Some are fortunate, as we are, to live this way by choice, but for others this is no choice. The government says they’re working on getting a solution to get money to those of us without a fixed address. The longer they say that they are trying, the longer they appear to feel it acceptable to delay. For some, that delay will mean the difference between health or illness, survival or bleak despair, and in extreme cases, life or death. Nearly half of itinerant boaters earn less than £20,000 a year, but they still face rocketing prices for the fuel they need.

While politicians continue telling the media and thus the public that every household has already received the £400 payment (which we know to be untrue), many of us have just experienced another 10 days of freezing conditions.

The need to stay warm is fundamental and our costs are rising. We buy coal which we burn 24/7 in our multi fuel stove at this tjme of year. That is our only heating. This year we were hugely fortunate to be able to buy in bulk at £12.10 for 20kgs. We juggled finances to afford the upfront cost, thanks to having family prepared to let us store a tonne of coal at their address. Last year, we were paying 21% less for coal, around £10 a bag.

We use gas for cooking although we use the multifuel stove as much as we can for cooking to maximise the use of fuel. The last gas we bought was £40 for 13kg bottle – up from £28 last year.

We use diesel to move and generate power which combines with our solar investment to keep us off-grid. Diesel used to be 80p a litre, but by 5 January 2023, it had almost doubled to £1.50 a litre.

We are lucky. We are working. We are surviving. Our fuel costs are escalating so we are cutting down on other things but we can do that for now.

There’s supposed to be a pilot scheme for those of us off-grid people who aren’t a drain on the national grid – the councils operating this don’t appear to know how it should run at all. It appears we need to be moored in their areas to apply but we couldn’t get there if they had a canal or river if we wanted – we are still frozen in, stuck in ice.

The snow has gone this week here but the ice remains

Groups like the National Bargee Travellers Association and Friends, Families and Travellers are working to get access and so are we as individuals. We didn’t ask for this payment but having been told we as a household should get it, we appreciate how useful it will be to us.

We are continuous cruisers. We are a household. We are also taxpayers. I fumed when submitting my recent tax return. The government expects me to pay out from a tight budget rapidly. They don’t reciprocate and pay up what they have promised. Not only are they not paying what they offered and thus owe – they’re bragging about how they actually are paying out, seeking political kudos for we know first-hand is a lie.

It really is simple. Check you can deliver before you promise. Do your homework. Plan properly.

At least all this fuming is warming me up! EBSS like so many other political schemes amounts to an ill-thought out and Extraordinarily Bloody Stupid System.

How to live happier and make the world better

Research says loss of a partner with whom you’ve lived for many years is often made harder to bear because of the reaction of others.

What the researchers refer to relates to the heart-rending loss of a pet. They say that often results in profound grief that is unacknowledged by those around, and this extends or prolongs the mourning period. Prolonged grief can have severe effects on our mental and physical health.

We had a tough week this week with the loss of our partner of 15 years, Cocker Cola, a spaniel without equal in our eyes. That loss has been huge but made easier by all the kind comments and sympathies which have come our way from people who knew Cola, as our dog and a volunteer at parkruns and Remembrance Parades but also from people who never met him but wanted to send us kind thoughts.

People who knew him as a pup, others who knew him as a boatdog, and many who never met him but who recognise the deep bonds we build with our pets. I am hugely grateful for the hundreds of messages, emails, tweets and WhatsApps. Taking time to extend sympathetic kindness when people could just have ignored my post in the maelstrom of social media really made a positive difference.

Cola was a working cocker whose work was to keep 3 generations of this family adored, valued and consoled over his time with us.

Into those silky black ears we have all poured troubles, excitements, hopes and fears that we didn’t want to tell others. Not once has he spilled the beans, made a comment, voiced an opinion or given advice – however well meaning. Bad days have been made good, tensions and tempers calmed by a walk with him or a chance to sit stroking his soft black fur.

Since the day in 2008 he left his mum Matty and travelled from Sally and Vic Bleming’s home to ours, he has been a constant, loyal black shadow He’s padded beside us through our homes, walks, hikes, high days and holidays. That black nose and big paws have over the years opened cupboards, doors, gates and one memorable year identified and opened all the edible gifts under the tree before Christmas.

