Pickingupducks

Belonging as boat people and walking with royalty

How long does it take to put down roots, to feel a sense of belonging, to feel part of a community?

Being a nomad, I reckon a couple of days often does it for me, but I am aware it’s different for each individual. For the first time for a very long time, we have been in one place almost continuously for the past 6 weeks (we have had to move to access water and waste facilities). We are heading off again this weekend, but in that time we have felt welcomed, included and generously made to feel we belong by the people who are living in this beautiful village of Grafton Regis near which we are moored. We also know from their honest conversations with us that they don’t always feel this way about “boat people”.

Boats housing people who become locals for various periods of time

It got me thinking about how we as permanent “boat people” we seek to belong, to integrate, and why we do so if we are somewhere for a while. It works for us and is as much for us as it is for those around us and for future perceptions of all of us who live afloat on the inland waterways.

Subconsciously, I realise we have adopted 3Cs over the years, perhaps whether afloat or not, as we have become used to moving and living in different countries, different places, and different communities.

Communicate – in a shared language or if no shared language exists (which we have encountered in places), then with smiles and signs; through universal languages of art, music, hobbies, cooking or laughter. I will remain indebted to all who took time to help me learn their language and customs to help me integrate and belong. Even though I no longer live among them, I know without exaggeration that their kindness changed me for the better.
– by taking time to talk and more often to listen
– by asking questions about the local area, what they love about it, and what we should see or do while here

Contribute – by getting involved in small ways that make a difference to the whole community.
– by litter-picking the local area (not just the towpath – 10 black bin sacks full so far during this stay),

Another haul of cans, bottles and take away wrappers

– by finding out what needs doing locally (nettle weeding in the churchyard this time round for me),
– by getting involved as Canal and River Trust volunteers in the locality (we’ve collected an old bike and transported it to a rubbish facility, litter-picked the towpath and cleared weeds from a weir)
– by supporting local village stores, farm shops and pubs (I knew going to the pub was a positive!)

Care – looking after the area around the boat and showing our appreciation of its beautiful position

– making sure we demonstrate a willingness and enthusiasm to learn about where we are and what is around us

– showing gratitude for advice on pubs, good dog walks, access to private land and being shown the best foraging spots. In this instance I’ve taken time to walk up to the village with thank you pots of crab apple and rosehip jelly

-keeping our dog under control being aware not all walkers like dogs, and aways clearing up after it

– moving on leaving nothing behind to show where we were apart from some flattened grass and hopefully leaving the area better for our stay

Today, we will move on as some locks are now unlocked because water levels have risen. One day I hope we will return to this little vilage in Northamptonshire but in the meantime, before we leave we will do one last litter-pick, call to say thank you and farewell to many of the villagers who have befriended us during our stay, and leave knowing so much more about English history than we did before. On our last farewell visit, we are likely to walk the same paths frequented by local girl Elizabeth Woodville, wife of King Edward IV and mother of the Princes in the Tower. She was crowned Queen of England on May 26 1465. And she wasn’t the only monarch in whose footsteps we are walking.

As we walk across the fields with the dog one last time, we may well be following the very routes taken by Henry VIII, his huntsmen and hounds, as this was one of his manors (coincidentally he swapped it for those of Loughborough and Shepshed in Leicestershire- places we also know well). The kites that whistle and call above us now inhabit the same skies as did Henry’s hunting hawks.

This former and very famous king will have seen, just as we have, the change of colours into autumn across these spectacular landscapes.

It seems remarkable that I never realised that it was here that the fated meeting with Cardinal Wolsey which led to the dramatic dissolution of the monasteries was held. History truly was made in this tiny area of Northamptonshire, a place you might now miss if you just speed past it on the A508. If you can detour into the wonderful church here then the remarkable history is encapsulated in one of the most remarkable, entertaining and unique interactive ways I have ever encountered.

Just push open the door to be transported back through the centuries

While we have been here, we survived unscathed the first named storm of the year, Storm Amy. This is the place where the man who introduced the first storm warnings for shipping in 1861, was born, a man now remembered in the daily shipping forecasts.

Vice Admiral Robert FitzRoy, captained the Beagle, the ship that transported Charles Darwin on his expeditions; designer of the FitzRoy barometer; pioneer of the science of weather forecasting and Governor of New Zealand. In March 2002 Finisterre, one of the 31 sea areas around the British coast was renamed FitzRoy to honour him and his work.

The forecast for his area today reads:
FitzRoy:

WIND

Northeasterly veering easterly, 3 to 5, but 6 or 7 at first near Finisterre, becoming variable 3 or less later in south.

SEA STATE

Moderate, occasionally rough until later.

WEATHER

Drizzle in north.

VISIBILITY

Moderate or good.

His sea area is conveniently adjacent to Trafalgar, whose memorable battle in 1805, the year FitzRoy was born, was Nelson’s final success.

This talk of the sea puts me in mind that over the 6 weeks we have been here, 4,603 individuals have arrived in the UK in small boats. They too are “boat people”. For their success and well-being, their involvement and integration, however long they stay here, they too will need to put down roots, to feel a sense of belonging and a sense of community. As we know, even a short stay can contribute and be positive. How these people are supported by communities to integrate, to understand the rich heritage, complex language and idiosyncrasies of the UK nations, however long they remain, will play a large part in their futures and in the well-being and success of the areas where they stay.

Small matters

Living and working afloat is rich in small moments.

Small things that make days special. Small moments of pause. Small moments of reflection. Small moments of calm or small moments of excitement and drama.

I believe we have more of these revitalising moments every day than we did when we lived in bricks and mortar. Perhaps it is that we have stepped back consciously from the hamster wheel of life and work, making ourselves more open to these moments. Perhaps it is that we live closer to nature, to the outdoors that makes us more aware, that brings us more of these special small meaningful events.

They are moments which we all should seek whatever we do for work or however we live. They are moments of well being, of recharging, of reflective wonder or sheer pleasure.

As the beginnings of Storm Amy are making themselves felt with rain and winds, my small moments of satisfaction are in sound ropes and a safe mooring. Every time the rain clatters on the metal roof, I feel a small frisson of glee that I am safe inside, in the dry and warm.

