Disastrous leak cancels our plans and ends in tiers

Sunday was a lockdown day with a difference for anyone boating on the Ashby Canal and for towpath walkers near Snarestone close to the current end of navigation on this restored canal. Thousands of gallons of water drained from the canal into surrounding fields as part of the towpath fell away resulting in a breach of the canal. Boats were left stranded, fish (small and large, some up to 20lbs in weight) were left dead or gasping and although we were around 6 miles away we were affected.

The breach and its resulting damage

The restored section of the Ashby Canal is 22 navigable miles…or rather it was that long on Saturday until Sunday’s drama cut it short. Originally built to service collieries (at which point it was 31 miles long), it was designed without a single lock. That means if there is a need to halt water, stop planks are essential. These huge wooden planks, like railways sleepers, are lowered across the canal to stop the water literally flowing away. The concern was that the canal and the marina where we were could drain out through creating problems for boats, the canal structure, and surrounding farmland.

Boats on linear (towpath) moorings were shepherded into the Market Bosworth marina and stop planks placed across the entrance, sealing boats and water in. Emergency tape fluttered warning to any boats trying to turn in. Once secure, we all sat and waited whilst higher up the canal according to the local news, frantic and frenetic activity by an amazing group of volunteers halted the drama. 

Fishermen said they were alerted by a sudden flow appearing on the canal where water is normally totally still. The first we knew of the drama up the cut was the activity at the marina once they had received the alarm.

Stop planks in place across the mouth of the marina with warning tape. You can see how far the team had to move them to get them into place.

The early activity was followed by a boaters’ stoppages email warning. From Canal and Rivers Trust (CRT).

CRT warning – I have no idea how after seeing the pictures I have shared that they thought the towpath was still open!

So our plan of exploring to the end of the Ashby current navigation is on hold for another year or so. It just proves that we never know what’s round the corner. The best laid plans etc… so we will head out of the Ashby Canal and at Marston Junction head north west, turning back onto the Coventry Canal. Challenges ahead on the 38 miles of the Coventry we need travel to Fradley Junction include the 11 locks of the Atherstone Flight. The last time we did these it was blisteringly hot – something tells me that won’t be the case this time. The forecast warns of rain, sleet, and more rain! We will be going slowly and carefully – locks are too dangerous to take lightly in any weather but particularly in winter.

With the end of lockdown 2.0 and the introduction of tiers we find ourselves in Tier 3 here in the Midlands.  CRT have reinstated the 14-day maximum mooring in unlimited areas so we are pleased to be getting back to some normality of movement. Their guidance has been extended to advise not travelling between tiers. We have our map books and gov.uk out to view our amended route alongside the restrictions. As we are in a huge area of tier 3 it appears we can move as we wish for a very long distance. We have restocked with fuel and food to stay warm and enjoy soups and stews as we travel. New views on a regular basis will also keep our spirits up. 

Keeping observant and sharing a daily picture from our life or the natural life around us during lockdown on @pickingupducks on Instagram has been hugely enjoyable and it’s great knowing that others look forward to these too.  Seeing the changes of nature, as well as the ways that all of us as individuals have the capacity to lift the spirits of others is just wonderful. Posts that created the most interest recently include the changing nature of what I had called bulrushes for decades but now know are reed mace; a beautifully decorated road sign at the end of a tiny country lane; Cola exploring his pawfect very own doggy advent calendar (huge thanks Lesley) and hazel catkins bringing the cheerful hope of new beginnings.

It’s a delight to be asked to continue these daily posts. Small moments of enjoyment are always important in winter. They seem more necessary this year than ever. Finding my thermal socks was one of those moments! The glee of seeing it’s started raining minutes before the dog and I set off for a walk means I can get full waterproofs on (that’s opposed the misery of setting off without waterproofs in bright sunshine and getting soaked 20 minutes out!). Being on a boat has resulted in a different kind of rain check too. I realise I used to look up to evaluate rain, but now I look down. Heavy rain produces far agitating ripples on the canal surface. These ripples change in frequency and dimension depending on the type of rain and prove a very good indicator of whether it’s welly or walking boot weather.

As we get back on the move we still have some leaks on board – from the fresh water tank – but we can now manage them. To help stay warm and reduce draughts, we have put up our Perspex double glazing. Being rather old and a bit scratched it gives us a hazy view of the world – no bad thing in 2020 some may think! With the demand for Perspex thanks to Covid, now is not the moment to seek replacements, and those we have will certainly work for this winter. Spring 2021 will look even brighter for us when we take them down and see clearly again!

A new mystery emerged with the discovery of a loaf of bread in our store in the covered cratch area with huge chunks removed – mice? rats? greedy swans or ducks helping themselves? None of these seemed possible – how could they get through the closed tarpaulin cover, undoing zips and elasticated ties? The culprit inadvertently gave himself away by nuzzling my hand with a crumb-covered muzzle! Cola the boat dog had been snatching a mouthful behind my back whilst I was busy undoing zips and ties to let us out. Bread is now in a closed, dog-proof container!

Bread damage and the thief – really looks guilty doesn’t he?!

My lockdown 2.0 goals are rolling into a running-up-to-Christmas set of goals – has anyone else done the same ? The lockdown return to running didn’t quite work due a chest infection (not Covid), but I averaged 14,000+steps a day which has done a great job strengthening my knee around the meniscus tear. The promised jeans are on and a bit more effort should make them comfy! 

We are looking ahead to Christmas. We hope we can spend it with 4 wonderful family members to make our squad of 6. Our aim is to moor somewhere nearer them for that to happen. That demands keeping an eye on planned repair stoppages which could restrict where we go, reviewing river flooding risks, canal freezing risks and planning our route accordingly factoring in water fill up and waste disposal points. En route we aim to minimise contact with others prior to the festivities to try and protect the family, and to use dry days to forage greenery and decorate the boat ready for the festivities. If you are creating foraged decorations it would be great to see your creations to give me inspiration!

Finally, I just have to share this with you – yesterday afternoon’s walk resulted in us both standing on the muddy towpath in a steady downpour howling with laughter.

Floating in the reeds we found the latest (undramatic this time)Ashby Canal leek! Let me assure you although it’s a plant, it honestly wasn’t a plant by us! Wayne and Emma Jackson you’ll know why we instantly thought of you two!

So whatever tier or restrictions you are under – we hope you too can find something to smile about.

Fishy goings-on in a murky underworld

As on land, problems never seem to come singly on water. We’ve wrestled with onboard flooding and finally identified the source (our fresh water tank) so continue a now monotonous cycle of sealing, filling, evaluating, mopping and resolving.