Cola was not really ours. He was our daughter Freya’s, her 13th birthday present. When she went away to university, he stayed at home, enthusiastically welcoming her whenever she returned.

When she started work and moved away, he holidayed with her often but stayed with us, a generosity of hers for which I will always be grateful. When we moved onboard Preaux to live as continuous cruisers, Cola moved with us. As a spaniel who adored water, living on the boat was heaven.

He had his own porthole where he’d sit looking out at the world as we travelled, or just looking at us. It was perfect for him – he was still with us which was always where he wanted to be, but he was also able to watch the ducks go by, and enjoy the warmth from the engine beneath the deck boards (once the smoke too when things over heated and he disappeared in a cloud, but still sat still as we rushed about like headless chickens).

He loved the long walks in ever changing places, the fact that each time he hopped off the boat he was greeted with new smells and new places to explore, things to roll in and he always shared his delights with us (whether we wanted it or not) with a generosity of spirit.

He enlivened boatlife particularly in his own indomitable way.

Our first night on board he went overboard in the darknesswhen he misjudged the jump into the bow and plungrd into an inky black flooding, swirling River Soar. Only the fact that Steve had him on a lead meant he wasn’t swept away. We finally landed him, a sodden mass back on board by getting a towel underneath him and using it as a hoist.

He’s always hurled himself deliberately with glee into rivers and canals – always keen for a dip. In more recent years, as his brain and eyesight have dimmed, he’s become a bit of a liability. Sometimes, he’d forget which way we’d moored and fail to seek out the towpath side before jumping off the back of the boat… more recently, he’d stop on the canalside, and his old legs would give way with a wobble, and he’d fall in with a splash.

Fishing him out seemed a small price to pay for all his unquestioning companionship. To towel him off, and not mind when he shook himself all over us, and embued the boat with the unique aroma of canal-water-wet dog.

Over the years he’s recultivated gardens, retrieved our chickens and shoes (always singly, never in pairs), dropped single shoes overboard and developed a singular reputation for his one bad habit of stealing food from plates, pockets, handbags and sometimes out of people’s hands (often without them even noticing).

He loved mud, muck, water, FOOD (the capitals are his) and unquestionably all of us. Three generations of our family have benefited from his hairy embraces and protection. He’s been a favourite with dog lovers and even won over non-canine enthusiasts. He adored us all, never bothered about how we looked or felt – he just wanted to be with us.

When pets are with you day in, day out, when you work from home particularly as we do, in a small space, they are the most important compananion. The most constant, uncritical and enthusiastic of friends. They are a reassuring presence of good in our lives.

He aged rapidly at the end. He slept for England – often having often having to be lifted onto his favoured sleeping spot – the sofa.

Towards the end he became doubly incontinent. Our furniture took on a strange crackling sound from its waterproof covers. He often to be carried to places when his legs gave out. That just seemed a small repayment for all the good times he gave us still.

The arthritis pain never made him grumpy, even when it made walking, which he loved, a real struggle sometimes. His bad days began to outweigh the good, his hearing left him in a quiet world where fireworks no longer bothered him but equally he could no longer hear the rustle of a wrapper in the kitchen. However, try opening a packet of biscuits to indulge quietly, and you would fail to remain alone for long. That nose would nudge the back of your knee in hope – his sense of smell never deserted him. When his tail stopped wagging, he signalled his end.

This dog taught me patience, gratitude, and a real joy for life every day of his 15 years with us. Not once did he complain or sulk, or greet us with anything but glee.

His legacy is simple:

Be unfailingly, uncritically supportive of those around you.
Enthuse over important things like food, long country walks, wild swimming, a comfy sofa, warm fires, and good company.
Show and share your pleasure with others.

Let’s all make life better for ourselves and those around us at home and at work – let’s just be more Cola.

Farcical planning – a feelgood essential right now

Sleep has come easily this week. As the rain regularly patters or thunders on the metal roof of our home, it becomes the only sound – white noise that drowns everything out and sends you to sleep. On the other side of the coin, when you wake in the velvety darkness wondering what woke you, it takes a moment to realise the cessation of the rain and lack of noise is the answer. Roll over and the resulting gentle rocking of the boat lulls you back to sleep.