I feel joy in my own efforts too. The clean sheets on the bed are sheer pleasure. (Making a narrowboat bed is no mean feat but it really repays the effort).

In the past 48 hours alone, I’ve delighted in:

Rainfall – we all need it so much
Watching fluid patterns created on the water by raindrops
Finding a favourite mooring available just for us
Watching reflections of sunlight on the water dance across the wooden ceiling of the boat
Been mesmerised by ducks doing pilates in the rain outside the window as I washed up, entertaining me
Finding a mooring away from tall trees when a storm is forecast
Knowing the water tank is full and the toilet tanks empty
Going to a shop and finding mince pies
Carrying them back down the towpath eagerly anticipating that mince pie with a cuppa
Enjoying that cuppa and the mince pie
Passing someone on the towpath when out with the dog. Smiling and speaking to each other. Little enjoyable moments of human contact demanding nothing, expecting nothing but sharing a moment
Gaps in the rain that allow for collecting herbs and coal from the roof without getting drenched

All these little things add up. They bring joy and contentment.

Focusing on the small, positive details of life, can build up to days or months or years of such moments of surprise, pleasure, enjoyment or delight.

Sometimes they can be the tiny incremental things that rebalance us after bigger events have thrown us off course. Recognising that small matters and small adds up is vital.

We can all find those small moments. Sometimes it is harder to stop and look for them, but it will repay us if we do.

Steeling ourselves for the future

Trust is vital when you let someone cut out a chunk of your floating home with an angle grinder while you’re on the water…

Trust we had but I still feel glad the dramatic work is over, and we are still afloat! It was something that had to happen.

So why did we need to have the whole well deck (deck at the front/bow/pointy end) cut away?

Take a look at how it looked before the work. Rusty and getting thinner by the year. Walking on it was about to become a game of chance. The risk was if your foot went through the thinning deck you would end up with a very wet damaged leg – the well deck being the top of our water tank!

Over two years ago, we found an angle grinder/welding wizard – Kev Kyte. His work changed the safety and ease of living on our boat then, and now he’s done it again!

We have streamlined the boat at the bow internally in the process. For now the structure on top of the well deck that supported wooden planks that we used as seats are gone. We used to store much underneath them – coal, wood, all sorts of things we couldn’t decide whether to throw out or not! It is now a large (relative to a 50ft boat) open space, with a more flush water tank lid, all covered with a fitted canvas, which gives us the opportunity to rethink its use.

Our aim is to allow us a chance to consider how we want and need to use this space, and to maximise it rather than use it as a dumping ground which would be the temptation if we returned it as it was. Ideas at the moment are for moveable seating at different heights, fixed storage and potentially in the future, a new fuel tank to supply a diesel stove. The latter is a future-proofing thought – a way of removing the effort and need to haul around a ton of coal every year onto and into the boat to supply our heating.

So this work was the first stage of new plans for the future and for a valuable section of the boat. We also had an invitation this week to get involved in a different but equally forward thinking and vital planning exercise – bringing two of my personal passions together. Academia and narrowboats – an odd combination perhaps but one I’m used to remotely (via online) or with only one or two academics on board with me. This though was over 30 academics all at once. A logistical nightmare perhaps, but not when spread over 3 boats.

Academic away days can be many things – when I mentioned it to another former lecturer she recalled basement rooms with little light, another remembered an expensive hotel with over-active heating, both considered they were exhausted and drained by the end of the day. The group we had were invigorated, revitalised by fresh air and sunshine, and from the look of those on the boat I was invited to skipper, hugely productive. Tasks were allocated to be completed between locks or pause points, and when you are chugging along in the middle of a river with the only distractions being ducks, swans, a heron, a cormorant and a kingfisher (sadly the latter only spotted by me on the tiller), focus and completion don’t seem so difficult.

Groups changed within the boats and tackled a variety of academic tasks as we went through the day. We weren’t on the padlocked section of waterway where we are currently moored but on a river with working locks, so the groups had physical exercise and new lessons to learn too.

Thanks to the friend and former colleague from Loughborough University for the invitation to an inspired, inspiring and hugely fun away day. Rumble, Fumble and Jumble from Sileby Mill proved perfect foils for an effective day of planning and team buildimg with a real difference. Huge thanks too to the colleague who was happy to provide accommodation to work with me off our boat later in the week (and provide a comfy space for Boatdog too) while welding work was going on!

And a final thanks to the dentist who fitted me in for an emergency dental appointment. Living afloat doesn’t make us immune to such necessities, but fortunately that’s the first required in 5 years for either of us.

So another memorable, busy, and productive week afloat to start our 6th year afloat. Next week is looking alarmingly full already – and there is talk of the padlocks being opened in Northamptonshire for three weeks from 10 October, and then two flights of locks on the Leicester Line being open for use from 27 October for one week. That means, all being well and more water appearing from the skies to continue replenishing reservoirs, we may have the chance to move next month back into Leicestershire to cruise there through the winter months.

Results from an experiment in living differently

Our “Let’s give it 2 years and see what happens” experiment in living and working afloat has just passed 5 years!

In that time with our 50ft floating home/office/workshop we have travelled 3,530 miles, worked her through 2,328 locks (counting locks we’ve officially lock wheeled for others in that time we have worked 3,043 locks).

It was our response to the pandemic. A wonderful catalyst that forced us to stop saying “If only…” and say “Why not? What have we got to lose?”

It’s been five years in which we have travelled with our boat to the heart of London, to the glorious countryside of Yorkshire and Lancashire, into Wales and this year we went down to Bath via Oxfordshire, taking in the Thames, and a section of the tidal Thames. We have taken in every one of the Seven Wonders of the Waterways.

We set out accompanied by the incomparable cocker Cola. Having lost him after 15 years together and several happy years afloat we were joined by furry Freya Boatdog – the cockerpoo.

Right now we are stationary. Low water has brought us along with many boaters to a halt, waiting for rain to refill reservoirs and restock water courses. We are patiently locked in Northamptonshire in a beautiful spot and as we are still afloat, there’s no hardship right now. We aren’t where we aimed to be for winter, but maybe we will be able to move before then. Low water levels caused by severely reduced rainfall over the past two years plus heatwaves has resulted in over 400 miles of waterways being temporarily closed by Canal and River Trust.