We have reduced the severity and number of leaks, identified and hopefully sorted them but working away this week and bubble support means we won’t be able to do much more testing until next week.

This week’s added concern has come from unidentified electronic alarms. What do they mean? Where are they coming from? Are they indicating something dire or expensive has gone wrong? Are they related to the boat or the marina connections? Can we sort whatever it is before we need to move on (if allowed) on 3 December as England’s second lockdown ends? Most crucially – is it serious, so serious it could result in us having to evacuate our floating home?

The noise is intermittent and irregular. Sometimes short sharp beeps, at others a rising series of notes, so is it emitted by one or more items? It appears we have only heard it at night, but is that because often during the day we are out, or because Alexa (yes, we have her onboard) is playing us music or the radio has drowned it out?

It is clearly an alarm and electronic. To be honest we don’t have that much on board that is electronic! We have done the rounds of the carbon monoxide monitor, the smoke alarm, mobile phones and the battery charger. The dog must have wondered what on earth we were doing, running up and down the boat stopping at intervals and listening – is it coming from here, from there, from inside, or out? The answer came, as these things often do, by chance. Steve went out to fetch fuel for the stove from the roof and came back laughing. The beeps are fishing alarms – and there are three fishermen on boats around us, each with a different make of alarm and each makes a different sound.

Spot the fishermen on the pontoons in the sunset

Having discovered the cause of the noise we can now relax. But it made me curious about what fishing from a marina pontoon might yield. The answer was unexpected but fascinating – they are seeking Zander, an invasive non-native fish which it is actually against the law to throw back. This fish is so tasty that it is commercially farmed in some countries like Denmark. It appears amazingly versatile, for everything from sushi to grilled or baked fillets. I don’t think I have ever eaten it (knowingly at least). Frozen fillets are on sale for £16 for 240g and the catch record in the UK for the species appears to be 9.7kgs.

Zander (aka Stizostedion or Sander lucioperca) is also known as the European pike-perch. It is now prevalent on several of our canals including the Ashby where it appreciates the dark shade created by boats, making a full marina zander heaven. Its predatory behaviour has led to it being regarded as a threat to native species like sticklebacks and gudgeon. It’s become such a problem since it was introduced to the UK in 1878 in lakes at Woburn Park in Bedfordshire, that many canals are now managed by electrofishing in sections to try and reduce its numbers.

Modern technology comes into play if you want to succeed in zander fishing apparently, not only using multiple rods with bite alarms but also employing bluetooth sonar to identify packs of zander. From the frantic and regular beeping we’ve heard, I imagined it would be really easy to get a picture of one, to nip across to a boat and peer at the catch but since I learned about them they appear to have become elusive… being caught only when I haven’t been around apparently unless that’s just a fishermans’ tale. This mini fillet was the total result of the past 24 hours so I was grateful for a Pixabay copyright free image to see this evil floating Dracula in its entirety!

The falling temperatures make me realise why anglers fishing from narrowboats buy alarms to tell them when a fish is biting so they can respond from the warm! The cold is something we’ve really noticed, particularly with this week’s work schedule. Imagine returning to a large metal box which which has been shut up all day with no heating as temperatures drop and you’ll realise why we’re becoming adept at laying the stove early in the morning before we leave so we can have it lit within seconds of returning at night. Soups, stews and hot drinks are coming into their own as vital means to raise temperatures and spirits alike.

The cold though does bring unique benefits we can’t enjoy at any other time of the year and which are even more apparent living on our non-centrally heated narrowboat….the chance to cuddle hot water bottles, to snuggle up on the sofa swathed in blankets, silvery white walks, the crisp crunch of the towpath as the slushy mud has set hard under foot, and we’ve enjoyed the most stunning sunsets reflected in the water which seems like a double treat. Coming back into the warmth after being out to appreciate the sights around us feels a real bonus – it’s worth nipping out into the cold just to get that chance to come back inside! Maybe this is the Scandinavian hygge but whatever it is, it is special.

As the temperatures take us towards Christmas we wonder like everyone else how we are going to be able spend it because of tiers and regulations, travel restrictions between tiers may hit us, and of course there is always the dilemma of should we morally mingle with those we love, particularly those with underlying health issues. My lockdown 2.0 return to running has been struck down too by a tight chest and runny nose which thanks to the C-19 by ZOE app necessitated a Covid-19 test for us both. Fortunately we have use of a car this month but I wonder how I will manage if in the future I fall ill and have to cycle the distance to some car park to stick a swab down my throat and up my nose!

Seeing lights and festive decorations lifts the spirits and it’s a delight to see them going up so much earlier this year, giving the chance to spot new ones every day. Narrowboat owners are doing their bit, and we’re starting to see decorations appearing. Some are going all out with the lights. I’ve made a start on natural and upcycled decorations with enjoyably emptied gin bottles doing duty as candlesticks. Once we leave the marina we will return to a lot of candlelit evenings as we return happily to our off grid lifestyle. I am also finding a surprising amount of satisfaction recycling toilet rolls into snowflakes – a highly recommended creative way to pass a winter evening!

A casualty of our time here has been our centre line which has frayed badly because of movement during the recent winds. By chance this seems a bit of a bonus as we do have a replacement, and if I can forage enough greenery I intend to use the old rope as the base for some natural festive swags along the side of the boat.

Incidentally our Covid tests were negative and we were texted the results remarkably within 12 hours. My chest infection must have been some winter bug, but I imagine I was not alone in jumping to instant conclusions that Covid was to blame. I’m lucky, it seems to have beat a retreat and the only thing that suffered was my return to running although I have managed to walk an average of 8+ miles daily.

We are going to head the boat in the direction of our family in the hope we can meet up somehow, somewhere for some of Christmas. We are going to self isolate on board for the two weeks beforehand to try and protect our family, but there is still confusion and no clarity yet from Canal and Rivers Trust about whether we will be able to travel through tiers to meet up. If we can, we will, if not we will load up with fuel, food and sit tight when we’ve found somewhere we want to moor. By my next blog next week we will be on the move to somewhere and we’re looking forward to it, wherever that may be to, and hoping for no more dramas en route!

Sinking feelings are bad news when you live on a boat

Water is generally regarded as a necessity for life afloat, but as we now know, in the wrong place it is both worrying and threatening.