When it rains like this, our regular nighttime owl chorus falls silent. Maybe they can’t compete or are too busy staying warm and dry like us. In the day, the birds are also hushed or drowned out with the exception of the ducks who delight in chattering away in the showers.

During the day as water pools on the towpath alongside, and streams chase down the windows obscuring the view, when going out for long walks seems too great a palaver – waterproof trousers, coat, boots, hat, gloves – I’ve been planning and it seems utterly farcical. I’ve been planning for a drought.

Planning ahead to better, brighter times is essential at this low point of the year.

Last year, things got very bright as the year progressed. Temperatures rose and rose as we all know, and at times, the metal shell of our home was just too hot to touch outside. That put paid to the veg garden on the roof such as it was. The garden was also hit by a double blow – low coal usage last winter.

We upcycle between 4 and 6 supermarket bread trays into dual-purpose roof containers on our boat – coal bag/wood store by winter and roof garden containers for spring, summer, and part of autumn. Last year, coal took up most trays, leaving only a couple for the garden. Those couple were duly planted with spinach, and lettuce, the cut-and-come-again crops, which usually work well in a limited space. But then temperatures rose and kept rising. Plant foliage baked from above and roots roasted from below. Water levels dropped and taking water, even a bucket or two to feed plants, when every drop might mean continued navigation seemed selfish. I gave up and so did they.

As rain pools around me (fortunately outside) I am planning for drought and empty coal trays for a productive roof garden again. It needs to be productive in a low growing sort of way – learned my lesson in the past with a hugely successful potato bag which grew like topsy. So well did it grow that we had to remove it from the roof because we could no longer see round it to navigate safely. It became a daily workout, moving it into the cratch, onto the towpath when we moored and back aboard before moving off.

2021 was a good roof gardening year – nite the potatoes at the side off the boat!

Its demise came before the longest, deepest and highest tunnel above sea-level, the mighty 3.5 mile Stanedge. To ensure safe passage everything has to come off the roof into the boat, all equipment and plants. There was just nowhere for the potatoes and nothing to do but to harvest them which gave us spuds aplenty!

For safe navigation and productive gardening this year I shall stick to low-growing, drought resistant planting. Thrillers, spillers and fillers will still be the planting plan – something to delight the eye and the stomach, to add insulation to the roof and keep the inside cooler than it might otherwise be. There may be a bucket or two to complement the growing trays and add (limited) depth. I just want to create a lush, productive roof garden once more.

Lots of mulch and dense planting of drought resistant and drought hardy crops will be the order of the day.

So what to grow? Herbs like creeping thyme, the only salad crop will be rocket and tunbling nasturtiums will bring colour to the roof as well as a delicious peppery tang to salad bowls. Chillies, miniature Bell peppers and mini aubergines from plugs stand a chance of producing something.

Beetroot, carrots, and parsnips can do well because they are grown deep in soil, but to be deep enough means sourcing and sustaining bigger containers which can make navigation tricky. Buying that veg in is likely to be cheaper than taking up growing space for a long time to produce them in what really is limited space. Chard could be productive in their space instead, a cut and come again crops. Tumbling cherry tomatoes can work, if I’m prepared to water them without guilt.

Splashes of colour not only attract insects away from inside the boat but are essential for passing bees. So sunshine yellow bidens, (beggar ticks) and maybe the blue swan river daisy brachyscome. Pelargonium survived last year and distract insects. Sedums grow well on the roof in old boits and containers. I’ll also add some cornflowers I have and as many herbs as I can. If anyone has any other ideas – please share in comments!

Buying good seed or plants is a sensible investment. My first stop for flower seeds for cut flowers and I highly recommend it to all gardeners, boating or land based, would be Higgledy Garden. https://higgledygarden.com/ Boat dweller Ben and his sidekick Flash do an excellent job for us all, and particularly for bees so do buy from them when you can.

We all benefit from planning and thinking ahead from having goals large and small. As Blue Monday looms, I recommend forward planning for work, life, and leisure as a positive, productive, and pleasant as well as essential way to spend a wet hour or two.