It’s a chance for us to take stock on another year afloat. We started this year in Church Lawton, Stoke-on-Trent on the Trent and Mersey canal and we ended it in Grafton Regis in Northamptonshire. In between we travelled a waterway new to us – the unexpectedly delightful Caldon Canal. Winding its way from the industrial heartland of Etruria, through Potteries villages and the scenic Staffordshire countryside, its two very distinct arms took us to Leek and then through the incredibly low Froghall Tunnel – possibly the lowest on the network- to Froghall Basin. 9

That gave me a chance to meet up with an old school friend I hadn’t seen for years, and what a delightful catch up that was and led to further meets too – thanks Karen Webb. I do hope that extensions to the Caldon can be completed in years to come taking boat traffic into Leek (which we adore) and Uttoxeter. Both market towns would, as similar sized places already do, benefit from having the focal points of canal basins encouraging water-borne and other tourism.

From the Caldon we headed south along the Trent and Mersey to make it onto the Erewash Canal. We have dipped our boating toes onto the Erewash before but Covid struck us down and we never finished its whole length. This time we did, through the rural, the industrial, through locks that were seriously hard work and sections with sunken boats to Langley Mill. Once more we discovered new places and met up with old friends and colleagues who introduced us to more cafes and pubs.

Whilst on the Erewash we made it to the unique and renowned Sheetstores Marina for welding work to the battery tray in readiness for a new era on nb Preaux, and then found ourselves trapped by a lock repair outage at Ratcliffe that was delayed by flooding. For the first time in our boating history we booked ourselves a winter mooring. But it was the other side of the lock – at Barrow upon Soar.

Fifteen days after we began paying for our mooring, we finally reached it, and began a new way of boatlife for a few months. Family, walks to and from school, standing on the sidelines of football matches and training nights, and two highly successful Christmas trading markets on land.

On 6 January waters rose. We know the Soar and know it floods, but this flood was unexpectedly high. I hate the overused word unprecedented but that’s what they were. Higher than ever before. People were evacuated by the Fire Brigade from boats, caravans, and houses. We sat tight once we had splashed back to the boat, lengthened the ropes and checked them every few hours. At 2pm the peak was reached and a slow subsidence began. We breathed more easily knowing we had survived even though months of mud would follow.

By the end of January waters were navigable again and we made it to our location for new battery fitting. The highly knowledgeable and efficient Ed Shiers of Four Counties Marine installed a LifeFE PO4 battery with a new alternator, alternator controller and all associated wiring. It really has changed how we live and saved us so much on diesel. It allows us to maximise and store the solar available. We no longer have to run the engine on days without solar when we aren’t moving but need power, and it has allowed us to move away from gas for cooking. The only need for gas on our boat was for cooking but now we have an induction hob. We no longer need to buy and lug heavy gas canisters, or pull them from their lockers to change them over. The lockers are now extra storage spaces.

We made the most of our winter mooring stationary location to undertake training and become CRT volunteers which was a wonderful opportunity. It has also allowed us to volunteer as we have travelled when we can meet up with local groups, and enables us to volunteer by ourselves as rangers.

In March the next major change to the boat began as our old kitchen, sitting room and dining area was stripped out. Ben, an incredibly talented craftsman from Holm Oak Trading made and installed a kitchen/diner/office that has become the envy of many friends from boat and bricks and mortar homes alike. Crafted from oak, maple, black walnut and beech, this kitchen has given us so much storage and is a thing of beauty to be admired and caressed as well as used. 0

By April we were underway once more in our new look home, heading onto yet more waterways new to us. The Aylesbury Arm with the delightful Circus Fields marina was another unexpected find. We also explored the Wendover Arm to its conclusion but only sadly on foot as a breach has left it dewatered. We prepared to turn towards London aiming to head onto the tidal Thames and Thames to get across to the Kennet and Avon but just as we were about to do so a lock near London went out and word was it would take a long time to repair.

We turned back, a detour adding 106 miles and another 24 locks to our journey. This meant we reached the Kennet and Avon via the Oxford, South Oxford, and non-tidal River Thames. On the way we were towed through a broken lock – thanks CRT – learned how to river moor sometimes attached to trees.

Boatdog became super confident at walking our 8ft planks to get on and off the boat, and together we explored new swathes of the countryside by boat and foot.

The K&A deserves at least a blog to itself because it is so diverse. We travelled its length to Bath and then returned because lock closures on the main network were underway. Our route back was via the Thames and the tidal Thames to Brentford where we joined the Grand Union once more.

This year then we have discovered 7 waterways new to us, the Caldon, Erewash, Aylesbury and Wendover Arms, Kennet and Avon Canal, the entire non-tidal River Thames, and a section of the tidal Thames.

Our 5th year has taken us 764 miles, through 669 locks including a descent and ascent of the famous Caen Hill Flight of 29 locks, and 19 tunnel trips resulting in 12.5 miles travelled underground.

We have met some delightful people on and off the water, had great times with family, seen lots of old friends for much needed catch ups, made new friends, met just one man I’d rather never see again in a GRP cruiser, seen breathtaking scenery, sunsets and the occasional sunrise which we were up in time for, and have gained another year of fabulous memories. After 8 years of owning our boat, we have made major changes and updates to her, changes that make living on her even more enjoyable.

We have fed countless swans, cygnets, ducks and ducklings. Been enthralled by kingfishers, herons, moorhens and Canada geese. Delighted in tawny and barn owls, green and lesser spotted woodpeckers, foraged for our cupboards and meals and revelled in our slower, more thoughtful life.

What’s next? Well, the first thing is to see if and when the locks ahead of us are going to open and if they do for us to move nearer to family for Christmas and we have on land Christmas trading fairs booked. We have some major welding work booked in to make life even better.

After that? Well, Birmingham has more miles of canal than Venice apparently and we still have many sections around Birmingham to explore, so those are beckoning.