You only have to look at the news or cruise England’s canals to see that narrowboats do sink sometimes. New bulletins also bring us the heartbreaking destruction created by flooding and to lose possessions with sentimental value would be hard. For us now flooding leading to sinking would result in the loss of our entire home. It would be devastating. It would spell the end of enjoyment of this new life afloat after only a short while, the end of our reduced impact alternative living , and create immense stress working out what we would or could do next. The fear for me is that this could become a reality if we don’t find and sort the leak/s we have discovered.

For some time we have been mopping out the bilges (the underwater internal part of a boat between the bottom in the water and the floor within the boat) regularly. This narrowboat doesn’t have the luxury of a cabin bilge pump so it’s a manual process. That’s a good thing otherwise we might have missed the drama going on beneath our feet, our sleep and daily life… The access slot for mopping out the bilges is under the step into the bedroom cabin at the back of the boat. Black, dirty water comes out in bucketfuls…

Cabin bilge mopping… under the step access to the hidden depths.

Water has been gathering inside the boat under the floor in some quantities. We get several 10 litre buckets out at a time. We need to stop it but to do that we need to understand what type of water it is and where it’s coming from. If enough water comes in – we could sink.

According to this handy article from Whilton Marina there are alarmingly multiple ways of sinking your narrowboat!

Whilton Marina vital guidance available online
  • Water in the engine hole – we don’t seem to have any quantities of water there
  • Leaking stern gland – our stern gland was repacked only a few weeks ago [believe me, that’s an excitement for another blog]
  • Failing to pump bilges – we are mopping madly!
  • Weedhatch faults – our weed hatch is clear and clean
  • Locks – we can rule out this leak is nothing to do with them

So we have identified that there’s water in the bilges and we need to work out how it got there and stop it increasing.

Three potential sources could be culprits:

canal water – that would indicate that we’ve sprung a leak in the part of the boat accessible to the canal. This is pretty unlikely given that we can mop out and it appears dry and then only gradually returns. If it was even a small hole in the hull it would be a constant refilling. We paid £4,000 to have the hull replated with steel and blacked when we bought the boat a couple of years ago and haven’t had any collisions, accidents since then that could create a hole. That’s the logical eliminaton explanation but at night when it’s windy and I can hear water lapping against the hull, I still imagine that water is being forced into the bilges somehow! Ridiculous ideas always seem to take hold in the night!

rain water – this can come in from poor fitting covers, windows, etc. Generally it doesn’t appear in the multiple bucket quantities we’ve been seeing but could be adding to the bilges somehow. We have a covered ‘cratch’ at the front of our boat over the well deck which makes a usable space. In the summer it creates our ‘conservatory’ – an ideal place to sit on specially made cushions with a drink with the cover folded back to let a gentle breeze.

The versatile cratch, created into a multi purpose, multi season space with its long-lasting aging cover from AJ Canopies

In winter with the cover zipped shut it is a utility room and porch, somewhere to shed muddy boots, wet weather gear, towel down the dog and store fuel. It also serves as a place to dry wet clothes.

The sides provide steps which form an easy route into the boat but as with every step on our boat, they double up as storage for garden chairs, sacks of dog food, the water hose, the anchor, the barbecue, the next lot of fuel for the fire etc…

We know our cratch cover is leaking a bit. One area has come away and there are problems with the closures, probably because we think the cover is as old as the boat and we all give and stretch a bit after 30+ years. But – if incoming rain could be part of the issue, how would rain getting into the well deck of the bow get all the way to the back of the boat?

More investigations required removing the sealed, non slip flooring board (oddly called buffalo board) which covers this area and which we walk on. This revealed a rusted hole in the bulkhead between the well deck and the main cabin of the boat, not a big hole but water can enter through tiny gaps. So Steve filled the hole with metal filler and we waited. The weather obliged and rain raged for us a couple of nights later, but there’s no way that alone would have resulted in the buckets we have been mopping out. The rain water that collected near the now-blocked hole was easily dealt with by kitchen towel, so rain certainly wasn’t not the culprit of the bilge buckets.

There had been drain holes in the boat which allowed rain water to exit the bow deck. On advice when we bought the boat we had them plated over. Steve decided to restore the holes but much smaller to deal with one potential ingress of water. He duly drilled the first hole and instead of rain going out, we ended up with canal coming in – it appears with all our stuff on board the boat is sitting much lower in the water than it was! Hasty finger in hole moment and urgent recourse to metal filler. More mopping required – this time of the well deck. Fortunately that’s now sorted and we won’t restore those drain holes until we have removed significant amounts of ballast raising the boat in the water!

drinking water – we actively put this with a hose into a tank at the bow [front] of the boat. A hole in the water tank below the level of the floor would mean a bilge with more water than we are finding given that the tank appears (and we can’t be totally sure with an old boat and no level gauge) to hold at least 250 litres of fresh water. The tank lid sits below the buffalo board we walk on, and is filled with a hose via a filler cap outside the boat.

Well deck mopping – rust creates fascinating patterns which shimmer under water!

So with two options down – not rain or canal- it looks like it must be a leak from the fresh water tank but high enough that it only leaks when the tank is full or near full. Having cleared and uncovered the well deck to check the rain situation, we began the process of looking for obvious holes… not easy in a 30+ year boat which has been well used. We have been using more water recently because we are now living on the boat. We do keep a record of when we fill up, and we’ve filled up 3 times in the past 2 months. So we topped up again to check. When you are low it can take an hour to fill up but we only had to wait half an hour, watching nervously before water began spurting out in so many places we couldn’t mark them all!

X marks the spot of one leak and the blue arrow shows the direction that particular leak was spurting out

Hastily we turned off the hose to the mains and turned on cold taps in the boat to reduce the level and pressure of water in the tank to stop it spurting out! More mopping followed and buckets later we realised that every time we have filled up we have been pouring about 40 litres into the boat! The water was insinuating its way through rust gaps and tiny spaces in the bulk head and trickling down along the bilges to reach the point at the stern where we mop it out.

So we at least know where the water’s coming from. Ironic that we’re effectively trying to sink our own boat by actively pouring water into it!

Hasty recourse to experts and canal boat online forums for advice led to finding the sealant which is safe for such a job, followed by an emergency click-and-collect order to Screwfix and a dash to fetch it. The top of the tank has been wire brushed, cleaned and has now had two layers of sealant, and the whole bulkhead has also been sealed with metal filler.

Now we wait to see if the sealant and metal filler have done the job. We continue to mop but the amount of water in the bilges is reducing, not increasing. It is damp now not sopping but we have reduced the water in the water tank to make sure there won’t be additional leaks in the meantime…

Three days later we attached the hosepipe to the main supply pipe, crossed our fingers and with bated breath and chalk at the ready, we watched the top of the water tank for 18 anxious minutes which felt like a lifetime!

