Pickingupducks

Sharing enriches and reinforces life

For so much of the past year we’ve been unable to share our lives, our experiences with others in person. It’s one thing to write about life and work afloat, another to experience it. This week we’ve been in the company of three groups of delightful people – learning from them, sharing with them how we live and cruise the waterways, seeing our life through their eyes, whilst enjoying their company.

Our first city centre overnight was at a gated mooring in the centre of Leicester. Castle Gardens is a beautiful spot. Gates lead straight from the pontoon into the heart of the garden, complete at the moment with a decorated rocket.

After 8pm when the gardens shut it’s like a private park just for boaters. You can get in and out with a Waterways key if you want to go pubbing/clubbing, but remember to read the sign before you leave the mooring which says which of the 3 locks on which gate gets you back in! If not it might be the Holiday Inn for you, or a less than dignified climb!

With the CRT workboat taking up a good chunk of space there was only room for 3 of us: Evening Standard, Paddington Bear and ourselves.

It’s a surprisingly peaceful mooring, understandably popular with swans, pigeons and rowers situated as it is on the mile straight for Leicester City Rowing Club.

The moorings are overseen by the gargoyles of West Bridge – thought to be characters from The Canterbury Tales, whose author Chaucer, was married at the nearby St Mary de Castro Church. Do you reckon that’s the Prioress or the Wife of Bath? I’d love to know how many others you identified!

We left the moorings in the company of Paddington Bear (from Peru), accompanied on his travels by Nic and Scott.

From Leicester we moved out past the Foxes’ King Power stadium and then 4 double locks took us to Kings’s Lock where the Soar and the Grand Union Canal part company if heading south, or unite when you’re heading north. The Soar is a beautiful river and regularly used for Sikh and Hindu funeral rites, like the Ganges. A Hindu priest has anointed the Soar with water from the Ganges. Ashes scattered on these waters will eventually reach the sea, wending their way accompanied by flowers, holy leaves and coconuts. This time we saw only coconuts bobbing along.

For us the move from the river to the canal is significant – it means whatever the weather brings we are away from the possibility of being delayed by flooding. The canal levels are managed, but still seemed low. By the pound before Kilby Bridge some 8 locks further on, Nic and I were bringing the boats in single file down a narrow channel of muddy water in the centre with silt and rocks visible on both sides. This pound has a reputation for leaking badly and boaters who know try to get through the Kilby Lock for protection before mooring at the visitor moorings opposite the services and handily by The Navigation Pub.

Having Scott and Steve on the locks and Nic and I at the tillers made for a rapid and sociable journey (albeit more bumps to our boat than Steve would have made her suffer). The miles and the locks flew by as did the drizzle and rain, and we made it to the pub together to enjoy a well earned drink…or two.

Sunday saw some boats further down towards Leicester aground, and CRT were actively out managing water levels. The day saw us tackling the next 6 miles, 12 locks and a tunnel (Saddington – 881 yards plus Daubenton’s bats) in the company of friends Emma and Wayne, no strangers to nb Preaux. Such fun was had by all that I took absolutely no usable photographs at all, and need them back to repeat the exercise when I am armed with a camera. How did I not get them mastering the tiller, sorting locks with ease and enjoying the delights of the life we are so glad to lead? Just the same way I didn’t manage to capture for you the heron catching a very large breakfast fish this week…

I did however manage a shot of some of the goodies Emma and Wayne brought: gin plus light for when the gin’s gone, making the bottle dual purpose, the bottle’s contents already being dual purpose for thirst quenching and delight. I also took a shot of the usefully labelled Smeeton Road Bridge which directed us to… yes, you’ve guessed it, a very nice pub, albeit up a VERY steep hill!

We were just thinking that was that for sociability when another former colleague and running friend plus his family came to see us for an evening cruise. Safe to say our wonderful lifestyle and the closeness to nature had his boys enamoured – they appreciated challenging yourself to try new things, having adventures, pushing bridges and pushing yourself out of your comfort zone as well as just revelling in the wildlife around. It was a delight to spent time with them and uplifting to see their excitement mirror our own at how fabulous this life is.

Later in the week we risked the afternoon rush hour down to Market Harborough to find some very quiet and calm moorings near the town from which Steve will run his 100th parkrun today (Saturday).

Another unexpectedly delightful evening visit followed with visitors who really flummoxed us (thanks Charles and Chloe) by asking “What creature comforts have you missed in this year afloat?”

We struggled at the time to answer honestly, and after wracking our brains for 48 hours we are still none the wiser. Yes it would be nice to have an easy solution to the washing conundrum, but we’re getting by and we really can’t think of any creature comforts we are missing or have missed.

And just for good measure – the unexpected pluses have been immense. Here’s a kestrel I delighted in watching in a grass field for hours one day this week. Determination paid off but he/she had to stalk, hover and dive 6 times before getting a meal.

Living 24/7 amid nature; feeling totally aware of the seasons; experiencing the calming slowness of gentle cruising through reed edged waters; hearing the wind rustling in the trees above us; finding a mooring that feels in the middle of nowhere with no streetlights, but owls, moorhens and ducks for company; and being able to share this with friends and family – all are joys I hadn’t expected but which delight me.

As for those creature comforts we’re missing? We’re still trying to find an answer to that one!

Slow way, small person way

Cruising with an energetic 3 year old is something we’ve avoided doing by ourselves – until now. Up to this point we have always had a seriously big family crew on board with the small person so there is a tillerman/woman, crew for locks and a child crew allocated at all times. Now he’s 3 and sensible (as much as any of us are), listening (most of the time) following instructions (usually) and very au fait with the boat it seemed a good time to head off together, just Steve, me, the dog (who turned out to be a very good nanny) and the 3 year old.

Lessons from this experience….planning paid off…building in stops and ideally working out if poos and pees are needed before not during lock approaches as at this age everything is immediate and urgent – there is little warning – things need to happen NOW which seems just the same as lock operations. The most important lesson is one I remember from TV days- expect the unexpected when working with wildlife and children.

We planned 3 locks and 5 miles plus a rewatering stop. We started after an early lunch in lovely weather (until the wind picked up). We prepared for poos and pees and snacks plus toy time and were feeling quite self satisfied after lock one.

It was a text book execution of lock operation with small child on board no less. I hopped off and tied up the boat on the lock moorings whilst Steve entertained and explained. We swapped over and he did the manual work whilst I discussed horses in the field around us and bird life, and then came into the lock when the gate was open, travelled up holding us neatly to the side on a centre line. Then smoothly out and waited patiently for Steve to close the gate and join us. Spot on.

Lock two wasn’t far ahead but not quite so text book this time… I scraped my knee and bashed my hand scrambling up onto the high lock moorings as the river is really low at the moment. Words were exchanged between the skipper who felt I had gone out too early, and I who thought my timing was spot on. Gongoozlers alongside didn’t help . Still, into the lock, missed the first rope thrown to me ( “I good at catching Granny – why you not?”) and caught the second. Travelled up and out. Picked up the shore crew member and headed off to the waterpoint.

On the way there were ripples, moorhens and mallard duck to watch, dragonflies and banded demoiselles to spot as they flew past us. Willow trees, rosebay willowherb and reeds created ribbons of greens and pinks along the way. Just being aboard was entertainment too.

