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.
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!
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.
Living off grid – solar powered
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…
Operation lock education
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!
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.
It can get wet, wet, wet…
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, ornever 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.
Isn’t he just the best model?!
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.
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…
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.
Lockwheeler at work
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.
Marks, colours, scratches and diamonds…
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.
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.
Some of this week’s fishing…
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!
Interesting piece of steering/ mooring – hope I do better than this!
There’s nothing like the fear of waiting for something that others tell you is downright dangerous and terrifying. That stomach-churning trepidation, night-waking terror, and escalating imagination of all the what-might-go-wrongs.
Wrong turn or flood?!
We’ve had it this week. After a peaceful, sun baked 10 days in Skipton we prepared for yet another new experience on the waterways – joining the inland waterways giants of the floating world on their commercial territories. Rules are different, locks are different, there are new guides to be accessed and instructions to be absorbed. There is always the fear of doing something wrong, or ignoring a vital sign.
Our first commercial waterway after the Leeds Liverpool Canal is the great Aire & Calder Navigation which we meet at Leeds. A commercial waterway, it is capable of carrying 600-tonne barges shipping mainly gravel and petroleum. Vessels of up to 200ft in length (we’re 50ft). Who knows if we are going to meet dozens of these commercial natives or maybe be all alone on our travels?
The Aire & Calder Navigation is also a river – and rivers demand more skill as they can be subject to strong currents, which need careful managing to prevent your boat being pushed around. Rivers invariably have weirs which need avoiding and steering away from. Locks are mechanical – controlled by traffic lights, primarily for the commercial traffic, sometimes manned by lock keepers, but sometimes we will have to operate them. Single red or single green seem to convey the instructions you might expect but we also need to take heed and understand amber (no lock keeper – moor up to self operate); red and green together (lock available and lock keeper will operate for you) or flashing red (flooding – unsafe to navigate). Hopefully we will get lots of red and green together, no flashing red and very few ambers… we shall see!
There’s also the issue of where to stop. On canals we regularly bash in mooring pins or stakes and tie the boat to these at night at a pleasant spot.
On commercial waterways the huge wash from big craft can make these types of moorings pull loose so fixed bollard or fixed mooring rings are advised. How plentiful they are everyone fails to mention…
The navigation guides seem to be full now of warnings like Boaters must on no account…Boaters should obey…keep a sharp lookout… All we need now are the Beware crocodile and shark signs and we’ll have the set!
There’s a lot to think about, before we even get onto the Aire & Calder. Once there we have 17 miles and 9 locks before we merge onto the next challenge – another navigable waterway, the Calder & Hebble. This also attracts commercial traffic but slightly smaller than the Aire & Calder. It also appears to require new equipment – a Calder & Hebble handspike which seems to be purchasable or can be made from 3×2 timber plus a plane… not something we appear to have in our onboard toolkit! Still where there’s a will, there’s a way, and a wooden spike is something I am sure we can fashion somehow… or is this wishful thinking? [As I write there now are two chunks of 3×2 waiting on the roof to become essential pieces of kit!]
First though, we have to get to, and tackle, the Aire & Calder Navigation. We have so much we want to see and do before we face our potential nemesis that we may as well enjoy the journey to it. We started for the first time on this trip with help on board – friends to support with 4 of Yorkshire’s idiosyncratic swing bridges. Swinging, like many things in Yorkshire is a practical activity and essential if you are going to travel on the Leeds Liverpool Canal. These sometimes manual, sometimes electronic, sometimes a combination of both bridges, make a change from locks. They are vital connections to small farms, country lanes, major roads and even memorials. Each needs unlocking with either a handcuff or BWB key and then operating, and relocking. Some swing happily, others grumble and grind or just won’t budge without added assistance from walkers, cyclists or other boaters!
Padlocks and bridge locks are the only type of lock you encounter on the 17 miles between Gargrave and Bingley. Through wooded glades and far-reaching views, we cruised east towards the former mill and dye town of Keighley and where the canal passes its outskirts, found East Riddlesden Hall, the 17th century manor house of a cloth merchant, now offering welcome riverside walks and a delightful tea room under the auspices of the National Trust. From here to Foulridge which we distantly remembered on the Yorkshire/Lancashire border was regarded as a day’s work for a boat horse in the days of non-stop fly boats which used to carry “perishable goods and passengers” – presumably both went off after a short time on board!