Diurnal wobble and other experiences

It’s been a strange first week of the year – combining unsettling new lessons and exciting experiences, with comforting returns to familiarity. All giving a chance to learn, reflect, and move better equipped into the months ahead.

We started the week on the Coventry Canal at Fradley Junction. The Mucky Duck aka The Swan proved an excellent place to share a celebratory New Year’s Eve drink or two with fellow boaters and the temptation to cruise on a crisp sunny New Year’s Day proved a delightful start to 2023. That took us onto the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal at Hopwas.

Set against the backdrop of ancient woodland now a military firing range, Hopwas is a delight. I say that despite having been caught out and locked in the firing range on a live firing day when out for a walk with the dog on our first stay there. Through locked gates, friendly locals gave escape directions whilst gently pointing out for future visits the need to look for the big red warning flag fluttering beside us…

The army was obviously on festive leave or strike duty this week, so the woods were safe. We didn’t have too much time to explore, with work on two days, one demanding a long drive on multiple motorways. As soon as work finished, we fixed the tiller pole, popped Jemima Puddleduck, our tiller pin in place, and set off once more.

By Fazeley junction we were back on the Coventry Canal, and from this approach it is possible to really enjoy Steve Edwards’s giant murals of a kingfisher and robin which he created in 2014 on the side of a timber yard. They’ve now been joined by a lively chaffinch and bullfinch created by artists from New Urban ERA UK.

Along this stretch of the canal, as with so much structure in urban areas, murals have been created as a response to graffiti, an example of what urban art can be. In many places this has worked – Birmingham, Leicester and Oxford being particular examples where stunning art enlivens buildings and cheers gloomy bridge holes. They are brilliant demonstrations turning negatives into positives, something we can all strive to do this year.

Splashes of colour en route this week have come from nature too. Large and small displays of vibrant beauty have cheered what can be a dreicht time of the year.

From Hopwas via the Glascote locks where we met some helpful bored young men only to happy to help push lock beams open, to Polesworth offering pub and poetry – neither of which we were tempted to take up – one illegible, the other a casualty of dry January.

From Polesworth – a glorious ascent of Atherstone’s 11 locks in sunshine with every single one in our favour and voluntary lock keepers to aid at the top. Such simple delights put a rosy glow on any day of cruising and they could be our last locks for a month or two!

On then past many moored boats, some coldly lonely, others with puffing chimneys indicating inhabitants warm and cosy inside, to a blissful mooring spot in woodland below Mount Judd ( also known as the Nuneaton Nipple). This man made mountain of spoil from what was once Judkins’ quarry has settled to become a local landmark, and it’s certainly useful as a location guide.

The barking of foxes and calls of owls in the woods beside us were the only sounds to be heard at night, and the moon the only light. Our original idea of a very early start to make the most of the time available to move before work meetings was delightfully delayed by the diurnal wobble. After the shortest day we think it’s going to become lighter but there’s a wobble for a week or two until things settle down. It was really apparent in the clear skies round the dark woods.

We’ve left some mornings at 7.30am recently and been able to see well to navigate our way, but not so on a Friday. This was the scene at the back of the boat at 7.18am

And this the scene at 7.34

By 8.04 our commute was underway, to the glorious accompaniment of the sunrise.

Past the telegraph pole, a landmark in its own right that appears on maps.

The nearer you get along the canal to Mount Judd, and the nearer to Nuneaton, the more apparent is the encroachment of man to the environment. Quarrying has ceased there now, and the area is rich in wildlife, although also sadly in litter, some remaining from pre-2009 when the quarry was a landfill site.

Our cruise brought us on to yet another canal – the lock-free Ashby.

A fondly familiar haunt, which I seem to remember saying we wouldn’t cruise again in winter because it’s narrow towpaths turn into a sea of mud, but here we are! We have wellies, and the dog at his great age retains a semblance of 4-paw drive!

The mud will give us a chance to remember fondly drier days and probably deliver the intention that the only mark we travellers should leave behind us is our footprints.