Water took time. Not as slow as Fradley which we have decided is the slowest water point ever, but maybe we were lower on water than we thought… it took us nearly an hour to fill up. We have no idea how big our tank is, but it seemed forever with a bored 3 year old, although it gave time for drawing, a poo and some songs, as well as learning how to discover where you are on canal maps.

Climbing walls was quite literally an activity which proved a delightful distraction as did a snack and a drink although the gingerbread man proved too fiery! Fortunately he had a fire engine to hand (and a triceratops for backup…).

And then, into the third and final lock, where things unravelled… because we had bargained without a pen and her 3 cygnets. She ushered them into the lock ahead of us. Ours is not to reason why but we wondered if she had come down the lock and out of her normal territory so was using us to travel back up. No sooner were the top gates open than she held back beside the boat but her cygnets edged out ahead of the boat straight into the ferocious charge of an irate cob who hurtled into the lock heading for the invading pen intent on disposing of the interloper. Chaos reigned. The swans hissed and spat, flapped and the cygnets peeped frantically for help as I tried to edge the boat out without running any birds over.

They weren’t looking at avoiding boats – they had more pressing matters to deal with. The pen was fighting for her life and her youngsters. I meanwhile had edged so far to the left coming of of the lock to avoid the cygnets that we ended up walloping a willow tree, collecting lots of leaves and a 3 year old sat cheerfully alongside me giggling as willows swept his hair into a new style.

I managed to avoid all swans, extract us from the willow and get to the far side to the lock mooring but the current and wind swung the bow round so we almost ended up broadside across the lock entrance! Not textbook. I was though more worried about the swan but fortunately a local boat dweller was at hand to help and apparently does this regularly. Brandishing a large branch she literally swept the irate cob from the lock, closed the gate and let the mum and babies down to where they had come from. I meanwhile was battling boat and current but a yell for Steve brought him back.

Two lessons learned for us – we need a longer right hand centreline, and looping the stern rope over the tiller is fine if nothing happens as it hasn’t for several years but it was swept into a complete cats cradle this time when we wanted a swift-to-use rope. The only thing at risk throughout was pride and I bent our tiller pin on the overhanging willow – oops. Maybe it’s time to get a duck one?

Still we extracted ourselves, turned the boat to head up river again and set off for our final destination for the 3 year old. Then we needed to keep him calm whilst we moored with the excitement of having seen Mummy waiting for us – that proved a challenge but we made it. Moored and right by a pub with a playground- planning reaps rewards!

For us it was the precursor to a very pleasant evening cruise with just the usual crew of two humans and a hairy hound to Leicester. Lots of help at the locks from cheery locals, eye catching street art, new buildings promising a totally different look to the city and only a disappointing amount of litter marred the trip.

We are heading for a parkrun to make Steve’s 99th parkrun today. It is our first time mooring in a city since we became continuous cruisers – another new experience. We are in a CRT visitor mooring with Evening Standard and Paddington Bear. We got the last spot at the end of the mooring right by the gates to the Castle Gardens which Cola thinks are delightful particularly as on his first walk he discovered the remains of a large picnic…

I don’t even need to check if Leicester City Rowing Club are running a regatta or some event tomorrow as we’re in the midst of Henley, but we are moored at the end of the mile straight.

The thing that worries me most is the large number of swans around – I think they’ve got it in for me on this trip! They are though, handy indicators of river depth.

Would we do it again with a small person on board? Can’t wait!

P.S. No chance of a new tiller pin – Steve straightened the old one out with a mallet!

Life and Death and Tiller Itch

Tiller itch was something I first heard from Robbie Cummings and I agree with him – it sounds revolting! (If you want to know what life is really like living on a cruising narrowboat Robbie Cummings’ Canal Boat Diaries are a MUST).

It has been a month now since we arrived in Leicestershire and we’ve not travelled far whilst enjoying caring duties. It has been a wonderful opportunity, spending precious time with family and so many friends, but it does mean that we’ve been pretty static for what feels like a long time (lockdowns apart). As a result I can assure you that tiller itch is a genuine phenomenon and one I am certainly experiencing.

To alleviate the irritant I have been watching the wildlife around us which is becoming less timid as they become more used to us. I’ve also begun planning our next trip which we start later this week. We need to head from Leicestershire to visitor moorings at Little Venice because Steve is running the London Marathon in aid of the charity Victa on October 3rd. If you can support him he’s just under £100 short of his goal of £1,700. Thank you in advance – together I know we can get him there for a fantastic, small but much needed charity.

Running the London Marathon virtually from the boat last year.

To get to London from our current mooring is a journey of 146 miles and 1 furlong – mustn’t forget the furlong! -132 locks, 2 moveable bridges and 4 tunnels amounting to 3 miles 6 furlongs under ground. It will take us through Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, and Greater London. We will take in once more the spectacular Foxton Staircase Locks – 10 locks with a rise of 75ft in two staircases of five a piece.

Looking back down Foxton Locks – amazing views of Leicestershire laid out in front of you.

We will be taking it gradually – we have work to do and aim to meet more friends en route, floating and house dwellers alike. We will also be building time to sit and watch nature en route because doing so brings so much richness to our lives. From flora to fauna – there is so much to see, with so many individual stories to watch unfurling. Thistles turning from green spiky balls into proud purple maces and then into feather-light thistledown make fascinating viewing.

Seeing the birds especially so closely, living alongside them, and recognising how they generously accommodate us in their environment, growing increasingly confident with us as we and our boat become familiar parts of their world has been a delight. It’s also been an eye opener. Watching them carefully every day brings insight into their routines, their foibles and downright miserably hard times.

The past few weeks have brought ducks, herons and a stunning young green woodpecker to enliven our days, and a noisy owl to keep us entertained on hot sleepless nights. The ducks have included a mallard mum with ducklings. Before we arrived she apparently hatched 10 young. She’s now down to 2 but nurturing them as fiercely as possible. It’s hard to know exactly what predators have reduced her brood – on this stretch there are mink, rats, stoats, foxes and weasels, in the water pike and flying around are herons, owls and birds of prey like red kite and maybe even merlin. For any of these a small duckling can be an easy meal. As they grow they are less vulnerable and they are growing daily, voraciously gobbling down the duck food pellets from us which they love as well as foraging for their own food finds. It’s important too to build up mum’s strength to help her protect them if needs be.

The green woodpecker, my much prized visitor, is also a youngster. He’s been a treat to watch with his undulating flight round a set circuit among the willows and hawthorn trees behind the towpath. It is as if he’s testing himself, seeing how fast he can fly the circuit he’s developed, from the willow by the steep frothing weir across the marsh to the old dead tree on the far side from our boat. Sometimes he pauses there but more often he just passes it, carrying on over another stretch of marsh to a willow, round to a hawthorn in the hedge and back to his starting point. He repeats this lap several times loudly congratulating himself each time. After all this exertion he drops to the river bank and gorges on his favourite food – ants, ants and more ants.

At the moment there is another boat moored in front of us, but before it arrived we were on our own moored between two weirs. The young woodpecker would then wander along the big stones at the top of the river wall right by our mooring rope snacking as he strolled casually near us.

In the early mornings a heron keeps watch over everything on this stretch of the Soar from the vantage point of a pipe bridge. His routine never varies – and his breakfast seems to consist of frogs of which there are plenty around here. Walking back to the boat in the gathering gloom the other night we were struggling to walk without stepping on tiny little browny-green frogs, no bigger than my thumbnail.