Our 2 year experiment that’s become a 5 year lifestyle shows no sign of ending! Living this way has its challenges but those are part of the appeal. Life would be boring if it was without excitement.

We remain together, afloat in all senses, and looking ahead to what our 6th year afloat will bring.

Free food and well-being

There is little as rewarding for mind and body as a foraging stroll, ideally for me with a dog, along towpath hedgerows.

This year despite the drought, many fruits are early and so plentiful boughs are groaning under the weight and sweet scents accompany every walk. Gleams of orange, red and purply black signal ripeness and plenty ready for the taking.

It is easy this year to stick to the foraging code of only taking a maximum of a third of the available finds leaving plenty for wildlife and future propagation. Even so, the beautiful cupboards on the boat built for us by the brilliant Ben of Holm Oak Trading, are already brimming with delights. We are running out of bottles and jars, and still the fruits beckon us to use them every time we step outside.

So what have we found and what are we using already?

On our way back from Bath we picked green walnuts, blackberries, damsons, Mirabelle plums and bullace. Since then on our last three moorings we have found apples and pears and in the past couple of weeks at have been preserving rosehips, sloes, crab apples, elderberries and blackberries to see us through the winter and into next year. Jars, bottles, fridge and freezer have been commandeered to cope with the glut on offer. We have gorged ourselves on fruit crumbles and enjoyed fresh fruits on cereals, as desserts and just as treats.

The satisfaction of simply walking the dog, collecting fruit as I go, returning laden with goodies and spending a few hours turning them into jams, jellies, gins and sauces is immeasurable. Every time I look at the labelled jars and bottles I feel a joy that exceeds the reduction in the shopping bill. It is something to do with returning to simplicity, being part of a centuries-old tradition and keeping skills going.

Living afloat means we live in an historic tradition in part. Our boats now have horsepower of a different type with mechanical engines, our boat interiors house modern floating homes carrying comfort not cargo, but the past is part of our daily lives. Knowing we walk the towpaths treading in the hoofprints of the horses which pulled the boats, passing the worn grooves in the metal rubbing strips saving bridge stones from the wear of the ropes, using the locks and swing bridges boaters have manipulated for centuries, brings us into direct daily contact with the past.

Making the most of the free harvest on offer along the towpaths is another thing we share with previous generations, whether they were boaters or not. I remember my grandmothers pantry in autumn, shelves groaning with bottles and jars. Each labelled in her spidery hand, telling of a makers’ pride. Some of the things she made I don’t, and wouldn’t have a clue about, the space for or the desire to eat – pickled eggs for one. But there are many things I have made this past week that have a strong connection to those laden shelves of my memories.

Rosehips, those vibrant orange-red oblongs scattered along the hedgerows, beloved of small boys for itching powder because of the tiny irritant hairs within them, were discovered to have 20 times the Vitamin C of an equivalent quantity of oranges. When citrus fruits were scarce in the Second World War, the Ministry of Food exhorted women in 1943 to collect them and bottle a rosehips syrup to keep them and their families healthy.

I have been collecting them this week and combining them with crab apples to create a luscious golden jelly that has a sweetness with a tart edge to it.

Crab apples are very versatile, which is good this year as they are everywhere. The round or oval fruits, sometimes green, sometimes flushed with red are ready when they start to fall, and quite frankly they are falling so thickly that they are ankle breakers for anyone running down the towpaths near us at the moment.

They have so many uses – for jellies, wine, apple butter, or as a tangy addition to crumbles when combined with ordinary apples.

Sloes, the fruit of the blackthorn with their gleaming purple-black polished skins have found their punctured way into gin to make sloe gin that should be ready for Christmas and beyond (if the bottles last that long!). It is important to make sure they are sloes – and the thorns easily spotted on the older wood of the tree will help correct identification.

Blackberries and elderberries have merged into a hedgerow preserve, thst makes an absolutely delicious sauce for desserts, ice creams and cereals. Cutting or pinching the clusters of elderberries from the tree and then taking them from stems with a fork is a simple, repetitive and meditative process. Green or spoiled berries find their way through the swan hatch to the waiting ducks, swans or fish. Nothing is wasted.

There don’t seem many elderberries near our current mooring this year. Perhaps there were so many flowers early in the season that many people were out gathering them for cordials and wines, resulting in fewer berries, but maybe the birds have taken more than their fair share too. On the offside of the canal are elderberries and the blue tits, coal tits, robins and blackbirds are feasting there every day. They are welcome to those – out of my reach and a pleasure to watch them all taking their turns at the sweet black berries.

If I have time next week , shall look forward to experimenting with fruit vinegars of blackberries and crab apples, and making some fruit leathers, another excellent way of preserving fruit. Any other ideas would be gratefully received.

I’ve always thought I don’t have the space to make wine, but if you make your own wine, do you find it takes up a lot of space? Is it something you would recommend, and if so, what foraged fruits do you use?

The satisfaction of foraging and of making are two separate delights, which are then added to by the joy of consuming or giving away the items made from the hedgerows. This week, the local dogwalker who pointed me in the direction of rosehips was delighted with a jar of rosehip and crab apple jelly. Giving is good, and when the fruit is free, it is really a gift of love and labour.

By narrowboat to America for world guidance

Travelling to the United States of America by narrowboat is not something I ever thought we would be able to do, but this summer, we did just that.

We travelled down the River Thames to the Berkshire/Surrey border, moored our boat home with the help of a handy English oak, and set off on foot a few hundred yards to a symbolically carved wooden gate to step onto American soil.

This beautiful gate reminds us of the importance of an approach that aligns to a narrowboat way of life – slow but sure. It reminds us that our actions may not bear fruit in our lifetimes but that we must begin those actions in order for them to ultimately be achieved.

The gate leads into a single acre of American soil situated in Runnymede gifted to the United States by the late Queen Elizabeth II in 1965 to commemorate President John F Kennedy.

The content of the 35th President of the USA’s Presidential Address from January 1961 seems even more pertinent with the current situation in his country. He told all Americans to unite for their country. “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.”

He called on all nations of the world to join America in a fight against the “…common energies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease and war itself.” Success he said would take time, no instant quick fix, but it was beholden on us all to start the work to achieve these essential goals.

Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas in November 1963 but the goals he set for himself, his government, and his nation are ones which we would all do well to support to bring to fruition.

Kennedy’s clear guidance for the world to understand the key position of America is carved on a 7 ton block of Portland Stone

“Let every nation know whether it wishes us well or ill that we shall pay any price bear any burden meet any hardship support any friend of oppose any foe in order to assure the survival and success of liberty.”

Leading from the memorial are 50 steps, one for each US State, and an overarching American Scarlet Oak. This acre of America stands within a stone’s throw of Runnymede where the Magna Carta was signed in 1215, the place seen as the birthplace of modern democracy.

The other most significant item for me within this area was a large circular building whose exterior belies its purpose- to house a remarkable installation by artist Mark Wallinger. Writ in Water harks back to a line on poet John Keats’ gravestone ‘Here lies one whose name was written in water.’

No clue outside to the magic that awaits inside

The building is a simple labyrinth with a central chamber open to the sky. It brings the heavens to reflect into a central pool with the sound of constantly flowing water, edged with inscribed steel. It is, like life, ever-changing with time and seasons.

That inscription reflected alongside the changing sky in the apparently bottomless dark pool, is the wording of Clause 39 from the Magna Carta. “No free man shall be seized or imprisoned or stripped of his rights or possessions or outlawed or exiled or deprived of his standing in any other way, nor will we proceed with force against him, or send others to do so, except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land.” This remains unchanged by time or the fluctuations of nature.

This is one of the most powerful, peaceful, thought-provoking and profound art installations I have ever experienced. Its power is in simplicity but complexity. The calming aound of water combines with the quiet induced by the embrace of the concrete labyrinth. Weeks later, its impact remains with me. If you have the chance to visit, don’t miss the opportunity.

It seems that all politicians of every hue here and in the United States would do well to visit both Writ in Water and to absorb the fundamentals set on American soil here in England. If they, and each of us in our small ways, would commit to continue the aims of Kennedy’s Presidential Address and the principles encapsulated in Clause 39, wouldn’t the world be a safer, happier place?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful each of us asked what can I do for this country where we live? Whether cleaning up graffiti or litter picking, being a volunteer or taking another selfless role, there is something every single one of us can do to make the world a better place. Why would anyone not do that?

Bagged litter pick heading to the bin – a small act but one that makes a difference

Historical perspectives and Operation Sanctuary result

We did it. The fable of the tortoise and the hare proved valid for (certain) narrowboats and their crews in 2025. Slow, dogged determination won the day against The Drought and The Closure of Locks to Preserve Water (capitals all mine!).

Slow it may have been but stressfree it was not.

We left Thatcham outside Newbury in Berkshire on the Kennet and Avon wondering how near to family in Leicestershire we could get our 50ft floating home and office before an announced lock closure that could continue until significant rainfall, so potentially until winter or next year.

Locks in Northamptonshire at Stoke Bruerne and Long Buckby on the Grand Union Canal would completely close at 3pm on 25 August. Getting any further north up the Leicester Line was already an impossible task, as the locks from Watford (near Watford Gap M1 Services) to Kings Lock outside Leicester closed on Tuesday 29 July.

So how far we wondered could we really get in 9 days?

Sat 16 August – 12 miles, 13 locks and 9 swing/lift bridges moved in 7hours. Moored at Fobney outside Reading.

Sun 17 August – 23.5 miles, 10 locks in 8 hours which took us off the Kennet and Avon Canal and onto the River Thames heading towards London.

Mon 18 August – 14 miles and 6 locks – horror moment in one lock when a widebeam in front of us got their stern rope caught and the whole boat crashed down into the water when they managed to get it free. Luckily all boats in the lock were well secured bow and stern so the resulting wave wasn’t damaging for us. We deliberately made it a shorter day because we have a booking for Wednesday at Teddington Lock and don’t want to be sitting there for 48 hours. We took time to visit Runnymede, home of the Magna Carta – more on this in a future post as it is very relevant to our current times. Met up with nb Siskin also heading up the Grand Union. They are aiming to book the same passage on the tidal section as we are.

Tues 19 August – 16 miles and 6 locks in 5 hours to Kingston-on-Thames. Time to walk the dog in Hampton Court deer park, and visit a supermarket to restock fridge and cupboards because we won’t have time until we reach our destination. Moored behind John and Linda on their 57ft tug nb Siskin doing much the same preparations.

Weds 20 August – 41 miles and 14 locks. Left Kingston anxious to cover the 30 miles to Teddington in good time. Such good time we had time for a coffee at a café, walks with the dogs and a lot of pacing before the right tide for us to leave the lock. We left Teddington Lock at 1300h, and had a trouble-free cruise to Thames Locks 101 – the Brentford entrance to the Grand Union. As required, I called the Port of London Authority as we left Teddington to warn them we were entering their waters and again as we checked off their patch. Suddenly we were wielding windlasses again, and saving water by keeping our two boats together through the locks – the narrowboat equivalent of 1976’s drought slogan ‘Save Water: Bath with a Friend.”

Coming off the Thames into the first GU lock

We carried on up to Southall, to the site of the former Passmores Dock. As we moored up a woman under the influence of something fell from a seat at a picnic table, banging her head and losing consciousness. Helped her somewhat inebriated companions put her in the recovery position until the ambulance came and once more – high praise for paramedics doing an incredibly professional job in very trying circumstances.

Thurs 21 August – setting off after an unexpectedly peaceful night we travelled 18.5 miles and 15 locks in 8 and a half hours. That got us to North Watford. We encountered one drained pound (a section between two locks) which we had to manage by letting enough water down to enable both boats to limp through a channel in the centre. A slow section like this had us all doubting we could make it up to Northamptonshire if more of these low water hurdles lay ahead.

Fri 22 August – another long day cruising for 8+ hours took us through 9 miles, 20 locks to Berkhampstead. We still wondered if we could make it to the Stoke Bruerne locks before they were closed and padlocked. Nb Siskin needed to get up the Stoke Bruerne flight of 6 locks to reach their mooring at a marina above them, but we had by this point decided we needed to stay below the locks, in an area which would allow us to cruise south and have access to essential facilities like water, waste and rubbish disposal and shops. We are likely to be wherever we end up for months after all, or until biblical rainfall restores levels in waterways and their reservoirs.