Insert hosepipe…cross fingers, have chalk to hand and wait…

Sure enough, the leaks began again but (and it seems strange to say this), we only identified eight leaks and they were small, contained dribbles rather than gushing, spurting fountains. We managed to mark each one with a chalk arrow to allow us to target repairs this time.

Success – now only 8 leaks!!!!

Lots more mopping in the well deck but we think the leaks were contained and the metal filler held back the water from flooding down the boat.

More sealant and more waiting is where we are now. Taking the lid off the tank would be a major task and create major problems (we can’t live aboard without water) as well as generating a major bill and we are actively trying to avoid all these.

We haven’t completely solved the problem yet but hope we’ve identified the cause of the leak and are well on the way to sorting it. We will try another tank fill tomorrow. If it still leaks then, we will keep going with sealing and testing – perhaps trying waterproof tape and sprays as well. We know that if we don’t fill the tank right up, we can avoid flooding the boat. That will have to be guesswork with no level gauge. If and when we can or have to replace the tank, or fit a new liner in the future we will install a gauge and a new lid.

For now the Autumn winds are building up. They have to blow hard to create waves on a canal but they are managing it. Already now when I wake at night hearing the waves slapping against the hull I just enjoy feeling snug and warm and happily let the waves rock me back to sleep.

Coming up next – the slippery A-Z of making a profit from your boat day and night… Covid tests… and have we solved the leaks?

Getting back on an even keel and learning to live positively in lockdown

We are having a very different living experience for this lockdown, and one I hope will make us much more appreciative of our floating lifestyle. It was a head over heart compromise and one which led to a lot of discussion. One of us was head…and one heart – I am sure you can work out who was which!

We are spending lockdown moored in a marina, and it has brought some benefits:

  • WiFi is working well enabling easy access for family and work (note the order!)
  • Unlimited access to hot showers with…wait for it – heated floors
  • Fresh water whenever we need/want it and waste disposal for the loo just a short walk away on a non-muddy path
  • Access to a washing machine and tumble driers
  • The walk to town with food shops is only a mile or so, and it’s downhill on the way back when laden. If we feel lazy a small shop on site opens 2 hours a day
  • Electricity which means we can keep our batteries fully charged (after investing in a new charger to replace the definitely faulty old one) and get diy pre-winter jobs done with power tools
  • Secure car parking so we’ve been able to collect and charge the car ready to respond to support/work needs

It is a very different way of living. Our views are constrained and for the first time living on this boat I feel a sense of claustrophobia. We have neighbours at arms’ length on one side and a pontoon width away on the other. The freedom to moor where we choose and often in isolation amid ever changing views will be wonderful when we return to it.

There are nearly 200 boats moored here. Some are locked up for the winter. Some are people who always choose to spend their winters in a marina. Some are permanently moored here, and this is their home.

NB Preaux marked with the arrow looks tiny – even though she isn’t moored at the shore end of the pontoon

We have been here less than a week as I write this, and it’s already easy to identify those personalities who make up any community. There is the expert-at-everything – from boating to Covid risks or political predictions; the organiser keen to tell you what you need to do and how; the introvert who avoids all eye contact; dog lovers; cat lovers, and the sharers, who without any expectation of return, give to the community. In this last category came the thoughtful teenage Niamh who arrived at our boat the other evening with her Dad and a painstakingly beautiful coloured and cut-out poppy as an Remembrance offering for us. They took one to every occupied boat.

We proudly display her poppy on our boat and in its small way it formed part of some poignant moments of remembrance evident around Market Bosworth.

We joined the two minute silence standing on the pontoon overlooking the water, heads bowed and at a time when we are giving up very small freedoms, we remembered all who gave the ultimate sacrifice of their lives but also the sacrifices and freedoms that so many give up for the duration of war. My father was a Fleet Air Arm fighter pilot who gave up 2 years in a prisoner of war camp having been shot down and handed over by collaborators to the occupying troops. My mother, a cipher officer continued to work daily contending with blackouts, air raids and rationing, not knowing whether her future would be as a widow or a wife.

Lockdown 2.0 meant we couldn’t celebrate together the birthday of one of our daughters and the 3rd birthday of our grandson, but if we can collectively stall Covid-19’s increasing march across our nation there will be more birthdays together. In reality we are being asked to give up very little to protect ourselves and others for just 4 weeks.

 I am trying to take lessons from what has seemed valuable in our first months of a slower life on our narrowboat to support me, and perhaps others through lockdown:

  1. Forget the mania of multi-tasking. Actively relish taking time to focus on each task, however small and reap the enjoyment of doing it well. A day of multiple small achievements brings remarkable satisfaction and that is something we all need, for our self esteem, sanity and sense of well being.
  2. Ditch the dishwasher if you have one. If you have a lockdown companion or a family make washing up at least once a day a shared task. It is easier to have meaningful conversations about feelings and concerns over a shared often mindless task which needs to be done and which allows you to work together without eye contact that can seem invasive. (Is there always an I’ll wash, I’ll dry, I’ll put away and the person who vanishes to the loo the moment washing up is mentioned?).
  3. Put technology on hold – go for a walk without it.
  4. Make something – create or cook something from scratch.
  5. Take time every day to appreciate the surprises and spectacular beauty of nature around us – something which has endured for centuries and will endure long beyond this pandemic.

Taking control at a time when things can feel out of control is important. Put yourself in charge of how your tasks are done and how long you take on them.

It was inspiring and intimidating to see how people used the last lockdown, but we can all make this one count in our own way. It is another chance to build or strengthen ourselves and our communities, to offer help to others and to use the internet to access new insights. Being interested in something and someone other than our own worries alleviates stresses and pressures for a bit. It helps to think of someone and something other than ourselves and means we often return to our own worries with a new perspective.

Feeling that your whole life is at the mercy of someone else’s control be that economic or political, circumstantial or emotional is debilitating…. Every journey starts with a single step… what’s your step to control of something going to be?

What has helped you through lockdown whenever it has been for you? What have you learned, resumed, or found solace in? What ideas do you have which will inspire us?