Watching wildlife so close up is not only a privilege but accessible to most of us, we don’t need gardens to do it as any open space will do. Canal towpaths are particularly good for bringing us rapidly into the natural world.

Young heron reflected in the stillness of a tributary

Birds particularly are magical – watching their apparently carefree lives as they soar through the skies. We can envy their freedom and ease of movement. Watch a little longer and you may understand the purpose of that flight. Is it training to strengthen muscles, a recce to check out food sources or flight as in escape from a predator? Insight gives us more enjoyment in understanding and watching these amazing creatures with whom we share the world. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons that David Attenborough’s nature programmes have such huge following – through the skill of inspired and informed camera work and knowledgeable commentary they give us ringside seats for the drama of daily life for birds, insects and animals. These creatures’ battles for survival put our own struggles into perspective. However tough our lives these little neighbours have it harder. Every day is full of life or death drama. That’s why some Covid bird projects like this one from Leicestershire have enthralled millions of us.

Whatever our own struggles and difficulties, trials and tribulations, seeing how others cope can be inspirational. It doesn’t matter how many legs they have, whether dressed in feathers or fur, we can gain,from their resilience, routine and determination. They have the capacity to make us realise how fortunate we are, how we are not alone In our struggles, and at the same time make us smile or laugh out loud with their antics.

I do think they’re making me a better person too, and have the capacity to do that for all of us. When you know those little ducklings you’ve watched grow, are going to swim and feed on anything you flush down the drain it makes you more thoughtful, and more careful. In this, and,many other ways, they make us care more deeply for the planet we share with them – and make us to feel better about ourselves for doing so.

Next time I’m down in the dumps, frustrated or grumpy (or if you are too) I just know the antidote – a spot of bird, animal or insect watching – I highly recommend it!

It’s the little things…

It’s the little things that make a difference to life I now understand. Being moored up on our ‘holidays’ seeing friends and family we are constantly being asked if we still like living afloat, and what we like about it. I’m sure it’s something every continuous cruiser has been asked, and I am equally sure there are as many replies as there are individuals!

the unexpected is always a delight – like four working coal boats from Jules Fuels approaching the locks together

I find these questions incredibly hard to answer satisfactorily because there are so many delights that we can easily bore people to death…and also each waterway, river or canal is different.

Here for starters are our top 10, some of which may chime with those taking holidays afloat, as well as those who live permanently as continuous cruisers. Some are also delights which don’t need a boat, so it’s about ensuring a floating mindset, relaxed, taking time to be aware and appreciate what’s around you. I’m also aware that whilst most are almost impossible for me to capture with a camera, my mind and memory are crammed with moments such as these. They aren’t numbered because I don’t want them to take on 1st, 2nd type places in importance – they are all equally important at different times.

picking up ducks (and ducklings) remains a daily delight

Feeling not just close to, but part of nature with 360 degree immersion – moored and cruising (we do tend to not want too much immersion living afloat although in the hot weather it can be a real boon to be on a river!)
Doing the washing up whilst moored on the river and watching the tiny fish weaving in and out of the weeds just in front of me – does nothing for the cleanliness of the plates but is both relaxing and utterly absorbing.

Feeling the gentle rocking of the boat when you or someone aboard moves, or another boat passes – moored and cruising.
Incredible sunsets and breathtaking sunrises magnified by the water. Hints of the power of light and water happen all through the day with shifting reflections portrayed against the wood inside the boat.

Lying in bed listening to the birds calling or the rain on the roof – pattering or hammering. Being so close to the elements, with just a metal skin between us but being safe and dry. It’s something many campers also experience – there’s something special in knowing it’s not for a week or a fortnight but for as long as we can. There’s also something relaxing about watching the rain in the day too, as long as you’re moored up in the warm and dry!

Learning every day from observation and experience about the world around us – from birds and animals to plants and weather prediction – moored and cruising. This week I’ve learned about the feeding and flying patterns of a juvenile green woodpecker living alongside us in the wood. His flight patterns trace waves between the trees as he makes his circuits at ever increasing speeds before dropping to the towpath to gorge on ants before heading off once more. I’ve watched a red kite soaring over the newly cut fields and in contrast seen a miniature merlin perched cautiously nearby.

‘Our’ green woodpecker in flight – thanks Freya!

Even on stretches of river or canal you think you know well, being surprised and delighted by the unexpected – the flash of a turquoise blue kingfisher, statuesque patience of a heron, watching a streamlined stoat swimming in front of the boat, catching the sudden powerful scent of honeysuckle in an overhanging hedge or being tickled by the caress of overhanging willows.

zooming in on a heron we spotted perched on a pipe bridge

Exploring new walks and meeting new people every day. This is a delight particularly for us and Cola dog too.
Taking time to stop and watch birds, trees moving in the wind; seeing the banded demoiselles landing on ropes and flotsam, taking time to watch the range of plants, birds and fish that move in and across the water without feeling guilty – recognising this is a key part of the experience of living afloat.

Consciously living slowly – to allow moments that need savouring to be savoured and appreciated, and not to be missed.

Some of these don’t need a boat to experience them. Some I know I had the capacity to enjoy when we weren’t living afloat, and equally I know I didn’t experience them in the same way as I do now. Changed values and priorities are liberating and add time for new opportunities to each day.

I think it is that moving more slowly, in a more considered way and downshifting so we work to live not live to work, means I take time to appreciate them, and allow myself more time to enjoy my days. It’s also hugely rewarding to share some of the enjoyment we get from living on board with family and friends. The questions arising from friends are invaluably thought-provoking…

Do you miss the daily routine of work? No – I find my days too full to miss it. The work I do now is work I choose to do and so focus on, and enjoy it fully.

How do you fill your days? With wonder, adventures and routine tasks which once I would have left to energy-using machines like a dishwasher, washing machine and tumble drier. We do still spent quite a lot of our time trying to work out an effective, efficient way of washing and drying clothes – it’s the one thing we haven’t cracked yet! I am currently falling over two large wooden rolling pins which I have brought onboard with the intention of harnessing them as a manual mangle…heaven knows how but it’s keeping me entertained whilst I try to work it out. If anyone has any ideas – do let me know1

Are you bored? No – we don’t have time to be bored.

What’s your favourite season? Each has its own character, but I love the winter with its challenges and rewards. When stepping down into a stove-heated boat from the bitter cold or lashing rain is a comforting warm embrace; when soups or stews can bubble on the stove all day, filling the boat with rich spicy, herby aromas as well as filling us with warming flavoursome food.

When will you stop living on the boat? We never know what might happen but hopefully not in the near future.

Distilling life afloat is hard and different for everyone, but for us, it comes down to two things – a constant but gentle pace of change which comes from being on the water, and choice. Living afloat has given us both.

Losing my cool and blame me!

Staying chilled in a metal box isn’t easy, and that’s basically what our steel narrowboat is. Here in Leicestershire, where we’re bobbing about on the River Soar, temperatures are exceeding those currently in Mexico and the Canary Islands – according to my irrefutable source, the Leicester Mercury.

Normally on a river in conditions like these, boaters moor in the shade on a leafy bank, but not us – oh no – we are moored day after day in the blazing sun alongside hardstanding with not a tree on our side of the river. (Having said this – I predict the sun will stop and the rain will start – so those who enjoy being toasted can blame me for the change!)