Each of the bridges takes us nearer to our nemesis – the commercial waterway looming ahead of us. How then to tackle the rising fear of the unknown and the resulting nerves, as we might for a job interview, returning to work in the office, an exam or test, or a visit to the dentist…can we use the same strategies?
Research – reading and personal experiences. Sometimes knowing more about what you are going to face can make it better, but equally it can sometimes make it worse as people have a habit of sharing horror stories. Good news or no news rarely makes the headlines as Galtung and Ruge recognised in 1965. In googling “issues on the commercial inland waterways” it was comforting to find nothing about collisions, narrowboats having issues, or indeed discover anything news or noteworthy about the commercial navigation.
Hearing the experience of others too is sometimes helpful as long as they don’t have a tendency to embellishment… fortunately those we met and chatted to regarded the commercial navigation as an unsung delight of the waterways – not a perspective we had expected and one which perhaps isn’t newsworthy. Don’t over prepare and alarm yourself in the process!
Perhaps because we were so focused on the alarming trial ahead of commercial navigation we were in danger of giving the here-and-now less attention this week. It made me realise that by failing to live in the present but overly in the future, we really can miss out.
Yorkshire’s ubiquitous swing bridges brought most of the early week excitement. Raising one of the few electronically controlled ones a car decided to explore the possibility of getting through the barrier before it closed… got through the first onto the bridge…saw the barrier ahead closing and promptly reversed into the first barrier. I then spent hours with police and Canal & River Trust on the phone. Four hours waiting engineers and the queues built up on both sides of the bridge.
Those four hours were unexpectedly delightful – a sunny opportunity to meet Judy and Bill York and enjoy their true Yorkshire hospitality in their garden mooring. We also developed new boat aspirations after a tour of their beautiful Swallow’s Nest! I could have happily listened to their boating stories for many more hours, but the minute the engineers arrived they got us all moving rapidly before they replaced the barrier.
The hire boats we collected in the queue then stayed with us and three of us leapfrogged our way through a batch of swing bridges into Riddlesden, supporting each other en route. One boat stayed with us the next day and assisted by lockies Miles and John, we made it down the historic, architectural, engineering Wonder of the Waterways – the Bingley 5 and Bingley 3 staircase flights overseen by that wonder of thermal warmth, the Damart factory!
Going down…
Bingley 5 Rise has lots of quirks including box clough ground paddles and a ratchet mechanism on “scissor” gate paddles. Completed in 1774 and is still in daily use now – it includes two of the largest gates on the whole Leeds Liverpool Canal so I am reliably informed.
Bingley 5Bingley 3
Personally I don’t think they are as impressive as the Foxton staircase in Leicestershire, but they are impressive feats of engineering nonetheless.
The incredible curve of the lock wall, created all by hand tools and the one victim of the Bingley flight – my potatoes – consigned to the cratch because they’ve grown too big to see round on the roof!
We edged closer to terror via a cultural interlude at Saltaire, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the Utopian realisation of Titus Salt. He wanted to create a place fit for his workers to keep his workers happy and healthy. In the process Saltaire was born with its mills and its housing, public parks, sports grounds, schools, hospital, library and recreation areas. It remains a remarkable place today, a cultural and visionary hub.
This included an exhibition by Simon Palmer. His watercolours made me smile, nod, and yearn to observe like him. Through his delightful two women of integrity he also introduced me to the much-needed Marie Collins Foundation which supports victims of online abuse.
On then to the long awaited descent into Leeds and what awaited us beyond…
Views of Leeds including construction cranes, Pratt Trusses holding the railway, Kirkstall Brewery now Halls for Leeds Beckett students, high rises and Kirkstall Abbey
As we came down the previous staircase locks into Leeds we encountered Dave and Kim on Betty D. We made it through the locks together, and once they moored up for a weekend on the town, they kindly helped us through River Lock so we scarcely had time to worry as the moment arrived.