Sat 23 August – We woke with hope this morning. It all seemed more possible. It was a feeling that stayed with us for most of the day until being totally extinguished in the dark of the night. We crossed the Tring summit, the highest point of this section of the Grand Union today, and decided as the light was fading to pull in by The Globe at Linslade, just on the outskirts of Leighton Buzzard. We headed to the side first with the idea that as the pound was shallow Siskin with her deeper draft could moor alongside us in deeper water. That seemed a plan until we got stuck. Light was fading fast as we got clear with the help of Siskin towing us off and our barge pole bending horribly as it took the strain of keeping us away from the gloopy sucking silt. Thanks to a Bob Marley fan the barge pole was reunited with our boat, as was I, and with Siskin in the lead we edged our way in failing light past boats moored at alarming angles. Our plan was to reach the lock mooring at the top of Soulbury Three Locks. Lock moorings usually have less silt because they are subject to regular traffic movement. I swear we held our breath for the whole of painful progress up the 3 mile pound up to Soulbury. Our tunnel lights lit the way, and head torches helped us finally moor up. Just as we arrived heaving sighs of relief a man appeared from the darkness and asked if we were coming down the locks because he was going to run water down to flush his stuck boat through.

Dutch barge stuck sideways in first Soulbury lock pound above the pub in the dark

We reacted with horror – there were a large number of boats in that long pound, and taking water away could cause them really serious damage. We pleaded with him to call Canal and River Trust’s emergency line to get advice and help – maybe they have a pumping system for the locks for example, and went back to mooring our boats. As we walked to the (fortunately open) pub at the foot of the locks past the Dutch barge that was side-on in the first pound, calling CRT’s emergency line for them, we heard with relief they were on the other line. By the time we left after a much needed drink, CRT had them moored safely at the side of the pound, and our boats and others at the top of the flight were still afloat. A stressful, exhausting day of 19 miles, 29 locks, 1 swing bridge and the longest day’s cruising we have ever done at 13 hours.

Sun 24 August – If we were going to get Siskin to their home mooring before the literal lock down our aim was to be moored up at the base of the Stoke Bruerne flight by tonight. At 8.22am with the help of a voluntary lock keeper we moved the boats into Soulbury Top Lock. At 5.50pm after 20 miles and a final 6 locks we moored just where we hoped to be. Expecting to find lots of others in a similar situation we found just 1 other boat waiting to go up, and within an hour a third boat had arrived. There were though plenty of boats at the foot of the flight – the Weedon Narrowboats hire fleet has been repositioned there, and fortunately we also found Juels Fuels.

Mon 25 August – nb Siskin joined another boat heading up the flight bound for a marina at the top, and we walked up with Boatdog to lock them through the final 6 locks to their destination. As soon as a voluntary lock keeper unlocked the chains, the boats went in, and at 13.37 nb Siskin left the top lock. Success from a huge team effort!

Very glad to help another boat and together we made an effective team

Walking down after a celebratory visit to The Boat Inn, we glanced at how far we had travelled since leaving Bath 16 days before – along 205 miles, through 196 locks and 28 swing/lift bridges.

Now we have plenty of time to relax, to perfect rain dances and to reflect on the situation that surrounds us.

In 1976 when one of the previous longest and most severe droughts in recorded history happened, Britain’s canals were managed by British Waterways, a government body that operated from 1962 until 2012. Again low rainfall, combined with heat resulted in what was dubbed The Standpipe Drought. Standpipes, ordered by Minister for Drought, Denis Howel, brought communities to queue with buckets at street corners. He hit the media headlines by declaring he was saving water by following advice and sharing baths with his wife, Brenda. Within a short while of the standpipes and his appointment, he became known as the Minister for Floods as torrential rain deluged the UK ending the drought.

In that drought the Birmingham Canal Network was dry and derelict. Parts of Sheffield and Yorkshire’s waterways dried up, and the Grand Union locks at Stoke Bruerne were subject to usage restrictions from June until October. But information about the state of the waterways at the time was overshadowed by roads melting in the heat, railways stopping because of rails overheating, poor harvests, industrial output suffering, and wild fires.

Here in Northamptonshire where we currently are, local newspaper archives recall the 1976 standpipes, hosepipe bans, Pitsford Reservoir down 20ft, and said: “There were no more navigable canals in Northamptonshire and boat hire companies shipped out their craft to canals still open.”

It is worth remembering after a week of heavy rainfall restrictions were lifted on 15 October 1976, and since then, as we know, canal navigation has continued. Indeed, it has flourished.

This year the Ashton, Caldon, Grand Union, Leicester Line, Leeds and Liverpool, Macclesfield, Peak Forest, Rochdale, South Oxford and Trent and Mersey Canals are all affected by the drought. Canal and River Trust have advised boaters in the areas affected to empty waste, fill up fuel and water, consider relocating if they can and stock up on essential supplies if they can’t. When able to travel, boats should share locks to save water, open gates fully to avoid damage that creates leaks, and report leaks wherever they see them.

We are still afloat on our chosen long pound. We are not locked in, so we are subject as normal to the maximum stay in one place of 14 days, and we can move to services (especially good as one of our toilet cassettes has a malfunction). We will keep going and enjoying this life – even if we may seem a bit round the bend to some!

We can return to work rather than being focused every day on moving, and we can relax, enjoying the peace and tranquillity of the waterways which refuels us all, and we are also beginning to learn a few rain dances… Will they work? Who knows, but we’ve already surprised ourselves with what we can achieve in the past few weeks, and as I write we are actually enjoying some petrichor (noun: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm dry weather).

Long may the rain continue.

When a marathon is also a sprint

This time last week we were in West Berkshire, tootling along the Kennet and Avon determined to cross the Thames and Tidal Thames and see how far up the Grand Union we could get before the closures of canals due to low water levels which Canal and River Trust announced would happen on 26 August.