There is “reason” for our apparent madness, and advantage too. We are on holiday, seeing friends and family, and this is the closest spot to many of them (somehow for the first fortnight we’ve also ended up right next door to a pub with another very excellent pub just up the river by the weir). Hardstanding has been invaluable whilst we were sharing time with a 3-year old, making it much safer getting on and off the boat.

Higher up the river we need to use gangplanks for dog, child and us, and it all becomes a wee bit more complicated. Hardstanding has also been good whilst it’s been cool enough to paint and sand, sand and paint. Jobs done early in the morning before the sun turns the boat to red-hot oven temperatures that dry the paint as it leaves the tin, long before it even meets the steel (also before the scorching hardstanding singes whatever part of your anatomy touches it as you paint).

The roofgarden is cooking from underneath and above, but keeping it cool is nigh impossible. The tomatoes, chillis and marigolds are thriving but everything else is distraught. The marigolds do a great job of keeping the bugs at bay on the boat.

Unfortunately the dog can’t swim from the boat because we can’t get him easily back on board given his age and our height above the waterline, so I walk him into the field for his regular daily swims. I shall consider taking a marigold with me as I am being attacked by beasties rising from the grass and eating me alive!

A donated fan (thanks Jonny), is keeping the hot air circulating through the boat whilst we aren’t cruising, but it’s had us in hysterics. They say things can get lost in translation – but sometimes as you can see, a translation adds such value!

We are taking another plunge in this heat and disposing of everything that a year ago we considered vital to keep and which has been in store. If something on the boat hasn’t been used in the past year it’s off – that’s been easy. What has been tough work – emotional and physical – has been sorting the stuff we put in store a year ago. Most of the items we kept were hugely personal, Mother’s and Father’s Day cards from the children, programmes from every performance they had done, school reports, even baby clothes. We had carefully stored them for decades but after a year they aren’t wanted by the next generation, and we haven’t missed them so – whoosh off they go, box after box. As much as possible has gone to charity shops so others can benefit, but two loads went to the tip. We borrowed a car to do this and have halved what we have in store. I also disposed of all my ‘work gear’ through Vinted liberating enough to buy a new chimney, so the boat is sporting a new look instead of me!

Perhaps next year we’ll come back and have the courage to get rid and move the rather paltry remainder still in store.

It seems appropriate that we are casting off the past this week when so many are talking of Freedom Day and casting off the constraints of lockdown. We know of many who have lost their lives, or had their family life changed forever by Covid. We have been hugely fortunate because this destructive virus hasn’t meant restriction or destruction for us, but freedom. It gave us the push to make changes to the ways we work and live to try to live more freely and more ethically, and as a result we are happier too. For me it isn’t dramatic to say that I realised how much I gain being with Steve 24/7 (I think he’ll concur…but I’ll just check that….). It seemed, in a small way as it may have done to our parents in wartime, that life was very precious and we saw it being snatched away from people through no fault of their own. We wanted to make the most of our time, and for us that was about doing something we’d been talking of as “wouldn’t it be wonderful to…. and if only” for years…living aboard and continuously cruising.

What is freedom to one person isn’t the same to another and many who have caught a glimpse of our lives (now prioritised by 4 daily ws – waste, water, walking and wherewithal for food) have recoiled in horror. For us though it is working right now, and in a very small and humble way we are doing our best to live as Nelson Mandela said:

…to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.

To respect the freedom from illness and to respect the health of others I will continue to wear a mask in enclosed public spaces. We want others to have the chance to enjoy life daily as we are able to do untrammelled by illness or loss. We all deserve to seize what life can offer us if we can.

It is good to be back where we used to live – albeit temporarily – ‘on holiday’. It feels a bit strange, viewing somewhere so familiar through new eyes. It is good to know as this blog goes out we’ll be getting ready to volunteer and run what was our local parkrun at Dishley, Loughborough. We were on the original planning and launch team so it’s fitting we are back as parkruns restart after the pandemic. I will volunteer marshall with Cola on duty alongside me, while Steve will do car parking and then run. As we brought the boat through a lock this morning we were greeted with glee by a parkrunning family whose youngest son will be doing his first parkrun tomorrow – I will cheer him as loudly as I cheer everyone. The restart of parkrun after the pandemic also heralds a change for us in our lives as contiuous cruisers. We’ll be looking for the nearest moorings to parkruns on a Saturday morning on our routes round the country! Wonder how many we can do from a narrowboat?

We also came back to take part as volunteers in our village annual community event, but Covid has struck some of the major sponsors and so sadly it won’t be happening this year. It is good to be here to commiserate in person with those who have spent the past 2 years working so hard to make the event happen. Their fantastic work was dashed by the pandemic last year, and we were all so hopeful for 2021, and now to be blocked yet again is devastating.

For us it’s a minor let down, but we feel their disappointment, and are incredibly sorry for them. As we’ve found in many pandemic-related situations, we are one stage removed. We are detached by the nature of how we now live, our lives and priorities are structured differently. Making sure we have water in the tank and at least one empty loo cartridge are after all, our the main priorities – everything after that is a bonus!

We’ve spent a lot of hugely enjoyable time on land this past fortnight, had some lovely meals out, been strawberry picking and enjoyed quality time with friends and family.

We’ve slept every night on the boat, but I have missed the constant, all day, calming, relaxing movement of the boat on the water. We moved yesterday after the maximum 14-days in one place, so my ’tiller itch’ (it which really is a phenomenon) is relieved. We haven’t gone far, but it’s true that the most amazing views can be just round the corner when you live afloat. There’s much to be thankful for in this world with its many freedoms. It’s good to be back moored without streetlights. It’s good to be back bobbing gently. It’s good to be moored by a weir and there’s a good breeze coming into the boat, so as our wonderful 3 year-old grandson might say, we’re ‘cool dudes’ once more!

P.S. Steve says ‘Yes’ – life’s better for him too even if being with me 24/7 on a 50ft boat!

It’s down to us all

We had a delegation from the future on board nb (narroboat) Preaux this past week and I am proud to believe they left impressed – apart from one who was aghast at how we could live without a 96 inch TV on board, even though I have no idea if one would even fit!

I am also… relieved would be the most honest word… to say that I counted them all on and I counted them all off and not one was left lurking on board after the official departure time!

It’s also a relief (if I am still being honest) to say that I managed not to let any fall overboard (as if I would have been allowed by their eagle-eyes, efficient minders), despite needing to make them walk the plank!

I’m also pretty glad that the iPad that I so carefully stashed under the bedcovers as a safe hiding place survived the collective bouncing as one by one the delegates tried out the springiness of the mattress – not something I had considered prior to their visit, but a test for our comfort that turned out to be hugely important to each and every one!

They were all, without exception, interested, curious and open minded. They were polite and delightful. They ranged from about 3ft high and 2 years old to the senior fraternity of nearly 5 and a lot bigger, about to join Big School in September.

Unprompted they asked sensible questions like how we powered the lights, nodding sagely when we talked of solar and one enquired why we didn’t have a wind turbine; were astonished by the operation of a lock though somewhat disappointed that a boat going down in a lock wasn’t sinking…

They were horrified when we talked of plastic fishing and showed how much we drag out with our net when just cruising along. It’s something which should concern us all and part of a current Canal and River Trust CRT campaign. The children rightly pointed out how bad rubbish in the canals would be for the creatures who rely on the water. They asked if we had a paddle board to get to the edges of the river and looked sceptical when we said we’d love one but it was too costly for us… What cost the future of the environment they questioned?