From then on until we moored up last night 4 locks later, the commercial waterway was wide, we saw only one other moving boat, a narrowboat of a similar size to ourselves, and although the locks were vast, being electronic made them much less physical hassle than any of the previous locks or swing bridges. Not a windlass in sight! The only thing that got a work out was my finger pressing buttons, and my legs having to walk the length of the lock to find the boat! [We only ever encountered amber lights.]
Operating the lock and the boat disappearing out of sight in the lock!
The lesson of the week was not to lose sight of the present, or to take your eye off the ball because you’re stressing or fretting about the future. To do so is to miss potential delights and experiences, learning and opportunities that exist right now. The future will come and when it does – that will be the time to deal with it. It’s a lesson we need to remember and teach our children and students.
We’ve made it onto the Aire and Calder without incident; made the right decision when faced with three apparent routes and unclear signage; learned to look for the high yellow paddles to indicate the lock location; had no problem mooring (we’re on chains in the piling) and yet again we have more new experiences under our belts. The navigation is so wide it feels a little as if we’ve gone to sea…but that’s another challenge for the future perhaps!
What we think of our world depends on how we look at and interact with it.
We’ve chosen to move more slowly by living and working afloat and we know that has allowed us, in fact given us the priviledge, of seeing things differently. It’s possible to see more of the world unfolding in front of you if you travel slowly. You can see the heron waiting for his early evening snack, watch him patiently scanning the water’s edge, and then make his move, snapping up a little wriggling frog and gulping it down. If you were driving past you’d have missed that moment – just as I missed it with the camera because I was too busy watching!
But this week we’ve not moved by boat, remaining moored up on the outskirts of Skipton, one of the most delightful and picturesque towns in North Yorkshire.
This week we’ve explored mainly on foot and at a very different pace as demanded by shorter legs.
I realised how much I have missed through familiarity, through thinking I’ve already seen something before, that it doesn’t merit a second glance. It is the little things which make up the rich patchwork of moments in our lives, and taking time to look and re-look adds texture and colour to those moments.
We’ve been fortunate this week to share life on the boat through the eyes of a 3 year old. Seen through new eyes, there is a new world all around us. Marcel Proust was right when he said in his epic novel À la recherche du temps perdu (In search of lost time)”The real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
We’ve become used to the daily cheeping and tapping of swan visitors at the side of the boat as they nibble off weed and enjoy an easy found meal. Until this week though we haven’t spent as long as we might in watching the down covered fluffy cygnets learning how to feed, how to ‘upend’ to get weed. We realise from careful, continued observation that they are holding their breath underwater for longer and longer every day. They love dried mealworms which give them a good source of energy, and when these sink they upend rapidly to snap them up. The watchful parents stay near the young now but hold back, letting the youngsters feed first.
Everything needs a good look. The huge butterbur leaves now burgeoning along the canals hold unexpected surprises which to be honest, I could have easily missed had I walked briskly past.
The wonder of a snail in its shell – a riot of colours, pattern and shapes. The trail of the snail, the path of the slug, the wiggle of a worm were things I saw and appreciated this week rather than being things I would have passed by.
This tractor ride we took to the biscuit shop was a lesson in never giving up
The perseverance of a woodlouse struggling to squeeze from the narrowed end of a crack on the wheel of the tractor in this wooden play equipment absorbed us both for a full 7 minutes. We watched him (I was assured it was apparently a he) as he brought determination, trial and error and continued effort to his struggles. Finally he succeeded, freeing himself and going on his way by shuffling backwards proving that sometimes retracing your steps is the answer to achieving your goals.
Sometimes lessons like these are ones we have all learned but perhaps forgotten. Reminders and nudges to remember are always valuable. I’d completely forgotten the fascination of finding things hidden in walls that lead us to old ways, old lives and reflections on how people used to live.
Old coal hatches in the coal house walls behind terraced homes in Skipton
It’s not just sight but all the sense which we need to engage to make the most of our world. We miss out on so much if we don’t stop and smell, touch and feel.
The perfume of an azalea and the strong scent of lavender leaves crushed between your fingers – we tasted wild garlic too!
The delights of taste and texture demand to be appreciated too. The sheer joy and total bliss of a savoured ice cream or two …on a hot day. The rush of sweetness and coldness combining in a unique experience.
