Who knows what it was, perhaps a combination of all of the above, but we survived Storm Darragh just as we survived Storm Bert and before that earlier this season, Storm Ashley. We are not defeated or even deflated (although this is a boat nearby – not ours!).
Some have not been so lucky this past weekend. Across the inland waterways network, nearly 500 trees came down, blocking canals, as well as sinking and damaging boats. Power cables landed in some waterways, and there was widespread flooding with its accompanying damage.
Having to be away for our annual four generation family Christmas meal together at the height of the storm felt both risky and irresponsible, but the boat was moored away from trees at risk of falling. Water levels had risen during Storm Bert, and we’d stayed moored where we were, so the hope was that would be the same with Darragh. It was the winds that worried me, and I have to say the ferocity of the storm near Haydock where we spent Saturday night was far stronger than it was down here where we are moored in Leicestershire. It led to a sleepless night for me and I was grateful for reassuring storm updates from those down here. Just a little further along the Leicester Line was a different story though with trees down, navigation blocked and significant damage.
The relief of sloshing down the towpath with the dog on Sunday night (forgot my head torch so reliant on the torch on my phone) to see the shadowy outline of the boat where and as I left her was immense. Within minutes, the lights were on, the stove was lit, and the dog was curled up on a chair as close to the heat as she could make it. It was as if we had never been away, never worried, never fretted and fussed.
It nerve ceases to amaze me how quickly concerns fade. Worries dissipate rapidly as the boat rocks in the wind. I remember back to the early days when we first lived aboard I dare not sleep in storms, but lay awake worrying in the darkness as the boat was tugged and tossed by the winds and rain hammered down on the metal roof. Now, though, the velvet darkness of rural moorings I find comforting rather than menacing, and the sounds of the abating winds and drumming rain, act as white noise, sending me very soundly to sleep. If we were in an area where the risks were high, then I would have set an alarm every two hours as many boaters did over the weekend to check they were still safely afloat.
The only problem the next morning was that for us was that we had risen such a long way that water from the sink, basin, shower or washing machine was going to discharge straight onto the towpath adding to the breach puddles that had gathered! In the village above the canal sparkling reindeer keep sparkling.
Just as storms abate, the puddles and floods reduce here pretty quickly. We are situated between weirs and a lock so water can escape around us. By Thursday morning, the towpath was muddy, but not underwater in places.
This life is a living lesson – things happen, things get tossed at us, but whatever happens, we can manage. We float onto the next drama, the next crisis having learned a little more about resilience and preparation, about weathering the storms of life.
Pampered pooch has recovered
We can get through. Things will get better, just as Boatdog has recovered from her violent viral infection with help. We are a little battered, a little weaker for a time, but we recover. Trees that have fallen are gradually being removed thanks to dedicated workers, boats are being refloated, homes mopped out, and we are lucky none of us suffered directly here.
Hearing the trials of others makes us grateful, grateful we have survived unscathed. We are also grateful for the boating community and its supportive network, for having messages and calls from boaters and family checking on us. We are fortunate to be blessed in this way and fortunate to live afloat where we rise and fall with the storm.
Several times this week, boating friends have anxiously asked if I’m suffering from withdrawal symptoms or the dreaded itchy tiller syndrome, as we enter our third week moored in one place. When you’ve been used to moving the location for your home and office regularly, seeing new signs and new sights almost every day, staying put can be a bit of a shock to the system.
But because we chose a winter mooring so we could be close to an area we knew well, our lives have been delightfully full. There’s been regular professional work, the opportunity for busy craft fairs indoors, and the chance to catch up with things that can take a bit of organising when we are constantly moving. That means dental appointments, hair cuts for all three of us, as well as a bit of pre-Christmas giving in the shape of blood donation, indulging in festive nails and a night out in the city. It also means we are able to collect a certain special small person from school regularly, watch football matches, take part in school activities, and enjoy being read to as part of homework.
I’ve been hugely grateful this week particularly for being in one place as Boatdog became unwell last weekend and that’s meant interrupted sleep as her insistent need to go out meant I was scrabbling for clothes and a head torch at all hours of the night. (After the first night, I left clothes and a torch within arms reach to speed the process up and enable me to go out in something a bit more substantial than pyjamas, walking boots, and a coat!)
Better now ❤️
It helped being in one place for continuity of veterinary treatment for what has turned out to be a nasty virus, and cruising with a dog that needs to leave the boat at short notice is never easy so that’s another advantage of being moored up. Boatdog is now fortunately back to her normal self, and I’ve learned that tuna chunks are brilliant for getting pills down a suspicious eater.
The river briefly went out of the red, and we had a flurry of workboats and narrowboats taking advantage of the opening of navigation. We are now firmly back in the red, and as I write, water levels are rising once more. As Storm Darragh looms I’ve battened down the hatches, removed things that might blow away and will be keeping my fingers crossed that our annual multi-generational family Christmas get together won’t be interrupted by a call saying the boat has left our mooring in the storm.
On one of the lovely days of this week, we took a long reverse to the water point. We have regular journeys to the waste disposal points and a fairly constant surveillance of the boats batteries, which are failing fast. We were expecting the new batteries that are on order to appear later this month, but now we’ve been told they won’t be here until some point in January. It’s just one of those things of living off-grid that we now need to nurse the batteries we have for longer. We aren’t getting significant solar for them at the moment so we aren’t nurturing them, reducing drain on them, and being forced to charge them with the engine on an (unusual for us) daily basis.