They watched with fascination as swans and cygnets came fearlessly up to the boat to be fed (Mr Johnson’s Wildlife Swan and Duck food), saw moorhens and mallards gather hopefully in the background and expressed concern that the sizeable swans might bully the smaller birds. Bullying was abhorrent to them and they were loudly adamant that it was wrong.

Seeing our floating world through their eyes was a delight. They were gleeful at being so close to wildlife, appreciated the gentle movement of the river flowing past outside, spotting the tiny fish weaving in and out of the waving weed and left envious of the unique nature of our life.

They were caring, compassionate and considerate, open minded, and curious without being judgmental.

They gave me hope for the future, that they would become educated, informed leaders, positive contributors to society and supporters of sound values. I feel sure every one of the audience at Wembley on Sunday night was the same at that early age. What happened to change that and how do we stop that happening again?

Members of this England team have shown in their daily lives remarkable compassion; a drive to educate our leaders and support those in need; they have used their position to stamp out racism and bigotry and yet faced appalling, shameful and totally unnecessary attacks.

Boat dwellers have faced bigotry and attacks too. This cruiser was deliberately set alight. Some of its owners possessions were saved but faced further destruction from the weather, with nowhere to put them once his home was gone.

No child is born bigoted or biased. We need to ask how and where such behaviour is learned, and ensure, each one of us, that we are active in stopping it spreading to destroy the next generation.

The Nigerian proverb ‘Oran a azu nwa’ says “It takes a village to raise a child.” It is so right. Every one has a role to play in role modelling, and supporting parents, teachers, educators at all levels, children and adults to nurture our remarkable environment and all who live within it.

We all have a part to play in shaping the next generation to maintain an open-minded, fair and considered approach to life and the environment. It follows that a village or community has to bear the responsibility for developing racist, bigoted, fearful and narrow minded perspectives in those who will be our future. It’s not just down to parents and teachers, uncles, aunts, grandparents and relations but to every single one of us to strive to be exemplary, positive role models teaching by example, and ensuring every child, and adult has equal opportunities to try, to achieve, to be supported and to know that we believe in them and their talents.

Etienne de Grellet du Mabillier was born in Limoges, in 1773. He became a refugee, fleeing the French Revolution and devoted his life to tackling social problems of inequality and unfairness, developing opportunities for fair education, creating humane conditions in prisons and hospitals, and providing for the poor. Many will know his words, but how many of us live by them?

I shall pass through this world but once. Any good therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.
Stephen Grellet aka Etienne de Grellet du Mabillier

In other words – in a world where we can be anything – let us be kind. Better still, in a world where we can be anything – let’s work actively and support others to make our society a fair place.

Encouragement, belief and compassion build resilient individuals. If we know we are supported, it makes us unafraid to try and fail, and try again.

If we all demonstrated and delivered these goals, would we need to invest so much time, money and energy to developing wellbeing and mental health support?

Might we all feel happier because we know we have a role to play with others, a role to play to support others, and knowing that our contribution makes a difference?

How about that at the end of each day we make sure we each have a positive response to the best question ever from the fabulous Heather Small? What have you done today to make you feel proud?

I am proud we have been able to introduce some wonderful young people to the delights of the rivers and canals. I may also owe an apology to all those parents of our delightful visitors who have been plagued this week with requests to abandon their lovely homes and large TVs to go and live on a boat!

P.S. I do of course highly recommend boatlife – its benefits are numerous!

20 tips to make the most of any holiday – afloat or even ashore

Top 20 tips drawn from hard experience – ours and others – here to help you have a fab holiday.

Packing – whatever you think you need in terms of luggage – halve it!
If you think the old waterproofs from the back of the hall cupboard will be fine, put them on and stand under the shower for 20 minutes. Buy new ones.

Take time to smile and say hello to everyone you meet – on the waterways we’re a sociable bunch.
Don’t hesitate to take the chance to try new things/foods/experiences, and ask/take help or advice to make the most of it.
Remember that boating particularly is a team sport – let all adults particularly have a go at everything. Share – don’t hog the tiller or force some poor soul to stand out there for hours. What’s the worst that can happen at 3 or 4mph?

Oops – this is not me barging someone off the canal but heading to the next lock to let water down to rescue them after they became grounded on a shallow canal – probably one of the most irritating things that can happen at 4mph!

Do be aware of the Marmite factor – with boats, tents, caravans, chalets etc. the swingometer goes from “We need to buy a boat, tent, caravan, chalet” to “Never again.” The former can change your life as we know well!
Enjoyment and exploring is never time wasting. Don’t miss hidden delights because you’re rushing on. These discoveries are the memories you’ll keep.
Invest a moment to determine which move of the throttle is forward and which reverse is time well spent (narrowboats, cruisers, speedboats etc.)
Do be aware the perfect manoeuvre or fluent stand up on a paddle board will rarely, or never be witnessed.

Do be aware your Suez moment, capsize or crash will always have an audience – they materialise out of nowhere just when you’re wishing them on the other side of the plant!
Do remember that stopping a 15+ ton metal boat moving inextricably in the direction you don’t want it to go does happen – worth being aware of this if you are in a kayak canoe, paddle board or floating unicorn approaching said boat…reverse can help everyone in such a situation.

Switch off – you all need a break. If you have a smart phone disable your emails – you win pity not prizes for being a workaholic. Use your phone as a camera to capture those moments which will help your holiday last for years to come. If you want to, harness the bird spotting, tree and plant identification apps available and come back having learned new things.
Use all your senses – smell the honeysuckle and wild roses, hear the birdsong, feel the touch of the wind/sun/rain on your face (sometimes all three in a day knowing the British weather!), really look around you and see the sights and beauty that surrounds you, taste the local delicacies, beers and specialities of the area.

Slow down – we miss things if we go too fast. Take time, make time to go to local events and floating markets. You never know who you’ll meet!

Talk more to those around you but also take time to enjoy quiet and peaceful times too, with others or by yourself.
Take turns – If you’re travelling as a family everyone, (whatever their age) can be responsible for one evening meal. This may be borrowing money for the chip shop, cooking from scratch, bbq-ing, or sourcing a take away!
Play – take board games – it’s a great way of having fun if the sun is wet… Family favourites and a new one or two is a great combination.

Always respect the water – particularly at locks. Water and strong currents can be deadly. Lifejackets are essential for little ones.

Make sure you use the time you have to savour precious time together – remember when we couldn’t?
Relax, have fun, and make some fantastic memories. The last 18 months have been tough – make this a holiday to remember for the right reasons – spending time enjoying yourself, solo or with others.

Happy holidays – however you’re enjoying the water the Waterways Code may help to make it even better.

The epitome of life…and England

Having now travelled the length and narrow breadth of the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, including a voyage into the interior, it seems to epitomise life, and England too – today, yesterday and tomorrow.

It brings amazing highs, significant lows and challenges. It is built on a long history, heritage and currency of diversity and community, spectacular scenery and constant innovation.