I did set some lockdown 2.0 goals just to have a way of trying to motivate me through it, so here’s the update of how they are going:

  • To achieve something, however small, every day
The foraged early sloe gin is bottled (tastes good too – one has to try – hic!), the rag rug is taking shape (grows a bit every day) and a new battery charger has been fitted to maximise the electricity we currently have and protect our vital battery life.
  • To see if I can start gradually running again and hope my meniscus tear has healed enough to let me carry on... well, the knee is holding up and I am taking slow but sure runs most days increasing by minute increments.
  • To leave lockdown 2.0 lighter in spirit and looser in jeans knowing I have made compromises and decisions that are right. I have so far completed my daily step quota, made relatively healthy food/drink choices (sloe gin’s ok isn’t it?) and walked another stretch of the glorious 100-mile Leicestershire Round
The fabulously signposted Leicestershire Round, with glimpses across Looking Glass Pond, 4-paw drive avoids the mud on the towpath and is this the Bosworth Boar, symbol of Richard III’s household?

We are now approaching two months living this new pandemic-inspired life. We are still talking, still frugally solvent, still in good health and still afloat – so that’s good! We have faced hurdles but heated discussion and compromise have got us through. We are enjoying this life, and expecting to enjoy it even more once we are able to resume our travelling again but we know there will be more challenges ahead – particularly when winter strikes. Can we avoid being frozen in? As everyone is wondering, can we all get together for Christmas? For us, how many weeks will it take us to travel to be near them? The news of a potential vaccine and more effective testing makes me feel much more positive about our collective futures and the lifting of lockdown 2.0 on 2 December.

In the immediate future we need urgently to find this really worrying leak which is resulting in water continually gathering inside the boat’s hull. I am also going to explore further this delightful, historically-infused area whilst we are here… looking back to 1485, the Battle of Bosworth and King Richard III.

It seems that December 2020 won’t herald a repeat of Richard III’s “…winter of our discontent…” which has to be a huge relief.

Lockdown 2.0 is rocking our boat

It’s a different lockdown this time – for us in more ways than one. This time we are afloat, living on a 50ft narrowboat which we are renovating as we cruise. Preparing for a lockdown on a narrowboat is different, and wondering as we do so what we might have forgotten!

Canal and Rivers Trust have lifted the 14-day maximum stay in one place for continuous cruisers like us. Leisure boaters who don’t live on their boats can’t go to them until 2 December as was the case for us in Lockdown 1.0. For us now it just means we don’t have to move as often to keep to the terms of our licence. 

We are currently cruising the restored Ashby Canal, a 22-mile, no lock route in rural countryside. It doesn’t connect to anywhere. Boats go up the length passing through Warwickshire and Leicestershire ending at the moment past the delightfully tiny Snarestone Tunnel (250 yards). At that point you turn, heading back through the tunnel and travel the 22 miles back to the junction with the Coventry Canal from where you can head in multiple directions. It was built for commercial canal traffic with shallow sides not easy for mooring because the commercial boats unloaded only at the set wharf points (now pretty full of leisure boats)…

The beautiful Ashby canal and its often challenging shallow sides!

We have walked much of the Ashby towpaths over the years but never cruised its length so this seemed like an excellent route – not too far from the family at a time when there were 2 birthdays to celebrate in November and Christmas on the horizon. Now with lockdown 2.0 it is giving us different food for thought.

Like anyone on dry land we need to shop occasionally ideally for fresh milk and bread once a week though we can do without those if needs be. But on a narrowboat there are certain key things we have to consider which you won’t be thinking of if you live in a house or a flat… namely water and waste!

We need to fill up with fresh water every few weeks for drinking, cooking and washing. We need to dispose of general household rubbish and…this is where we need to talk about every small child’s giggle factor…poo! In our case with just two of us on board and obviously no visitors during lockdown, two toilet cassettes last for around 6 days. Although sealed, wheeled containers, they are heavy when full and trying to drag one of those along a towpath in the mud is problematic to say the least.

Our funky orange and grey loo cassette plus rubbish bags and the seasonally increasing quantities of mud, mud, glorious mud

We have a few other particular requirements we need to consider for a month’s lockdown.

  • WiFi with a decent bandwidth – not the case where we are currently moored
  • Reliable phone signal for us both – not the case for me where we are currently moored
  • The ability to have our remaining (electric) car safely nearby, in case we have to respond to urgent issues with work or the highly independent members of the family for whom we provide when necessary caring support.
  • a bus route in case one of us has to go one way in the car and the other of us is needed in another direction
  • A place that’s suitable for mooring the boat without needing a gangplank which we need to continually lift and raise to avoid impeding the towpath
  • and if possible with two of us and a dog coming and going a mooring where the towpath isn’t totally churned up with mud

Sounds easy? If we were on another canal we would just keep moving from water and waste disposal point when we needed to. We would be able to find shops on the way if we needed them, and there would be diesel too to help us keep the engine running for either cruising or topping up the batteries for lights and heating water. In other words our lockdown would look no different from our normal life.

On the Ashby Canal it is a bit different. There are a lot of boats here already, some liveaboards, others leisure moorers. Many have found moorings that suit them and are staying put. The nearest water, waste and diesel point is less than half a mile ahead of our current mooring but we would then need to cruise quite a distance to the next available turning point if we wanted to return to this spot, and the WiFi is not ideal for working…we could keep cruising but once we get to Market Bosworth that’s the last of shops on the Ashby…

We are divided – we disagree – we have different views over what to do. 

Option 1 – move to better WiFi and fill up with fuel, empty bins and waste on the way and hope we can find a good mooring with safe parking nearby. We have walked a lot of the towpath hunting for a suitable site and not found one which ticks all the boxes yet – maybe we are just being too fussy…maybe we have to compromise more after all, we chose this life…

Option 2 – turn our lockdown into another new experience and find out how the other half live in a marina complete with WiFi, in a good phone signal area, electricity (reducing diesel use and enabling the use of power tools which we need to resolve certain issues including an internal leak before the real winter begins) secure car parking, water, waste disposal, walkways around the boat so no mud immediately outside, a shop and… wait for it…a laundrette on site! Other shops are in walking distance. 

Option 2 is the one we have plumped for after much discussion and debate. The deciding factor was the need to support our key working children with child care and support, get to independent but elderly parent ASAP if needed and respond to work emergencies which require attendance in person. We have chosen our new life but no one else should suffer because of it.

To me it feels like a bit of a cheat, a cop out if you will but I know it makes sense. We will still be living on the boat, we have to it’s our home, but living on her in a different way. Life is a compromise and the tough stuff is yet to come – winter whilst we can and will have to be moving, will come with all its challenges. 