Since then at a maximum pace of 4mph on canals and 5mph on the River Thames, plus at least 15 minutes for each lock, we have travelled a total of 106 miles, 84 locks, moved 10 bridges and made it through a tidal section.

We have not only made it onto the Grand Union but at the time of wearily writing we are now in Hertfordshire. The stop planks that will prevent water flowing go in at Stoke Bruerne locks at 3pm on 25th (in good time for 26th apparently). If we went up we would then be effectively trapped in a watered area of 14 miles. We could shuttle up and down, access services etc.

However, if we don’t go up the Stoke Bruerne locks then we can access many more miles without restrictions, still having access to services, so I think our decision is made. We want to be as close for now to Milton Keynes and Northamptonshire as possible, but once we are somewhere within that radius we will be happy. We will need to be happy for several months as it looks as if the closures could be for around 3 months at least ‘until there is substantial rainfall’.

Our journey isn’t solo though, and we have become invested in the journey of another boat and her crew. John and Linda on NB Siskin have been sharing much of the journey since the Thames with us. We are sharing locks and effort, and their determination to get to the top of the Stoke Bruerne flight and onto their home mooring in a marina at the top has become a goal for us too. It doesn’t matter that we will be stopping before then. We are working out how to access our car and keep setting and filling and closing locks for them to get them on their way.

This is both a marathon and a sprint. It is a mammoth undertaking in a very short period of time, but everything we can do to help them get to their destination we are trying to do. It has been a delight travelling with them. They are interesting people, efficient and experienced boaters, and sharing the journey with them has made it go more easily for both boats. Wide locks are easier with two boats and two crews. The boats don’t move about so much so it is quicker to fill the locks. With a single boat in a wide lock operating paddles is slower, letting water in more gently to avoid the boat being catapulted from side to side.

This ingenious lock keeper opened the lock onto the tidal Thames for us using a cordless drill as they’d had a power outage!

Mind you, it hasn’t just been the four of us and or two Boatdogs. We’ve also had the help of three voluntary lock keepers on the Kennet and Avon, lock keepers on the Thames, scouts on a holiday narrowboat who were absolute stars, the crew of nb Oliander who went ahead setting Grand Union locks for us, and a CRT lock keeper at Crowley. People are generous with their time and supportive of those of us on a mission!

We’ve battled weed, loose boats, low that led to boats getting grounded, but we persevere.

As I write this, my shoulders ache from raising and lowering paddles, pulling gates open and shut, pulling ropes and I know the others are feeling it too. Steering a narrowboat is a physical drain, demanding on concentration and muscles too.

Manoeuvring round someone’s floating home that was totally afloat without any form of mooring ropes to tether it

As I write this we have 3 days to get them to their destination and 41 miles, 41 locks lie ahead of us. Early starts and long days look like being essential. Will we get them there? We will certainly try our level best. Will we make it? Stay with us to find out!

Drought forces Operation Sanctuary

As waterways are closing around the country through lack of water including England’s inland artery, the Grand Union, we are now on a race to get to somewhere we can live, work, and safely access water and waste disposal.

Closures abound – Canal & River Trust map

According to the National Drought Group this has been the driest year bar 1976 since records began in 1890. Drought has been officially declared in 6 areas of England. This is having a major impact on many sectors. We boaters who live on our boats and continually cruise (not having a home mooring or home marina), are being significantly affected. Reservoirs and rivers that feed our canals are struggling because of a lack of rainfall, and in the case of reservoirs, many have been kept deliberately low for maintenance work so they have no capacity to cope with the crisis.

It seems bizarre that at the start of the year we were facing floods and now we are being told the next 9 days will be the last meaningful movement we can make until there is “significant rainfall”.

That has given us a clear target. To travel as far as we can in the next 9 days.

Since last Saturday, we have gone 42 miles through 69 locks from Wiltshire into Berkshire. An email from Canal and River Trust yesterday set our goal – to get across the Thames (tidal and non-tidal sections) and onto the Grand Union canal. We aim to clear Stoke Bruerne locks in Northamptonshire by 3pm on 25th when they will be locked, until perhaps next year, because of the water shortages. This is not a short time fix.

Stoke Bruerne is going to be a challenge. There are 7 locks in that flight alone, and we need to be through them by 3pm on 25th. The only way we can reach there, in time, is by travelling long days and hoping that no locks on the way develop problems, no trees fall down to block our route, and our engine (and muscles) keep going.

We are still on the Kennet and Avon canal down in the south of England. It seems to be one of the very few canals in England and Wales without water problems at the moment. So why are we leaving what would seem to be an ideal place to be?

Well, we always aimed to travel its length, which we have done east to west, and now we are heading back west to east. We intended to be nearer to family in the Midlands and Lancashire over the winter. So we are leaving the well-watered Kennet and Avon, but we can’t return the way we came. That would require travelling up the Thames, onto the South Oxford Canal. The latter has been closed since July because of low water levels.

So we need to get onto the Thames at Reading and turn right towards London. That will take us through Henley-on-Thames, Marlow, Maidenhead, past the famed Olympic Eaton Dorney Rowing Lake, through Eton, Windsor, past Magna Carta Island and Runnymede, Staines, Chertsey, Walton on Thames and Sunbury before the delights of Hampton Court and Kingston upon Thames. Just beyond Trowlock Island in the Thames comes Teddington Lock. That’s where the Thames becomes tidal so we have to be there at a specific time, for high water, if we are going to get through the next stretch round Twickenham, Eel Pie Island, Richmond, Isleworth and into Brentford where opposite Kew Royal Botanical Gardens we hang a sharp left and turn onto the River Brent. That leads us to Brentford Gauging Locks. Through them , and we are on the Grand Union Canal. That is a journey of 74 miles, 37 locks and 9 bridges we have to move.

At that point on Wednesday next week if all is going to plan, we will heave a huge sigh of relief and then after that, we need to push on if we are going together anywhere near where would suit us before the closures hit.

From the moment we turn onto the Grand Union, we must travel 72 miles, through 87 locks and move 2 bridges in 5 days – all at a maximum 4mph.

Can we do it? We have no idea. We have hope but we know it is going to be close, very close.