It rightly claims superlatives and records – longest, deepest, highest tunnel above sea level (Standedge), the oldest currently navigable cast-iron aqueduct which nearly gave me a heart attack as well as very wobbly knees when I turned the boat along it to suddenly see a sheer drop to the cascading River Tame on my right (Stalybridge), and boasts the highest stretch of canal in England.

Cyclists, walkers and joggers appreciate its towpaths. Among boaters though, it doesn’t seem as appreciated as it should be – perhaps because it isn’t an easy route – it demands effort and engagement with 74 locks to tackle on its 19.3 mile length, and regular forethought to keep moving despite often low water levels. That means canoeists and paddleboarders avoid it too, whilst wild swimmers evidently enjoy its supplying reservoirs!

From unassuming beginnings in the West Yorkshire market town of Huddersfield with its solid Victorian architecture, the canal slides between the modern buildings of the university, navigating the odd shopping trolley. These may lead some boaters (maybe wrongly) to conclude today’s students are too wealthy to want £1 back or too lazy to return to the supermarket…

Through villages, hamlets and market towns, creativity runs along the Huddersfield Narrow like a golden thread…

Community spirit is strong here – inclusive, united, shared and collaborative. Design to celebrate, cement and build identity and make their place a better place, a place to share with those who float through, and those who arrive to stay.

The highlight for many has to be the remarkable Standedge Tunnel burrowing deep through the Pennines. It claims multiple superlatives, and rightly so.

Images cannot do justice to the feeling this incredible feat of engineering, and determined construction inspires, but give you an idea of its scale and scope. From being measured to see if we will fit (we did) to travelling through the heart of the Pennines via meticulously laid brick arches, rough hewn rock and snaking through the sections of what resemble spray concreted intestines with little space to spare, wet, dry, damp, cold and warm – it was an experience like no other. To discover more about the dramatic story behind this and the other three parallel tunnels I highly recommend Trevor Ellis’s very readable book The Standedge Tunnels available from the Huddersfield Canal Society shop. It’s fascinating and you also know the purchase is going towards a good cause!

The views from and around the Huddersfield Narrow are as changing, fluid, generous and inspiring as the people we encountered who live and work along its length. People who too time to share insight and muscle to help us along its length. To everyone who pushed a gate, smiled, waved, stopped for a chat, helped us through tunnels, and locks or thoughtfully guided us to the best pubs and cafes – thank you.

Never until now have I been inspired to verse, but there’s always a first time, and Huddersfield Narrow has been a veritable inspiration, so here’s my attempt

Historic, handsome, honest, alive 
Unassuming, it moves with Pennine strength
Dedicated individuals cleave to see it revive
Dynamic communities hum again along its length.
Embracing cultures, contours, countryside, weaving away
Reinventing constantly: transport,dereliction,now leisure use
Solid foundations thus saved from decay.
Formidable engineering sustains each tunnel, lock and sluice
Innovation repurposing water, land and mills en route.
Established with a backbone of 74 tough vertebrae
Lauded with numerous superlatives, today we salute
Diversity and community, gleaming threads on daily display.

Noteworthy for tunnel, aqueduct, height 
Arduous in effort, exhausting but real
Rewarding from water to high moorland delight
Repaying our input wi’ nowt to conceal.
Original, impressive, one not to be missed
Welcoming, educating, a must on any wishlist.

Like life, the HUDDERSFIELD NARROW is unique in character, taken slowly, thoughtfully and savoured, it reveals unexpected and delightful gems.

Next week: 20 things to help any staycation stay afloat…

Locked in, up and down

The Covid pandemic has changed many things, the ways we work, relate to each other, behave and also our language. Pandemic, social distancing, furlough, epidemiology and lockdown have become familiar to us, many have been ones we’ve used daily.

Here on the canals locks are also something we use daily, an essential to travel. In the days since April 12 when the last full lockdown lifted, we have travelled 254 miles and needed 230 locks to do that. Locks take the boat up and down the contours of the land. Essentially they are chambers with gates at either end. The boat comes in one level and the gates behind it are shut. Operating openings (paddles) in the gates ahead of the boat the water in the lock (and the boat) is either lowered or raised depending on which way you are travelling.

Once the water in the lock is the same as the water in the canal for the direction of travel, the gates open easily and the boat glides out on a new level. Sounds simple? The engineering principle is straightforward. Sometimes the mechanisms are tough going, the gates heavy and difficult to move, but the system works.

This wide lock is part of a staircase on the Leeds Liverpool canal at Bingley. It operates on the same principle as any lock.

The simple but incredibly efficient lock mechanism on canals is our only way of climbing and descending hills with boats. Locks have taken us over the Pennines once on this trip and are currently taking us back across their splendour.

Since the pandemic hit the word it seems the word lock has moved from being instantly associated with security, safety and protection to constraint (lockdown). Locks on canals are both constraint and protection but if not treated with respect they can be dangerous and indeed deadly. Talking of such dire things, we survived the Guillotine Lock on the Huddersfield Narrow – it was an engineering solution to a lack of space at restoration and works beautifully although the low bridge before it nearly took my head off!

The guillotine lock on the HNC – the little ‘door’ is a paddle, not an escape hatch!

Rising in a lock is literally uplifting, particularly in the narrow locks which only take a single boat at a time, but the principle is the same in wide locks, or multiple, staircase locks.

You take the boat in at a low level into a dark dank chamber made of substantial hewn stone blocks, often with water and mud dripping from the sides. You can only see the top of the lock by craning your neck, and on a sunny day it feels like any warmth has been instantly obliterated. Sometimes there are plants clinging in the cracks of the stones, ferns, buddleia and occasionally the all-invading Himalayan Balsam. If I see the latter and can reach it safely, I yank it out to put it where it can dry out and die, to support our native species.

Down in the depths it feels joyous to be propelled up into the sunshine, by the rising waters swirling underneath as the paddles open. Every time the greenery , and the warmth after the darkness seems more vibrant, more alive. Taking a boat such as ours through 74 locks on the 20 mile Huddersfield Narrow Canal is made easier because she’s only 50ft long and the locks are 70ft long.

This is a boat going up – the big stone cill is evident ahead. Imagine if that was behind you as you went down and the boat caught on it

That length gives space for whoever’s at the tiller to move the boat well back from water flowing in ahead of the bow (which could swamp the boat), and it’s easier to make sure the fender and front of the boat doesn’t snag on the end gates which could result in the boat tipping and sinking. The narrowness of 6ft 10inches just fits the boat snugly giving a feeling of protection, as long as we’ve made sure all fenders that protect the sides are up – so they don’t snag and jam the boat in the lock.

Going down is a different matter. You enter in the the light, and gradually plunge down into the darkness of lower levels until the lower level is reached and the gates open to let you out. It’s vital as you descend that you keep the boat forwards of the stone or concrete cill which the gates rest on, and which holds back the water of the pound (the area of water between locks) that you are leaving. Getting the back of the boat caught on the cill can sink the boat. Letting concentration slip whether on the tiller or the lock can be costly.

So locks on canals combine protection, constraint and danger. On the Huddersfield Narrow there’s been the added concern of water levels – we’ve been aground several times travelling between locks because it’s been so shallow, and struggled to moor in many places we fancied because of the depth. Employing reverse gear and our trusty bow thruster (me and a big wooden pole – we don’t have modern gismos), we’ve carried on until we’ve found somewhere suitable… although one night we did look more like we’d abandoned the boat after a bout of careless or drunken driving rather than neatly moored up! It was the only way to moor, and the dog managed to get off the bow (front), even if he (or we) couldn’t reach the bank from the stern (back).