Go slow in 2023

We float peacefully into yet another year in a world overshadowed by conflict, disputes and environmental threats. Sometimes it can seem that there is little we can do but we do all have a chance to reflect and reset our personal compasses for the year ahead to make a difference.

Aboard nb Preaux we’re thinking of how we can move gently and reflectively into 2023

Smile – at each other, with strangers, and inside.

Laugh more – at the ridiculous, the just daft, and make each other laugh. We will laugh at the leak from the water tank when we’ve finally sorted it out!

Offer to do more for others whether you know them or not.

Welcome the chance to do new things, take new routes through life. Welcome the challenges as chances to learn and grow.

Savour life and remember simple is fundamental – a good use of our time and other precious resources. Simply living in the moment allows us to appreciate what we have.

Listen and learn more from the world and those around us. Everyone has something to teach us.

Observe the ways of the past, of nature, that can teach us much about how to live better.

Wonder at the world – if we learn how wonderful it truly is, we can’t do anything but seek to preserve it

Share with others the good times and bad, the times of plenty and poverty

Learn to live your life as you want but without hurting anyone or anything

Opt for the positive in everything

Waste nothing – reuse, recycle and reduce consumption. Remember waste not want not… and that goes for my wool stash too which is sadly low after Christmas creations so if anyone has any wool gathering dust we can offer it a good home onboard!

A fraction of this year’s knitting meditation!

We’re taking on the annual winter closures and going with the flow, heading for the Ashby Canal now before planning trips south to Weedon, north to Ripon and west to Lancaster. On the way it’ll be slow – slow living, slow running and determined slow enjoyment of everything around us.

Wherever we go, we will be embracing a SLOW life in 2023. We wish you and yours the chance to experience the value of slow in the coming year.

Christmas Wishes

We’re very aware this year particularly, of how strange a time of the year this is – so joyous and with plenty for many, which makes it appear even harder, more lonely and more lacking for many others.

We know we are hugely fortunate to celebrate this week with family and loved ones. We’re also very lucky to have caught up with good neighbours in the boating community who will look after our boat whilst we are away for the immediate Christmas time. We wish everyone the security and joy good neighbours bring.

If your Christmastime is less joyful, if there is an empty place beside you which you long to fill, or if health and happiness seem impossible, then we hope you can remember good times. We send you our best wishes to cheer you and a view of the nativity party turning green in sight of our mini modern tree!

The thaw came in time to give us the festive gift of a chance to move in winter sun and beautiful new views. We really do have chestnuts to roast on the fire, swans and geese entertaining us along with duck visitors daily and are aware how much we have to be grateful for.

We’ve learned much this year. Our patience has been tested (Steve’s is well honed – mine less so!). We’ve had our belief in the beauty of the waterways reinforced by another year afloat.

Nature has been a constant, a consolation and a delight. The beauty to be found around us every day in every situation every season and every weather has been uplifting and we hope it can be a gift for you too, this Christmas.

If you’re searching for the best way of spending Christmas Eve then the Icelandic tradition of Jolabokaflod probably can’t be bettered in any circumstances. Everyone indulges in a book and chocolate – two joyful and readily available things we always insist on having in abundance on the boat. *As well as knitting or crochet on the go for me!

On that note Gleðileg Jól! We will be reading map books this Christmas trying to work our where to travel next year, along with the CRT winter closures to see when we can actually get to wherever we select!

We can only wonder what delights and disasters, mayhem and magical moments await? We definitely know there will be some of each and look forward to sharing them with you all!

P.S. Santa’s had to come a little early to rescue us from flooded bilges after we filled up the water tank! On the plus side…our home hasn’t sunk and we now have a new pump with lots of piping!

Frozen assets

Our floating home and office is currently trapped in rural Staffordshire with us inside. We are quite literally frozen solid in the canal, unable to move because of thick ice.

To move would damage the blacking that protects the steel hull, and we’ve only just had the boat reblacked. That’s a regular maintenance job every few years but if we can make the blacking last as long as possible, that’s good.

Ice around us is thick. The red flecks are paint from our tunnel band scraped by the ice.