Our Operation Sanctuary is on, but quite where that sanctuary might turn out to be, may not be where we intend. Wherever we end up we are likely to be exhausted by the time we get there and hugely grateful to every voluntary lock keeper, Gongoozler who opens or closes a gate for us, and any boats with whom we can share a lock. Apologies to all friends who we won’t able to stop and see on the way.

It also means our reflection on the Kennet and Avon is somewhat overshadowed right now. Maybe it should wait until we aren’t frantically planning our ‘escape’ into the shallows!

Wish us luck! 🤞

Regrets aren’t always necessary

On Wednesday BBC Womans Hour featured women narrowboaters during their Listener Week.

Back in late June when they first asked for suggestions for topics to cover, I proposed a segment about women narrowboaters, particularly about Charlotte Ashman, a talented artist, mum, and skipper of not just one, but two boats. This is what I told Woman’s Hour.

“Thousands of women now live on the inland waterways of Britain on narrowboats and but only a few live in historic boats, some the very boats that were crewed by the “Idle Women” in World War 2.

Hyperion is a 72ft long boat, with her butty Hyades (also 72ft towed behind, no engine). In wartime, with a crew of 3 women including artist and printmaker Christian Vlasto, she plied the waterways between London and Birmingham carrying steel, aluminium, coal, and sometimes munitions.

Now, in a satisfying twist of fate, Hyperion and Hyades are back together and in the hands of a woman again – another artist and printmaker, Charlotte Ashman. She lives aboard with her daughter, who has been brought up on the boats. Their boats are now a historic floating home, studio, and gallery. The boats need constant upkeep, maintenance, and must be moved to a new location every few weeks around the waterways.

Charlotte is currently working on a project looking at the intersection of heritage and female perspectives on the water – particularly the unique connections between herself and Christian Vlasto, artists and printmakers united by their work and the huge working boats Hyperion and Hyades.

It’s a life many men on the working boats found hard, and many gave it up because it was too tough. It isn’t easy now, even basic day-to-day living on a historic boat is hard work but both these two women like countless others, thrive on it, seeing it as freedom. Both Charlotte and Christian vividly reflect the places, people, and nature of the waterways in their work.

The soundscape of working boats is unique, the heartbeat throb of the engine, the soft sound of the boats moving through the water, the birdsong, and the creaking of the ropes. It would be captivating to hear the story of these two remarkable women, their shared boats, their creativity, and through them the roles of women on the wartime waterways and women living afloat today.

As a female boat woman myself (and ex-BBC journalist) who finds life so much more vivid and vibrant living and working aboard a much more modern (1989), shorter (50ft) narrowboat, I’d love to hear of waterways women on Women’s Hour. Our challenges and delights are many, similar, and also very different to those of women in bricks and mortar, or vans.”

The item that was broadcast was rather different from that I proposed including, as it did, a boating poet. You can listen for yourself here the segment starts at 35.19.

Jo Bell is a poet, boat woman, and in 2013, she was the first ever Canal Laureate for the Canal & River Trust and The Poetry Society.

Lines from one of Jo’s works enliven the lock at Milnsbridge lock 9E on the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, one of our favourite waterways. Carved for posterity, “The slow machine that England was, straightened, straitened, boxed and sluiced…”

The broadcast Womans Hour programme segment was a very different piece from that I had proposed, and because my name had been linked to it (and it’s an unusual name) I began to hear from some boat women (and ‘landlubbers’) on social media and in conversations their disappointment. Many were critical of the piece for being ‘superficial’, ‘irrelevant’, and in discussions about men’s acceptance of boatwomen, downright ‘wrong’. This in direct response to Jo Bell’s shared view that women are viewed and judged on the waterways for their ability to handle their boat. Ironically moments after the piece ended I took a windlass and approached a lock to be given a long lecture about how to use a lock, by a man who could clearly see my boat was a live aboard (the vegetable garden on the roof is a huge indicator) so likely to be the home of someone who has done a lock or two (actually over 2,000).

It left me feeling guilty, feeling that somehow I had let boat women down by proposing the piece I had, but which I felt had not been broadcast . I was disappointed that Woman’s Hour did not share the story I hoped people would find interesting, but it was apparent from the feedback to the beautiful video of Charlotte and her boats on the Womans Hour Instagram feed filmed by Mischke Weinrab, that I underestimated the power of the piece. Do look at the video on the Instagram feeds of @bbcwomanshour or @mischkesmemories. It captures an evocative, truthful depiction of what many boat women recognise. The video said so much more than the radio programme in many ways.

It was apparent from the comments on the video that what had chimed and inspired so many was when Charlotte said so clearly that living afloat was the epitome of taking a chance, a risk, and not worrying if it doesn’t work out, but being prepared to fill your life with joy.

Like Charlotte, I love winters on the boat. They are without doubt my favourite time. The whole way of life on the canals and rivers is hard, physically taxing, but it is also gentler in pace. We are in tune with the seasons, aligned in living to the rhythms and cycle of nature. That is a huge privilege.

For continuous cruisers as we are (boaters without fixed home moorings), the constant feeling of freedom and movement is liberating. If we don’t like where we are or who we are near, we can pull up our ropes and move on, but even if we are enjoying somewhere we know that tomorrow, next week or the week after, we could find ourselves somewhere even more special.

So the tale I hoped people would enjoy hearing is still to be told, in part available via Charlotte’s website

The story and related artwork will also be featured in an exhibition that will be at Foxton Locks Museum in Leicestershire this autumn.

Ironically, for someone who works and lives with the written word, this week has made evident to me the power of video. Perhaps the written or spoken word does not cut through the busyness of many people’s lives today as effectively as an edited film.

I am grateful, though, that this week, more people had a chance to hear the voices of women living on the water, enjoying a way of life that is different to those lived in vans or houses. To be able through hearing their conversations and seeing videoed daily routines, is to gain insight into how others live. That gives us all inspiration, understanding, and a chance to value what we have. I, for one, am hugely grateful for the freedom of our floating life and glad that this week I’ve played a very small part in ensuring more people have been able to hear about it, see some of it, and hopefully understand it better than they did before.

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