The resulting sense of indulgence and self care is immense. There are times we all need those.
It’s been good to have a reminder that even slowing down can mean we still miss things if we are not paying attention. Without looking up and looking carefully – we’d have missed this tawny owl, or to be correct we’d have missed seeing the bum of a sleeping tawny owl!
On the scale of things, the owl’s rear end was a highlight of the week! It overshadowed the artwork, creation and celebration of individual interpretation that is evident in these massive works of Damien Hirst at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. His Virgin Mary (on the left) was matter-of-factory reduced to “Look she’s got a baby in her tummy and you can see it’s going to come out like a zombie.” I wonder what the artist would say to that review! On the other hand, Charity – whose collection box has been ransacked by a crowbar-yielding thief – resulted in an urgent plea for us to do something to help. I like to think that’s just the response Hirst was trying to elicit from his audience.
From enjoying the art of nature to experiencing the creations of man, we can all miss out if we go too fast, don’t take time to stop, question and research what we don’t know. We need to ask WHY? and take time to find the answer. We should never be afraid to ask Why or sneer at those who do.
New knowledge and new perspectives can bring totally new life to old familiar sights. It’s a great reminder that if we are open to learn a new world will open up that’s richer and more interesting. If we change the way we look at things, work and life are the same. We miss out if we assume or underestimate our colleagues, students, family members.
As we all hurtle back to hustle, bustle and business of old lives, it’s important we look at the ways we live and work with the new eyes and questioning approach which the pandemic has given us the chance to develop, to make sure we don’t miss out on the detail, and the richness around us.
W.H. Davies was right to ask – what is life if full of care, we take no time to stand and stare? A dandelion clock – the ideal timekeeper for a new considered approach to time and life.
I am so grateful to have had the chance this week to experience life differently. I need to keep looking, listening, feeling, tasting and touching differently as we continue on our slow way to see the world in all its breathtaking glory. Using all our senses learning can be child’s play. Considering research shows children learn more in their early years than at any other time in their lives, there’s hope for us all, if we follow their example.
This week has taken us from the lowlands of Lancashire to the heights of the county, and we have now begun descending into Yorkshire. We’ve been blown about, soaked to the skin, dried, drenched again and bathed in sunshine! En route we have become entwined with England’s industrial past, it’s rise, decay, regeneration and resurgence in new ways. We’ve discovered stories of the workers behind our history, those who toiled in the inhumane and often deadly conditions of England’s dark satanic mills.
Cotton is the thread winding through the history of the Leeds Liverpool Canal. The longest canal in England travels 127.25 miles between the inland wool town of Leeds, to the coastal sea port of Liverpool, crossing the Pennines along the way. Work on the canal started in 1770. It was built in a number of sections and was finally completed in 1816.
Leeds Liverpool Canal has spawned artwork and creative projects along its length in recent times
Barges would ply their trade from Liverpool where they had been laden with huge bales of cotton shipped from America. The cotton would be unloaded at wharves along the way, and from there redistributed to local cotton mills.
Canal Mill at Botany Bay with the white spire of the Preston England Temple of the Latter Day Saints or Mormon church rising to its left
In Chorley what was Canal Mill still stands imposingly at Botany Bay. In its heyday as a cotton mill, men worked on the top floor as spinners and women were employed on the lower floor as creelers, getting the bobbins ready for the spinners. It last spun cotton in the 1950s and currently stands empty after failed attempts to turn it into a shopping and leisure destination.
The Imperial Mill at Blackburn also looks forlorn. It was built on the banks of the canal in 1901 and was in production until 1980.
Blackburn itself was known as cottontown through the 18th and 19th century and was famed as one of the most important cotton producers in the world. From the windows and architecture of houses it’s possible to see the origins of the cottage industry. Space and light was created for handlooms in terraces, or in loomshops attached to the backs, the sides or in the cellars of their homes. Once the Industrial Revolution brought mechanised looms housed in specially constructed factories, the landscape changed again.
The canal was fundamental to the development and functioning of the spinning and weaving mills, as well as the associated industries of paper mills, collieries, breweries and brickworks that flourished in the region.