There is also the moral element – if everyone is trying to reduce the amount they move about, shouldn’t we be doing the same if we can? I have already come to value immensely our nomadic life – new views when we choose, seeing new countryside and communities, watching the wildlife at close quarters every day and the liberating sense of freedom living like this brings.

picking up ducks of various kinds, plus Canada geese and a persistent swan

But could I really feel comfortable knowing that we were living our unchanged life whilst our family and friends, those we know and those we don’t, are being asked to give up some freedoms for the greater good and health of our country? 

We have chosen this lifestyle and are being asked to compromise it for a month, just one little month, which in the scheme of things is a fraction of time. If this compromise enables me to be available for those that rely on us if they need us to help them through lockdown 2.0, if this month means more of us will be together with our families intact then it’s a compromise that makes total sense and one I need to take (and stop whingeing!).

I’ve been lying awake at night enjoying listening to the owls calling but worrying that we, no let’s be honest, selfishly I, will feel claustrophobic in this self-imposed static lockdown. I also know the only way I will feel like that is if I let myself.

I have already learned so much that has helped me to live better and reduce stress during our first months living afloat on a narrowboat. I need to use and share those lessons via my lockdown blogs in the hope that some will support me and maybe you too. We are all going to be constrained to try and stay safe and healthy. If we can make it as positive an experience as possible then when it’s over we can once more appreciate what we have missed.

Nature’s beauty can sustain us through tough times, lockdowns, pandemics and life’s challenges as it has for the generations before us

My goals then for this lockdown:

  1. To achieve something, however small, every day
  2. To see if I can start gradually running again and hope my meniscus tear has healed enough to let me carry on
  3. To leave this lockdown lighter in spirit and looser in jeans knowing I have made compromises and decisions that are right..

4 small weeks – let’s see just what we can achieve.

    Life reflected in boats, an introduction and preparing to be stuck…

    It’s been a week of many miles across the waterways of four counties as we need to reach a set place in the coming weeks for a family celebration (outside in groups not exceeding 6). This has given time for thought as we chug our meandering way at nearly 4mph along the waterways.

    Boats, houses, and cars mean different things to different people. Bought, rented, or borrowed, they can be viewed as status symbols, personal security, harbingers of debt, realisers of dreams, steps or statements.

    Just as cars and houses often tell about their owners’ aims, aspirations, and priorities – boats and from my perspective, narrowboats particularly, are fascinating in this respect. For some their boats reflect who they want to be, for others they show who they perceive they are. Some care about the outside over the inside; others care more about the inside, and some just don’t care what anyone else thinks. Every journey there’s a boat that makes us smile – humour is evident everywhere.

    Floating personalities from lawns to garden sheds, L plates, sleek perfection and a desire to bring a smile

    Some spend hundreds of thousands of pounds having a boat built from scratch to be a floating home-from-home with all mod cons they feel essential (yes, that can mean a washing machine and tumble drier, several fridges, a freezer, central heating and several TVs depending on the size of the boat); others invest in restoration of heritage boats, painstakingly returning them to their totally original specification, or giving them contemporary interiors; some scrape together enough to buy a boat that just floats and are glad of it as a place of escape or a home; some sink themselves into debt to achieve their dreams and some, like us, are determined to achieve their boat reality without loans. It means thinking twice or thrice about what we need and what we want, and whether they really equate. For all boat owners their boats are projects – whether realised by a boat builder or by themselves.

    Live-aboard boaters also come in multiple formats. Some have home moorings. They may live on smart purpose-built marinas with Moorers’ lounges hosting regular social events with many facilities (including laundrettes). Others inhabit smaller marinas with few facilities but often a strong community feel. Some rent or own land and mooring alongside the towpath or on the offside. Some live-aboard owners we have met never move their boats – they are floating, not travelling homes. And then there are the continuous cruisers (CC) like us, who by the terms of their Canal and Rivers Trust licence have to keep moving:

    “Boats without a home mooring must be engaged in genuine navigation throughout the period of the licence.” (CRT)

    If we find a 14-day spot we can stop if we wish for that length of time. We don’t have a permanent ‘home’. Walk along any towpath and at some point you are likely to see mooring signs, 48 hours, 14 days, no mooring etc. 

    As I start writing this we are travelling in Northamptonshire, through the dripping wet Braunston tunnel, 2042 yards of it, which opened in 1796. Quicksands caused problems in construction and although you can see the light at the end from the start, it was built with a slight S bend in it. Steve’s at the tiller in the damp darkness and I am with the dog by the blazing stove in the lit, warm cabin. No question who has the better deal in my mind! I will pull (and push) my weight shortly for the 6 locks at the end of the tunnel taking us down into Braunston where we need to stop to fill up with water and empty our bins.

    It may take longer through this tunnel if we meet a nervous holiday boater coming the other way. We have had boaters bouncing from one side of the tunnel to the other in panic, but the single tunnel light we can see now coming the other way seems to be steering a straight route. It is easy to hit the sides of these long tunnels because it is so mesmeric steering in the dark. If there are boats with children out on half term holidays I can guarantee that we will hear ghoulish shrieks and screams in the darkness.

    Tunnel vision : Braunston in the rain, Crick in its autumn colours and Newbold with its walkways

    So it is time I introduced you to our key partner in this Covid new normal lifestyle of ours, our 50ft long, semi traditional (semi trad) NB (Narrowboat) Preaux.

    Being semi trad means we have an engine under the floor at the back which we stand above to steer in a small contained space which happily fits two of us and the dog. Cruiser sterns have big spaces at the back where a whole boatload can congregate and a traditional (trad) stern has a much smaller space at the back, an engine exposed in a cabin area beyond the boatman’s tiller, but giving warmth and protection to the boatman.

    Our boat was built by Brummagem Boats in 1989, an auspicious year for us, the one when we were married and when our current (very modern by our standards) house was built. Preaux’s vital statistics are: Length 15.24 metres ( 50 feet) – Beam : 2.07 metres ( 6 feet 9 inches ) – Draft : 0.64 metres ( 2 feet 1 inch ). She has a steel hull and was originally called Isis. We renamed her after the village where we lived in France and where our daughters were born, a place that is very special to us. Preaux is French for playgrounds – appropriate for a boat which takes us to so many wonderful places to explore and enjoy. 

    Our philosophy for this Covid inspired new normal ilife is to reduce our impact on the planet. To live more simply in multiple ways – in what we eat, how we travel, shop, cook and to see whether that makes us happier and healthier in the process. We aim to recycle, reuse and repurpose. Our cutlery is housed a series of burlap-covered tin cans; our hand towel hangs in an old stirrup from my riding days; and our shelves are made from recycled wood to name but a few. They all do the job and give us pleasure when we look at them.