Moving through ice can also put the engine under considerable strain which could be costly, and send thick sheets of ice to hit other boats and damage them. This is a particular issue if fibreglass boats are involved. So we sit tight when it’s like this, and wait for the thaw.

In the days when canals were essential commercial thoroughfares with barges transporting everything from cheese to coal and wool to Wedgwood China, canals freezing over had huge economic impacts. Keeping traffic moving was vital to keep factories and furnaces operating. Ice breakers were employed rapidly. Now you can see them as exhibits at canal centres like Foxton or museums or a few have been converted into floating homes.

The early ice breakers were made of wood with iron plates nailed to the hull. They were horsedrawn – as the ice got thicker more horse power was added. Some records talk of up to 16 horses hauling a single ice breaker through the cut in bad weather. Whilst the horses were pulling the crew were rocking – literally. Up to 10 people stood on the boat and gripped a metal rail in the centre as they rocked it from side to side to create waves that shattered the ice. It was an incredibly dangerous job. Boats could and did tip over, trapping the crew.

These days there are no ice breakers unless you count the coal boats carrying essential warmth in terms of diesel, gas, logs and smokeless fuel to boats across the network. When the ice is too thick even they can’t get through and some have been forced to deliver gas logs and coal by road but not every boater is easily road accessible.

The Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal where we are moored began to freeze at the end of last week. Initially the ducks were alternately swimming and skating but over the weekend the freeze began.

The boat feels different when iced in and we’re particularly aware of that at night when everything is quiet. It groans and creaks against the ice. As we move around on board the boat doesn’t rock as it usually does but stays oddly stationary. Other sounds also change. We’ve had the thud of icicles dropping onto our metal roof from trees above.

The swans and ducks have stopped knocking on the hull for food or nibble off any clinging weed. In fact by the time the canal iced over completely they have effectively disappeared. Presumably they’ve removed themselves to somewhere with a ready natural food supply and less ice.

Minor thawing during the day has happened a couple of times but only in areas that got the sun, and by 5 in the afternoon any melted water was refreezing. The thawing and refreezing leads to changing patterns in the ice which can be quite beautiful close up.

We have a major advantage being frozen this week as we have the car with us. That means life becomes instantly much easier. We can shop more easily. The nearest convenience store is 1.8miles from our landlocked location, which is not a bad walk but a slippery one at the moment With the car we can get to a supermarket and manage a larger, cheaper shop.

Having the car also means we can access the service point to empty our toilet and rubbish too despite being unable to move the boat. Covid laid us low in the summer and also encouraged us to buy another toilet cassette so, if the worst came to the worst, we could now last for a week with both of us on board without a crisis. Like all boaters we do use facilities when out and about to avoid filling up our own! Another positive of having the car with us – supermarkets have loos but convenience stores tend not to!

A pumpkin appears to be frozen into the canal!

We topped up the diesel in Nantwich in September when we last saw Jay on coalboat Bargus and we haven’t done huge mileage since as we had 2 weeks in dock for work. That means we have fuel to run the engine for a few hours every day to top up the batteries and keep us in power as we’re not getting much solar at the moment. One advantage of the weather though is that we don’t need to power the fridge which uses the most electricity of any of our devices – we just keep things frozen and chilled by putting them in the cratch or outside!

We have plenty of fuel for the stove which is going 24/7 and keeping us delightfully and vitally warm inside the boat. We restocked supplies three weeks ago.

Fortunately we filled our water tank completely before we moved here 2 weeks ago. That’s a relief because water is very heavy to carry and we only have two 5litre bottles to fill. Water pipes on the system are also causing problems freezing and bursting. In many cases. We are seeing regular updates from Canal and River Trust about frozen pipes and repairs across the network. The freeze is keeping them busy and we’re grateful to their staff for working hard in su h gruelling conditions.

For now, we sit tight, keep the stove lit and walk the dog only on a lead, much to his annoyance. He loves sniffing at the canal edge of the towpath. Being in his 15th year he’s a bit wobbly and the last thing we want is for him to fall onto and through the ice, so lead walks it is. He, like us, will be glad when it thaws, and then we can continue our journey even though we have no idea where we’re heading.

We’re pointing north so once we’re free that’s the way we’ll head!

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