The collieries have had a major impact on some areas of the canal – subsidence has led to significant work needing to be done to maintain the working of lock flights, and in some places the canal is now much lower than it was as we can see from high sides!
The architecture alongside the canal has in some cases been repurposed, recycled if you will. Apartments, houses, offices, restaurants and cafes have sprung from wharves and mills.
Many though remain untouched by humans, if not the ubiquitous Canada geese, waiting for funds and entepreneurs to revitalise them.
The structure of the canal remains unchanged, running like a ribbon through the urban and rural landscape. It rises through the Lancashire mill towns, skirting the edges of most but in one former mill town it runs spectacularly 60ft above the town centre on The Burnley Embankment. The Embankment was an engineered solution to keep locks at a minimum because they took time to navigate (as we know!). Regarded as one of the original “seven wonders” of the British Waterways the “Straight Mile” as it’s known locally gives good views of the rows of traditional terraced houses with their symmetrical chimney stacks…even in torrential rain!
Out of Blackburn the countryside opened up, the sky expanded and we began to encounter the M65, as it crossed and recrossed the canal. Lorries and cars hurtled along, oblivious to us and our world of 4mph, geese, swans, sheep and moors rolling to the waterside.
Spectacular views were laid out for us all to see even through the rain. For us fortunately they didn’t pass in a blur or the stress of a rush but we were able to appreciate them, to marvel and enjoy.
Just before Burnley at the Pilkington Bridge is a small, blue plaque. It remembers and reminds us all of an explosion at the nearby Moorfield Pit which killed 68 men and boys and seriously injured 39 on the morning of 7 November 1883.
It was a deadly gas explosion which led to safety recommendations that affected coal mines across the country, including replacing the traditional Davy Lamp. The youngest to die in the disaster were just 10 years old, James Atherton and Aaron Riding.
The collieries, the mills and the canals were dangerous places for children in those days – many worked with their families on the commercial barges, barges like Kennet. A short boat, built to the exact dimensions to allow her to fit in all the locks of the Leeds Liverpool , Kennet travelled the whole Leeds Liverpool canal carrying cargo. Now on the National Register of Historic Vessels, we came across her not far from her permanent mooring at Greenberfield Top Lock preparing for filming series 2 of the latest All Creatures Great and Small.
Not only historic barges are taking on a new life – bringing authenticity to period dramas, but narrowboats too are transforming their purpose. At Accrington we came across Small Bells Ring, a recreational/research vehicle (RV) Furor Scribendi, which has been built as a floating library of short stories. It transports them across the canals, and lets the words of those stories transport their readers to new places, just as the canal takes us to new places, new views, new discoveries dozens of times every day. The boat is travelling through Lancashire inviting families and individuals to explore new worlds through the written word, and will be in Coventry as part of the City of Culture events in July.
We’ve spent the week traveling slowly, thoughtfully, from Greater Manchester, through Lancashire to Yorkshire. It’s been a week of sensory overload – spectacular scenery, everything sodden and shimmering in the rain, sudden moments of joyful sunshine, which set everything sparkling in a different way. History grounded within the scenery, stories of people and places. Far reaching views of rolling hills have contrasted starkly with crumbling stonework in urban sprawls of old mills that once hummed with industry. Ducks, geese and moorhens living in urban detritus of rubbish contrasted starkly with the exhilarating freedom of curlew with their gangly legs and distinctive curved beaks, flying with the rolling motion of a wave through clear skies over open fields.
William Blake captured England with all its contrasts, in his recognition of England’s pleasant pastures green, dark satanic mills and unfolding clouds. We’ve seen them all this week in a head-turning, never-ending slideshow of sights that have underlined for me how much there is to see and explore in this country.
Seeing this diverse countryside at a slow pace allows us to appreciate it, to experience it in a way you can’t whizzing through at speed. We have chosen to travel the ‘Super High Way, Super Wet Way, Super Low Way, Super Slow Way’, in what I would add is the Super Best Way.
It’s been a memorable week – 62 miles and a quarter of a furlong on the Leeds Liverpool Canal through 57 locks and 2 tunnels taking us from Wigan to Skipton.
Pickingupducks 