We are enjoying discovering more of the local history in this area on regular walks, and we have managed something we’ve been longing to do. Finally, we have been signed up officially as Canal and River Trust volunteers. Next week will see us getting our hands dirty seeing the river from yet another perspective.
So we’re managing to keep busy! We hope that this latest storm leaves you (and us) safe.
We have been on our first winter mooring for near a fortnight now, and strangely, it doesn’t seem anywhere near that long. There has been much to do for work and family as well as the many additional tasks that Storms Bert and Conall have created for boat dwellers and many others.
How time flies when you’re having fun and watching water levels! We need to keep on top of things – quite literally as we don’t want to drift off…or sink. Sadly, there have been some boats lost in this storm on the inland waterways, and so we monitor our mooring ropes and the mooring pins we are having to use to secure our home. The pins are fixed into an increasingly soggy bank, and during Bert, they were partly submerged as water levels rose.
Navigation on the River Soar has been stopped, resumed and stopped again as it is now during the time we’ve been here because the river is in flood, as the result of snowmelt and heavy rain adding to already high water levels. Flood plains were already saturated.
For us, the storms and rising waters have been mildly inconvenient, but for some, they and the trees brought down by accompanying winds, have been devastating. We need to know that perspective to feel hugely grateful. Our doormat which we place on the towpath as an indicator for us and the dogs of where to step to has got further away as the boat has risen on the waters and we began having to jump down to it before the waters covered it, and we resorted to the raised step doormat which so far has stayed dry on top. There have been a few breaches of the river onto the towpath, but we haven’t had to bring in scaffolding poles to put between the boat and the towpath to avoid us being washed onto the ground. Getting a grounded boat back into the water can be a risky manoeuvre.
That was a field the week before last…
It may sound alarming, but we knew it might be like this. We used to live near the Soar in the next village along its meandering (now flooded) path. We know it can flood. We know it comes up rapidly and equally can descend the same way, we also know this mooring is between sluices, weirs and a lock so there are opportunities around us for the water to dissipate and disperse fairly safely. Several roads in the villages around have been flooded and made impassable, so it isn’t just navigation that’s been stopped.
From our perspective, then, informed by experience, this is what we were expecting. We knew before we got here that we needed to be aware and alert to possible flooding in the area. We know that if it gets worse, we could move further towards the lock where there are mooring opportunities that won’t involve pins hammered into saturated ground, but we haven’t got there yet.
At the same time, when the rain stops, this is a stunning mooring – particularly at sunrise. Many people have commented on social media about the beauty of the sunrises I’ve been lucky enough to see and share (what they haven’t seen is the full perspective of mud and disappearing mooring ropes on the far side of the boat just out of view!). But it is important we see the beautiful perspective – the glorious reds and golds that help put the sogginess and state of alert in perspective.
It is also hugely convenient (despite the water levels). We are getting the perspective of being hands-on grandparents regularly collecting from school, cheering from soggy sidelines at Sunday league football, and just being close by. We can enjoy supporting both daughters and their partners on a more casual, regular basis. Chats over a cuppa or helping out with projects are easier living nearby. This week, I went into school to share the nostalgic delights with 7- year olds of making angels from paper plates, colouring and glueing paper chains and folding, and cutting paper snowflakes. I’m still finding pva glue and felt tip on my hands, but thank heavens that glitter has been recognised for the environmental nightmare it is! The perspective of a small girl I helped this week, though, was that the sparkly stuff was what would make her angel a ‘real’ one and not just a paper plate one!
And we have begun the process of signing up to get a new perspective on the charitable organisation that oversees the canals and some rivers. Canal and River Trust (CRT) relies heavily on volunteers to support the work it undertakes on many fronts, and we have signed up to help in the East Midlands whilst we are here. Hopefully, that means we can continue to support volunteers as we move on next year as well, and it will give us new insight and new perspectives that are invaluable to get a more rounded picture. This week’s online Boater Forum from CRT gave us new perspectives on the winter stoppages programme of works, the intense planning for the repairs carried out during it, and the complexities for the teams involved not least because of the unpredictable weather conditions.
This Sunday, whatever the weather I’m trading. On land under cover, fortunately – at the Mountsorrel Memorial Centre for the Christmas Lights Switch On. My perspective will be one of sparkly festive fun in the dry, whatever is happening outside. If you are in the Leicestershire area on Sunday, do come and say hello to me (and Santa, too). Wherever you are this weekend and whatever you are doing, stay safe and seek out a new perspective to give you a new view on life, work, and the world we share.
Setting a goal and being thwarted can be a challenge. We’ve been thwarted many times in our aim to reach our first ever winter mooring, but last Saturday was the first chance for us to try and make the trip across and up a river to reach our spot – and we went for it.
We started later than intended on Saturday morning, being unsure if the first lock that had been shut since September was actually open or not. Canal and River Trust had said it should have been opened at 4pm on the Friday, but no update appeared electronically to give the green light. Our aim was to go and see if it was open, and if it was, to keep going on through that and the next few locks until we reached the one which Canal and River Trust categorically said was shut because it wouldn’t equalise. That meant we would have to sit on the river somewhere near Zouch (pron. Zotch) or on the lock landing until the lock was fixed and available for use – never idea.
So we bid farewell to the Erewash, and did a slalom round Saturday morning rowers enjoying the Trent as we crossed to the River Soar. Canada geese, who’ve had the river much to themselves for the past two months seemed startled by our presence, taking off in flurries and landing just ahead of us time and time again. As we got alongside the residential boats at Red Hill Marina, people were leaning out to ask ‘Is it open?’ We gave the only reply we could – that if it wasn’t we’d see them again very soon!
Approaching Ratcliffe Lock we could see workboats still alongside the landing area and catch fencing still in place. I felt deflated as I stepped off onto a workboat and made my way towards the fencing, but then suddenly I saw another boater operating the lock. Despite me yelling for her to save her efforts and leave the gate for us, she carefully closed it behind her boat before turning and ruefully pulling a face as she spotted me. At least it meant the lock was open for businesd do I really didn’t care that I then had to battle the heavy gate to get it open for Preaux.
We were in, up and though – our progress noisily monitored by the vocal security cameras on site. And then we were heading towards Kegworth, through the flood lock, and approaching the deep New Lock. Suddenly, we were seeing boats coming the other way. Like travellers of old, we shouted between each other to find out the lie of the land ahead, to discover they had all come through the apparently unusable Zouch Lock that morning. In an instant, our journey took on a new perspective. Instead of sitting on a river for an undeterminate amount of time until a repair was carried out with rain in the immediate future forecast raising the levels, it looked like we might be able to get to our mooring that very day.
We pressed on, going slow, though, as we encountered rowers from Loughborough Boat Club. We know very well what rowers in our family used to say about narrowboats on that stretch…
As the rowers pulled ahead towards their landing stage, we turned sharp left to the lock at Zouch. It was empty, so I opened the gate, let the boat in, and began the test of whether it would actually equalise enough to let us rise and get out of the lock. There was leakage, one paddle was inoperable, but the boat rose, and with two of us shoving, we got a top gate open, and the boat was through.
On past the weirs and stilted chalets, past the emergency flood dolphins giving home to terns and rafts of invasive pennywort but luckily not needed by us or any other boats. I’m struggling to find the definitive etymology of a dolphin as a mooring point, so if anyone knows, please put me out of my misery.
On through the picturesque village of Normanton on Soar with its 12th century Church of St James and over the route of the chain ferry. It’s one of the few remaining chain ferries still operating in the UK and the last in Nottinghamshire. It was first mentioned on a map in 1771 and is still operated by volunteers every weekend afternoon between April and September. Popular with walkers, the fees used to be and probably still are £1 per person and 50p for a dog or a bicycle – a bargain for a unique experience. It also means you can walk across the fields on the far side and be ferried over to a rather good pub!
Next, we cruised alongside Dishley a bit late in the day for the parkrun we helped set up there, but now we’re back in the area forna bit we look forward to getting involved in parkruns again here. On then to Bishop Meadow Lock via an apparent boating graveyard. A very sorry sight, two boats half sunk, and yet sadly, they weren’t to be the last we saw that day. Whether the result of earlier floods, I don’t know, but the problem of boats that have sunk or partly sunk is very real on inland waterways. They aren’t cheap to raise – often in difficult to access places, requiring costly cranes to lift them out. Not every boat is insured. It’s something CRT are well aware of, and a problem they cannot afford to resolve.
They tell boaters clearly “Should your boat unfortunately sink, it’s your responsibility to salvage it, not ours.” They will check the site of the sinking for pollution containment and ensure the boat isn’t in the way of navigation, and they can put owners in touch with specialist recovery contractors but the boat owner has to foot the bill, and some just refuse to do so leaving a wreck in the water.
On then for us past the wrecks, past another sunk boat on the moorings after the lock, through Loughborough where the water was high, and through Pillings Flood Lock which was still open, to the impressive arches of Barrow Road Bridge. The last time I saw it, there was a sunk narrowboat rammed against the arches by the weight of floodwater, which had swept it and its mooring pontoon and slammed them against the brickwork.
Up then to Barrow Deep Lock, the last before our winter mooring. We couldn’t keep the grins from our faces. We had made it. We hadn’t expected to, but we had. We moored up with glee and headed in the gathering drizzle to one of the nearby pubs for a celebratory very late lunch (the light was beginning to fade).
A quick look at the weather forecast as we ate determined that we really couldn’t spend too many days settling in before we moved to get essential diesel and coal. Our supplies were running very low, and because our batteries are beginning to fail (reaching the end of their lives after an impressive innings), we need to be running the engine to repower the batteries and give us power to live with. Such are the delights of living off grid and at the moment there isn’t much solar most days although we still have occasional glorious bright and power-full November days. The other day I put all the washing in and no sooner had everything I the machine got wet than I had to cut the power to the machine as the battery levels plummeted alarmingly. Eventually we got enough power to get the clothes washed which was a relief. But we are nursing the batteries to keep going as the new battery installation has been delayed, and while we hope it will be sorted before Christmas, that’s a hope rather than a certainty.
Our first night on the mooring was peaceful and we were exhausted so we slept well. The next morning was a small footballer’s Sunday league match and his delight at unexpectedly seeing us join the rest of the family support team was everything we could have hoped for. He waved with glee, hurtled towards us with his arms , dropped to the ground to hug Boatdog tightly! A perfect welcome!
Since then, we have now made it up river to our former mooring at Sileby Mill for diesel and coal, so we are fully stocked for another few months and can relax. It seems we moved just in time as we’ve also had rain, snow, the river was shut to navigation when it went into flood for 48 hours, and now there’s more snow forecast. It’s been a busy week on the water!
How do you wait – patiently, productively or frustratedly?
By the time you read this we hope the enforced hebetude of the past weeks will have left us and we will be on the move, making our way at last in the chill morning air across the misty River Trent onto the River Soar.
Every week we’ve been driving to the other side of the rivers and walking across the fields that border the Soar in the shadow of the former Ratcliffe Power Station. We have been to see how work is going to replace both sets of lock gates at Ratcliffe Locks, the initial stoppage started on 16 September and still preventing us from getting across to our winter mooring.
The lock was initially due to be open on 28 October, so taking that into account, we booked our first ever winter mooring on the Soar effective from 1 November. Our thoughts then were that the volatility of the Soar in terms of flooding might be the barrier stopping us getting there on time. Flooding did indeed happen, not directly but indirectly affecting our journey. The working area for the team working on the lock was inindated and put repairs back.
By the time we cruised down the high and fast flowing Trent from the Trent and Mersey Canal, the work had been delayed by two weeks because of heavy rain and subsequent flooding. We thought we would use that waiting time productively with a leisurely cruise all the way up (and back down) the Erewash Canal. Covid had previously prevented us travelling the entire 11.5 miles and 14 locks of the canal. This time, we made it! All the way up to Langley Mill and back, and then we began the next stage of the wait. We had to come back down to the only full services area on the canal so we had access to empty the loo, fill with water, and dispose of our rubbish.
Every time we move from the boat, we can see towards the Soar, to where we want to be. We have waited, anxiously watching weather forecasts and hoping the dry weather will stay with us. Rain now would delay the lock repair, and if heavy, it would have the potential of pushing the Soar into flood once more and stopping our journey that way.
9
We seem to have made it weatherwise and our walk this week had the team on lock repairs telling us that the lock would reopen at 4pm on Friday 15 November (I’m writing this listening for the ping of the CRT email with the news that it has opened). When we visited, the single remaining crane on site was being used to load equipment from around the lock onto workboats. They were actively moving that kit to the next winter stoppage point, and planning where they would be working next. Our stagnant wait has been a frantic time of activity for them, frustrated too by the enforced delay caused by flooding.
We have tried hard to use the time we have been here on the Erewash productively. We have celebrated 4 family birthdays, walked in the Peak District, explored the local area finding new walks, met up with old friends, had some necessary welding done in preparation for new battery installation, begun new work projects, eaten way too much cake, become involved in a new community fundraiser, continued with existing work projects for clients, and crafted a great deal ready for Christmas Markets (if you’re in the area do come and find us at the MMC Mountsorrel on 1 December).
For the past two weeks, we have been static on a two day mooring (as have many other boats, although none are heading onto the Soar as we are). We have kept busy, but every day, multiple times a day, we wonder if we will ever get across to our planned mooring.
The “Ifs…” have come to the fore from time to time. If it rains, resulting in floods before the lock is open – what will we do, where should we go for the winter? We can’t go anywhere apart from up and down the Erewash in that instance because we couldn’t get across the river. We couldn’t go too far up the canal either as it has faced problems with vandalism over the past months, creating a major problem for navigation because of impassable water levels. If it looked like Ratcliffe Lock was going to be delayed further, should we try and get back up the Trent and onto the Trent and Mersey Canal? We ruled that one out as this week, the main lock from the T&M onto the River Trent was closed for repairs to leaking gates, lock ladder work, and repairs to the brickwork of the lock chamber. It’s feeling a little like a certain children’s story book – we can’t go back, we can’t go sideways up the Trent or down the Cranfleet cut because the latter would just lead us back onto the Trent and that’s a river we don’t want to have to spend the winter on. We now also know that even when we get through Ratcliffe Lock, there is another lock currently out of action between us and our destination, at Zouch. We’ve been told that might be fixed by Monday, so even if we get through Ratcliffe this weekend, we may have to pause on the Soar until we can get through that lock. More waiting…
So, we need to wait hopefully and patiently. It is often like this in the winter when weather and the winter stoppages for work on the canal and river network make moving something that doesn’t always go to plan. As with any uncertainty, purposeful distraction is essential. We need to stop worries about what we can’t change or know with certainty, taking over daily living. We don’t have any guarantee we are going to get across and get to our winter mooring, but then we don’t have any definitive proof that we aren’t going to, so when faced with uncertainty the most useful thing to do is to stay busy.
The swans swimming up and down and banging impatiently on the side of the boat for snacks remain apparently serene whatever they face in terms of water or weather. We can all benefit from being like them, and adopt Reinhild Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer advice to “…accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
The emails tonight tell me that another lock on the Soar beyond where we want to go still has problems and hasn’t reopened as expected, and that the Erewash remains closed beyond our mooring for the weekend. Hopefully, technology like webcams may help CRT identify the cause and culprits once water levels recover enough to reopen the navigation.
It’s now gone well past the time the office staff at CRT will have gone home for the weekend, and there’s still been no email telling us that Ratcliffe Lock is open for business. We’ve made the decision to leave here anyway and travel there in hope in the morning. If the lock is open, we will go through. If not, we will either turn round and come back or wait somewhere nearby. I’m not feeling particularly serene or philosophical.
So by the time you read this, the sun will have set on our time on the Erewash. Where we will have got to remains to be seen. Whether we will reach our final destination this coming week or merely shuffle a bit further on to wait somewhere new, we know we need to make the most of wherever we are. Like you, we can’t wish our lives away, but we can make the most of them. I’ll update our Instagram as we go in case you can’t wait until next week’s blog to hear the next instalment!
This is the run-up to Christmas in our family – four birthdays in rapid succession, then barely a pause before the festive season presents take over our thoughts.
It is a time that, for many, can literally make or break how they manage financially for the next 6 months, at least. Black Friday, that American time pre-Thanksgiving (last time this week, I shall mention our poor transatlantic neighbours this week), that has now spread across the ocean. Already, there are ‘bargains’ being promoted heavily, and for some, there really will be benefits to be found that will ease the cost of Christmas. For many, though, a ‘bargain’ seems just an excuse to spend money we haven’t got or can’t afford, often without checking that it really is genuinely a bargain.
For me, Christmas is a time to show how much I care for those I love by investing of myself in their gifts. Before they all panic, I will reassure that this festive season will be a mix of making and buying in. I am currently revelling in making items for craft sales but also creating personalised gifts for each individual family member. Homemade items for me have always been so important. I still treasure the often strangely shaped items that the girls painstakingly carried home from nursery, schools, Rainbows and Brownies, to present to us with a flourish, bursting with pride. Every single time I get these items out, I am reminded, and warmed, by the love with which they were made and given.
I’m out scouting hedgerows and woodland foraging for some of the present making items this year, as well as buying in supplies for weaving and crafting. As many of those requirements as possible are coming from small producers. This week I’ve been lucky enough to be able to get into Leicester, and buy yarn on cones directly from some long-standing small producers. The boat now seems even smaller as part-made, finished items and kits for others to enjoy the joy of making, begin to pile up in boxes ready for selling either from the boat, or at craft fairs locally, or online via Moving Crafts on Instagram.
Even if you don’t make your own gifts this year, you can make a huge difference by thinking who and where you buy what you give. Buying locally and/or buying from small businesses and craftspeople means you are getting a gift that’s been made with thought, care, and skill. Your purchase could give that maker a massive confidence boost and help them keep going for another day, another week, another year. These individuals produce work that is often unique – giving the recipient of our gift something they can really treasure and delight in.
I’ve also had the joy this month of sharing birthday gifts of workshops – painting pottery and making candles in teacups. The amount I’ve learned, the fun we had in shared new endeavours, is something that is impossible to put a price on. In the past I’ve had a fantastic time at willow weaving and Christmas wreath making workshops run by skilled individuals passionate about their crafts and keen to share them with others. Their generosity and gift for passing on their knowledge and skills makes for a very special present, even better if you get to share that creative experience with the giver and spend special time together.
So this festive time, let’s all think before we give and gift. Each of us could make a massive difference to many people, not just the lucky person directly getting a present from us.
It really can be so much better and more powerful to give rather than receive, especially if we do so thoughtfully.
We move slowly through life living and working on a narrowboat, but we get as much if not more done than we used to, at a fraction of the stress.
Our stresses are perhaps different, but the pace at which we approach and deal with them appears to make that difference. I am particularly aware that when the pace of life ramps up, that’s when the that’s when the pace of stress increases.
I had a discussion with a client this week about saying no and how that disappoints people, how it can make us feel bad that we see it as a negative when actually saying no to things that don’t chime with our values or that we feel would be wasting our precious time is actually really important. Doing less is no bad thing. It gives us more time to invest in those things that really matter to us. We can slow down without losing anything. Saying no isn’t negative – it means we’re being considered, and evaluative, and that’s what slowing down actually allows us to do, be more effective in what we do do.
This inability to say no and to feel pressure to do everything seems a gendered issue – would you agree or disagree?
As we travel slowly through our chosen way of life, it is evident we gain a different perspective through this change of pace. We are able to cultivate good habits like building in relaxation and our own self-care. We actively have time to think of nothing but enjoy where we are and what we’re seeing around us. This week it has been the colours of autumn. We savour this just like a good meal – we are savouring our time and how we spend it.
We are moving even more slowly now because we are waiting for repairs to a lock to allow us to move to our chosen winter mooring spot. That has meant we’ve had time to do things we wouldn’t generally do, like in my case, taking the bus for an exciting if exhausting city shopping trip.
All those people rushing about around me made me take stock and actively slow down (probably to the annoyance of those behind me on the crowded pavements). Why was I joining the rush when I didn’t need to? Moving to one side and taking my own pace, making my own choices rather than getting barged along gave me back control, and control is important to give us autonomy and active mindfulness.
As we travelled down the Erewash this week, we found ourselves travelling even more slowly thanks to problems with locks but this gave us invaluable time to spend with people we would never have otherwise met.
Strangers are wonderful – they stepped in to help with closing gates, shoving and pushing gates that wouldn’t move, offering advice, and helping, and this was strangers of all ages from youngsters to pensioners. We were so grateful for their willing and generously offered help. Many said it made them feel better, being able to know they had done something for someone else. We will pay that help forward and benefit too.
During this period of waiting, this time of enforced calm, we are using the even slower than usual pace to plan. We’ve begun planning ahead whilst we’re slowing down even more for winter, using the time to make changes to our precious living/working/travelling space. We want something that works for us and how we live, that makes us smile every time we see it for years to come, that makes us think fondly of those who crafted it for us, and makes the most of our space.
Rather than rushing in, we are taking time, researching, talking to other boaters about what works (or doesn’t work) for them, and slowly making decisions, considering options, giving time and being prepared to change our views in the slow process of making the right moves.
We are happy to say a firm no to the ready-made, to the chipboard solutions in favour of handmade, handcrafted and inevitably more expensive solutions that will make us smile with joy as we move forward slowly through the years ahead. We may not manage to afford everything we would love to do in this way, but we have years to continue this project, so we don’t want to rush, but to do it right.
This week let’s think clearly about saying no to what doesn’t chime with our values and goals and take time to move slowly enough to allow us to enjoy, to savour what it is that we do choose to do.
We made it up to Langley Mill and through the first lock on the Cromford Canal, gaining our 10th IWA Silver Propellor Challenge location on my birthday to acquire the delightful present of a rather unique location plaque!
Getting here up the Erewash was a challenge itself, to be honest, but one worth undertaking. It hasn’t been an easy canal to navigate, and one that ends up in a vicious cycle. Because it so little used, repairs and basic maintenance it would appear are low on the CRT list of priorities, and thus things deteriorate more, and then the state of the infrastructure means boaters are less inclined to head this way. We never saw another moving boat all day.
To detail our findings; there are 11 locks between Sandiacre where we set off and this final one onto the mooring basin on the Cromford. Each normally has 4 gates (2 top and two bottom, 2 ground paddles and 4 gate paddles).
The first, Pasture Lock had both ground paddles not working, and the top lock gate paddles were stuck part open
A burnt out cruiser was sunk under the M1 bridge between this and the next lock (we had seen a warning about it)
Stanton Lock worked but was hard
Hallam Fields worked
Gallows Inn lock the ground paddle and top gate paddle on the towpath side were jammed and wouldn’t open fully
Between there and Greens Lock a sunk cruiser was floating about
Greens Lock one ground paddle inoperable, the other won’t open fully, offside gate paddle jammed at 25% open and neither of the top gates would open so I squeezed the boat out through the middle gap
We were beginning to feel grumpy at this point, but the autumn colours and whizzing kingfishers raised spirits, and Potters Lock came with a bonus. Local youngsters on half term were happy to help and learn how a lock worked. They said they’d never seen a boat going through so glad we could enlighten them
The next 4 locks worked but were heavy and hard but worked, so that was Barkers, Stenson, Shipley and Eastwood
Then we arrived at the end. Langley Mill Lock is looked after by the volunteers of the ECP and DA…Erewash Canal Preservation and Development Association. That lock into the final basin works smoothly, easily and everything moves like clockwork, a mechanical testament to the advantages of regular maintenance.
I look forward to the day when they extend the Cromford Canal and we can go further into Derbyshire along its length.
It’s been handy being up here for shops and pubs. We managed to celebrate both our birthdays this week and contributed our bit clearing up rubbish and scrubbing signage en route.
We also managed a walk from Derbyshire to Nottinghamshire and back along the Iron Giant, the towering Bennerley Viaduct strides quarter of a mile 20m high across the Erewash Valley just a stone’s throw from the canal. It is well worth a visit and is a remarkable tribute to the power of volunteers, are are the Erewash and Cromford Canals. The Iron Giant is going to get a visitor centre and new paths in the coming months so will offer even more on a visit, although the highlight for visitors old and young when we went was the responding toot from freight engines below to a hopeful wave from high above.
We gained an excellent view of Winston the Wind Turbine. He appears on Google maps as such – I love the unusual on a map. He’s apparently located at the Newthorpe and Giltbrook Sewage Farm and was actually named Windy Winston by the pupils of Awsworth Primary School nearby. He is said to be the tallest wind turbine in the country. Anyone know any different?
Waste disposal demands we return south again (back through those 11 locks plus another 3) even though we can’t yet cross the Trent to the Soar. The only CRT waste disposal on the canal that we’ve found is at Trent Lock, so we need to return there to get rid of our rubbish some ours, some picked up en route.
The river updates over the past week have been in flood and out of flood and the Ratcliffe Lock is now scheduled to reopen on 15 November so we won’t get onto our winter mooring for 1 November but with a long day and no more flooding we could, should, might make it on 16 November. Everything crossed!
Ey up mi duck – we made it! If you read last week’s update we’ve completed the first part of Plan C. We’ve donned our life jackets (all 3 of us) and hurtled down the Trent before Storm Ashley sends it back into flood, and executed a sharp left turn from the river onto the Erewash Canal.
Gongoozlers gather at Trent Lock for good reason – it’s a great place to watch dramas unfurl as skippers of narrowboats, widebeam and cruisers navigate their way on a five-way watery junction overlooked by the massive and now redundant cooling towers Ratcliffe Power Station. The Cranfleet Cut, the River Trent which goes right through, the River Soar and the Erewash Canal all meet at this point, and the two tricky turns are from the Cranfleet or the Trent onto the Erewash. You need to get cut across the flow of the Trent which is barrelling towards a non-navigable weir at this point to navigate between the abutments of the bridge onto the lock landing for Trent Lock (the bridge over the Erewash mouth bears the scars of innumerable collisions).
The junction (the white sign unser the left tower is the route to the Soar where we want to end up for the winter if we can.
The Skipper executed a perfect turn disappointing the onlookers, and we made it up Trent Lock to moor by the facilities and head immediately to celebrate our successful achievement of the first part of Plan C – not into one of the two hostelries that flank the lock, but to the unsurpassable Trent Lock tea rooms.
Where else would you discover Rabbit Stew and Pork Dripping on Toast with Scratchings? I tucked into one with nostalgia but lacked courage for the other… maybe on the return journey?
But should I try pork dripping on my return?
The Erewash is another world, unlike waterways we’ve already encountered. It isn’t an ‘easy’ canal, but it began by repaying the effort of actually getting onto it. (Our last visit here was cut short and passed in delirium with Covid). Back to this trip and we could be forgiven for thinking we were hallucinating again – within minutes we were passing houseboats with ornate balconies like exotic Mississippi Steamboats, boatyards redolent with authenticity rather than modernity and then we faced our next pretty daunting challenge. We are in a constant state of flux at the moment, still renovating the boat around us, updating things and making changes for the way we want to live aboard. This entails a very major and rather expensive investment in terms of batteries (more on this when we get near to that point I promise). The first stage requires welding in the engine bay to safely hold the new battery installation. Quite how we manage our existing batteries in the meantime we haven’t quite established but Heath Robinson is assisting with that issue.
To get to the recommended welder we headed to the boatyard at Sheet Stores Basin where once they made the massive ‘sheets’ or tarpaulins that covered cargo on rail wagons and barges. We were told to back into their working yard under a bridge presumably without hitting the widebeam moored opposite. The the Skipper did it perfectly, mooring under a bridge to a tree for the first time as instructed! Examination of the job over, and our requirements written in chalk on a piece of angle iron, we set off and will manoeuvre our way back in there from a different angle on our journey back down the Erewash for the new battery tray to be welded into place.
From Sheet Stores we made our way up to Long Eaton and moored up on the edge of town by a beautiful park, the formidable architecture of former lace mills now populated by furniture makers and small industrial units, past greedy squirrels, kingfishers that dart by in a flash of turquoise and always lift the spirits en route (no, I still haven’t got a decent picture but I keep trying), squawking moorhens and a solitary heron.
Long Eaton houses an exquisite library building – small but highly popular when I called in to work there for a change. Moving on up through Long Eaton Lock we came to Dock Holme Lock and promptly ground to a halt. An elderly cyclist adorned with a trilby sagely watched me setting the lock for the boat to enter and declared, “You won’t be *** going any further duck,” before accelerating away on his electric machine. I soon realised what he meant – looking ahead the pound (the section between two locks) was looking low. Not knowing to what it’s normally like, I managed to get us into the lock and as it was filling wandered up a little way, to see to my horror a boat completely out of the water, hull exposed, a narrow channel of water in the centre of the canal and nothing but reeds and mud at the sides. Certainly not enough for navigation. Explaining briefly to Steve and abandoning him with the boat in the lock I set off up to the next lock to see if I could resolve the situation by letting water down from above (hopefully without creating more problems).
A few faces of the Erewash – glorious, drained and artistic
It is a long half-mile pound between Dock Holme and Sandiacre and on the way I saw other boats, cruisers and narrowboats at horrendous angles because of the drained pound. Shouted conversations across the cut told me that it was the result of vandalism and had happened several times recently. I made it to Sandiacre Lock and began the slow process with a pound that long of letting water down whilst contacting Canal and River Trust to tell them of the problem and explain what I was doing. They promised to send someone but in the meantime I managed to get enough water down to refloat the stranded boats in the pound, and for Steve to limp our boat over the cill (step) of Dock Holme Lock and out into the centre channel. Just as he appeared at Sandiacre Lock a rather irate boater brandishing a windlass appeared to berate me for leaving all the paddles open and draining the pound above, causing her boat to list! I hastily explained and she was immediately understanding but told us just how often the issue had happened in recent weeks, and then she kindly helped us through. Most boaters are supportive of each other in this community we pull together.
Coming through Sandiacre Lock brought us into another world – one of bustle and history. Sandiacre itself was once renowned for starch works, brickfields and lace. The Padmore Moorings were once coal wharves and overlooked now by 21st century cctv cameras but also by 19th century gas lights – donated by Terah Hooley (wonderful name) who built the impressive Springfield Mill on the other side of the canal. The mill complete with its four beautifully semi circular staircase turrets is now apartments but in its day it had its own gas works, and Hooley donated 50 lamps to the village on the understanding the gas to power them was bought by the council from his works!
Gas lamps, beautiful mill buildings, signs of the times and a bobbin milestone
Incidentally Hooley’s son, Ernest Terah Hooley was mill manager for its first five years of operation. He though is ‘credited’ with being one of the most prolific financial fraudsters, cooking up schemes worldwide which resulted in him being declared bankrupt four times, sent to prison three times and en route getting nearly made a peer. He floated the companies that were behind names we know today like Singer, Raleigh, Dunlop, Bovril and Schweppes. But he overstretched himself, attracting investment into many of his floatation schemes when they were little but smoke and mirrors, and that was the downfall of “The Splendid Bankrupt” as he became known.
If Ernest had ever sought penitence (which seems pretty unlikely) he could have made his way up Starch Lane to the ancient church of St Giles. Parts of it date back to the 12th century, its broach spire is 13th century, and within the original Norman Arch are carved the “Sandiacre Imp” and apparently a dragon (looks more like an attempt at an ox to me!).
Looks like there’s going to be plenty to keep us occupied here on the Erewash as we wait for the expected floods to abate and work to be completed on Ratcliffe Lock to let us cross the Trent onto the Soar – hopefully next month. We still have another 7.5 miles and 10 locks to travel before we reach the navigable end of the Erewash and the Langley Mill basin on what was once the Cromford Canal.
Our coddiwompling is coming to an end for a while as winter draws near. It is possibly my favourite season living afloat and we’ve decided to try something new this year.
For the first time, we’ve determined to try staying in one place for the winter months near our family. A couple of weeks ago we sat outside a pub at 8am (not desperate for anything stronger than a decent internet connection), to ensure we could log onto the Canal and River Trust website to book a place on the winter mooring of our choice. Some winter moorings are very popular apparently and being winter mooring virgins we have no idea if the one we want would be one of those.
We managed to get on and have booked for four whole months from November 1! Four whole months in one place will allow us to be close to family and friends for the winter, a chance to help out, to be involved parents and grandparents for a time, and to enjoy being part again of local clubs and groups. It should be a sociable winter and hopefully also allow us to attract lots of additional paid work.
Plan A – al panning with canalplan.uk
So our plan is to return to Leicestershire for the winter. We didn’t make that last year because of flooding, so we knew it could be a risk, but the long-range forecast looked hopeful. However, getting there now isn’t actually going to be as straightforward as we or you might think. On the day we decided and paid (a LOT of money), we saw some horrendous pictures from the canalised River Soar, and yes, that’s the river where we intend to be mooring.
So going straight there from the Caldon was out. Plan A involved 72 miles, 6 furlongs and 51 locks. It would have taken us down onto the Trent and Mersey Canal, travelling its length to Shardlow, where we would join the River Trent at Derwent Mouth. From the Trent we would then turn onto the River Soar. At the time we planned this both the Trent and the Soar were in flood so closed to navigation. Plan A catered for this climate change weather situation because over the years we’ve come to expect this. There was some planned work expected to be finished on the Soar on 25 October so we had time to sit and wait for both rivers to come out of flood and that work to finish for us to do a dash (such as you can in a narrowboat) to our mooring location. That section of the journey, particularly with a fast flowing Trent, could be done in one very long day.
Plan A was scuppered by Canal and River Trust and the weather. They had begun replacing both sets of lock gates at Ratcliffe Lock on the Soar before the flooding began, but as the water levels rose, they had to abandon the work. This was a repair that was due last year in the winter stoppages programme, which operates from November to April annually. Guess what? Flooding then meant they couldn’t do the work then, so they started it this autumn.
Thanks Simon and gulp that’s a narrowboat sunk beyond Kegworth lock!
So we then started to look at Plan B. That involved a detour, a serious detour. It was 144 miles, 2 3/4 furlongs, 97 locks, 2 moveable bridges and 5 tunnels resulting in over 3 miles travelling underground.
It would take us to Fradley Junction on the Trent and Mersey, onto the Coventry and ultimately via a series of waterways onto the Leicester Line starting in Northamptonshire. We would then work our way down to Foxton Lock Flight, and right through Leicester before arriving on our planned River Soar mooring.
But Plan B was also scuppered by Canal and River Trust and circumstance. In order to get there, we would need to wait until the river Spar section was out of flood, and that could take us into another problem. One lock at the Leicester end of the Soar is already out, and work to resolve structural damage and a hole in the bottom gate there is awaiting flooding to abate so that won’t even be started until the waters go down. At that point it’s highly likely that a planned stoppage at Whetstone Lock south of Leicester will have started if the river has dropped out of flood. That work to replace lock gates and repair brickwork of the lock chamber is expected to take until 19 December to resolve assuming it starts on time on 28 October. So, no way through and highly unlikely that we could get through both hurdles given time scales and flood levels.
Fradley – our last chance to get onto the Coventry…
On then to Plan C…this involved Plan A but at the River Trent junction with the Soar there’s also a junction with the Erewash Canal and we haven’t yet made it up the full length of the Erewash. Covid scuppered that plan during our initial foray there in June 2022. So Plan C involves the Plan A route plus a voyage up and down the Erewash by which time we will hope to see the river Soar out of flood and Ratcliffe Lock mended so we can do our mad dash to our winter mooring better late than never. That’s a 96 mile, 6 furlongs and 81 lock plan.
Plan C
Will it work? We can but hope it will, remembering from past experience that the unexpected is often invaluable. As I write, both the Soar and the Trent have dropped out of flood, which makes me optimistic . If Plan C doesn’t work, then we’ll just have to magic up Plan D whatever that might be, find a new winter mooring, lose all out money for the original mooring and pray that nothing en route will literally scupper us!
Pickingupducks 