Couldn’t moor neatly – couldn’t get the stern into the bank at all, the water was so shallow

It’s been different for me on the Huddersfield Narrow, because I’ve taken the tiller after the first few locks, and Steve has been lockwheeler armed with a windlass and handcuff key.

With the dog peacefully sleeping at my feet comfortingly unaware of my incompetence, I got over my hesitation at steering the boat through the hurdles of pounds, locks, bridges and mooring. It’s all too easy to leave it to the more experienced one aboard, but that way I shall never learn. As with anything I need experience in different situations, on different canals to build confidence, skills and knowledge.

Each pound and each lock is different, and although I am trying not to make this a contact sport as some hire boats do, I have had some minor bumps too but with no resulting damage to structures or the boat! Knocks tend to occur when trying to fit the boat into a tight channel.

Leaving Huddersfield and passing under the University buildings in a narrow channel – you don’t want to meet another boat here!

It’s been a privilege to see the canal from another perspective. Work on the narrow canal from Huddersfield to the Ashton-under-Lyne near Manchester began in 1794. Five years later coal and textiles were being transported along it’s length although they had to be loaded on and off barges onto horses and carts to cross the Pennine Hills at its summit. In 1811 construction of the legendary Standedge Tunnel was complete and the entire canal was navigable for commercial vessels. The tunnel remains the highest above sea level, longest (5000m, just over 3 miles) and deepest (190m) tunnel in the UK began being constructed in 1794.

The Huddersfield Narrow operated for 140 years commercially. It was officially abandoned in 1944 although some stretches were still used for local traffic until the 1960s. It then fell into disrepair and much of its length became derelict. Campaigners fought from 1974 to bring it back into use and it was officially reopened in 2001. No commercial traffic uses it now, but for leisure boats it provides a unique route through the Pennines. Ongoing restoration continues and even Blue Peter was involved in 2015.

Blue Peter badge on Lock Gate 37E (E means east on the Huddersfield Narrow…not easy) which the programme helped restore. After the tunnel locks are identified with W for West.

The locks themselves are a unique connection with not only the original workmen (navvies as they were called) who built the canal, the commercial barges who plied this route, but also to all those in more modern times who worked so hard to get the canal reopened. As you hold the boat steady in the locks, waiting for the waters to lift you up or carry you down, the very stones around you are marked with the passage of time. Some bear the scars of less than careful boatmanship, others the heritage of their origins, and some more intricate symbols.

Carved with shapes, and sometimes initials, perhaps from original lock makers, bored tillermen or modern day makers, the stones bear a patina of mud and water that makes their individual markings glisten. Some marks are repeated at intervals, as if indicating certain stones form a pattern. What the marks actually mean, or who the makers expected to see them would be fascinating to know.

These huge lock stones give a sense of permanence and protection from the surrounding earth, but if a boat capsizes in a lock with the force of the swirling water currents, those self-same stones would constrain, even imprison the boat and its inhabitants.

Taken carefully and with respect, the lock is a secure, safe way to traverse the hills and dales of England, a way unchanged over centuries. The Huddersfield Narrow has glorious carried us through the permanence of agricultural fields and past mills, some of which are still working, others have been converted like Titanic Mill. Completed the year the famous boat was launched (and sank), it now houses luxury apartments and a spa.

This narrow canal has carried us through vibrant villages, past houses old and new, and it now carves its way with pride through the heart of communities which welcome it and those it brings. These pictures are from the Yorkshire village of Slaithwaite apparently prounounced Sla-wit, delightfully down to earth and buzzing. Where it says Bank, that’s just what you find – they say it as it is in Yorkshire tha’ knows!

We’re booked to travel through the Standedge Tunnel early next week, and will see for ourselves its hewn interior. We don’t fortunately have to leg the boat through – pushing the boat through with our legs on the sides as was the way in days gone by, although I am sure after all this time at the tiller my legs could do with the exercise.

Leaving the tunnel we will start on one of the fastest, and most consistent periods of travel we’ve undertaken. We won’t be on a slow route despite remaining on the canals – The slow machine that England was...

Jo Bell’s words as Canal Laureate in the paste carved on the lock beam at Milnthorpe. “*The slow machine that England was, straightened, straitened, boxed and sluiced.”*

No leisurely days for us in the coming weeks but hopefully we can make it on schedule – 132 miles, 112 locks and another 5 tunnels will bring us back to the Leicestershire village on the River Soar that we left 10 months ago. We shall see family, friends and take part in annual village celebrations before moving our home on again.

I hope the experience of long days travelling the waterways may bring a little understanding of the canals as those on working boats saw them – routes through the incredibly diverse countryside of England. We are, after all travelling in their shadowy wake.

Communities that care

This week has reinforced both the diversity and importance of community for us. There have been times we’ve needed help and there have been times we’ve been glad to help others, and to celebrate with them too. We’ve seen communities that have been created with vision and communities which have developed organically. We’ve recognised how important it is for us all to have functioning communities to help us survive emotionally, practically and psychologically, whatever our circumstances.

Feeling part of a community has always been important to be personally, giving me a sense of belonging and purpose. I find it strange that I feel just as settled, as fulfilled and very much at home in this transient floating community than I ever have in a land-based or these days, online, community. It set me wondering why that might be, and thinking what makes a community.

Picking up ducks for neighbours in our new community afloat – this is a sord of mallards (a new collective noun to me!)

What makes community for you?

Back in 1986 Macmillan & Chavis identified from their research what they saw as pillars essential for a sense of community:

membership
influence
integration
fulfillment of needs
shared emotional connection

Those pillars are evident in Saltaire, the community the Leeds and Liverpool Canal took us to on this journey in Yorkshire and which I touched on last week. Created as the uptopian dream of Titus Salt, a wool merchant inspired by alpaca wool to create new textile mills with a surrounding village designed to make (and keep) his workers happy and healthy. Built in the early 1850s the community of fudge-coloured stone was named after Salt and the river which flows through it. In 2000 his vision was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its impact on international town planning, and for being an outstanding example of a model town in terms of social and economic influence.

Some may say Salt was a dictator seeking merely to maximise profits and compelling his staff to live as he demanded. Historically he has been regarded as a caring philanthropist with the best interests of his workers at heart. He considered their needs from the maternity ward of their hospital to the alms houses, all of which he provided. For life in between there were libraries, churches, a school, allotments and sports facilities to sustain the population as well as the employment from the mills. The one thing missing was a pub. Salt as a Quaker was a temperance observer. 2021 Saltaire has a licensed bar restaurant “don’t tell Titus!” Even without a pub, Saltaire flourished during Salt’s lifetime. After his death his sons struggled to keep the business and the village going. His vision died but the sense of community it engendered remains today.

Saltaire’s terraced homes are now in individual ownership but there remains a clear sense of community in the streets and the park. It is a sense of community built around place, shared values and for many, a shared love of cultural endeavour. It’s a creative, artistic and collaborative community. Other model communities built around industries of chocolate, soap, mustard and railways still exist in various forms today across the UK.

