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2015 09 27 Newsletter – A cruise to Market Harborough: Rugby to Market Harborough

Early on Sunday morning I walked a mile through Rugby’s quiet weekend streets to the important appointment I raced back from Llangollen for. Here she is.

Cynthia arrived at 10.17am on platform five at Rugby station after twenty four hours of travel by car, train, taxi and plane from Arlington Vermont. That she arrived at 10.17am came as a bit of a surprise because she should have pulled in to the station at 9.14am.

A quick call to Birmingham airport revealed the reason for her nonappearance. An hour’s delay in New York meant that she missed her planned train. She was on the next one though so all was well.

After a lazy day on Sunday I was keen show Cynthia the Warwickshire countryside and how pleasant cruising on a narrowboat can be with the engine purring contentedly beneath our feet… and the ever noisy wet exhaust hissing like a steam train behind us.

I did my usual engine checks; sea cock open, oil topped up and a quick peek in the heat exchanger to check the water level. All was well so I turned the engine on and waited for the reassuring spurt of water from the exhaust to confirm that I had remembered to open the sea cock.

After a minute or two waiting in vain for anything to appear from the exhaust I lifted one of the boards over the engine and found the missing water. A high pressure jet sprayed down the front of my fleece from a pea sized hole in my recently replaced waterlock.

The waterlock is a plastic box fitted between the heat between the engine and the exhaust outlet beneath my read fenders. It stops the exhaust water from running back in to the engine when it stops.

A few months ago on my way back from Fradley Junction I discovered to my dismay that my plastic waterlock had shaken free of its fitting and come to rest against the gearbox coupling. The spinning coupling quickly wore a hole through the plastic allowing much of the canal water drawn into the boat for cooling the engine to pour into the engine bay rather than being expelled through the exhaust.

I managed to limp to Streethay Wharf with a rapidly filling bilge where I was treated very well indeed. Their engineers found me a second hand and seemingly good condition waterlock as a replacement, fabricated a steel basket which they welded to the frame around my engine and then strapped the waterlock immovably to the basket. I knew there was no chance of this one ever vibrating close enough to the gearbox coupling to suffer any damage.

Unfortunately the waterlock wasn’t in as good a condition as it appeared. I don’t know what caused the hole in it but unless I could repair or patch the hole, or replace the waterlock again, I was stuck in the middle of Rugby.

My temporary repair in the original waterlock was ineffective. I stuck half a roll of duct tape over the abrasion in the side of the plastic box, turned the engine on and then watched in dismay as it slid off the box into the bilge almost immediately. This time I had a more cunning plan.

Because the hole in the replacement box was close to the waterlock’s inlet, I wrapped half a yard of super sticky duct tape around the waterlock neck over the small hole and then confidently turned the engine on.

The high pressure water immediately blew a perfectly circular hole through the tape and began to fill the engine bay again so I did what I should have done in the first place and phoned the experts.

Ever accommodating Streethay Wharf rose to the challenge again. They had a new waterlock in stock but didn’t have an engineer available to fit it. No problem, they told me, they would send their painter instead. They gently informed me that replacing the box was a job any reasonably confident and competent person could do. Their painter was a boater who had worked in and around boats all of his life so such a simple task was well within his capabilities.

As I had tried and failed to replenish my dwindling supply of coal two days earlier on my way in to Rugby I cheekily asked them if the painter could bring a couple of bags with him. Ever accommodating, they agreed immediately.

The painter, a new and shiny waterlock and two bags of coal arrived mid-afternoon. By the time the kettle had boiled for his coffee the new box was securely fitted and ready for testing.

It didn’t work.

After asking him whether he was sure he’d fitted it the right way around, and after he’d given me the kind of look usually reserved for very small children asking stupid and annoying questions, I did what I should have done in the first place and opened the sea cock before starting the engine again.

Everything worked perfectly this time.

After waving goodbye to our knight in shining armour I was keen to leave Rugby’s visitor moorings. Even though the moorings aren’t in a particularly pleasant part of Rugby adjacent to an industrial park and close to a large council estate, the two evenings there had been trouble and mostly noise free. The high power fan from a nearby warehouse droned all night but I didn’t hear any late night revellers at all. Even so, a view of industry and commerce isn’t my idea of a perfect spot to moor so we moved on.

We cruised for an hour to give Cynthia her first taste of narrow locks after her narrowboat and wide lock initiation years earlier on the Kennet & Avon then stopped for the night at a quiet spot between Hillmorton Wharf and Barby Moorings.

The following morning we cruised back to my Calcutt Boats base so I could pick up two months post and parcels, catch up with gossip, fill up with water, and pinch a dozen apples from their canal side orchard. We cruised again for another hour before mooring for the night close to Lower Shuckborough where we raided the hedgerow for blackberries to eat with our apples.

The following day we headed for Market Harborough. First the six lock Braunston flight, then Braunston tunnel followed an hour later by the seven lock Watford flight with its constant roar of motorway traffic.

With the noise behind us we moored close to the winding hole at the bottom of Crack’s Hill. We wandered over the hill and the recently planted wood on the towpath side for an hour before moving on to Yelvertoft and a little shopping.

There are three opportunities to spend your hard earned cash in Yelvertoft. If you fancy a pint you might be able to get one at the Knightly Arms. It’s one of the many village pubs these days struggling to make ends meet. The first time I visited three years ago they sold decent food. The second time they had given up on the food but at least we could buy a drink. On our third visit the pub was closed during what is normally a fairly brisk period between Christmas and New Year. There was no sign of life when we passed at lunch time on Wednesday.

The second of the three businesses in Yelvertoft is the post office. I’ve only been in there once. The owner struggled to lift his eyes from his laptop and struggled even more to answer my question with any enthusiasm so I’ve left him since then to the peace and quiet he so clearly craves.

The third of the three is a family run delicatessen and it’s an absolute gem. I think we were in the shop for an hour. We were treated to slivers of cheese, crackers, honey, chutney and jam and an in depth commentary on all we touched, tasted and saw.

We went there to buy some bacon and bread but came away £40 lighter but full of good food and good will. If you cruise the Leicester Line and enjoy good quality food, you won’t be disappointed if you visit Squisito.

After returning to the boat and a foolish attempt at eating most of our purchase we cruised on through countryside rarely troubled by buildings or roads, passed quickly under the A14 and the on for another three miles and a perfect mooring half a mile from Welford Junction.

The next day we carried on towards Foxton, squeezed past moored boats at North Kilworth Wharf, looked for any signs of activity at half dug Kilworth marina, successfully negotiated Husband Bosworth tunnel where I snapped a fender hanger last year when I brushed against an uneven tunnel wall, and then stopped for a leisurely lunch at the base of the Laughton Hills.

We arrived at Foxton late afternoon so we decided to stop for the day rather than rush through the flight. The visitor moorings above the Foxton flight are a pleasant and quiet spot once the many visitors have left for the day.

We wandered up and down the flight and around the inclined plane and then debated whether we should part with £4 each to visit The Boilerhouse museum run by the Foxton Inclined Plane Trust               . We decided not to in the end because the 10am opening the following morning would delay us too much.

At 8am we were on the water point at the head of the ten staircase lock Foxton flight, second in line for the forty minute descent. We had to wait for an hour though because (A) the two lock keepers decided to let the four boats waiting at the bottom of the flight come up before us and (B) one of them fell in.

The unfortunate keeper committed a cardinal sin. The ten lock flight is split into two five lock sets with a passing place in the middle large enough for just two boats to pass if one of them is pulled hard against the towpath. The keeper in his infinite wisdom decided to jump onto the gunnel of a hire boat waiting in the passing place to help the inexperienced crew by grabbing the centre line they had neatly coiled on the boat roof before jumping back onto the towpath with it.

The previous night had been cold and clear so there was a heavy dew on both boat and bank. He jumped for the towpath, slipped on wet grass and tumbled into the canal’s icy water. Training kicked in so he immediately deployed his gas filled life jacket which meant that he (A) couldn’t stand up and (B) couldn’t climb out of the canal unaided.

After he was pulled shivering from the canal then instructed to go home to shower and change, and after the drifting hire boat was retrieved, normal service resumed.

The Foxton flight is a joy. The descent offers a wide view of unspoilt countryside to the east of Leicester and the ten lock flight is a tranquil haven compared to the constant roar of traffic on the seven lock Watford flight at the other end of the Leicester Line’s summit pound.

You also have the opportunity to show off your boat to the dozens of tourists who line the flight watching a steady procession of thin and very long boats work their way through impossibly narrow locks. The gongoozlers are ever friendly, but they need watching carefully.

We had to move mothers with small children on several occasions when they stood far too close to the lock sides and trapped themselves between the water and the opening lock gates. The need to watch them carefully and offer them gentle advice is my excuse for not watching my own boat and allowing a couple of gallons of water to flow into my engine bay when my stern drifted back from the downstream gates under the cascading water from a pair of leaking upstream gates.

All of the soaked clothes hanging inside the engine room are dry now as is the bilge after half an hour with my wet vac so no harm done but I must be more careful in future.

Care was needed on the canal’s final mile into Market Harborough too. I had to constantly weave from side to side to avoid a steady procession of dustbin sized logs and small rafts of vegetation floating downstream.

Market Harborough’s basin, Union Wharf, is a hive of activity with pontoons for visitors, pontoons for long term leisure moorers, pump out and Elsan disposal points, four water points, a boater shower and toilet block, rubbish disposal complete with very rarely found recycling bins and a vibrant café. When we arrived the café’s canal side tables were filled with lunch time diners watching boats turning in the basin.

We turned, moored, locked the boat and then donned rucksacks and boots for the mile hike to Sainsbury’s at the far end of town. We were looking forward to exploring the dozens of independent shops lining the busy High Street but thanks to two generous gentlemen we missed out.

The owner of the boat in front of us on the Foxton flight had tied up on his basin mooring by the time we passed. “Would you like me to run you to a supermarket, a DIY store, anywhere at all?” We declined, he insisted, we relented.

I had my camera around my neck as I wandered aimlessly down Sainsbury’s crowded isles as Cynthia shopped. “Why Nikon? Why Nikon instead of Cannon?” a loud Scottish voice enquired. Arthur, a commercial photographer, chatted to me about cameras for five minutes until we parted ways at herbs and spices. He spotted us again as we passed him as he paid for his goods. “Don’t move!” he insisted, “I’m taking you back to your boat.” He dropped us off next to the Waterfront Restaurant close to the boat and drove off with a cheery wave.

Aren’t people wonderful?

We cruised for an hour until we found a quiet spot to moor. We’re still there now. I can hear the muted roar of early morning traffic on the A6 half a mile behind me but through my office window I can see mist shrouded oak and horse chestnut on the offside bank fringing acres of golden fields. We’ll join the Sunday crowds as we climb the Foxton flight later today but now it’s time for a leisurely breakfast.

[ratingwidget post_id=29914]

Discovery Day And Narrowboat Helmsmanship Training

If you’re new to this site you might not know about the service I launched in June 2014. I host narrowboat experience days on board my own 62? long narrowboat James No 194. The ten hour days are a combination of discussion about the pros and cons of living on board, narrowboat designs and the best equipment for live aboard boaters, and a six to eight hour helmsmanship training cruise along the Oxford and/or Grand Union Canals.

I’m running the discovery days approximately on the first ten days of August, October and December this year. As summer approaches more and more site users are booking the relatively few discovery days still available. August onwards is still relatively free. If you are interested in joining me for a fun and information packed discovery day please check the diary before it’s too late.

Update 27th September 2015

There are still three dates available for October so you can join my on the cut for an idyllic autumn cruise. You may want to stay locally the night before, the night after or both, in which case I highly recommend this B & B. It’s a five minute stroll from the mooring where I begin my discovery days.  If you want to  see the available dates for October onward click here.

In the meantime, meet recent discovery day attendee Ken Sharratt.

“I’ve thought about living on a narrowboat on and off for the last twenty years but through commitments, events and various other things I have never done anything about it until now. Over the last seven or eight months I have started  researching the subject and it has gradually gained momentum, from reading magazines and e-books, the internet and looking round boats to figure out what I wanted.

The first e-book I came across was written by Paul, called “Living on a Narrowboat” (part of the Narrowbudget Gold package of three guides and a bespoke narrowboat budget calculator). I found this invaluable in giving me a realistic view of the life I am aiming for and has definitely added to my growing knowledge. To my surprise I started receiving a newsletter in my inbox which covers all things related to narrowboats from life to composting toilets which I was quite impressed with. I noticed the information about the Discovery day after reading one of these.

I thought, if I’m going to change the direction of my life and spend quite a bit of money doing it, the discovery day sounded like a good way of starting to find out if my expectations matched the reality of everything involved with it.

I wasn’t disappointed. Paul is very easy to get along with. He made us welcome from the start and provided a steady supply of tea throughout the day. It was a very enjoyable and productive day for me. He made me re-evaluate a few things and was remarkably relaxed about sailing off downstream  with his home in Fairly inexperienced hands. He was there at hand though to provide advice, instruction and direction and the odd hands on correction when absolutely necessary.

I would recommend that anyone considering taking to the water should read the book and go on one of these discovery days. They will definitely shorten the time spent on their learner curve and possibly avert a costly or disastrous decision from being made.

I am currently in the process of getting my house ready for sale. The builder should be here in a few weeks, then the decorator and after that the estate agent, so hopefully it’s going to be early next year when it’s sold and I can buy the boat that’s waiting for me out there with my name it.”

You can find out more about my discovery days and availability here.

I Need Some Help!

Each time I write a newsletter, I tick another subject off the list of things which those new to boating have told me that they want to read about. The hardest part of the process isn’t the writing itself, it’s constantly thinking of new content for each issue. The trouble is, I don’t know what you want to read. I think I keep the newsletters reasonably interesting but I don’t know for sure. That’s where I need your help.

Can you let me know what you would like to read in the future? Are there any areas of narrowboat life you don’t think I’ve covered enough or areas which I’ve missed completely? Please let me know what you want to read about. Thanks for your help.

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2015 09 20 Newsletter – A cruise to Llangollen: Gnosall Heath to Rugby

This week has been a rather busy one. I’ve spent far too much time racing to get from A to B rather than slowly enjoying the countryside around me. I’m going to have a very relaxing and enjoyable potter up the Grand Union Leicester Line for ten days before the start of my October discovery days to help me recover.

The mad dash back to Rugby began on Sunday as soon as I finished last Sunday’s newsletter and left my dank and muddy mooring close to Gnosall Heath.

I swept through short but beautifully put together Cowley tunnel with its undulating roof passing three tracksuit wearing eastern Europeans, each carrying rods set up for spinning but no nets. The cynic in me suggested that they were fishing for the pot rather than for sport.

As I approached Wheaton Aston two buzzards flapped lazily from a canal side field to a treetop perch and watched me intently as I passed beneath.

I could see Cannock Chase’s vast acreage of conifers ten miles to the east as the crow flies but twenty eight miles by canal. I stopped close to Wheaton Aston for the night rather than moor to close to Wolverhampton’s noise.

I started at 8am on Monday in heavy drizzle, protected from the elements by heavy duty waterproofs, a hat, gloves and fleece top. September is usually a warm and gentle month but my stove is often on in the mornings now. The summer is drawing to a close.

Through Brewood and another hour of peace and quiet before the rising noise of Wolverhampton’s industry. Two miles short of Wolverhampton city centre at Autherley Junction I turned north east towards Great Haywood.

The stop lock before the junction is a bit of a pain for solo boaters. Napton Narrowboats have one of their two bases there. When I passed, one of their hire boats was moored securely on the lock landing so the only way of setting the lock was by tying up to the hire boat and climbing over it set the lock. Tying on to the hire boat wouldn’t have been a problem if there was actually an anchor point to tie my rope to, but there wasn’t so I tied an ineffective not around their centre line with mine and abandoned ship.

I joined the Staffs and Worcester canal after a brief but memorable introduction to the Shropshire Union canal. The three words I would use to best describe the canal is cuttings, embankments and straight. For me the far reaching views on the Shroppie are somewhat spoiled by plodding along mile after mile of arrow straight waterway. The relatively few moorings available along the Shroppie don’t add to its appeal either.

The Staffs and Worcester’s constant twists and turns made a welcome change, as did the narrow section on the approach to the M54 bridge. On any otherwise deserted canal, you can pretty much guarantee that you’ll meet another boat or two at a section where two boats can’t pass. In my case three boats heading north west met three boats heading south east.

The beauty of cruising the inland waterways in narrowboats is that there’s rarely a problem when two boats meet at a tight spot. One squeezes close to the offside, scouring the cabin side with branches and brambles while the other grinds along the rocky shallows close to the towpath. Each boat owner accepts the knocks and scrapes as an everyday part of boating. Every time I scrape my boat through a gap like this though I’m pleased I don’t have the stress of trying to protect an expensively painted cabin.

I’m not worried about scraping a little paint but I was a little twitchy at Otherton lock when I almost suffered some real damage.

My normal routine for descending a lock is to leave the boat to its own devices as I let the water out. The lock’s escaping water draws the boat forward and away from the dangers of getting caught on the cill. When the lock has emptied, the boat begins to drift back towards the cill but I climb down the escape ladder, walk along my roof and then drop down into the cockpit before the stern reaches the cill and the possible danger of a leaking lock gate allowing water to cascade onto the back deck, and possibly into the engine room.

At Otherton lock the single escape ladder is very close to the downstream gate so by the time I opened both gates and reached the escape ladder the boat had almost drifted away from it. I just managed to step on the cratch board before it disappeared, which was very fortunate indeed.

By the time I jumped down into the cockpit, water from the leaking upstream gate was cascading onto my back deck and splashing in to the engine room.

I spoke to a boater last week who found himself in a similar situation. In his case though the boat was pinned under the cascade while the water flowed through the engine room into his cabin. His boat sank.

Away from Otherton lock and the din of rush hour traffic thundering along the nearby M6 the heavens opened as I cruised out of Penkridge. I stopped under the M6 bridge in the dry while I pulled on my heavy duty waterproofs, pulled the hood tight around my face and then sailed away from the bridge to do battle with the rain. Of course the rain had stopped by then so I stewed in my plastic body bag for the remaining half hour of the day.

I started at dawn the following morning hoping to put in twelve hours and reach Fazeley junction. Beautiful Cannock Chase stretched before me as I emerged from Deptfmore lock then skirted Baswich and Milford. On the outskirts of Milford a country house faced the Chase surrounded by ten acres of manicured waterside lawns.

I joined a rare queue and Haywood lock and waited forty minutes for the five boats ahead of me. With a pretty lock side café on one side and Shugborough Hall on the other, I could think of worse places to pass stand for a while chatting to fellow boaters.

While I was waiting at Haywood lock I washed the starboard side of the boat. Cream cabin sides and braid on braid rope aren’t a good combination. By the time I dropped down Colwich lock it was dirty again.

I bought my posh braid on braid rope at Crick this year. I had been after a set for years. The rope is soft to the touch and is wonderfully flexible for tying knots. It’s also as absorbent as a sponge. It holds the muck and rain when you drag it through grass, soaking you and your clothes if you run it through your hands and it leaves black rope marks on every part of the cabin it touches. Switching to this rope wasn’t my best ever idea.

I was lucky to find a place in the early afternoon on the very popular visitor moorings at Rugely with both Tesco and Morrison supermarkets next to the canal. I did my weekly grocery shopping including half a roasted chicken and an apple and cheese salad for lunch.

I reached Fradley Junction by 5.30pm. I quickly passed through the three locks but faced a five minute delay as I turned onto the Coventry canal as two new owners tried to force their small GRP cruiser through the narrow channel spanned by a swing bridge. After three attempts they admitted defeat so moved over to let me pass.

I stopped for the night close to Kings Orchard marina two hours short of my day’s target.

The next day I moved slowly through Huddlesford past full visitor moorings next to The Plough and then hundreds of metres of towpath marked with the names of expected boats for the weekend’s biennial Huddlesford Gathering of historic boats and floating traders.

Once through Fazeley Junction I reached the two locks of the Glascote flight and a lengthy delay for the two boats ahead of me to rise through the bottom lock. The lock is notoriously slow filling. So slow in fact that a framed poem written by a frustrated boater is displayed there.

I chatted with the lady owner of an all-electric tug heading for the Huddlesford Gathering. The tug has a 650 litre tank to power the diesel generator which keeps their two tonnes of batteries charged. She told me that they have a bit of a problem with fishermen because of their silent running. After the half dozen encounters with anglers with roach poles blocking the canal, they now toot their horn as they approach otherwise the anglers don’t know they are there until the bow has pushed their rods away from the canal centre. She said they weren’t at all pleased when this happened.

At Polesworth I passed the Little Chimney Company butty workshop and the boat the owners live on, Tailwind. The Little Chimney Company manufacture bespoke stainless steel chimneys. I purchased one last May. I am very happy with the investment after buying three chimneys from chandlers over the previous five years. All of them quickly decayed with 24/7 live aboard use. My stainless steel chimney doesn’t have a mark on it after eighteen months of daily use. A quick scrub with a scourer and soapy water is all that’s needed to bring it back to a showroom shine. I highly recommend stainless steel chimneys.

I stopped for the night in after tackling the first two locks of the Atherstone flight. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face by the time I moored so I couldn’t have wrung any more miles out of the day.

On Thursday I was waiting for the dawn with the engine running ready for a twenty two mile ten lock day on my final cruise back to Rugby.

With no other boats about I flew up the remaining nine locks of the Atherstone flight, cruised sedately through Hartshill and then slightly less sedately through Nuneaton.

Shortly after leaving horrible Nuneaton, the dirtiest stretch of canal after Camp Hill locks in Birmingham in all of the eleven hundred plus miles I’ve covered this year, I had the dubious pleasure of meeting the angriest boater I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.

His cruiser stern narrowboat, covered in junk and patches of rust, appeared mid-stream around a bend as I came through a bridge. I moved over slightly to allow him to pass, but not too much because of the shallows on the outside of the bend.

He wouldn’t veer an inch from his chosen line so we came within inches of each other. No problem. We didn’t touch. It’s a position every boater has been in quite regularly so there was nothing unusual in this at all. What was very unusual was his attitude when our two sterns passed.

His face was purple with rage, veins stood out on his neck and he was, literally, spitting mad. Unfortunately, or probably very fortunately in this case, I couldn’t hear what he said because of my noisy exhaust. I didn’t need to hear his words to know what he was saying though. He was swearing at me, pointing in turn to my boat, his boat, the bridge, the sky, the water and then pausing every half a dozen words to spit aggressively in the water.

He was still staring at me intently as he rounded the bend, not doubt intent on doing battle with the next boat crew he met. Middle aged men fuelled by rage and strong lager where a daily part of my job when I managed challenging pubs, especially in London, but the attitude of this boater was remarkable because it is so rare.

I stopped for lunch on the visitor moorings above Hawkesbury junction then pressed on towards Rugby.

I passed a group of very intent looking middle aged men with cameras near Hopsford Hall where the West Coast Main Line runs close to and parallel with the canal. According to a nearby moored boater, a steam train was due so the train enthusiasts were dribbling with excitement.

At 5pm after eleven hours at the helm I moored for the night on the visitor moorings opposite Town Thorns Farm close to Brinklow.

My cruise was successful in terms of moving quickly from Llangollen to Rugby, but it’s not the way to enjoy narrowboat life. Each long day at the helm became a chore rather than a pleasure. I passed dozens of spots I would have loved to moor for a day or two. The cruise was more work than pleasure, more about the destination than the journey. I won’t do it again.

Of all the cruising I’ve done returning from Llangollen, the most enjoyable part was probably the hour or so from Brinklow to the centre of Rugby where I am now. I moved at not much more than tick over so I had plenty of time to appreciate the sights and sounds around me.

The final hour was a little frustrating though because I was running out of coal. I knew Lime Farm Marina sold it because of the sign on the archway over their entrance but, after I pushed my stern through the shallow water opposite their entrance to make the turn, then shoehorned my boat into a narrow gap between moored boat a chap on their wharf told me that the marina was shut down while the owners were on holiday. He suggested trying my only other option before Rugby, nearby Amanda Boat Hire. I tried them. They were shut too.

So here I am on a chilly Sunday morning contemplating adding the half dozen briquettes I have left to an almost cold fire. It’s a hard life.

[ratingwidget post_id=29900]

Discovery Day And Narrowboat Helmsmanship Training

If you’re new to this site you might not know about the service I launched in June 2014. I host narrowboat experience days on board my own 62? long narrowboat James No 194. The ten hour days are a combination of discussion about the pros and cons of living on board, narrowboat designs and the best equipment for live aboard boaters, and a six to eight hour helmsmanship training cruise along the Oxford and/or Grand Union Canals.

I’m running the discovery days approximately on the first ten days of August, October and December this year. As summer approaches more and more site users are booking the relatively few discovery days still available. August onwards is still relatively free. If you are interested in joining me for a fun and information packed discovery day please check the diary before it’s too late.

Update 20th September 2015

The earliest dates are now at the beginning of October. If you want to  see the available dates for October onward click here.

In the meantime, meet recent discovery day attendee Ken Sharratt.

“I’ve thought about living on a narrowboat on and off for the last twenty years but through commitments, events and various other things I have never done anything about it until now. Over the last seven or eight months I have started  researching the subject and it has gradually gained momentum, from reading magazines and e-books, the internet and looking round boats to figure out what I wanted.

The first e-book I came across was written by Paul, called “Living on a Narrowboat” (part of the Narrowbudget Gold package of three guides and a bespoke narrowboat budget calculator). I found this invaluable in giving me a realistic view of the life I am aiming for and has definitely added to my growing knowledge. To my surprise I started receiving a newsletter in my inbox which covers all things related to narrowboats from life to composting toilets which I was quite impressed with. I noticed the information about the Discovery day after reading one of these.

I thought, if I’m going to change the direction of my life and spend quite a bit of money doing it, the discovery day sounded like a good way of starting to find out if my expectations matched the reality of everything involved with it.

I wasn’t disappointed. Paul is very easy to get along with. He made us welcome from the start and provided a steady supply of tea throughout the day. It was a very enjoyable and productive day for me. He made me re-evaluate a few things and was remarkably relaxed about sailing off downstream  with his home in Fairly inexperienced hands. He was there at hand though to provide advice, instruction and direction and the odd hands on correction when absolutely necessary.

I would recommend that anyone considering taking to the water should read the book and go on one of these discovery days. They will definitely shorten the time spent on their learner curve and possibly avert a costly or disastrous decision from being made.

I am currently in the process of getting my house ready for sale. The builder should be here in a few weeks, then the decorator and after that the estate agent, so hopefully it’s going to be early next year when it’s sold and I can buy the boat that’s waiting for me out there with my name it.”

You can find out more about my discovery days and availability here.

I Need Some Help!

Each time I write a newsletter, I tick another subject off the list of things which those new to boating have told me that they want to read about. The hardest part of the process isn’t the writing itself, it’s constantly thinking of new content for each issue. The trouble is, I don’t know what you want to read. I think I keep the newsletters reasonably interesting but I don’t know for sure. That’s where I need your help.

Can you let me know what you would like to read in the future? Are there any areas of narrowboat life you don’t think I’ve covered enough or areas which I’ve missed completely? Please let me know what you want to read about. Thanks for your help.

0

2015 09 13 Newsletter – A cruise to Llangollen: Llangollen to Gnosall Heath

After I sent off the newsletter last Sunday, I picked up my rucksack and Kindle then ambled down to the river Dee beneath Pontcysyllte aqueduct’s steel trough, perched on a rock by the water’s edge and sat quietly reading for two blissful hours before returning to my peaceful mooring at the end of Trevor basin.

I could happily spend weeks, even months, in this beautiful spot. I have to reach Rugby for a very important appointment on 20^th September so I needed to start cruising in earnest. I will be back but next time I will stay long enough to explore the area fully.

Veteran continuous cruiser Peter Earley voiced my own thoughts perfectly on the forum recently when replying to a question posted there. He said then when you first start exploring the network, you try to cover as much ground as possible trying to see all there is to see. Then, once you’ve worn yourself out, you begin to relax and enjoy your exploration. You take your time, moving just a few miles each time so that you can enjoy your next mooring and all that surrounds it at leisure. How true. I’m at the lunatic can’t-move-fast-enough stage at the moment.

Since April I’ve cruised 1,074 miles and passed through 604 locks. I’m almost overwhelmed by the number of places I want to stop and explore. There are thousands of footpath miles within walking distance of the canal and river network; through woods and forests, along river banks, around lakes, over hills and mountains and, of course, along a usually beautiful towpath. These paths often lead to idyllic sleepy villages, pretty market towns and England’s vibrant cities. Exploring the network and all that surrounds it is a lifetime’s work but for me this year is all about miles.

So on Monday, on a gloriously warm and sunny autumn morning, I turned my boat around and headed east along the Llangollen canal on my one hundred and forty six mile, ninety three lock journey to Rugby.

I sailed high above the river over the Pontcysyllte aqueduct then not quite so high over the Ceiriog at Chirk, through a queue free Chirk tunnel, sideways again thanks to the current, past Frankton Junction and a longing glance up the Montgomery canal, and then almost head on into an out of control boat at a bend.

This was a privately owned boat but a boat owned by a man who loved beer more than his boat. The canal narrowed at the bend so I was in the centre as I made the turn. So was the boat coming towards me. The difference was that I had slowed for the blind bend but he hadn’t. He didn’t seem to mind. He swung his tiller hard over with one hand, took a swig from his beer bottle with the other, crashed hard into the concrete siding with his bow, laughed as both he and his two companions staggered towards the water with the impact, then applied so much throttle that a four feet high jet ski like plume fountained from his propeller before hurtling off into the distance.

The final hour to Ellesmere was peaceful once more. I turned onto a very crowded arm in Ellesmere to do my week’s shopping at the waterside Tesco store then moved on to Blake mere, basking in the early evening sun and laughing at the antics of two shirtless and rather wobbly live aboard boaters close to the playing fields.

As they sipped pint glasses of scrumpy cider they used broom handles as imaginary guns to shoot down a passing plane. They told me that the plane belonged to Commies who were upsetting their dogs.

On Tuesday I woke to a mist shrouded mere and a day cold enough to warrant a thick fleece, hat and gloves.

I cruised through the mist past Blake Mere, Cole Mere, along the long straight embankment close to Whixall Moss nature reserve and then past Prees Junction before catching up with a slow moving Anglo Welsh hire boat.

I waited patiently for the helmsman to extract the boat from the shallows where he grounded after moving too far over to allow a boat to pass, then waited patiently for him to free his boat again for the same reason, then waited expectantly for him to free himself a third time when he grounded again.

Third time unlucky in his case. He was well and truly stuck so I tied my bow line to his stern and pulled him off the mud and waved my thanks to him as he insisted that I take the lead.

I enjoyed the chilly day and its autumn smells; wood smoke from boat stoves and canal side garden fires, the occasional whiff of diesel fumes from my smoky engine and the ever present heady aroma of cow shit.

I managed to avoid negotiating all but one of the Llangollen’s lift bridges on my journey to Trevor but on the way back I had them all to myself. As I struggled with the difficult positioning of the lift bridge close to the Whitchurch arm, a guy enjoying a leisurely dinner on the bow of a nearby Anglo Welsh hire boat abandoned his food, sprinted to the bridge and insisted on seeing me through. What a kind man.

There were two more kind men at Grindley Brook’s staircase flight. Two lock keepers, scheduled to finish for the day at 5.30pm were still there to help me through an hour later. Such is the kindness of the boating community.

Three more locks and I finished for the day six locks and thirteen miles closer to Rugby.

A late and chilly start the following morning saw me at Willey Moor Lock by midday. I dropped through the lock watched by a trio of male hikers enjoying the camaraderie of a lunchtime pint. Ten minutes later I met a lone lock side loiterer, this time sitting next to the water for business rather than pleasure.

The elderly man, sporting a straggly grey beard and blue woollen hat, sat quietly next to his stock of goods for sale; a few onions, a basket of cooking apples, bags of logs and kindling and a few packets of Bryant & May fire lighters. He told me that he had been sitting beside this lock for many years offering to help boaters through the locks in the hope that they buy something from him. Unfortunately, he told me, his failing health mean that he isn’t much help these days but he turns up for work anyway, ever hopeful that he’ll sell a few odds and ends.

I purchased a few packs of firelighters and two bags of kindling from him then helped him help me through the lock before heading east again, stopping briefly to curse the bypass weirs beneath each lock.

The bypass weirs can be a bit of a pig, to put it mildly. Sometimes the gushing weir water enters the main channel in line with the canal, which is no problem at all. But sometimes it hits the canal at ninety degrees so as you slowly leave the lock chamber you’re immediately pushed sideways onto any unfortunate boats waiting to enter the lock. The only solution is to charge through the current before it pushes the boat.

That’s no problem coming out of the lock chamber, but it’s a buttock clenching exercise charging towards a 7’ wide brick opening with twenty tonnes of steel just two inches narrower. I have to confess to not always getting it right. The boat is built like a tank so no worry there, but I can tell at the end of the day how accurate my lock entry has been by how much debris is on the floor inside the boat (Just kidding!).

At Wrenbury I had the pleasure of tackling another lift bridge, this one all electric with a queue of cars, vans, lorries and a solitary cyclist waiting impatiently for me to allow them to continue on their manic journeys.

Heading ever east down twenty feet though the three lock Baddiley flight then another thirteen feet through the two Swanley locks I stopped for the night temptingly close to Snugbury’s Ice Cream shop. No ice cream for me on this trip though.

Thursday was an idyllic day on the cut. The weather, the people, the locks, the view, everything was perfect.

I flew down the Hurleston flight, my last four locks on the Llangollen, aided by two ever helpful lock keepers. Of course, I forgot about the badly place escape ladder in the bottom lock so had to jump six feet down into the lock onto my roof. I managed without mishap then turned south onto the Shroppie.

Joining the Shroppie from the Llangollen reminded me of my first cruise on the Thames. After fifty miles tortuous miles on the narrow and winding south Oxford I turned onto a river which felt like a sea. The Shroppie wasn’t as wide as the Thames, but at the junction and for another half mile cruising south after the narrow confines of the Llangollen it felt vast.

I stopped for fuel, coal and industrial sized tin of Brasso at Nantwich Canal Centre. As I pulled on to their canal side wharf next to the diesel pump, the guy looking after visiting boats told me that I would have to wait at least half an hour while he had his lunch. I wasn’t bothered. I fancied a break myself but, by the time I had tied up and filled my kettle, he had sacrificed his lunch break to serve me 148 litres of diesel. What a lovely chap.

Since April I’ve used 1,059 litres of diesel at an average of 1.35 litres an hour for 784 hours. Most of the engine’s running time has been to move the boat 1,074 miles and through 604 locks. In all of this time I think I’ve only run the engine on two or three occasions to charge my batteries when I’ve been more than one day in the same spot.

I carried on through the outskirts of Nantwich with its acres of new housing to the east of the canal’s high embankment. I cruised all day in brilliant sunshine with wide views on both sides of the canal.

Fifteen miles to the east was Stoke on Trent and Westport Lake where I had the pleasure of a visit from Stoke’s maladjusted youth three weeks ago. The Shroppie is very much more tranquil and civilized than the Trent & Mersey.

I passed a flock of four hundred Canada geese and their mess close to Hack Green’s Secret Bunker and its not so secret sign. For £8.50 you can spend the day underground marvelling at man’s folly during the nuclear strike fearing Cold War years.

A mile further on were plentiful moorings at the oddly named Coole Pilates leisure area. A dozen picnic tables, each with its own barbecue, all empty save a careworn middle aged boater swigging enthusiastically from a can of Stella Artois.

Four miles of arrow straight canal and easy cruising allowed me the perfect opportunity to overheat my engine; 1500rpm seventy two degrees, 1700rpm seventy five degrees, 1800rpm eighty degrees and 2,000rpm blind panic and back to tick over for half a mile. It’s SO frustrating to have a fairly powerful engine but not be able to use it.

Thank you Anton Woodford off Song of the Waterways for your shouted boat roof greeting as I passed Overwater marina on the approach to Audlum. My apologies for the dumbfounded look all around me to try and identify the noise. My wet exhaust makes quite a racket when I’m chugging along at full speed.

My final goal for the day was to rise ninety three feet through Audlum’s fifteen locks. Thanks to the wonderful people of Audlum I flew up the flight. I lost count of the number of walkers, cyclists and fellow boaters who stopped long enough to open and close gates for me. At the penultimate lock a mother enjoying a lock side picnic with four pre teen children put down sandwiches and drinks to help me. Two muscle flexing boys, aided by two stronger and calmer girls, opened both downstream and upstream gates for me with much laughter and friendly rivalry. Aren’t the canals wonderful?

I moored in a deep and shady cutting close to Kinsall Farm above the flight, and there I stayed for a day.

Unfortunately life afloat isn’t all idyllic cruising and day dreaming. My boat, my home, also needs a fair degree of TLC. I spent the following day cleaning the boat inside and out and then decided that I needed to do a little pre winter stove flu cleaning.

I’m sure that you are far more sensible and intelligent than I am but, in case you’re just as stupid, let me offer you some advice. NEVER clean your stove flue after you’ve done your vacuuming and dusting and certainly don’t do what I did and forget to close the stove door when you clean the flu.

Flu cleaning is a dirty but simple affair. All you need to do is lower a sturdy length of chain down into the flu from outside the boat, then give it a vigorous shake to bang the chain against the flu sides. You’ll be amazed at the amount of muck which falls down the flu into the stove and, in my case, into the boat itself through the open stove door and all over the floor.

So I cleaned the inside of the boat again, did some washing, vacuumed the engine bilge, topped up the engine oil, refilled the stern gland greaser and unblocked the drain holes beneath the back deck’s hatch.

I love lying in bed listening to heavy rain bouncing off the boat roof. On Friday night I had the pleasure of listening to it for hours. Heavy rain was still falling when I set off at 9am on Saturday morning.

Looking and feeling like a cross between the Michelin man and Captain Birdseye in my heavy duty waterproofs I quickly passed through five locks of the Adderley flight, pausing briefly to treat myself to lunch from a farm shop’s display of jams, fresh baked fruit pies and scones, potatoes and tomatoes, fresh fruit, home cured bacon and plate sized pork pies next to the top lock. I helped myself to a pork pie a bag of scones and a juicy fat peach then stuffed a £5 in the stall’s honesty box.

Another hour to Market Drayton and a stop at the water point to top up before moving on to Tyrley, my second five lock flight of the day. This one wasn’t quite so easy. The pound above the bottom lock is at the tail end of Tyrley’s deep sandstone cutting. The towpath side is both rocky and shallow so there isn’t a lock landing.

A missing lock landing isn’t a problem if there are two or more of you on the boat. The helmsman simply stays in the canal centre until the remaining crew prepare the next lock. However, when you are single handed not having anywhere to secure the boat while you prepare the boat is a bit tricky.

While I was trying to think of a solution, the boat in the pound with me grounded immovably in the shallows. I roped my bow to their stern then pulled the boat away from the shallow side allowing them to enter their lock and leave me to my own devices.

Fortunately after a five minute wait a boat dropped down the lock and left the lock open for me. The one final hurdle to overcome on this lock was the two opposing currents from bypass weirs on either side of the canal, both water flows substantial after the day’s rain.

After the flight, Woodseaves Cutting stretches for over a mile. The deep, gloomy and narrow cutting is spanned by two forty feet high bridges. There’s a warning sign advising a 2mph maximum speed limit because of possible sandstone rock falls. Giant wire baskets filled with stone line the cutting’s base on the towpath side to help prevent further slippage.

After another two hours of embankments with the countryside bathed in early autumn’s golden light, a hazy view of The Wrekin twenty miles to the south west and then the damp twilight of the Grub Street Cutting, I tied up on the first available mooring at Norbury Junction with the intention of relaxing for a few hours today to finish off this week’s newsletter. Unfortunately I had to alter my plans.

For just the second time in nearly six months and over 1,000 miles cruising I couldn’t connect to the internet. The first time was back in May at the Crick Boat Show when I was hemmed in by dozens of boats for two days. Other than that, my Three dongle has worked seamlessly everywhere I’ve stopped.

I popped in to the Junction Inn for a quick pint while I took advantage of their free WiFi but I knew that wouldn’t help me today for the several hours I needed to be online.

I was up at 5am, cruising by 6.30am and moored again by 7.30am. I’m moored just north of Gnosall Heath now, connected to the outside world again and very happy indeed.

I’ll be off again in a minute. I have ninety one miles and thirty three locks to go before reaching Rugby, my goal for 20^th September. I hope you enjoy your Sunday. I know I’m going to enjoy mine!

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Discovery Day And Narrowboat Helmsmanship Training

If you’re new to this site you might not know about the service I launched in June 2014. I host narrowboat experience days on board my own 62? long narrowboat James No 194. The ten hour days are a combination of discussion about the pros and cons of living on board, narrowboat designs and the best equipment for live aboard boaters, and a six to eight hour helmsmanship training cruise along the Oxford and/or Grand Union Canals.

I’m running the discovery days approximately on the first ten days of August, October and December this year. As summer approaches more and more site users are booking the relatively few discovery days still available. August onwards is still relatively free. If you are interested in joining me for a fun and information packed discovery day please check the diary before it’s too late.

Update 13th September 2015

The earliest dates are now at the beginning of October. If you want to  see the available dates for October onward click here.

In the meantime, meet recent discovery day attendee Ken Sharratt.

“I’ve thought about living on a narrowboat on and off for the last twenty years but through commitments, events and various other things I have never done anything about it until now. Over the last seven or eight months I have started  researching the subject and it has gradually gained momentum, from reading magazines and e-books, the internet and looking round boats to figure out what I wanted.

The first e-book I came across was written by Paul, called “Living on a Narrowboat” (part of the Narrowbudget Gold package of three guides and a bespoke narrowboat budget calculator). I found this invaluable in giving me a realistic view of the life I am aiming for and has definitely added to my growing knowledge. To my surprise I started receiving a newsletter in my inbox which covers all things related to narrowboats from life to composting toilets which I was quite impressed with. I noticed the information about the Discovery day after reading one of these.

I thought, if I’m going to change the direction of my life and spend quite a bit of money doing it, the discovery day sounded like a good way of starting to find out if my expectations matched the reality of everything involved with it.

I wasn’t disappointed. Paul is very easy to get along with. He made us welcome from the start and provided a steady supply of tea throughout the day. It was a very enjoyable and productive day for me. He made me re-evaluate a few things and was remarkably relaxed about sailing off downstream  with his home in Fairly inexperienced hands. He was there at hand though to provide advice, instruction and direction and the odd hands on correction when absolutely necessary.

I would recommend that anyone considering taking to the water should read the book and go on one of these discovery days. They will definitely shorten the time spent on their learner curve and possibly avert a costly or disastrous decision from being made.

I am currently in the process of getting my house ready for sale. The builder should be here in a few weeks, then the decorator and after that the estate agent, so hopefully it’s going to be early next year when it’s sold and I can buy the boat that’s waiting for me out there with my name it.”

You can find out more about my discovery days and availability here.

I Need Some Help!

Each time I write a newsletter, I tick another subject off the list of things which those new to boating have told me that they want to read about. The hardest part of the process isn’t the writing itself, it’s constantly thinking of new content for each issue. The trouble is, I don’t know what you want to read. I think I keep the newsletters reasonably interesting but I don’t know for sure. That’s where I need your help.

Can you let me know what you would like to read in the future? Are there any areas of narrowboat life you don’t think I’ve covered enough or areas which I’ve missed completely? Please let me know what you want to read about. Thanks for your help.

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2015 09 06 Newsletter – A cruise to Llangollen: Ellesmere to Llangollen

Before I begin my week’s account, I want to clear up some confusion I caused last week. I mentioned that the boatyards on the Llangollen canal aren’t keen on allowing self-declaration on fuel sales. If, like the two people who emailed me last week, you don’t have the faintest idea what self-declaration is and what it has to do with diesel purchases, this is what it means…

Narrowboats vary enormously. They’re all 6’10” wide or thereabouts but any length from twenty to seventy feet, differing depths beneath and heights above the water, different sterns and bows, different internal designs, equipment and heating and propulsion systems.

It’s the differences in the last two which have resulted in a rather confusing way of calculating diesel fuel cost.

Any fuel used for heating is duty free. Propulsion fuel is not.

Unfortunately for the lovely people at Revenue & Customs, most narrowboats use just one fuel tank to store diesel used for both propulsion and heating. Heating includes diesel stoves and central heating systems and running your engine to top up your calorifier’s hot water supply.

The diesel seller has no way of knowing what systems you have on board, or what cruising you do or how long you run your engine to charge your batteries and heat your water.

Some boat yards insist that you buy your fuel at a 60/40 ratio, that’s 60% charged at the full rate for propulsion and 40% at the duty free rate for heating.

Many boatyards allow you to declare your own split, a split which is determined by your own calculations and your own honesty. You can declare all of your fuel at the duty free rate, 0/100, or any other combination you choose.

As part of the sale transaction, you will be asked to complete and sign a simple form containing all of your contact details. In theory, Revenue and Customs can use a boatyard’s stored self-declaration diesel sales receipts to track down individual boat owners and assess whether their declaration is valid.

What percentage you declare when you buy your fuel is between you and your conscience.

Anyway, I didn’t really need any fuel. I have an enormous three hundred and fifty litre tank. I am down to two hundred and fifty litres at the moment so I have more than enough fuel to keep me going until I return to the Shroppie.

After I sent the newsletter out last Sunday I enjoyed a leisurely stroll from my Blake mere mooring along the canal to the entrance of Ellesmere tunnel then along the A495 to The Mere, a hundred acre lake with a popular café and visitor centre.

I sat on a rustic bench for a couple of hours enjoying the sun, the view, my book and a spiced beef wrap cooked on the lake side barbecue. After a leisurely stroll back to the boat, I sat for another hour reading on the shore of Blake mere before retiring to the boat for the day.

My only company in this peaceful spot was the occasional angler waiting patiently watching the tips of a handful baited rods hoping to catch one of the monster carp which cruise the deep waters of the expansive mere. Angling is so different from my teenage years when all I carried was a rod in a cloth bag and an Adidas sports bag containing what little equipment I owned and a packed lunch lovingly prepared by my mother. Today’s anglers have it all; tents, comfortable bed frames and sleeping bags, compact stoves, high tech warm and waterproof camouflaged clothing and four wheeled trollies large enough to carry the contents of a modest semi-detached house.

The weather on Monday, a bank holiday, wasn’t so kind. I trudged along the canal through heavy rain, followed the short arm to Ellesmere’s canal side Tesco store, stopped long enough to buy the ingredients for my evening meal, and then walked slowly down the high street skirting the odd cagoule wrapped bank holiday visitors trailing strings of bored children.

The following morning after three days of boating inactivity I moved on towards Llangollen after three important stops. First was into Blackwater Meadow marina to replace the 13kg propane cylinder which ran out the previous day after two and a half month’s use. I also picked up a bag of coal. Now that the early mornings and late evenings are a little chilly I need to think about heating again.

Next stop was along the arm to Tesco. I managed to moor close enough to the store to wheel a trolley loaded with my week’s shopping right up to the boat saving me laboriously packing and unpacking my normal shopping trolley, my seventy litre rucksack.

I left my Tesco mooring wearing tee shirt and shorts. By the time I had cruised four hundred metres to Ellesmere’s water and rubbish disposal point, I was wearing an additional fleece top and my bomb proof Guy Cotten waterproofs. Stair rods is the only way to describe the deluge which fell from the sky on and off for the next four hours, but I was snug as a bug in a rug, thoroughly enjoying battling the elements.

I Passed Frankton junction and the entrance to the Montgomery canal, chugged on for another couple of hours, rose twelve feet through New Marton locks to the canal’s summit pound and then moored above the flight ready for Chirk’s aqueduct and tunnel the following morning.

I have to say that I’ve found the Llangollen quite hard going in places. Up to this point I had briefly grounded on stone half a dozen times and slowed almost to a standstill because of the current when negotiating narrow bridge holes, embankments and aqueducts.

Of course, I should just apply a little more power to counter the current but I don’t for two reasons; first is my overheating problem. Cruising at my normal maximum of 1,500rpm is no problem at all. Anything above that results in my engine temperature rising and, to be honest, I don’t know how much of a temperature increase is acceptable. At what temperature do I start damaging the engine? Any input here will be gratefully received.

I am also painfully aware that I have a bit of a smoky engine. The faster I go, the more smoke I produce and the more conscious I am of polluting the environment in general and the canals in particular. Is a solution both possible and affordable for my thirty eight year old Mercedes, or do I have to either put up with it or consider finding £10,000 to have my beloved Mercedes removed and replaced with a more modern and cleaner engine? I simply don’t know so, again, I welcome any advice in this area.

So, ever mindful of my smoky exhaust, I crawled along Chirk aqueduct seventy feet about the river Ceiriog before crawling again through Chirk tunnel. I didn’t enjoy the passage through the tunnel at all. The current pushed me both back and sideways so I travelled the whole length at an angle trying to stay clear of the offside wall. At least I didn’t have to queue for the tunnel. A line of ten boats stretched away from the northern entrance waiting for their turn as I clawed my way past the entrance.

I stopped on the first available mooring after the tunnel. I wanted to moor the boat and walk into Trevor to explore the Pontcysyllte aqueduct and the river Dee beneath. I didn’t know if there would be free moorings further on so I ended up on a gloomy and very wet and muddy mooring in a dank cutting close to the railway and a large factory. I had the pleasure of listening all night to the clanging of steel and electric powered fork lift trucks with their high pitched reverse alerts. It wasn’t the tranquility I craved.

As is often the case, I was wrong. As I discovered on my walk the following day, the stretch between Chirk tunnel and Pontcysyllte aqueduct has plenty of dry, scenic and quiet moorings.

I enjoyed the varied scenery for three and a half miles into Trevor, stopping for half an hour to watch a stream of boats squeeze themselves a thousand feet along the boat width steel trough suspended, and unprotected by a guard rail on one side, a hundred and twenty seven feet above the turbulent river Dee.

I stopped for a bite to eat at the canal side snack bar next to the aqueduct and paid £7 for the world’s smallest ham baguette and a luke warm cup of coffee. Such is the price of visiting popular tourist destinations.

There’s a well marked path leading down from the aqueduct to the river beneath. Minutes after leaving the busy aqueduct behind I had the river completely to myself. I sat for half an hour with a wonderful view of the aqueduct’s full span, calmed by the river’s racing water but disturbed by a growing dampness in the trouser region. Note to self; avoid sitting on wet rocks.

After a very pleasant hour exploring the riverside trail I headed back over the aqueduct. I stopped for ten minutes to chat to a bubbly elder lady who watched the passing narrowboats with longing. Hilda told me that she and her husband had recently sold their own boat after many wonderful years exploring the network. Sadly, she said, they sold the boat recently because she was beginning to struggle with the numerous locks close to their home mooring on the Trent & Mersey’s Heatbreak Hill. I asked her why she didn’t ask her husband to help her with the locks. She laughed and admitted that throughout their happy fifty three year marriage she had never had her own way. “Anyway,” she said, “Now I’m eighty two I need to think about slowing down!”

Enlivened by the thought of another twenty six years active boating before reaching Hilda’s age I marched happily back towards the boat on a pleasant but uneventful walk apart from the sight of some jaw dropping irresponsibility on the part of a family of holiday hirers.

I watched a Crest Narrowboats hire boat, sixty plus feet in length, weave erratically along the canal towards me bouncing from bank to bank. As the boat drew closer I could see two young boys on the cruiser stern. The elder boy, twelve at the most, was at the helm playing a game with what I assumed was his younger brother.

The game was an athletic test for the younger ten year old. As the boat swerved close to the towpath, the elder encourage the younger to jump from boat to bank, then back on to the boat again as it moved away. Twice while I watched he almost failed, once landing in the water with his trailing leg.

As the boat drew level with me I saw four adults contentedly sitting at a table laden with food and several half empty bottles of wine. I watched the boat for five minutes until it weaved around a bend out of site. The children remained at the helm while the adults enjoyed their lunch.

After a late breakfast the following day I cruised for an hour to the aqueduct then spent a thrilling five minutes crossing the gorge. What a wonderful feeling crossing so high above the river with no railings on one side to spoil the view. I was wondering if I would feel nervous or exposed with an unprotected one hundred and twenty seven feet drop on one side. I actually felt very safe, so safe in fact that I spent much of the journey with both hands on my camera. The trough is so narrow that it steers the boat for you, allowing you all the time in the world to enjoy the experience. I particularly enjoyed the stretch above the river where the boat and I were buffeted by the wind channelled through the valley. The view along the river and the forested valley sides was spectacular.

After the all too brief crossing I was in Trevor. The route to Llangollen continued at a sharp left hand turn, but I cruised past it, then past the Anglo Welsh hire boat, squeezing through a boat width gap between their hire fleet and three day boats to the arm’s Y shaped terminus. The left hand fork was occupied by Jones the Boats but there was space enough for four or five boats to moor on rings on the right had fork.

I turned the boat in the seventy feet winding hole at the fork then reversed back the narrow channel and on to the only free mooring. It’s a wonderful spot. Because it’s at the end of the arm, there are no boats passing to spoil the tranquillity and the mooring is ideally situated for exploring the area or, in my case, to use as a base for exploring Llangollen and the Horseshoe Falls.

I set off on my hike to Llangollen at midday on Saturday. This stretch of the Llangollen canal is very narrow. I was walking the route because I had been told or read, I can’t remember which, that boats with more than a 20” draught struggle to reach the end. As mine is 30” I didn’t want to take the risk. However, I didn’t see any evidence of any boats struggling with the depth during my five hour walk, but I’m pleased I didn’t take the boat. I was able to enjoy and appreciate the spectacular scenery without worrying about the three narrow, single boat width sections where boaters are advised to send a crew member to walk ahead to check for traffic. Obviously I couldn’t do that on my own so negotiating the narrows would have been a bit of a lottery.

For most of the day there wasn’t much traffic on the canal at all. The first boat I met, a Black Price hire boat, was cruising much, much too fast. They were pushing a six inch high bow wave before them as they surged towards me, producing enough wash to actually break over the towpath.

The route is a wonderful walk apart from the towpath’s close proximity to the busy A5. Heavily wooded slopes rise away from the valley and the river Dee towards towering limestone peaks. The tree lined stone lined canal clings to the valley side, narrowing to single boat width at three different stretches while it squeezes past rocky outcrops.

The canal here is close to my childhood home. Birkenhead is just thirty miles away as the crow flies, the rural camp site where my parents owned a static caravan when I was knee high to a grasshopper just ten miles away and the weekend destination for my frequent escapes from a troubled marriage, Smowdonia, just forty miles away. This area of the network feels like home.

The crew of an Anglo Welsh day boat must have thought so too. They were tied securely to a lift bridge landing bollards while they enjoyed an extensive and lengthy banquet on the boat’s front deck just fifty feet away from a long and empty line of visitor moorings.

Llangollen is a busy little tourist destination with its canal, river and steam railway. I sat on the bridge over the river to eat my lunch bought from a high street delicatessen then set off on the two mile hike to Horseshoe Falls and the end of the feeder canal.

The falls, though not terribly impressive as far as waterfalls are concerned, they’re there purely to divert twelve million gallons of water a day into the canal network, are a beautiful spot to stop for a while to enjoy the tranquil sound of running water. The canal ends here but there are miles of wonderful riverside walks to explore. Unfortunately I was six miles away from the boat already so I didn’t have the time or energy to walk any further.

After laying on the riverbank in the sun for half an hour I set off on the two hour walk back to the boat, stopping briefly to chat to a young and shy CRT volunteer trying to drum up support for CRT’s “Friends” scheme. Friends pay a regular monthly £5 and upwards subscription to the charity to help maintain the network. I told him I was already a member, rolled up my left trouser leg and offered him the Friends’ secret handshake. He gave me a look normally reserved for those who have escaped from a secure institution then turned to another passer-by.

I stopped close to the volunteer to admire the view and overheard a man talking to his wife as he passed me. “These charity thing is all a load of b****cks,” he aggressively told his long suffering wife. “The money never gets to where it’s needed so there’s no point in donating in the first place!” He paused for a moment then exclaimed, “Isn’t this canal beautiful!” Yes, it is mate, but keeping it that way takes money, lots of it, so maybe donating isn’t such a bad idea after all!

Soon after I skirted a man bent over his wheelbarrow busy clearing the towpath of the inevitable mounds of manure courtesy of the barge pulling horses along this short stretch of canal. Maybe I’ll stick with my smoky diesel engine.

I stopped briefly at the café next to the Horse Drawn Narrowboats terminus for a sliver of concrete hard quiche and a cappuccino. A scouse couple, on a day out celebrating their anniversary, sat next to me. For half an hour he sat quietly digesting the contents of a series of local guides while she sat with a menu on her head protecting her much cherished make up from the heat of the unwanted autumn sun.

At 6.30pm, footsore but supremely happy after a thirteen mile walk through some of the most stunning scenery the canal network has to offer, I arrived back on my tranquil mooring ready for another peaceful night in Trevor.

I’m staying here tonight too. After I send out this newsletter I’m going to spend a couple of hours exploring the banks of the river Dee before I start my one hundred and forty six mile, ninety three lock journey back to my Napton Junction base tomorrow morning.

Discovery Day And Narrowboat Helmsmanship Training

If you’re new to this site you might not know about the service I launched in June 2014. I host narrowboat experience days on board my own 62? long narrowboat James No 194. The ten hour days are a combination of discussion about the pros and cons of living on board, narrowboat designs and the best equipment for live aboard boaters, and a six to eight hour helmsmanship training cruise along the Oxford and/or Grand Union Canals.

I’m running the discovery days approximately on the first ten days of August, October and December this year. As summer approaches more and more site users are booking the relatively few discovery days still available. August onwards is still relatively free. If you are interested in joining me for a fun and information packed discovery day please check the diary before it’s too late.

Update 6th September 2015

The earliest dates are now at the beginning of October. If you want to  see the available dates for October onward click here.

In the meantime, meet recent discovery day attendee Ken Sharratt.

“I’ve thought about living on a narrowboat on and off for the last twenty years but through commitments, events and various other things I have never done anything about it until now. Over the last seven or eight months I have started  researching the subject and it has gradually gained momentum, from reading magazines and e-books, the internet and looking round boats to figure out what I wanted.

The first e-book I came across was written by Paul, called “Living on a Narrowboat” (part of the Narrowbudget Gold package of three guides and a bespoke narrowboat budget calculator). I found this invaluable in giving me a realistic view of the life I am aiming for and has definitely added to my growing knowledge. To my surprise I started receiving a newsletter in my inbox which covers all things related to narrowboats from life to composting toilets which I was quite impressed with. I noticed the information about the Discovery day after reading one of these.

I thought, if I’m going to change the direction of my life and spend quite a bit of money doing it, the discovery day sounded like a good way of starting to find out if my expectations matched the reality of everything involved with it.

I wasn’t disappointed. Paul is very easy to get along with. He made us welcome from the start and provided a steady supply of tea throughout the day. It was a very enjoyable and productive day for me. He made me re-evaluate a few things and was remarkably relaxed about sailing off downstream  with his home in Fairly inexperienced hands. He was there at hand though to provide advice, instruction and direction and the odd hands on correction when absolutely necessary.

I would recommend that anyone considering taking to the water should read the book and go on one of these discovery days. They will definitely shorten the time spent on their learner curve and possibly avert a costly or disastrous decision from being made.

I am currently in the process of getting my house ready for sale. The builder should be here in a few weeks, then the decorator and after that the estate agent, so hopefully it’s going to be early next year when it’s sold and I can buy the boat that’s waiting for me out there with my name it.”

You can find out more about my discovery days and availability here.

I Need Some Help!

Each time I write a newsletter, I tick another subject off the list of things which those new to boating have told me that they want to read about. The hardest part of the process isn’t the writing itself, it’s constantly thinking of new content for each issue. The trouble is, I don’t know what you want to read. I think I keep the newsletters reasonably interesting but I don’t know for sure. That’s where I need your help.

Can you let me know what you would like to read in the future? Are there any areas of narrowboat life you don’t think I’ve covered enough or areas which I’ve missed completely? Please let me know what you want to read about. Thanks for your help.