    Our boat is cosy, haphazard in design, has a lived in look both inside and out, and I (no doubt like every boat owner) like to think she has her own unique style. By living more sustainability and frugally, we aim to create more time for the things we enjoy and in turn reduce the time we need to spend earning. Put simply – if we reduce our consumption then we should reduce our outgoings, giving more time to spend with each other enjoying life. Will this result in happiness? Time will tell.

    Our make do and mend approach has been harnessed to resolve the issue of our shoes. Regular blog readers will remember they were being singly carried around by the dog, and often taken alarmingly close to the water. Even in such a confined space, we were forever hunting the missing shoe or trying to fish its partner from the canal with our plastic-catching net. Using what we had on board we now have a shoe rail which takes shoes out of the dog’s interest zone if not his height. It fits neatly under the gunwale so is using currently wasted space. The next project is to sort something similar to protect crucial wellies and walking boots from our retriever!

    Shoes in pairs – for the first time in 6 weeks!

    The other project of the week was lighting. The kitchen (galley if you prefer) had existing lights on the ceiling and wall behind the person cooking or washing up. Made a good excuse for not washing up the evening meal debris until it was daylight so you could see what you were doing…but wasn’t ideal when chopping vegetables. Injuries are something we need to avoid. Steve’s solution has imbued the kitchen with a touch of Hollywood glamour with a strip of glitzy LEDs above the hob and sink area – so no more injured fingers or morning piles of washing up!

    Washing too is getting easier – thanks to the historic French wine making technique. Trampling clothes during my shower and rinsing them off afterwards is proving very effective for many items. Economical with water too which is always important. They dry well above the stove but are now left to drip into the shower tray for a while as my pathetic first attempts at wringing out resulted in buckets and bowls catching the cascading drips to stop the boat flooding from the inside! Maybe I need a mangle? Has anyone one they don’t want any more?

    A key requirement has been a rug for the wood floor, so I have made a start. T-shirts from the days we could run and race together (and donations – thanks Emma) are reduced to long strips which I plait before sewing together into a rag rug. Should keep me entertained in the now dark evenings and one chair is getting a comfier back whilst I wind the ever-increasing plait round it to stop it from tangling up or becoming a dog toy! If any of you crafty people out there have any idea how long the plait needs to be for a 2m x 1m rug please let me know – it seems never-ending right now!

    Several people have been contacting us saying they’d like to visit which is lovely (although after my description of our boat you may change your minds) but Covid has us confused again. If people come and visit us and they are in a Tier 3 or 2 area do they need to stay outside the boat or does a boat with all doors and windows open count as inside? We are currently heading back into Leicestershire having travelled via the Grand Union, Oxford, Coventry and Ashby Canals.

    I have begun planning a 2-week store cupboard in case we get frozen in when winter hits but now I am thinking of it as a Covid-lockdown store. One thing we should be alright for a while is fuel for the essential stove – Mark on Callisto, one of the working boats, delivered to us whilst we were moored on the Welford Arm so we have enough fuel for warmth and cooking for a while.

    In France we know friends are back in lockdown – if it happens to us again, where will we be if we are forced to stop travelling? We will have to wait and see. The one thing we know for sure – it will certainly be a very different lockdown for us from the last if it happens.

    Warning – chains, treats, images of underwear and a shoe crisis

    I am cursing Boris…for a variety of reasons, but in this instance for forcing me to struggle through 12 bloody-minded locks in drizzle which turned to a downpour in a bid to escape his threatened lockdown and travel somewhere – anywhere!

    In the right order too, the locks from into, through and out of Leicester and from river to canal.

    We did it. We…

    1.Beat Boris’s anticipated lockdown although like many I am weeping tears of confusion over the tiers confusion. I feel likely to breach the rules through ignorance rather than intent.

    2. Made it off the river to the canal – makes flooding more unlikely although not impossible but increases the chances of being left aground by drained pounds and leaks… ah well…

    3. Have dry clothes thanks to a daughter with washing machine and dryer and a cunning system over the stove which works well at night. If it’s up in the day we keep getting slapped in the face by wet whatever’s! Now moving further from family so we need to become self sufficient on the washing and drying front…

    Latest lessons learned… Always put on waterproofs at the first sign of rain or you end up putting them on over damp clothes…Don’t believe media or political PR hype over what the Government might do next…Take your time with trials that are a battle, going slowly might mean you spend longer in the rain but slow and sure works best…Keep a Thermos for instant hot drinks between locks – quick comforts count!

    My new slow cooker is a multi-tasking delight.

    The boat has a Morso Squirrel on board. It was here when we bought the boat, and has had considerable work this year to get it safely working well.

    As a result it heats the boat (we have no central heating which may prove interesting in the depths of winter, and reduce visitors); it dries clothes (in small quantities as you have seen – apologies); and simultaneously produces warming treats of beautifully baked potatoes and full meals – what more could we ask?

    It is also hugely relaxing to watch the patterns of dancing flames as evening falls.

    Autumn in chains

    On the subject of relaxation and treats we both had birthdays this week and indulged in buying ourselves some chains we’ve wanted for a while.

    The nervous among you need not panic – this is nothing risqué – they hold the boat when mooring on piling. We find them much easier than the previous nappy pins we used to use (sure there is a more technical term…).

    Mooring in the rain or cold is now quicker.

    This really has been a time crammed with treats, new experiences and excitement. Our first time paying for overnight mooring – resulting in no mud walkways, wharf side showers, toilets, electricity all the time – thanks to Union Wharf at Market Harborough. Leisure cruising as we know it owes its existence to this delightful market town. Seventy years ago the Inland Waterways Association was launched at this compact Wharf. Now it’s a hub for holiday boats which are proving a popular staycation option in 2020. We found the holiday boat Spotted Wren housing some friends of ours – a lovely surprise.

    The week brought Zoom and MS teams meetings as well as virtual visitors to the boat. Some of the latter brought wine (always welcome) and a certain very special small visitor brought another new perspective to our ever-changing life. He devoured the duck bread, gave us a fabulous excuse to jump in puddles, indulge in a steam train ride, and enjoy lots of singing.

    Another highlight was a Michelin-starred dinner courtesy of our family Fab 4 and the amazing John’s House – an incredible experience and taste sensation.

    Somehow we snaffled time to walk another section of the 100 mile Leicestershire Round. We are slowly walking our way along it all.

    The dog finds water wherever he goes – the lead is attached so I can get him out!

    We finished the week making the trip up Foxton Locks, a flight of locks which we have only ever descended before. This 75ft climb in 10 locks is arranged in two staircases of5 locks apiece. It is a feat of engineering which rightly attracts gongoozlers (idle spectators apparently). We ended up with welcome help from the fabulous volunteer Canal and Rivers Trust lockies but also about 7 small enthusiastic gongoozlers who were far from idle and happy to be marshalled into enthusiastic service on the lock gates! Result – 10 locks in under an hour.

    Great views as you climb, including those of our unique camouflage-style roof

    Who knows where we will head next but after 5 weeks living on board we are

    • still afloat and on the move
    • still speaking to each other
    • still trying to work out how to wash and dry anything big
    • still trying to find a way of storing shoes in little space so the dog doesn’t carry them singly to us and drop them overboard – if he does it often enough we won’t have to worry as there won’t be any left! If anyone has any ideas on this front let me know.

    I will be charting daily images from our journey on our Instagram pickingupducks if you fancy following that with the weekly blog taking a longer look at this, our alternative way through what is our new normal.

    Man overboard, a marathon and fear

    Our first night of permanent living on the boat felt much like another holiday on board, albeit more crowded with ‘stuff’ and surrounded by familiar things from home.

    Our first morning brought high drama. 6.08am in September without streetlights is dark. Our black spaniel returned to the boat from his morning constitutional and gleefully jumped from a pontoon to the black bow of the boat. He missed. Black dog in inky black water in the dark.

    An avid swimmer by choice this sudden plunge into cold water startled him and was thrashing around. Being still on a lead stopped him from being swept downstream but there is only so long you can keep a dog on a collar and lead with a current tugging him away.

    Well aware of the never-go-in-after-crew-overboard warning I leaned from the boat into the water to try and grab him. With fluffy dressing-gowned arms (not exactly clad for a crisis) I managed to grasp him under his front legs in the water. He calmed and I supported him whilst we formulated a rescue plan.

    Hauling 20kg of saturated spaniel up from below the boat took two of us using a towel under him as a hoist. We landed him. All exhausted and totally drenched. The early morning now-smelly swimmer shook himself with glee all over us and headed into the cabin for a snooze!

    Sleep is important for wild water swimmers – this one now owns a life jacket with a grab handle!

    At first light after a change of clothes, we set off to our first continuous mooring stop…an adventurous few hundred metres from our now-let home! We calculated the maximum 14-day mooring allowed on our licence terms would support us to manage work, caring duties and enable hubby to run his 26.2 mile London Marathon on familiar routes.

    The day before the marathon brought an email warning from Canal and Rivers Trust advising us not to move as the river was in flood. We knew. The boat was rising steadily, the indicator board at the nearby lock was on red, the river flowing fast around us, and rain was hammering again on our metal roof. The night before the marathon we were out in the storm loosening mooring ropes by torchlight, drenched in minutes.

    Levels rose in the dark and water thundered menacingly to the nearby weir. I thought of all who have fought to save their homes against unrelenting flood waters. Natural disasters against which we often feel helpless and rely on expertise of specialists to save us is like the flood of Covid sweeping our countries. For me it reinforces the importance of people over possessions. If those we love are safe, possessions are secondary considerations.

    Two burning questions kept me awake – would the mooring ropes hold, and if they did, would we wake to a towpath or 380 degree river?

    We woke astonishingly to pale sunshine and clear towpath to which we were still attached. Steve left with dry feet and ran 26.2miles for Victa, a fabulous small charity who support children with sight issues and their families. Thanks to all who ran with him and sponsored him. He’s on Virgin money giving, Steve Ingham, London Marathon if you want to support him too.

    I ran too despite my meniscus tear –  ran a feed station by the boat! It was appreciated by many runners during the morning – some familiar running friends, but many new faces.

     

    Believe it or not this is AFTER 26.2miles

    So the morning after the marathon by the terms of our licence if the flood warning was lifted we had to go… it wasn’t and we didn’t which was handy because Covid played another curved ball. An important small person’s pre-school closed for a deep clean for a week. So we sat tight, helped, worked, played, watched water levels and I tried to learn patience.

    At the end of the week came the travel with caution email. We set off with as much alacrity, as you can with a top speed of 4 mph. We headed south, aiming to swap rivers for canals for a bit, and avoid the rumoured Covid lockdown.

    This next part of our journey didn’t disappoint. It was uplifting, breathtakingly beautiful at times and that was all in 24 hours. I didn’t want to rush anything (was that the patience lesson?).

    Enjoy sharing some of that beauty with us

    IMG_20201011_082450_017

    We now face some big questions…
    Can we beat Boris and make it through lockdown areas before they lock down?
    Can we make it off the river and onto the canal before more rain/flooding?
    And most pressing – can we dry enough clothes before we run out?

    Covid has sent us to the…ducks…

    It seemed a remarkably easy decision to make after 6 months of working flat out through lockdown – give up the job, house and car. Move onto a 50ft 31-year old narrowboat to live a simpler, ecological more friendly life and see if it is more satisfying, more fulfilling with just ducks for neighbours. Idealistic or idiotic? Only one way to find out…

    A particularly friendly neighbour

    So 3 weeks ago the three of us, husband, self and spaniel moved to our floating home. It was a quick decision to make but it took some months to realise.

    We had a big advantage – we had a boat, not in a condition to live on full time but then perhaps it’s a bit like having a child – are you ever ready or if you wait until you think you are, is it going to be too late or will you ever do it?

    So other major things needed sorting to make our dream a reality…

    • I had to give 3 months notice from my job in UK higher education
    • The contents of a 4-bedroomed house won’t fit into space of 50ft long by arms length width so I turned to eBay and Facebook market place, making some sentimentally tough decisions and meeting some delightful people in the process
    • We needed to refit parts of the boat for full time living…
    • …to dispose of a car…
    • …and decide what to do with a house – rent or sell because we needed the money so we couldn’t leave it empty

    In the main we have managed these tasks and in the past 3 weeks onboard we have learned some valuable life lessons; rescued one crew member from murky depths; supported another crew member to complete the London Marathon; and we’ve been trapped by rising flood waters… All will be explored in next week’s blog together with answers to some of the many questions we are being asked by friends, family and those we have met on this journey.

    Thanks Covid for giving us the push – the now or never realisation. Things are up in the air already for us all anyway. Will this move work? Is it inspiring or idiotic? Can we survive? Should fear or doubt stop us trying? Will Covid in the end stop us realising our dream? Join us on this journey of a lifetime to find out.