Community for me is about people, and it’s people who make or break communities. It is the same on land as on water, in villages as suburbs or cities, in colleges and universities where groups of people come together to live and work. Some become inspiring communities which encourage engagement – some do not. Sometimes they require a catalyst like Salt, sometimes they are organic, created by mutual need or shared interests.

The boating community is largely organic. Boaters are all different. Boats come in a never-ending succession of types, sizes, colours, ages, states of repair/disrepair and there are sub-communities of certain makers, narrowboats, cruisers, Dutch barges etc., but the fundamental is that if you boat, you love living on the water and given the chance, will non-judgmentally support others to both do and enjoy doing that. Community can be created through locations or boats but it takes people to make and sustain a community, and community really is important for the majority of us. It’s about making us feel we belong, feeling connected to others, cared for and responsible for others too. It’s important to feel we can contribute, we can matter, and natter too.

People contribute to their communities in many different ways, and it’s the same on the canals. Volunteers and paid staff go above and beyond in supporting the network which they love.

Painting, mending the fabric of the canal and enlivening the environment with a cheery meerkat! All talents are welcomed in a thriving community.

Sometimes it’s in times of trouble and crisis that community comes to the fore. On the Aire and Calder we found our morning walk with the dog last Sunday barred by police tape.

Later in the day we helped the wide beam at the centre of the police investigation through several locks, learning en route that those on the boat were friends of the owners, accompanied by a narrowboat which had been moored nearby. We formed a supportive convoy of three.

We three boats in convoy on the expanse of the Aire and Calder. Hope the unfortunate boat on the left had support nearby when it sank.

The owner of the boat had been found unconscious in the water alongside his boat, pulled out by those on the narrowboat who called paramedics. He was rushed to hospital with head and chest injuries and when we met them was in intensive care. Police ruled out foul play, establishing that he had fallen into the water, perhaps as the result of a heart attack whilst hammering in mooring pins, and been crushed against the side by his boat. His friends had come to take the boat back to its mooring whilst his wife sat by his side in hospital. The crew kept apologising to us for being slow and careful, but of course we didn’t mind. We appreciated the care they were taking to get their friend’s boat back to its home mooring.

Turning into a lock together and in the lock with a narrowboat plus dinghy and a widebeam plus dinghy in ahead of us shows the scale of these commercial locks.

The novelty of navigating huge commercial locks in a convoy of a wide beam, 2 narrowboats and 2 dinghies took us time to adjust to, so slow but sure was fine with us, and we were just glad to support them in their mercy mission in a very small way with some lock support.

All communities, on water or on land are being asked to come together particularly this week to recognise how much we all have in common by the Jo Cox Foundation. This week which marks 5 years since Jo Cox, daughter, sister, wife, mother, and MP here in West Yorkshire, was murdered. In her maiden speech to Parliament, Jo Cox said “We have far more in common with each other than things that divide us.” Sharing in creating and celebrating what we have in common is the aim of the Great Get Together . Even if you haven’t signed up for it officially, it’s still a chance to extend an invitation to others you know or don’t know around you to share a natter, a cuppa, a walk, a Zoom even, or perhaps to create together. Perhaps you could enjoy taking a leaf from the fantastic Woven in Kirklees project I’ve delighted in here in Huddersfield.

Isn’t this sensational! Meet yarn bombing!

Thousands of squares knitted from all colours of the rainbow have been created by a community of knitters all over the region. Once people heard of the project via online networks (communities), contributions come in from Germany, Finland, Italy, New Zealand and Australia – from knitters eager to join this vibrant community project. I’m proud to know one of the very talented contributors, and delighted to see the founding advocate of the inspirational Open University, Harold Wilson, suitably adorned in the yarn bomb!

Sometimes projects like this, spawn continued community interaction. In the Leicestershire village of Mountsorrel (our last land location) in lockdown 1 a quilt was created with contributions about the village from stitchers of all abilities, all ages, all backgrounds, to mark a significant time in our history. It now hangs proudly for all to see – and on his journey back from pre-school my 3-year old grandson happily points to the square Granny contributed with its historic 1860 bridge over the river, swans and a heron.

The pandemic has brought many communities together, and created bonds. I just had to share these posters from Huddersfield which made me smile.

6 Yorkshire Terriers! What’s that in Cocker Spaniel I wonder?! The Felix and Bolts confused me until I read the small print!

Sustained support for individuals or groups is part of a community but communities can be born from transient help – assisting each other through locks, or swing bridges. We’ve been grateful for a hand with from boaters, walkers, cyclists enjoying the waterways on our recent travels. We’re glad to play our part helping others in the same way, and doing small things like clearing rubbish from the canals en route.

Sometimes we exchange first names with those we support or who support us, sometimes we don’t , but there’s a shared sense of community in our mutual support for each other built on concern and cooperation. Those were the essentials French philosopher Charles Fourier back in the 1800s said were keys for any community. He founded a community called Utopia in 1844. Had he stuck to those two essentials without bringing in equal sharing of economic money and effort, that community might have lasted longer than 20 years! Incidentally Fourier was apparently the first to coin the term feminism in 1837, so at least one of his ideas has endured.

Yet another passing walker (male) told me this week that I should be ashamed of myself for letting Steve sit on the boat whilst I get a workout on the tough locks of the Calder & Hebble (a shock to the system after the push button approach of the Aire and Calder)! You set off to tackle them armed with a handcuff key (which often didn’t work) a long handled windlass for extra leverage and a Calder & Hebble spike. Every canal has its quirks and the spike is unique to the Calder & Hebble and apparently the Driffield Navigation. We were advised you can buy these from CRT or a chandlers or just get a piece of 3 x 2 hardwood that will do the job. My resident Yorkshireman did the latter and it worked fine once I got the hang of the spike mechanism thanks to a Dutch barge owner who showed me how.

A ground paddle requiring a spike and me wielding one with intent!

If I had £1 for every time I explain that there’s a skill in keeping a boat still in a wide lock with water currents from ground and gate paddles creating turbulence in the enclosed space, and that I am rubbish at it …I would be rich. Plus you have to bring the boat in smoothly to let the crew on and off preventing damage to them and the boat – and I’m not a lot of good at that either!

One of the most beautiful pounds I’ve ever seen – the circular Double Top Lock pound after the Dewsbury Arm of the Calder & Hebble

This boat and its contents are our home, and aggressive turbulent locks can cause significant damage inside and out as we already know. I also do need the HIT workouts which tough locks provide! Additionally the Calder & Hebble has been a fairly constant in and out of the river navigation with weirs to avoid, and directions to follow right, left, and centre. It’s suited me to not be at the tiller.

Left – not that way – take a sharp right turn in through those two stone walls to avoid another weir!

Next week though sees us taking on the Huddersfield Narrow Canal – 19.3 miles including the longest tunnel in England of over 3 miles, and 74 locks in the remaining 16 miles! As locks are narrow, a single boat width it means I can concentrate on front and back alone without having to worry about getting bashed from side to side. So next week my first challenge is to take the boat through the 42 locks up to the tunnel and let Steve do the lock wheeling – a novel part of his marathon training for London 2021. I just hope there’s enough water to let us get through – it was looking pretty shallow when we walked up a few lock lengths yesterday!

Surely I can’t do too much damage to our home and its contents – can I? Will we get stuck through lack of water or my tiller incompetence? Time will tell – watch this space!

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: